T.X.recognised one of these as the key of the safe, but two smaller keys baffled him not a little, and Mrs.Beale was at first unable to assist him.
"The only thing I can think of, sir," she said, "is the wine cellar." "The wine cellar ?" said T.X.slowly.

"That must be--" he stopped.
The greater tragedy of the evening, with all its mystifying aspects had not banished from his mind the thought of the girl--that Belinda Mary, who had called upon him in her hour of danger as he divined.

Perhaps--he descended into the kitchen and was brought face to face with the unpainted door.
"It looks more like a prison than a wine cellar," he said.
"That's what I've always thought, sir," said Mrs.Beale, "and sometimes I've had a horrible feeling of fear." He cut short her loquacity by inserting one of the keys in the lock--it did not turn, but he had more success with the second.

The lock snapped back easily and he pulled the door back.

He found the inner door bolted top and bottom.