"I've forgotten it already," she said, drooping.
He still strove for an offhand gaiety that he did not feel.
"Why, look here!" and she followed the play of his hands obediently, like a tired child, "it's a sort of game, dearest.

'Money, money--who's got the money ?' You know!" For the dozenth time he stared at the unrevealing walls of the room.

"For that matter," he added, "the Hidden Room may be behind these very walls." He looked about for a tool, a poker, anything that would sound the walls and test them for hollow spaces.

Ah, he had it--that driver in the bag of golf clubs over in the corner.

He got the driver and stood wondering where he had best begin.