THE ESCAPE
"Cunningham!" gasped Tom Swift, taken aback as much by the boldness of
the rascal in coming into his presence as by the force the Englishman
had used in swinging him aside. "You--Cunningham!"
"Yes!" hissed the crook, but he appeared agitated because of having had
his mask torn off. "You made a wrong move that time, Swift!"
"Wrong move! What do you mean?"
"I mean I came in here only to save this drunken fool from a beating
he well deserves. That has nothing to do with it. If you had kept
your hand to yourself and left my mask alone I would not have minded
so much. But, now that you have found me out, it will go hard with
you--both of you!" and he pointed an accusing finger at Ned.
"I'm not afraid of you!" blustered the financial manager. "Come on,
Tom!" he yelled. "It's even now! And the other man's fuddled. We can
handle Cunningham!"
At that moment another guard, attracted by the loud talking, entered
the stone room, and as he was armed with a rifle the odds were too
great to risk a fight.
"Better not try anything!" snarled Cunningham, putting in his pocket
the black handkerchief Tom had pulled from his face. "Yes, Swift, you
made a wrong move! We might have let you go, but, now that you made me
show myself, it is impossible!"
"So you're going to keep us here?" inquired Tom.
"Yes!"
"It can't be for very long," said the young inventor. "We'll be missed.
My House on Wheels will be traced. It was known we were coming to
Dismal Mountain and searching parties will soon be on our trail."
"They won't find you!" snapped Cunningham. "You've made your own bed
and now you can sleep in it. Take 'em out!" he ordered another guard
who had joined the one with the rifle. "As for you--drunken fool that
you are--clear out!" and his eyes blazed as he kicked the man who had
blurted out the news of the approaching marriage of Floyd Barton and
Mary Nestor. "Take 'em out!"
"Where, Boss?" asked one of the sober guards.
"To the dungeon, of course! Where else?"
Tom and Ned did not think it wise to put up a fight for, so they
feared, Cunningham, in his rage, might order them shot. So they
accompanied their captors along the corridor and down a flight of steps
to what was evidently the cellar of the castle. A little later they
were shut in another stone room, but smaller and much less desirable
than their former prison. They were, indeed, in a dungeon.
"Now maybe you'll wish you hadn't been so fresh!" sneered one of the
guards as he departed, locking the door.
Left to themselves, Ned and Tom looked at each other with somewhat
woebegone and puzzled faces. Their dungeon was dimly lighted and was
damp and depressing. It was almost like a prison cell.
"Well, I'm not going to stay here long!" declared Tom determinedly.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned.
"Get out the first chance I see. This is sure rotten!"
"It will be if they don't feed us," agreed his chum. But they did not
have to worry long on that score, for presently a man they had not seen
before appeared with a tray of as good food as had before been served
to them. They were hungry and ate heartily. Then they were left alone
and talked matters over.
"What do you think of that fellow's talk about Mary?" asked Tom. "Think
there was any basis for it?"
"That drunk seemed to know what he was talking about. But you know Mary
better than I do," answered Ned. "However, I don't believe Mary would
ever consent to marry this Barton."
"Don't you?" cried Tom, and Ned saw that he caught at this straw.
"No, I don't. I believe, for reasons of his own, Barton has been
telling that story and he's circulated it among these men, hoping it
would reach you and break down your nerve!"
"It shan't!" cried Tom.
"No! Don't let it!" urged Ned. "It's a dirty, rotten game, Tom. They're
trying to get your nerve!"
"That's it--a game!" cried Tom Swift, with new energy. "Well, they'll
find that two can play at it! I'm out for revenge now, and when I meet
Barton----"
"I hope I'll be there to see the fight!" chuckled Ned.
However, if Tom and Ned hoped for any immediate change in their
captivity, they were disappointed. For three days they remained in
close confinement, and when meals were brought there were always two
guards, one with a gun and the other with a tray, so there was no
chance for a surprise attack.
Not giving up easily, though, Tom and Ned tried to escape from the
small stone room at night. They took a fork and spoon from one of their
trays, and with these simple implements tried to loosen some of the
window bars.
At first they thought they were going to succeed, for they dug out some
mortar. But it was only to find under the mortar that the bars were set
in lead upon which their tools made no impression. So they had to give
that up.
They were below the level of the ground, there being a little dug-out
area upon which the only window in their cell opened. So they could see
nothing of what went on in the courtyard on which they judged their
prison room faced, for they could hear trucks coming and going and the
murmur of many voices.
"Well, if we can't leave by the window we must try the door," said Tom,
when they had been locked up a week. They still had the spoon and fork
and hoped to be able to pick the lock. But a few trials convinced them
that it was too strong.
Then, unexpectedly, their chance came. The same guard, again drunk,
who had blurted out the gossip concerning Mary and Barton came in with
a tray of food for their supper, and in a flash Tom and Ned saw that he
was alone.
For once the cunning of their captors had slipped!
"We'll get him this time, Ned!" whispered Tom, and his chum understood.
Smiling with drunken vacuity, the guard had unlocked the door. The tray
was heavy and he had had to set it down on a stool outside to do this
and use both hands in carrying it into the cell.
"Now!" cried Tom suddenly, and he and Ned threw themselves on the
unsuspecting fellow. Before he could utter a cry Tom clapped his hand
over the guard's mouth and while he got a knee into the small of his
back, Ned bound the struggling hands.
In a trice they had wound strips torn from their bed clothes around the
man's ankles and improvised a gag which effectually silenced him. Then
they trussed him up so he could not move and, having taken from his
pockets a bunch of keys and a pistol, they were ready for their long
deferred escape.
"Talk about luck!" panted Ned, for the capture had not been easy in
spite of the fellow's drunken condition.
"We're not out of the woods just yet," cautioned Tom.
"Well, let's get out of this dungeon for a start," proposed Ned.
Then, having shoved the trussed guard under one of the cots, they
arranged the clothes on both of them to make it appear that the
prisoners were sleeping after their meal, and, having gone out by the
door, they locked their gagged guard within and stole swiftly down the
corridor.
They had to proceed cautiously, for they were unfamiliar with the
interior of the castle and did not know at what moment they might run
into Cunningham or some of his men. So they paused at every turn to
look about them before advancing.
Twice, as they did this, they saw forms or heard through the gloom
approaching voices and footsteps, and had to hurry back and secrete
themselves. But at length they made their way up a flight of stairs,
the same ones down which they had been taken after the exposure of
Cunningham's masked face. They were now on the ground floor of the
castle, where they had first been imprisoned.
It was night, and only a few dim lights here and there in the long,
deserted corridors showed them which way to go. They did not know what
turns to take. Any moment might send them stumbling upon a band of
their enemies.
They conversed in whispers, went a little way down one passage, only to
find that it ended against a blank wall, returned to try another with
like poor results. They wanted to get out into the open, to find the
House on Wheels if possible, and escape in that. But luck seemed to be
against them.
They wandered about, several times having to take refuge behind piles
of débris to escape groups of men. Presently they saw a light at one
end of a long corridor. Stealing toward it, they found that the light
came from an open room, whence proceeded the murmur of many voices.
Adjoining the large room, in which several men were gathered, was a
smaller apartment, a storage place, evidently.
"Come in here!" whispered Tom to his chum, and they slipped in not a
second too soon, for Cunningham strode down the hall and entered the
main, lighted room where a conference seemed to be going on.
Then, hidden in the small room and listening at a ventilator
communicating with the other apartment, Tom and Ned heard enough talk
to make clear to them the nature of the business carried on in the old
castle.
As Tom had suspected, Cunningham was a rascally but talented
manufacturer of fine optical and scientific machines and instruments.
He had failed in doing a legitimate business and had turned to crooked
ways.
As the talk went on, Tom saw why he had been approached to make
machinery and tools for turning out illegal goods. It was because
Cunningham wanted to sell them at an enormous profit, not having to
pay any patent royalties. Owing to Tom's refusal, and because of his
inability to get other firms to make any machines, Cunningham had taken
to stealing shipments of goods from large manufacturing concerns. He
had allied himself with a band of train robbers who, departing from the
usual holding up of pay and express cars, were looting fast freights.
Sometimes the trains were held up by means of false signals and again
cars on sidings were broken into and the cases stolen and brought to
the castle for distribution among fences, as dealers in thieves' loot
are called.
Cunningham was doing some manufacturing in the castle, it became known
to Tom and Ned as they listened, and this branch would have been
gone into on a larger scale had Tom consented to make the necessary
machinery.
Then, unexpectedly, the two heard some startling news. Floyd Barton was
Cunningham's nephew and the young man who had danced so often with
Mary Nestor was using part of his wealth in the illegal manufacture of
patented goods. Whether Barton was present at the conference, Tom and
Ned could not discover, for though they could hear the talk they could
not see the speakers.
"Well, we've found out all we want to know, Ned," remarked Tom, as they
got down off the box on which they had been standing to bring their
ears nearer the ventilator.
"I should say so! Why, this Cunningham is nothing but what you said he
was--a crook!"
"And those with him are just plain thieves!" said Tom. "Well, we've got
enough evidence to jail the lot of them."
"Including Barton!" said Ned.
"Yes, including Barton!"
"But first we've got to get out of here," went on Ned. "Come on, before
that meeting breaks up," and he nodded toward the other room.
He and Tom came out of their hiding place and, as they did so, Ned
saw, lying on a ledge, an automatic pistol. With an exclamation of
satisfaction, he picked it up, ascertained that the magazine was
filled, and put it in his pocket. Tom had the one taken from the guard.
"We've got to work fast!" Tom whispered to his chum, as they went back
along the corridor. "Try the first window you come to and we'll light
out!"
"This looks like a good one," said Ned, indicating a casement which,
they could see by looking out, was not far from the ground. "Come on!"
As Ned threw one leg over the sill and Tom was in readiness to follow,
they heard a noise behind them and saw Cunningham running toward them.
"Guards! Guards!" yelled the Englishman. "The prisoners are escaping!
Help me!"