The Pivoting Keyhole

Leaving the mahogany base of the grandfather clock, I crossed the polished runner to the end of the upper corridor. Barring further passage stands a heavy paneled door set with an ornate brass escutcheon plate. Bolted into its center is an antique keyhole masked by a pivoting teardrop cover. Planting my boots upon the raised molding of the doorframe, I braced my gauntlet against the tarnished plate and nudged the swinging bronze shield upward. It resisted before gliding aside with a faint metallic scrape. Leaning forward, I peered through the dark hollow of the iron barrel into the quiet expanse of the sealed chamber beyond. A fresh perimeter lies waiting.