“The old room” clearly did not refer to the wine cellar itself, but something distinct.
A few hours ago, the suggestion that there was something other than wine and cellar and dust and centipedes in the wine cellar would have caught Near off-guard. It would have upset him. He had played down there (illicitly) when he was a kid -- hide and seek, Indiana Jones, army men at war. So what had he been brushing up against?
He still wasn’t happy about it, but at this point he wasn’t surprised, either. Not surprised enough, at least, to let it rattle him while he posed a chain reaction of guesses, “Catacomb? Speakeasy? Underground railroad? Bunker? Sex dungeon?” each of which, despite its wry intention, gathered an ominous aura of possibility once it took shape out loud. Third drink of tea, deeper. As it cooled it was turning bitter, mossy, and marginally more thirst-quenching than "bitter and mossy" should have warranted.
A few hours ago, the suggestion that there was something other than wine and cellar and dust and centipedes in the wine cellar would have caught Near off-guard. It would have upset him. He had played down there (illicitly) when he was a kid -- hide and seek, Indiana Jones, army men at war. So what had he been brushing up against?
He still wasn’t happy about it, but at this point he wasn’t surprised, either. Not surprised enough, at least, to let it rattle him while he posed a chain reaction of guesses, “Catacomb? Speakeasy? Underground railroad? Bunker? Sex dungeon?” each of which, despite its wry intention, gathered an ominous aura of possibility once it took shape out loud. Third drink of tea, deeper. As it cooled it was turning bitter, mossy, and marginally more thirst-quenching than "bitter and mossy" should have warranted.