Accordingly, when I set out again, well provided with a coil of rope concealed around me under my cloak, a stout steel hook for grappling, a lantern, and my pistol, I didn't invite Worthing to accompany me. I tried to slink away from school unobserved, but Worthing must have guessed what was brewing in my mind, and outside the school gate I came face to face with him.
He gripped my hand, and looking straight into my eyes said, "Don't go, Tommy."
I laughed, and shook myself free.
"Don't go," he repeated. "You know now that the house isn't yours."
"But the secret will soon be mine," I replied.
He looked at me quietly for a moment, and said very decidedly, "Tommy, you're a fool."
Somehow I felt suddenly annoyed with him, though as a rule I could bear his rebukes without ill-feeling. It seemed so absurd to stick at such a trifle. What if the house was not mine! I hadn't been trained to the creed of meum and tuum. And the challenge of a mystery to be solved was one that I couldn't refuse. Romance, adventure, this was my life-breath; and if there were pedants and landlords and other petty obstructions of authority to break through, so much the better.
"I'm a fool, am I?" I said, and added stupidly, "Well, I think you're a coward."
He stiffened, and turned on his heel; and my anger died down like a flame beneath a drench of water.
"Worthing," I cried; but he walked on. And then I remembered how he had spent that night alone in the haunted room; and I had called him a coward.... I knew I had merely done so under that foolish impulse of self-justification which makes us whiten our own conduct by blackening that of those who oppose us. As he walked away I was in two minds whether to follow him or not. But my business was urgent, and I told myself I could easily unsay the silly word later on. So I pushed forward, and had soon forgotten the little tiff.
I took precautions this time not to enter the grounds where I was likely to be seen, and I was soon among the ruins climbing up to the roof by a way I knew well through long experience. Then came the real obstacle, the wall of the false stack, high, smooth, and with no foothold, approached by a steep, slanting roof which would throw me to the ground far below if I slipped. And owing partly to the ruinous state of the house, and partly to its original disposition, this was the only way of reaching the stack in which I knew lay concealed the entrance to the secret chamber. I crawled out on to the sloping roof, keeping to the edge where I could get a certain purchase for my feet against the level eaves, and when under the stack I lay flat on my stomach and looked upward along the slates slanting away above me to the wall standing stiffly up beyond.
I surveyed it for a moment, and felt just the least apprehension; but taking a grip on my nerve I bound the hook firmly to the rope and slung it up over the wall, then pulled in to see if it had gripped. It wasn't an easy matter to throw at all in such a position, and the first attempt was unsuccessful; but at the third throw the rope held. It was difficult to test it properly by taking the strain, for I was obliged to cling with one hand to the slates, and if I tugged at the rope and it came away suddenly I should probably lose my grip and be sent over the edge. However, I jerked it three or four times, and it seemed firm enough; then summoning my courage I took the rope in both hands, pulled myself slowly up along the slanting slates, and was soon at the foot of the wall. Before ascending I again jerked at the rope to test it for the last time, and feeling reassured began climbing up hand over hand. But I had scarcely mounted a couple of feet before I felt something give, and for a dizzying moment I hung in mid air expecting to fall, and gazing frenziedly for some possible crevice in the roof beneath me to catch my fingers in if the rope should slip. But it seemed to be steady enough now, and cautiously I recommenced the ascent. I was half-way up, when again there came that sickening jerk as though something were breaking loose; but knowing now that my only chance was to reach the top of the wall, for if I fell it would be with too great a force to stay myself, I scrambled on with desperate speed, the rope seeming to slip with every heave upward of my body. And it was just as I reached the top, the fingers of one hand clutching at the stone, that the rope came away in the other hand, while I swung perilously, gripping at the wall with the bare tips of my fingers. But with a leap upward I caught at the top with my free hand, though I had to drop my rope to do so, and was soon safe astride the barrier looking down on the other side.
If I had been met by a blank roof I should have been in a perilous predicament indeed, perched up there, with no rope to descend by. But my gamble with fortune proved a lucky one, for enclosed within the walls of the stack, and only a few feet below me, was the window I had hoped to find; or skylight rather, for such it was, like a shallow dome looking up at me with a great round eye.
Before dropping down I gave another look to the way I had come, and saw, caught in a broken slate of the sloping roof below me, the rope I had dropped; but the greater length of it was hanging over the eaves. The thought came to me that somehow I must climb back and recover it before I left, otherwise it would remain as a tell-tale witness against me. And then I remember speeding a fleeting glance across the moors. I had never climbed as high as this before, and the prospect was wonderful. For winding far away I saw the Rancey River flowing out to sea, and I called to mind how I had seemed to sniff the brine when first I had come to Sunset Towers.
And with that I was over the edge, and examining the skylight for an entrance. Nor was I long about it, for it opened quite easily, leaving ample room for me to slip through. But I had to risk a drop, for there was no means of climbing down. I looked beneath me, swinging from the open casement; and judging the distance as well as I could in the shadowy room, dropped, and fell unhurt, though on all fours. And it wasn't till I was well in the trap that the realization came to me that if I couldn't find the secret of the doors from the inside I would be buried alive there; for to climb back the way I had come without a rope was utterly impossible. And then the memory of the skeleton came to me. Had another been trapped there too? And was that the end of it all? I shuddered.
But these thoughts were momentary merely, for I wasn't given to brooding. I think it was the hollow echo of my feet in that secret and deserted chamber that brought the horrid fear to my mind. I was soon glancing about me, taking stock of my surroundings. And with the first look round I was both relieved and dismayed. For the room, bare for the most part, was evidently occupied, or being prepared for occupation. In one corner was a small bed with posts and canopy; an old remnant of furniture, it seemed. But on it was flung a bundle of bedding which looked fresh enough, as though the bed were to be used that night though not yet laid ready.
This puzzled me, and I fingered the stuff, but could find no name. Nor was there anything else in the chamber to suggest occupation. The mantelshelf lay thick in dust; and the skylight above was so dirty that the light came through but weakly, leaving the panelled room in a half shadow.
I lit my lantern and turned to examine the entrances. One was quite obvious: a narrow slip of a door, opening, it seemed, into the side of the chimney. I guessed at once that this led down to the old oak wardrobe in the great bedroom below. I knew now where that apparition had come from and vanished to, and my first thought was to descend and investigate. But it occurred to me that there must be another entrance opening into the passage of the skeleton, as I thought of it. But there was nothing to show which panel hid the secret. Indeed I should probably have been searching for an hour or more if I hadn't noticed the marks of feet on the dusty floor disappearing into the wall; and tugging at the panel there it came open in my hands. If I had tapped for it I shouldn't have found it, for it was too solid to sound hollow to the knuckles.
I was growing more and more excited with my discoveries, but through my excitement I felt apprehensive, for it was clear that some one had been in the chamber very recently, and might come back again. If so I should be trapped like a rat in a drain, with no way to turn. Still, I decided to examine the passage first, and holding out my lantern before me ventured into the dark, trying to remember by the plan Worthing had drawn up what turns and stairways to expect. But there was little need for this; for, though the passage twisted and climbed and descended, there was no chance of losing the way, for there was only one way to take.
I pressed on step by step with the utmost caution, gazing intently into the darkness ahead, and testing every step before I moved forward; and so intent was I on the process that I didn't notice what was on either hand till I suddenly became aware of a figure in a niche beside me standing very still. I turned quickly, and stifled a faint cry. For there was the skeleton; and at its feet lay my candle. I held up my lantern and examined the dismal thing. There were chains about its wrists and chest and feet, fixing it to the wall. It hadn't lost its way then and perished in the darkness, but had been imprisoned there by an enemy and left to die slowly and alone. I had enough imagination to picture the terrible deed: the mockery of the triumphant foe as the chains clanked into the staples; the cries of the victim, the frantic curses and appeals; the dying away of the footsteps, and the closing of the door; the terrible secrecy of the darkness, with death creeping out of the shadow by lingering degrees; the screams of growing madness, the sobs weakening into moans, the frenzied struggling at the bonds, the prayers, the mutterings, the hours of dumb silence.... I stood there fascinated by the horrid details of that slow agony, realizing more vividly than before something of the meaning of the crime of the Mad Captain in my father's story. Little wonder, it seemed to me, that with such a picture in his mind of not one only but many of his comrades perishing so, and he the author of it all, little wonder if sleep forsook him, and his dreams grew frightful with avenging phantoms, and the light brought only troubled memories to torment him.
Then before I could move forward I heard a sound in the darkness ahead of me. I knew at once what it meant. The secret door was opening.
I turned and hurried back; and it was fortunate for me that the passage was a tangle of turnings, for otherwise I should have had to put out my lantern, or expose myself to the stranger. And something told me that the stranger was no friend to me.
I was soon back in the chamber, and listening heard feet moving nearer along the passage; and something too which stopped my breath in a hushed pause; for very faint and low came the murmur of a moan such as I had often heard in that haunted house. And then I could have laughed; for I said, the door is open, and the wind is blowing through. But I had no time to ponder on the sound, for the feet were approaching. I turned to the chimney, and opened the narrow door in the side, and before me was the first step of a spiral stairway, so cramped that as I entered I brushed both shoulders against the walls.
At last I reached the bottom, and there I paused again to listen. I could hear faint sounds above me, but I breathed freely when there was no step upon the stairs. For a while I was safe. So I held up my lantern and examined the wall in front of me.
From this side it was easy enough to see how the door opened. Two large steel bars, pivoting on their centres and working together, lay across the door, holding it immovably in place. But they were so well balanced that they could be lifted with a finger, and when released dropped almost noiselessly back into the well-oiled staples. A spring lever which could be forced inwards from the outside to raise them clear of the catch completed the simple mechanism.
I swung the bars from the horizontal, and the door opened soundlessly in upon me; and as I expected I found myself looking into the oak wardrobe. But what I wanted to learn was how to force in the spring from the outside. If I went away without discovering that my adventure would have been fruitless.
And then I heard some one coming up the main stairs....
What was I to do? If he came into the room I should be caught. And to ascend again to the secret chamber would be impossible, for some one was waiting for me there as well. I thought my best plan was to hide at the bottom of the little stairway. But as I was creeping back I heard the door above me open, and some one commence the descent; and at the same moment there was a fumbling at the bedroom door.
I didn't stay to think what to do. I crept into the wardrobe, blowing out my lantern, and shutting the door behind me, and crouched in the farther corner, hoping the darkness would conceal me.
So for a terrible minute I hugged myself into a motionless ball, hardly daring to breathe, and wishing I could silence the absurd hammering of my heart which sounded loud enough to betray me. And soon the secret door swung open, and there were two of us there in the great wardrobe. But the stranger had no light; and the darkness hid me. Then the wardrobe door was opened, and the stranger stepped out, shutting it softly behind him. I heard a faint cry which changed to, "Ah, it's you, Abou! You frightened me."
A soft voice replied, "Pardon, my master; I did not know you were here."
The first voice continued, "Yes, back once again. There's no other place for me."
"It is a good place, my master," was the gentle reply.
Something in the tone of the last speaker soothed and calmed me. His voice was placid and comforting. I thought I should like to see his face. But the other speaker was troubled, though his voice wasn't unkindly. Presently he uttered in a piteous sigh so unexpected and so sorrowful that it seemed to melt my very heart to tears, "Oh, Abou, Abou, why will he still pursue me? Why will he not have mercy?"
"Have courage, my master," Abou replied in that suave and gracious voice of his which seemed to steal about me like a charm, though I had hardly heard a dozen words of his uttering. "Have courage, my master, he shall have mercy."
"But will it never end? Will it never end?" again came that broken cry.
"Courage, my master. It will end."
For a while there were subdued movements in the room as though clothes were being unfolded and laid ready for putting on. I was tempted to feel for the secret door, and if it were open to creep away and out through the passage. But perhaps the door was closed; and Abou might open the wardrobe at any minute. The sound of clothes being unpacked made me tremble lest the wardrobe might be needed for use. Then, too, I was curious to learn more of the mystery into which I had stumbled. Here seemed even another case of a hunted man. I began to philosophize in my boyish way, wondering if life were nothing but fleeing and pursuing. My father's life was a constant flight. And then I remembered Dirk and his vow, and wondered whether that treacherous King's Man had paid the forfeit yet. And here was another victim under the shadow of fear.
My thoughts came to a sudden stop with Abou's voice saying, "All is ready. Will my master come up to his room?"
"No Abou, no; not for a while."
Then the bedroom door opened and closed; and there was a sound which jarred alarmingly into my consciousness--the turning of the key in the lock. Before I could grasp the full significance of this, the wardrobe door opened. I peeped stealthily from my corner, in spite of my terror, and saw a slim, darkish man, with a big black beard and whiskers framing his face; but of his face and its expression I could see nothing. He had a slender instrument in his hand, but how he applied it to the secret door I couldn't see. It opened, and closed behind him.
I listened for his steps as he ascended, but so silent or so muffled were they that I could hardly distinguish them. But I could hear enough to know that he was safely landed in the room above. I breathed freely, and cautiously opening the wardrobe crept out.
Once more I was in that bedroom I knew so well. Before me was a new mirror in place of the one I had smashed. For a moment I stared at myself, feeling very guilty, as though I had been caught at some prank. But I had no time for idle fancies. I went quickly up to the door and tried it; but, as I feared, it was locked on the outside. I was a prisoner.
Even if later it were possible to venture back the way I had come, how was I to open that secret door? Evidently some kind of instrument was needed, and I had nothing; nor would I have known how to apply it had there been one ready to hand.
For a moment I gazed stupidly round the room, idly noticing some travelling gear thrown on a chair; then mechanically went to the window, though I knew perfectly well that I couldn't climb down the wall, and the drop to earth was far too deep to be considered. However, I stood looking out, busily turning over in mind every conceivable plan of escape. But the ground lay far below, and the wall promised no foothold; nor had it developed any miraculous excrescences for my special behoof. I turned away, and examined the wardrobe, the sudden idea coming to me that perhaps Abou might have left his curious key in the door. But there was no such luck in store for me. The door was locked, and I had no means of opening it. Again I tried the bedroom door; but it remained sulkily closed against me. Miracles refused to come to my rescue.
Being at a loss I stood in the middle of the room staring forlornly about me, and again made my useless round from the window to the wardrobe, and from the wardrobe to the door. There seemed no way of escape. The only thing to do was to hide and wait. And the only place to hide in was the wardrobe. Still, it would be time enough to hide when I heard anyone coming. Meanwhile I must continue to worry at the problem of how to escape. Again the same old round; and again without profit.
Then I had an illuminating idea. If I couldn't climb down the wall perhaps I could climb up. I ran to the window and looked towards the roof, and there dangling above me and a little to one side was my rope. I nearly shouted with triumph, and jumping to the sill reached for it and seized it; but it wouldn't come away. I tugged harder, but though it seemed to give a little, almost precipitating me off the ledge, it refused to yield. And all this while I knew I was exposing myself to anyone who might be looking up from the garden. I scanned the ground below, but could see no one, so again gave my attention to the rope. It seemed fixed more firmly than ever. I jumped back into the room and blew on my hands to cool them, for they were getting sore; and then it occurred to me that after all my intention had been to climb up, not down, and there was the rope ready for me. So again I sprang to the sill, and taking a firm grip of the rope swung out into the open, and still spinning round and round started to climb for the eaves. With the memory of my earlier climb in mind, also with the vision of the rope caught merely in a broken slate, and not understanding in the least how it could hold so tightly to such a support, I was in a frenzy of anxiety till breathless with haste I touched and seized the jutting eaves, and swung myself up to safety on the roof, where I lay panting, hardly able to realize my deliverance.
When I had recovered breath and composure I examined the slate where the hook had caught. I must have kicked my foot through when scrambling up the roof, for the hook had gone deeply in and was firmly gripping a rafter beneath. So firmly indeed that it was no easy matter to release it. However, after wrenching away at it for a few minutes with all my might I managed to work it free; and with very little bother I climbed back the way I had come earlier in the day, and soon found myself on firm earth once more, and with freedom well in sight.
I was winding the rope about me when it occurred to me that I hadn't yet finished my explorations. So choosing a hiding-place among the ruins I deposited my rope and lantern there, and turned to go back to school. Cautiously I peeped round the corner to see if the road were clear; and behind me I heard a voice, "The devil! And who are you?"
