A DISCOVERY
Almost stunned by the suddenness of the event, the three nevertheless
realized that they had probably brought it upon themselves. Their
movements must have been observed by the German airmen, who, perhaps
thinking that the ancient château was again going to be used as an
observation post, had reported the fact.
"We'd better get out of here the fastest ever," yelled Don.
Then a wild dash for safety was on. Down the winding stairway they
clattered, sometimes taking two or three steps at a time. If fear lent
wings to their feet, their very disregard of the fear of tumbling
served to prevent such a catastrophe.
In these thrilling instants Don Hale could not help recalling
their experiences with the French artillery officer; he remembered
the deadly accuracy of the fire, and how the wireless station had
disappeared in a cloud of smoke and dust. He could hear the captain
saying, "Inscribe the elements." No doubt some German officer would be
giving exactly the same command in a few minutes, when the range of the
château had been found.
In a panic of fear, the ambulanciers rushed out of the tower, and, like
hares fleeing before the hunter, continued down the grand stairway.
And scarcely had the three reached the foot when they heard another
frightful roar. The building gave a sudden lurch, the violence of
which sent them staggering, tumbling in all directions. Then the
resounding din of smashing glass--of falling débris filled the air.
Momentarily they expected the walls to come crashing down upon them.
Each experienced a feeling of awful helplessness, as, with half stifled
cries, they picked themselves up and made a concerted dash through the
various apartments toward the window.
One after another, they fairly hurled themselves over the sill and
landed in a heap on the ground.
Up they were in a second and off again, running
wildly--desperately--trying to get out of the line of fire. Feelings of
hope and hopelessness coursed through them, as, panting and breathless
from their exertions, they plunged ahead almost abreast.
But before a distance of seventy-five feet had been covered there came
a third detonation--a horrible, crashing, stupendous roar, so terrible
in its character that it could only have been made by a very much
larger projectile than the others.
The ambulanciers were lifted off their feet and hurled violently to the
ground.
Don Hale's pale, fear-stricken face was turned toward the château,
and, although partially dazed by the shock, his faculties remained
sufficiently clear for him to see what was taking place. Above an
enormous, swirling cloud of inky smoke rose the tower of the ancient
château. It was beginning to lean. It was shaking.
Unable to regain sufficient control over his trembling nerves to rise,
Don Hale, quite breathless, almost spellbound, kept his gaze fixed upon
it.
Grandly--majestically, as though even at the end of its existence it
must be worthy of the noble building to which it belonged, the tower
slowly began to topple, and the boy presently saw it go crashing
downward with a thunderous and muffled roar.
Then, as the wreckage piled over the ground, a vast, whirling column of
dust mingled with the smoke, and through it all jagged and broken walls
could be faintly discerned.
Don Hale again tried to regain his feet, but his limbs refused to
support him.
Dunstan and Chase were lying almost flat on the ground, their faces
ashen and drawn, and they too had been witnesses of the catastrophe.
Don gained sufficient command over himself to struggle up, and was
about to resume his flight when a fourth mighty, echoing blast
resounded.
Shaken and jarred off his feet, he again fell back to the earth with a
half articulate cry, gasping for breath. He looked toward the château.
The massive walls were tumbling and crashing inward and outward. The
dull roars, as débris piled upon débris, were terrific, and before
they had ceased Don Hale saw the black smoke swirling in front of the
building and completely hiding it from view.
And a few seconds later the mass hurled aloft by the explosion began
descending all about the ambulanciers. Pieces of stone landed only a
few yards from Don and sent the turf flying in his face. A few terrible
instants passed before he quite realized that the danger from the
deadly rain of missiles was over. Once more they had actually escaped a
peril from which it had seemed that there could be no escape.
A great body of low-hanging smoke and dust rolling slowly over the
ground soon shut from his eyes every vestige of the surroundings.
Coughing and gasping from the fumes, he scrambled to his feet, and,
though weak and shaky, managed to stagger away. No obscurity of fog
could ever have been so dense as that in which he found himself. Like
a blind man groping his way, the boy sought to get beyond its choking
reach, and by the sound of footsteps close at hand he knew that Dunstan
and Chase were making the same desperate efforts as himself.
Suddenly the faint light struggling to pierce the obscurity brightened.
A few yards more, and, almost overcome, Don Hale emerged into the
glorious sunshine.
His first thought was for his companions. Yes, they too were all right.
But he had not yet recovered sufficiently from the suffocating effects
of the smoke to speak. His brain was still whirling with a jumble of
confused thoughts and impressions, and uppermost among them was the
unpleasant reflection that perhaps they might have been responsible for
the destruction of the grand old Château de Morancourt. Ah, indeed,
Dunstan had been mistaken--there was something interesting in this part
of the story.
The boys staggered along with all the strength they could command, but
no other shells landed in the vicinity.
It was Chase Manning who finally broke the silence.
"I say, fellows," he called, in a voice which trembled, "I thought I
heard a noise somewhere. Did you?"
"Where? What did it sound like?" asked Don, faintly.
"Not a hundred miles away; and it seemed to fill the whole world. I
say, Dunstan, how are you feeling?"
"Kind of mixed," grinned Dunstan; "but very thankful to be still here
on earth--a most unexpected privilege, I can assure you. Boys, I don't
think we need continue our flight. Look!" He waved his hand toward the
building. "The Germans have made a mighty good job of it."
"Yes; and having done so I don't believe they'll send any more marmites
in this direction," declared Don. "What a thriller that was!"
"No words in any language could ever begin to describe it," said Chase
shudderingly. "What a sight!"
It was indeed a melancholy-looking spectacle upon which the three
grave-faced ambulanciers were gazing. Of the once great and stately
structure there remained but a few bits of scarred, unsightly walls,
and the surrounding ground was covered with a vast collection of
wreckage, all showing the fearful force of the explosions. The
impenetrable black smoke had thinned out, though a haze still hovered
over the ruins, to soften their ugly and forbidding aspect.
Though feeling quite sure that no immediate danger existed, the boys,
to be on the safe side, withdrew to a point some distance away. They
were troubled in mind. Had the airplane observer seen them? Had they
not visited the château it might still have been standing.
"What is to be done?" asked Chase.
"Make a report of the matter, of course," declared the aviator's son.
"We have perhaps merely hastened its end," remarked Dunstan. "Just
think of all that magnificence gone--swept away in a few moments of
time! I wonder what the Count de Morancourt would think!"
"I am mighty glad he isn't here to express an opinion," put in Chase,
dryly.
"And the 'mysterious poilu' might have a few observations to make,"
suggested Don, in a reflective tone.
"I can't say that I'm so very anxious now to have that third meeting,"
admitted Chase.
"We'll have to accept the situation philosophically and hope that
others may do the same," declared the art student, his brow wrinkled
with disturbing thoughts. "It's not the first time that good intentions
have brought about disastrous results."
"No," said Don, thoughtfully.
Somehow or other the ambulanciers felt disinclined to leave the spot.
The sight of the ruins held a strange and peculiar fascination for
their eyes. It was very hard for them to realize that they would never
again see the grand old Château de Morancourt or tread its great
apartments. The variety of emotions which had assailed all three left
them in a depressed and uncomfortable frame of mind. They could not
help wondering, too, what the authorities might have to say.
"Fellows, suppose we get a look at a little closer range," suggested
Don Hale, finally.
"You'll not find me afraid to follow your lead," declared Dunstan, with
a faint smile.
"Lightning isn't apt to strike twice in the same place," said Chase.
Carefully scanning the sky to see that no airplanes were in the
immediate vicinity, the three began to retrace their steps.
Very soon they were climbing over great heaps of débris. The wreck and
ruin were almost complete. Now they came across pieces of ornaments
which had once contributed to the beauty of the interior. From a torn
canvas a head of one of the ancient and noble De Morancourts seemed to
stare at them with a stern and reproachful glance.
With mingled feelings of sadness and regret, they pursued their
investigations. Here and there the three came across bits of marble and
stained glass or portions of shattered doors and furniture. Sometimes
they peered over the edge of a jagged wall, to look into an interior
wherein traces of chaos and magnificence lay side by side.
The ambulanciers conversed but little; they felt in too solemn and
serious a mood. Suddenly, however, Don made a discovery which brought
about a change in their demeanor. Close outside the wall an immense
opening in the ground had been torn. Of course there was nothing in
that to be wondered at; but what Don Hale saw was something more than
a huge crater. A tunnel-like passageway had been uncovered, the bottom
lying perhaps twenty feet below the surface.
"Hello! What in the dickens is that!" he cried.
"We must find out," said Chase, viewing the opening with considerable
astonishment.
"It may be some secret passageway," put in Dunstan, excitedly. "Upon my
word, this is a mighty interesting development!"
"I should say it is," exclaimed Don Hale, and having uttered these
words with much conviction, he began hastily climbing over the
wreckage. The broken, uneven surfaces leading downward afforded a good
foothold, and thus he was able to make his way to the bottom without
much trouble.
"Yes sir, it's a subterranean passageway," he called to the others, who
were sliding and slipping down the incline. "Now we'll see what's ahead
of us."
With Chase and Dunstan at his heels, he plunged boldly through a wide
and spacious passageway which led directly away from the building.
"I'll bet I was right, fellows!" cried Dunstan. "This is probably a
secret passageway connected with the basement. I suppose in the old
feudal times, when law and order weren't so much in fashion as they
are to-day, such places were often mighty convenient."
"You bet!" agreed Don.
He brought out his flash-light, for the passageway ahead was becoming
dim and somber. A click of the instrument, and the white rays streaked
the walls and floor with a series of fantastic flashes.
Their interest and curiosity highly aroused, the three ambulanciers
pushed slowly ahead, and after covering a distance of many yards
discovered an open doorway.
"Aha!" cried Dunstan, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction.
"Lead on, Monsieur le torch-bearer."
"Nobody could stop me," grinned Don.
"Be a little careful now," cautioned Chase, as the aviator's son stood
at the threshold. "There may be some deep pit in there. You don't want
to take a tumble."
But as Don thrust the light inside he saw nothing to warrant any
such fear. Before his eyes was a great square apartment, the ceiling
supported by massive pillars. Its appearance did not suggest a dungeon,
however, but rather a well-built room. It was furnished, too, with a
table and several chairs, while against the walls were piled numerous
handsome picture frames and ornaments of many different kinds.
"Well, what do you think of this!" cried Don, in astonishment. "Who
could have ever suspected that such a place existed?"
"A whole lot of people never did, I suppose," said Dunstan.
"To me it suggests a retreat where plotters, in comfort and seclusion,
could plan dark deeds," commented Chase, and as he spoke in a loud tone
his voice echoed and reëchoed in a most startlingly weird fashion.
The boys thought there was something very strange and unique in the
situation. Here they were, exploring a mysterious underground room, and
while Don Hale's light flashed and crisscrossed through the intense
blackness and objects momentarily tumbled into view and out again, they
speculated as to who had been the last person to visit it.
"Let's make a hasty exploration of the whole place before spending any
time in here," suggested Dunstan.
"A good idea," agreed Don. "I say, if we were to all yell together
wouldn't it sound just like an exploding marmite?"
"Please don't remind me of 'em," pleaded Chase.
Preceded by the "torch-bearer," they filed out into the "subway,"
as Don termed the passageway, and walking a short distance came
across another room, situated, however, on the opposite side. But the
ambulanciers, desirous of finding out where the corridor led, did not
enter.
Their curiosity was quickly gratified. At the end they discovered a
third room--the largest of all, and though bare of furnishing, the
light immediately disclosed the fact that it was by no means empty.
Neatly piled against the four walls were great numbers of boxes and
cases of all sixes.
"Hello, what's in those, I wonder!" cried Don.
"I can't offer any explanation," replied Chase, dryly.
"A little investigation, however, wouldn't come amiss," declared
Dunstan. "It strikes me, fellows, that these things are here because
somebody had particular reasons for wishing to keep them out of sight."
"Well, he certainly succeeded, all right," declared young Manning.
"Then, of course, they are probably of some value," cried Don. "I
say, Dunstan"--a sudden idea had flashed into his mind--"I wonder--I
wonder----"
"What?" demanded the art student.
"If--if----" Don, pausing again, began to laugh. "No--no--that's
absurd!"
Walking forward, he began to examine several of the boxes, while
Dunstan and Chase peered earnestly over his shoulder.
"Aha! If they don't contain pictures I'm pretty badly mistaken!"
cried the art student, suddenly. Excitement was in his tone. "By
George, Don, having guessed your meaning, I'm beginning to wonder
myself if----Hello!--by all that's wonderful, just look at that
name!" Dunstan's voice almost rose into a shout. "Great Julius Cæsar!
Astounding--astounding! Just think of it--Giovanni Bellini!"
Now the name of Giovanni Bellini, which the art student pronounced with
a degree of earnestness that almost suggested a feeling of awe, meant
very little to either Don or Chase, neither of whom were especially
interested in artistic matters, but nevertheless the excitement
displayed by the art student at once communicated itself to them.
"Do you really think it's possible that the mystery of the Château de
Morancourt is solved at last?" cried Don, his voice quivering with
suppressed eagerness, his eyes open to their widest extent, while
Chase, staring with considerable curiosity at the name of Giovanni
Bellini, murmured:
"What a marvelous thing it would be!"
"I'll give you my opinion in a few minutes," burst out Dunstan, who
was acting in a manner totally unlike his usually calm self. "Quick,
Don--your light! Let me see the name on this case--quick, I say!"
And as the illumination played across the one he indicated the art
student rose to his feet and waved his hand in the air, at the
same time uttering a loud hurrah, which made wild echoes ring and
reverberate throughout the room.
"Fellows, in my opinion the mystery is solved!" he exclaimed. "The
name I have just seen is Andrea Mantegna, a most celebrated artist born
in Padua, Italy, in fourteen thirty-one. His works are priceless. By
Jove, fellows, I honestly believe the tale we have to tell is going to
create even more excitement than we dreamed. Ha, ha! I can almost see
our pictures in the papers. Monsieur le torch-bearer, I believe your
light has been the means of lighting our way to fame."
"I--I can scarcely believe all this is real!" cried Don.
Almost feverishly, the three examined case after case, and these names,
one by one, fell from Dunstan Farrington's lips:
"Hobbema, Hans Holbein, Franz Hals, Velasquez, Ribera."
And with each word the art student's voice became louder--his
excitement greater.
"A most remarkable and unexpected sequel to the great event!" he cried.
"Boys, there is a finis to the story, after all--and what a grand,
dramatic one! I wonder--I wonder what 'Peewee' will have to say!"
Seating themselves on convenient boxes, the ambulanciers, full of
strange, pent-up emotions, continued to converse in eager, animated
tones. A remarkable change had come over the feelings of every one.
Now, instead of being disturbed and distressed, they were happy--almost
exultant.
Suddenly Don Hale leaped to his feet and exclaimed:
"Listen--listen! There's somebody coming."
The others ceased speaking, and a strange, oppressive silence seemed to
hover over the chamber.
Then, almost instantly, there came sounds which indicated that several
people were approaching along the passageway.
"We are discovered!" exclaimed Dunstan, grim humor in his tone. "Ah,
fellows, our sensational exploit must be revealed to a gaping world
sooner than we expected!"
Simultaneously, the three sprang to their feet and made for the doorway.
Beyond the beams of Don Hale's flash-light the passageway was
illuminated by the yellow glow of a lantern carried by the leader of a
dim and shadowy group.
Anxiously--expectantly--the ambulanciers waited, while the sound
of voices, steadily growing louder, echoed through the subterranean
retreat.
And one of them made Chase Manning give a loud gasp of surprise.
"Well, well, can you beat that!" he exclaimed, clutching Don Hale
tightly by the arm.
"Who is it?" asked Don. But the question needed no answer from Chase.
For at that moment the lantern, swung high, illuminated the face of the
man who carried it, and the boys recognized the "mysterious poilu."