"GOD SAVE THE KING!"
"Seems queer now," said Fred, as they gazed down into the garden, "that
we could have felt so scared."
Scarlett was silent.
"What are you thinking about!"
"Whether I oughtn't to tell father about that place."
"I suppose you ought," said Fred, after a pause; "but if you do, we
shall have no more fun."
"I didn't see any fun in it," said Scarlett, slowly.
"Not then; but see what we could do with a secret place of our own to
retreat to whenever we liked, and no one knowing where we had gone. I
say, don't tell anybody."
"But I feel as if I ought to tell my father, as it's his place."
"Yes, I suppose you ought; but let's wait a bit first."
"Well, we might wait a little while. I say, Fred, what cowards we
were!"
"But it was so dark, and I couldn't help thinking that we might never
find our way out."
"Yes; that's just how I felt, and as if something was coming after us
out of the darkness."
"And, of course, there couldn't be anything. You could see by the dust
on the steps that nobody had been there for years and years."
There was a long silence here, during which the two lads looked out at
the garden flooded with sunshine, where Nat was working very
deliberately close by the sun-dial. And beyond him, at the lake, from
which the sunbeams flashed whenever a fish or water-fowl disturbed the
surface.
"I say," said Fred at last, "don't let's sit here any longer. You're as
dull as if you had no tongue. What are you thinking about now?"
"I was wondering whether I shall be such a coward when I grow up to be a
man."
"I say, Scar, don't keep on talking like that; it's just as if you kept
on calling me a coward too."
"So you were."
"No, I was not; but it was enough to frighten anybody. It was all so
dark and strange."
"Should you be afraid to go again?"
"No," said Fred, stoutly.
"Will you go, then?"
"What, alone?"
"No; both together."
"I'll go, if you will. When shall we go?"
"Now," said Scarlett, firmly.
"Now?"
"Yes. I want to know where that place leads to; and I don't like to
feel that we were frightened because it was dark. Come along."
"What now--directly?"
"Yes; you're not afraid, are you?"
"No," cried Fred, starting up. "Get two candles this time, and we'll
take one apiece."
The lights were obtained, the door at the end of the passage bolted, and
once more the two boys stood at the top of the staircase.
"Think we had better go now?" said Fred.
"Yes; we may not have such a chance again for ever so long. Do you feel
afraid?"
"Not exactly afraid; only as if I didn't want to go. I'm not so brave
as you are, Scar."
This last was said with a bit of a sneer, which made the boy wince, and
then draw himself up proudly.
"I'm not brave," he said, "for I feel as if I'd give anything not to go;
but it seems to me as if it would be very cowardly to give up, and I
mean to go."
He seized the balustrade as he spoke, gave it a wrench, the stair shot
from its fastening, was pushed back, and without another word Scarlett
thrust in his lighted candle, followed it, and Fred stood looking in as
his companion gradually disappeared.
"Come along, Fred," came in muffled tones from beneath the landing; and,
uttering a sigh, Fred thrust in his candlestick and followed, to rise,
after a slow horizontal progress, to a perpendicular position, behind
his leader.
The way seemed far easier now, and in a very few minutes they were
standing again in the chamber, where they paused for a few moments
before Scarlett drew open the panelled door in the corner, and once more
held the light above his head as he gazed down the mysterious stairs.
"Shall I go first?" asked Fred, in a voice which invited a refusal of
his services.
"No; it's our place, and I'll lead," was the reply.
"Don't put the candle out again," said Fred, with a sigh of relief, and
speaking in warning tones. "I say, Scar, perhaps there's a place like
this at the Manor."
"We'll see, when we've found out all about this," replied Scarlett, as
he began to descend, while Fred followed closely, the two lights making
their task easier, while their confidence began now to increase as they
encountered no danger.
The foot of the steps was reached in safety, the candle being held low
down, so as to guard against any pitfall or fresh flight of stairs in
the way.
But all was perfectly level as the boys went on along the narrow,
arched-over passage, their light footfalls sending on before them a
curious series of reverberations, while their progress for quite a
hundred yards was singularly monotonous and uneventful.
"Why, how far does it go?" said Fred at last, becoming bolder now, but
feeling startled as he heard his words go whispering away.
"Very little farther. Look!"
The lights were held up, and they stopped short, for a few yards before
them was a narrow, nail-studded door, very similar to the one leading
into the chamber, but heavier looking, and with a great rusty bolt at
top and bottom.
"That's the end of it, then," said Fred. "I say, I know what it is.
That's the vault where they used to bury the old Markhams."
"That it can't be, for they were all buried at the church."
"Well, it looks like it," said Fred. "Shall we go any farther?"
"Yes, of course. I want to see what's behind the door."
Nerving himself to the effort, Scarlett stepped over the intervening
space, and took hold of the top bolt, which, like its fellow, was shot
into a socket in the stone wall.
But the bolt was rusted to the staples, and he could not move it with
one hand.
"Hold the light, Fred," he exclaimed; and his companion stood behind
him, bearing both candles, as Scarlett tugged and strained and wrenched
vainly at the corroded iron.
"Wants a hammer to start it," said Fred, as the interest in these
proceedings drove away the sensations of nervousness. "Shall we go back
and fetch one?"
"I'm--afraid--we shall have to," panted Scarlett, as he toiled and
strained at the stubborn bolt. "It's of no use to try and--"
There was a sharp creak, the bolt gave way a little, and the rest was
only a work of time, for by wriggling it up and down the rust was ground
out, and at last it yielded and was drawn back.
"Let me have a try at the other," cried Fred; and Scarlett squeezed by
him and took the candles, to stand, hot and panting, watching intently
while his companion attacked the lower bolt.
This was even more compactly fixed than the other; but the thumb-piece
was projecting, and Fred began on this with his foot, kicking it upward
with his toe, and stamping it down again, till it gradually loosened,
and, after a little more working, shot back with ease.
Fred drew away from the door then, and looked at his companion.
"Shall we open it now?" he said, with his old hesitation returning.
Scarlett did not answer for a few moments.
"Think it is a tomb?" he said.
"You said it was not," replied Fred.
"It would be very horrible if it is; I shouldn't like to look in."
The door opened from them, and, as they stood there, they could see that
it had given a little, so that the edge was nearly half an inch from the
stonework, and a faint, damp odour reached their nostrils.
"Don't let's be cowards," cried Fred; and, raising one foot, he placed
it against the door, gave a hard thrust, and started back so suddenly
that he nearly overset Scarlett with the lights.
But the door did not fly open. It only yielded a few inches, the hinges
giving forth a dismal, grating sound, and for a few moments the boys
stood hesitating.
"I don't care," cried Fred, excitedly. "I mean to have it open now;"
and he rushed at the door, and thrust and drove, each effort moving it a
little more and a little more, the ironwork yielding with groan after
groan, as if it were remonstrating for being roused from a long, long
sleep, till the door struck against the wall with an echoing bang; and
once more the boys hesitated.
But there was nothing to alarm them. The heavy, dank odour came more
plainly, and, after a few minutes, Fred took one of the candles and
advanced into a stone vault about a dozen feet square, with a very low,
arched doorway opposite to them, and another flight of steps descending
into darkness, while on one side lay a little heap of rusty iron in the
last stages of decay.
"Why, the place is nothing but passages and cellars," cried Fred.
"This must be the end, though," replied Scarlett, eagerly. "We have
come a good way, and there should be a door at the bottom of these
stairs leading into the park."
"Let's come and see, then," cried Fred, advancing boldly enough now.
"What fun if we've found another way into the--Here, Scar, look, look!"
The boy had stopped half a dozen steps down, and he was stooping and
holding the candle as far as he could stretch as Scarlett reached his
side.
"Water?"
"Yes; water."
"What is it--a well?"
"I don't know. We could soon tell, if we had a stick. Here! what are
those at the side?"
They went back to the heap of old iron, and to their surprise found that
it was a collection of old arms and armour, rusted almost beyond
recognition.
From this heap they dragged a long sword, one which must have been
heavy, but which was now little better than a thin collection of scales.
"This will do," said Fred, returning to the farther doorway, and
descending till he was on the lowest step, where, reaching out, he tried
to sound the depth.
This proved an easy task, for, as near as they could make out, the water
was about a yard deep, and the steps went to the bottom, where all was
level ground.
They stretched out the lights, and gazed before them to where the
retreating passage grew lower and lower, till the top of the arch seemed
to have dipped down and touched the black water; and having satisfied
themselves that no farther progress could be made, Fred turned and said,
as he rubbed one ear--
"Now, if we were fishes or water-rats, we might find out some more.
But, I say, Scar, we've taken a deal of trouble to find out very
little."
"I think we've found out a great deal," replied Scarlett. "This is no
well. It's the edge of the lake, and this--"
"Nonsense!"
"I feel sure it is, and this must be a secret way into the house, hidden
under water. Fred, we must have a search outside, and see if we can't
find the place."
"Then you will not stay here any longer?" said Fred, throwing down the
sword upon the rusty heap.
"No; let's go back now. We have found out a very curious thing; and if
we can discover the way in from outside, it will be splendid."
"Come along, then," replied Fred, crossing to the heap of old armour,
and stooping over it, candle in hand. "But I wonder how old these
things are. Do you think we could clean the armour, and make it look
bright again?"
Scarlett shook his head as he picked up the remains of an old helmet.
"It must have been a time of war when this house was built," he said
thoughtfully; "and the secret passage was forgotten when it became a
time of peace."
"But it is not a time of peace now, is it? I heard that there would
very likely be war."
"Who told you that?"
"I heard your father and my father talking about it; and they both grew
cross, and your father soon got up and went home."
"Then your father must have said something he did not like against the
king."
"My father does not like the king," said Fred, sharply.
"And my father does," cried Scarlett, with a flash of the eye.
"Oh, never mind about that now," said Fred, looking at his old companion
in a troubled manner. "What has it got to do with us? What shall we do
now?"
"Go back," replied Scarlett; "for we cannot get any farther along here.
I say, Fred, it does not seem such a terrible place now you are used to
it, does it?"
"Terrible!" cried Fred, stoutly. "Why, I like it. Don't, pray don't,
tell anybody about it, and we can have fine games here. It's ever so
much better than a cave, and we can smuggle all sorts of things up here.
I mean up there in that room."
"Yes, if I don't tell my father about it."
"Oh, don't tell him yet! not till we're tired of it. Then I don't
mind."
Scarlett made no reply, but holding his candle above his head, went out
of the vault, stopping afterwards while Fred drew to the door. Then,
with the ease begotten of use, they went along the tunnel, up the steps
to the chamber, and then along the passages to the great staircase,
lying down and rolling themselves over, and emerging to listen intently
before closing the opening, and hurrying to Scarlett's room for another
wash and clearance of the cobwebs and dust.
This done, they hurried out, full of eagerness to run down to the side
of the great lake, where they fully expected to find the opening at
once.
Failing in this, they stopped by a sandy bank, and, taking a piece of
stick, Fred set to work to sketch on the sand a plan of their
wanderings.
"You see, we started from here, Scar; then we went off so far to the
left, then to the right, then to the left again, and then up into the
chamber. Then we went out of the right-hand corner, and down that long
flight of stairs to the passage, which led straight away to the vault,
and down into the water."
"Well?" said Scarlett, coolly.
"Yes, of course, I see it now. Then, according to my plan, the way into
the lake must be just under where we are sitting."
"Where is it, then?"
Fred looked up at his companion, rubbed his ear again, and then looked
down at the water's edge.
"It must be here somewhere," he said. "Let's have another look round."
Scarlett rose to his feet from where he had been lying, and they once
more searched the side of the lake, which toward the house was deep and
dark below its high bank.
There were places where it might be possible for a tunnel to run down
into the water, shady spots where willows and alders overhung the lake;
places where birch and hazels grew close up to the patches of rushes and
reed-mace, with its tall broken pokers standing high above the waving
leaves.
In one indentation--a spot where the flat-bottomed boat lay moored--
Scarlett felt certain that they had found the entrance; but when they
lay flat on the overhanging bank and peered down below, there was
nothing to be seen but black leaves and dead branches far below, while
in mid-water, bar-sided perch in golden green armour, floated slowly to
and fro, seeming to watch the movements of sundry carp close to the
surface, gliding in and out among the stems of the lilies and nestling
beneath the leaves.
"It's of no use, Fred. I'm afraid we have made a mistake. That must be
a kind of well made to supply the house with water, and it is all fancy
about the passage coming down here."
At that moment there was a loud burst of barking, and the lads started
up to run towards the house, for two mounted men were on their way along
the winding road which crossed the park, evidently making for the great
entrance-door of the Hall.
"They've come back together," cried Fred as he ran; but before they
could reach the door, one of the horsemen had swung himself down, thrown
the reins to Nat, who was waiting, and walked up to the top of the
steps. Here he turned, and stood frowning for a few moments, while his
companion sat beating his boot with his whip so vigorously that the
horse kept starting and fidgeting about, making a plunge sufficient to
unseat a bad rider.
"Will you come in, Forrester?" said the dismounted man.
"What for?" was the stern reply. "To renew the argument, and have harsh
words said to me?"
"Nonsense, my dear Forrester," said the other. "I only spoke out as a
loyal man should, and I am sorry you took it so ill."
"And I only spoke out as a loyal man should."
"Loyal?"
"Yes, to his country, sir."
"Why, my dear Forrester--" began the dismounted man, angrily. "There, I
beg your pardon. I was a little heated. Come in, Forrester. Stay and
dine with me, and we can chat matters over coolly."
"Better not," said the mounted man, coldly. "Fred!"
"Yes, father."
"You were coming home with me?"
"No, father; I was going to stop with Scar for a bit."
"Humph! Better come home now, my boy. I think Sir Godfrey wishes to
talk to his son."
"I was not going to do anything of the kind, Forrester; but if you are
bent upon a division between us, I am not the man to baulk you."
"Very good, sir, very good. Then be it so."
"But it seems to me a great pity that two old friends should be divided,
and our boys, who have been like brothers, should be separated upon a
question about which you must feel, upon calm consideration, that you
are wrong."
"If I felt that I was wrong, Sir Godfrey Markham, I should at once
apologise; but I am not wrong."
"And our boys?"
"It is impossible for our boys to be friends, Sir Godfrey, until you
have apologised for what you have said."
"Apologised, Colonel Forrester! Why, sir, I commend myself for my
restraint. If it had been any other man than my oldest friend who had
dared to utter such disloyal thoughts against the king, I should have
struck him from his horse. Good day, sir, and I pray Heaven to place
better thoughts in your mind! Scarlett, my boy."
"Yes, father."
"Come here."
"Mayn't I shake hands with Fred Forrester first?"
"No. Yes. You boys have no quarrel. But it will be better that you
should keep at home for the present."
"Oh, Fred, what's the matter?" whispered Scarlett.
"Don't you know?"
"Ye-es, I'm afraid I do."
"That's it. I didn't know we were going to have trouble about it down
here in Coombeland. But, I say, Scar, we're good friends, aren't we?"
"Yes, of course."
"That's right. They're both cross to-day; they'll make it up
to-morrow."
"Fred!" said Colonel Forrester over his shoulder as he rode off.
"Coming, father. Good-bye, Scar; and, I say, don't tell anybody about
the secret place just yet."
"Very well."
"It will be all right again directly. Father soon gets good-tempered
again after he has been cross; but it always makes him angry if anybody
praises up the king."
"Fred!"
"Coming, father."
The boy darted off after the departing horseman, and Scarlett sat
watching them till they disappeared among the trees, when he went slowly
into the house, catching sight of his father striding up and down in the
dining-room, and with a more serious look in his face than he remembered
to have seen before.
"I hope there is not going to be trouble and fighting, the same as there
has been elsewhere," thought the boy; and he involuntarily glanced
through the open hall-door at the beautiful landscape, across which
seemed to float visions of soldiers and burning homesteads, and
destruction such as had been brought to them in the shape of news from
far distant parts.
The coming of his father roused him from his reverie.
"Why, Scar, lad, don't look so serious," cried Sir Godfrey, clapping the
boy on the shoulder. "I spoke angrily, didn't I, my boy? Well, I was
obliged in these rebellious times. Remember this, Scar, no matter what
comes, `God save the king!'"
"Yes, father," cried the boy, flushing as he took off his cap and tossed
it in the air, "`God save the king!'"