Nothing more was needed to increase the nervous tension of the young
people in the Corner House, especially of Ruth and Agnes, on whom
responsibility rested.
The hurried trip home before the storm, the discovery of the plight of
the children, the crash of the broken shelf and the freaks of the
storm—all this had added up and piled on with the result that all were
keyed to the highest pitch.
And when, on top of this, that weird noise sounded, each and every one
gave a nervous start, though the boys, at least, were ashamed of
themselves a moment later.
“Did you hear that?” gasped Agnes, the first to recover her startled
breath.
“Did we _hear_ it?” murmured Nally. “I should say we _did_! What was
it?”
“And where was it?” asked Ruth, looking around nervously.
“The Corner House is living strictly up to its reputation of a quiet,
homelike family hotel,” joked Luke.
“No, but seriously, that was—something!” declared Neale. He had paused
before the last word as if in doubt what name to put to the strange
noise.
“It was _something_ all right,” asserted Luke. “And we’ve got to find
out what it was.”
“Locate it first—that would be my suggestion,” came from Ruth.
“It was in the cellar!” declared Neale.
“That’s what I’d say,” remarked Nalbro.
On this point there seemed to be little doubt.
“If it had been in the upper part of the house we’d have heard Mrs. Mac
or Linda up and about by now,” asserted Ruth. “It was below us here—in
the cellar, I’m sure.”
“It came right after that clap of thunder,” said Nalbro. “At first I
thought we’d been struck.”
“The rumble of the thunder might have rattled down something in the
cellar,” suggested Agnes. “I’ve known it to bring down a stack of tins
in the pantry.”
“Maybe part of the swinging shelf and some of the glass jars that didn’t
fall before, took a tumble now,” suggested Ruth.
Luke shook his head.
“If you had seen that shelf, after the children had finished with it,
you wouldn’t say there was anything left to fall,” he remarked. “It was
a wreck.”
“Then what was this noise?” asked Ruth.
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” asserted Luke. “I’ll go down and
find out. Maybe a water pipe burst in real earnest this time,” he
suggested, with a glance at Ruth.
“Oh, don’t say anything now to make me more nervous!” she begged.
“Why does that make you nervous?” Nalbro asked.
“It reminds me of those two horrid men—not that I think they’re around
now, or Hop Wong either, but——”
“Oh, say! Maybe it _is_ Hop Wong searching for treasure under cover of
the storm!” cried Agnes.
“Stop!” commanded Ruth. “If you’re going to suggest such things——”
She made a tragic gesture. Usually Ruth was not nervous. Clearly
something had occurred to upset her usual poise.
“I only suggested water pipes,” remarked Luke, “because I thought maybe
this terrific rain might have washed away a drain or something,
accounting for the gurgling noise.”
“Gurgling noise!” exclaimed Neale. “It was a groan that I heard.”
“So did I!” chorused some of the others.
“Well, air and water mingling and going through a pipe will make a
groaning noise sometimes,” commented Luke.
“If any water going through a pipe made a noise such as we heard—then
that pipe and water had better go on the stage and do a vaudeville
turn,” declared Neale. “It would bring down the house!”
“Well, we’ll soon settle what it is,” remarked Luke. “I’m going down
cellar. You have lights there, haven’t you?” he asked, turning to Ruth.
“Can they be switched on from up here?”
“Yes. But you mustn’t go down there alone, Luke! Wait until I call Uncle
Rufus!”
“Nonsense!” expostulated the young collegian.
Uncle Rufus had gone to bed earlier in the evening before the retirement
of Mrs. MacCall and Linda.
“We’ll go with him!” offered Neale and Hal.
“One of you boys has got to stay with me, for I’m not going near that
cellar!” declared Nalbro.
“Now, wait a minute,” said Luke slowly. “This thing—this
investigation—must be done aright. I’m going to scout around down the
cellar by myself. I can do it better alone. If two of us go, one is sure
to think he sees something. He’ll call out and attract the attention of
the other, perhaps just at a time when a valuable discovery is about to
be made. Whereas one, alone, can devote his whole mind to the business
in hand. So I’ll go down alone and if I find I need help I’ll sing out
and some of you can follow.
“Neale, you and Hal stay here with the girls. No, Ruth, you are not
going!” he added hastily, seeing determination in her eyes. “Burr-r-r-r!
that was a bad one,” he exclaimed, as a vivid flash of lightning was
followed almost immediately by a terrific crash of thunder.
“Oh, Luke, I don’t want to have you go down in that cellar alone!”
begged Ruth.
“Nonsense!” he laughed. “I can do a lot better alone. And if I need help
I’ll sing out. Don’t be afraid.”
He patted her hand tenderly, and she did not resent this little caress,
given in public as it was. Luke had a masterful way with him.
Suddenly, while they stood there after Luke’s decision had been
announced, and while they were mentally trying to picture what had taken
place in the cellar of the Corner House, the lights again went dim.
“What if the current goes off when you’re in the cellar?” suggested
Agnes to Luke.
“I’d better have a flashlight, I suppose.”
“Take this one,” and Neale offered his. “I always carry it when I’m in
the car,” he added. “They’re mighty handy.”
Luke accepted the miniature electric torch and started for the kitchen,
whence entrance was to be had to the cellar. The others followed him,
Ruth pointing out the switch that controlled the cellar lights. It was
thrown on and Luke prepared to descend.
“We’ll be listening for you,” said Neale, to inspire confidence. “Don’t
let the bogey-man get you!”
“I won’t,” laughed Luke, starting down the stairs. “I think it will turn
out to be, just as I said, some water gurgling through a drain-pipe. But
if I should be——”
Before he could complete the sentence the front doorbell suddenly pealed
out its electric warning.
Luke was already half-way down the cellar stairs.
“Goodness! Callers at this time of night!” gasped Agnes.
“Probably some one who wants shelter from the storm,” suggested Luke,
calling the words from the cellar stairway.
“Agnes, you and Hal go and see who’s at the front door, and Neale and I
will wait in the kitchen to see what Luke finds,” suggested Ruth.
“I’ll appoint myself a member of the door committee!” remarked Nalbro.
“Unless you want me to stay with you and Neale?” she added, turning to
Ruth.
“No, go ahead,” Ruth answered.
A dim glow came up from the cellar, showing that the electric lights
there were working properly. But Luke did not trust them. He held in his
hand, ready, the little electric torch Neale had given him.
Agnes, Nalbro and Hal went to the front door to answer the bell, while
Ruth and Neale remained in the kitchen.
“He’s moving around down there,” murmured Neale, for he could see that
Ruth was under a nervous strain, and he thought perhaps that a little
talk might relieve her.
“Yes,” she answered. “I hope he doesn’t get cut on the broken glass jars
from the swinging shelf. I must tell him. Oh, Luke!” she called down the
cellar stairs.
“Yes? What is it?” he asked, his voice showing that he had not yet moved
far away from the foot of the flight.
“Be careful of the broken glass.”
“I will—thank you.”
“See anything yet, old man?” asked Neale.
“No. Not a thing. The outside back cellar door is open, though,” he
said, “and the rain’s coming in there in a regular stream.”
“Oh, dear!” murmured Ruth. “I suppose those children left it open when
they were treasure-hunting!”
“I’ll shut it,” volunteered Luke.
Neale and Ruth could hear him moving about below them. Neale was just
going to say that perhaps, after all, nothing would develop, that they
would have all their fears for nothing, when Agnes, Nalbro and Hal came
back from the front door.
“Well?” asked Ruth.
“No one was there!” announced Agnes in a strained voice.
“No one?”
“Not a soul!”
“The street’s deserted—a regular rain-swept desert!” remarked Hal.
“That _is_ strange,” murmured Ruth. “Someone must have rung the bell. I
wonder——”
At that moment a cry came from the cellar—a cry that caused them all to
start.
It was Luke’s voice!
“What’s the matter, old man?” called Neale, for the cry had in it
something of terror and alarm.
There was no answer.
“We must go to him!” declared Ruth.
Without waiting for any of the others, she darted down the stairs, but
Neale was after her in a trice. They saw a dim light in the cellar as
they almost fell down the narrow stairs. The light came from the front
part of the dark depths, up toward the street.
“Luke! Luke!” called Neale.
“Is anything the matter?” Ruth demanded anxiously.
“Want any help?” asked Hal. “Shall we come down?”
“No, stay up there and watch the front door!” cried Neale, with sudden
suspicion. “There’s queer work going on here! Watch the front door,
Hal!”
Neale and Ruth caught a glimpse of a dim form moving about the cellar.
“There’s Luke!” cried Neale. “Luke! Luke! What’s wrong? Why did you cry
out?” he asked.
There was no answer. But as Neale and Ruth started forward from the
cellar stairs they saw Luke struck down by a club in the hands of some
one invisible to them. He fell like a log, and the next moment the
cellar was plunged into darkness.