Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. But the Remenhams in the days of Charles the First, with the need for an escape route from Cromwell’s increasingly victorious forces, had cut a trapdoor through its floor into the cellars below, and thence hewn the long rough passageway that led underground right outside the boundary of the estate. I thought one had only to take it by the throat. “Ding-dong-Diedermayer is here, Lucy.
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