“Check the library!” a voice shouted, no longer trying to whisper.

“They aren’t upstairs,” another replied.

Vincent pushed me gently toward the narrow opening in the wall.

“Go,” he whispered. “Squeeze through. Do not make a sound.”

I pressed my shoulders together and slid through the gap.

The air inside was freezing and thick with the smell of wet earth.

I stood on a narrow ledge of rough stone, staring down into pitch blackness.

Below me, I could hear the steady drip of water on concrete.

Vincent stepped into the opening behind me, pulling the wooden panel shut until it clicked.

We were plunged into total darkness.

“Hold onto my coat,” he whispered.

I reached out, my fingers finding the wet wool of his overcoat.

We began to descend a set of steep, slippery stone steps.

Above us, through the thick floorboards, I heard the heavy crash of furniture being overturned.

They were tearing the study apart looking for us.

“They’re in the study!” a muffled voice screamed from above. “The desk is warm! They were just here!”

Vincent stopped on the steps, his hand holding mine tight.