In its midst, set flush with the floor, was what was evidently a trap-door, furnished with a heavy iron ring.

To this Folliot pointed, with a glance of significant interest.
"Deepest well in all Wrychester under that," he remarked.

"You'd never think it--it's a hundred feet deep--and more! Dry now--water gave out some years ago.

Some people would have pulled this old well-house down--but not me! I did better--I turned it to good account." He raised a hand and pointed upward to an obviously modern ceiling of strong oak timbers.

"Had that put in," he continued, "and turned the top of the building into a little snuggery.