IN THE FOX'S HOLE
What had become of Paul? What was the cause of his absence from the
school? Had he heard of the decision come to by his Form, and instead of
waiting to be expelled, had he left of his own accord? That was the view
of Newall and others of the Fifth.
"About the best thing he could have done," said Parfitt. "It wasn't only
the flag business, but there were other things in the background. The
Black Book business has never been cleared up, you know."
Parfitt made this remark in his most significant manner, with uplifted
eyebrows and a shrug of the shoulders.
"That's right. Kick a man when he's down," drawled Waterman. "Parfitt's
better at a drop kick than any fellow I know."
The Third were just as much concerned over the disappearance of
Moncrief, jun., as the Fifth were over the disappearance of Percival.
Stanley was doubly anxious--anxious for Paul, anxious for his cousin.
Could they have gone away together? That was scarcely likely. They were
hardly on speaking terms for one thing; and even if the idea of running
away from Garside had suddenly come into Paul's head, it was not at all
likely that he had induced Harry to run away with him. What, then, had
happened?
While the school was thus anxiously awaiting news of the missing boys,
we will try to explain what had really happened.
Paul knew that a meeting of his Form had been called, and that he and
his doings were to be discussed, probably censured. When would the time
arrive that he might take steps to defend himself? When would his lips
be unsealed? How much longer would Mr. Moncrief keep him in suspense,
and what had become of Zuker?
Unconsciously Paul had strayed from the school to the garden where
Hibbert had, not so long since, fallen asleep--in the sleep that knows
no waking. He sat for a long time under the tree, thinking of these
things, with no one to disturb his thoughts, save the birds that
fluttered around him as they used to flutter around Hibbert.
What had become of Hibbert's father? Again and again the question came
to him, and he could not dismiss it from his thoughts. He thought of the
strange circumstance under which he had last seen him--of that weird
scene in the cave with the man Brockman. All that had happened at that
interview was fixed indelibly on his memory. He could see Zuker tracing
with his finger on the chart the passage of the Dutch to the
Medway--could hear his voice as he described all that had happened as
they broke the chain on the river and advanced on Upnor Castle.
Then--then had followed the strange appearance of the master, and the
still stranger interview between him and Zuker.
Was the cave still there? Often and often a strong desire had seized
Paul to go there again, but he had resisted it. Now, however, as he
thought of all that had happened on the evening he went there, the
impulse grew so strong upon him that he could wrestle with it no longer.
He must respond to its call.
So, as one under some mighty spell, Paul passed from the garden, and was
soon on his way to Cranstead Common.
It was beginning to get dusk as he followed the trail along which he had
once followed in the footsteps of Mr. Weevil. After travelling some time
in the direction of the river, he came to the thickly-wooded part, where
the master had disappeared.
Searching amongst the brambles, he found the curious division which
marked the centre, and placing his hand beneath the bushes as before, he
was not long in finding the ring that was attached to the circular
opening. Raising it, he entered again the sloping tunnel cut in the
sandstone.
Though he had only been in that tunnel once before, he had travelled
along it so often in imagination since that it seemed to him he was on
familiar ground. He had hesitated when he first entered it. He knew not
whither it would lead him, what dangers might meet him on the way. He
hesitated no longer. Still he walked cautiously, with his hands before
him, like a blind man in the darkness, until it began to broaden. Once
he thought he heard footsteps behind him, and he came to a sudden pause.
Was some one really following him, or was it only the echo of his own
footsteps?
He listened attentively, but could hear nothing. It was as silent as the
tomb.
"My ears must have deceived me," he told himself, as he continued his
way.
Presently he came to that part of the tunnel where a faint film of light
penetrated into it, and again the fantastic shadows he had before seen
seemed to menace him at every footstep he took. The cave, then, was not
deserted. It was still inhabited by some one. Who? Zuker and
Brockman--the same tenants as before, or had some one else come into
possession?
Yes, there was the curtain, partly concealing the main entrance to the
cave. To reach it, he crawled on hands and knees as before, and peered
through the space between the curtain and the wall.
There was no anthracite fire burning this time. It was dimly lighted by
one of the lamps suspended from the roof. There was no sign of life. The
place seemed deserted.
Paul waited for a long time listening. No sound came from the cave. It
was as silent as the tomb. But as he listened, he thought that he could
again hear the sound of a light step behind him, coming along the path
he had travelled.
Was it possible that some one else had entered the tunnel? Surely the
master had not again followed unconsciously in his footsteps? Paul
turned his head and listened, but it was as silent in that direction as
the other.
"I'm getting as nervous as a kitten," he laughed to himself. "My ears
have again deceived me."
No one appeared to be in the cave. Mr. Moncrief had said in his letter
that he knew about Zuker's movements. Could it have been that he had
been arrested? It was just possible. Anyhow, he would like to have a
nearer view of the cave. There could be no danger, and if there were, it
was worth the risk.
So Paul rose from his hiding-place behind the curtain, and stepped
cautiously into the cave. The guns and cutlasses were still hanging on
the wall, but the models and designs had gone, and the photographic
camera had gone from its niche.
There was a passage on the other side of the chamber similar to the one
through which he had come.
"Where does that lead to, I wonder?" thought Paul.
There could be no harm in exploring it a little way. He might just as
well know where it led to, if it were possible to find out. The
information might be useful. Paul was animated with the adventurous
spirit of the explorer, which knows no rest until it is satisfied. He
crossed to the opening. At the moment he reached it, a figure emerged
from the darkness, and confronted him. It was Zuker.
It was so sudden, so unexpected, that Paul could not move. He stood
there as one rooted to the spot. Before he could move, the man had
sprung upon him with the swiftness of a tiger, and seizing him by the
throat, dragged him to the light.
"You!" he cried. "The boy from Garside. Your name is----"
"Paul Percival," gasped Paul, as the fierce grip relaxed.
"Paul Percival. _Ach Himmel!_ It is Fate itself."
He had in turn shrunk back, as though Paul were no longer a being of
flesh and blood, but a phantom. Then he murmured hoarsely to himself:
"Weevil was right. The hand of a Higher than man is in it."
In the uncertain light he had not at first recognized Paul; but now he
saw him, and knew that just as he had once been face to face with the
father at a supreme crisis in his life, now he was face to face with the
son. Had Paul seized that moment of stupefaction, he might have escaped,
but he made no effort. And the moment passed.
"Who showed you this place? Who brought you here?" demanded Zuker,
himself again.
"No one; I found it out myself."
"How?"
"That is my secret."
Zuker's hand went to his breast, to a weapon concealed there.
"Be careful how you answer, boy. You're not now in school, and you
haven't a school-master to deal with. Is this the first time you've been
here?"
"No."
Zuker started in spite of himself.
"Not the first time! How many times have you been here before then, may
I ask?"
"Once."
"_Ach!_ Now I understand. It is through you my plans have been defeated.
It is through you my man--_mein_ Brockman--has been arrested. It is
through you that I have scarcely dared venture from this hole for two
days past. You have been a mean, dirty spy."
"As you were to my father when I was a child." The words were upon
Paul's lips, but he forced them back. Then aloud, "I've not been a spy.
I've told no one."
Zuker looked searchingly into Paul's face.
"Who has told, then--who has given information to the police, to what is
called your Secret Investigation Department--if it is not you?"
Paul was silent. He now understood Mr. Moncrief's letter. It must have
been Mr. Weevil who had given information to Mr. Moncrief, it must have
been he who had kept him informed of Zuker's doings. Mr. Weevil was not
a traitor to his country, after all. Nay, it seemed as though he had
striven, in his peculiar way, to defend it against traitors.
"Silent, eh? I can see what you've told me is false. You have worked
against me from the first. It was you who outwitted me once before. It
was you who got that packet through to the man who has always stood
between me and my plans, the Admiralty man, Moncrief. All would have
been over; I should have got all through had it not been for that. _Ach
Himmel_, you will not have the chance of blabbing any more secrets! I
have you now--tight in the Fox's Hole--and you will not leave it alive.
Let me see what your school is good for. I will give you five minutes
to get ready for _sterblichkeit_. _Ach_, it is a long word! Do you know
what it means?"
Paul knew what it meant. It was the German word for mortality.
"Thank you," answered Paul simply. "That is longer than my father had
when he was called upon to die, and it should be enough for me."
Zuker's hand trembled as it fingered the weapon concealed in his breast.
Paul closed his eyes, and repeated in a low, yet clear voice:
"'Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom
come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven. Give us this day
our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that
trespass against us----"
"Halt! Stop!" cried Zuker hoarsely. "You spoke of your father just
now--how he died. Tell me quickly how it was."
"He was drowned, in saving the life of a man who had robbed him."
"_Ach!_ And do you know who that man was?"
No answer came from Paul's lips for several seconds, seconds that seemed
as hours. Deep silence reigned in the cave, then it was broken by the
clear voice of the boy:
"Yes; I know who that man was. He called himself Israel Zuker."
Zuker could not repress a movement of astonishment as Paul pronounced
his name.
"Knowing this--knowing that it was through me your father lost his life,
you could yet say that prayer--'As we forgive them that trespass against
us'? You are as brave as your father was," came hoarsely from his lips.
"I could wish no greater praise than that," answered Paul. "But I had
not finished. Shall I go on?"
"You need not be in so great a hurry. Wait till I tell you. I have one
or two more questions to ask you. How did you come to know that I was
the man who spied upon your father--the man through whom he lost his
life--the man----_Ach!_" He stopped himself suddenly. His brow darkened;
the veins stood out in knots upon his forehead. "Fool! Why didn't I
guess it? I see it all now. It is your master--it is Weevil who told
you. It is Weevil who has betrayed me."
His hand went to the weapon in his breast again.
"No, you are mistaken; Mr. Weevil has told me nothing. He has not
betrayed you."
"You are telling me false. You are trying to mislead me. Beware! No one
else knew my secret. Who else could tell you?"
"I learned it from a little fellow whom I loved as a brother, and who
loved me as a brother, too. Alas, he is now dead! We called him
Hibbert."
"Hibbert--my son!" Zuker's voice softened wonderfully as the words
passed his lips; then it hardened again, as he demanded: "How was it my
son came to betray me?"
"It was after that accident on the river. Perhaps you have forgotten? It
was I who helped him back to the school. And the dear little chap was
always so grateful for it--always made such an awful fuss about it. That
was his way--ever so much too sensitive and grateful. Poor little chap!"
Paul brushed the back of his hand quickly across his eyes; and somehow
the man did the same.
"Well, I was often with him after that," he presently continued. "He
felt that he would never get well, I think, and I could see that he
suffered a good deal from something he had on his mind. I never guessed
what it was; but one night, when I was sitting beside him, he told me
that he could not sleep because of it, and he felt that if he didn't
speak, God would never forgive him. That's how it was he came to tell me
that you, Israel Zuker, were his father."
"I see--I see! Now I understand!"
Zuker strode across and across the chamber, as though uncertain how to
act. At length he disappeared into one of the recesses of the cave,
evidently used as a storehouse, and almost as instantly appeared again
with a coil of rope in his hands.
"For all you did for my son, I spare your life; but I must keep you here
for a few hours. My safety depends on it."
Paul knew that it was useless to protest. He knew well enough that
Zuker had the power of shooting him as a dog, and he was not the man to
stand any nonsense. So he allowed himself to be bound; and when he had
bound him, Zuker brought out some cushions from the recess, and placed
Paul on them.
"There! I am making you as comfortable as circumstances will permit," he
said. "_Gute nacht_--good-night. Remember Israel Zuker again in your
prayers. _Ach!_ it was good of you to be kind to my boy when others so
mocked and hated him. Adieu!"
With these words, he passed swiftly out by the way he had come. Paul
rested for a few minutes, thinking quietly over the strange interview
through which he had just passed. It was kind of Zuker to spare his
life, but he did not much appreciate the prospect of lying there, bound
hand and foot, for several hours--nay, it might so happen that Zuker
would never return.
His last words had an odd sound. It was difficult to know what he meant
by them. He might have an intention of returning, or he might not.
Perhaps he was uncertain himself. He knew well enough that he might be
arrested at any moment, just as his confederate had been. In that case
he (Paul) might lie there, bound hand and foot, for days and nights,
gradually getting weaker and weaker, and finally dying of starvation.
The prospect was not a very agreeable one.
So Paul determined to do his best to free himself of the coils that
bound him. He was a strong boy, and struggled might and main to loosen
them; but Zuker seemed to have tied them with devilish cunning. Struggle
as Paul would, he was unable to loosen them. And the more he struggled,
the more the rope cut into his flesh.
"My! The tightest knots I've ever struck," said Paul, as he lay back
gasping.
"Paul!"
What was that? An echo, or some one calling him by name?
"Paul!"
There it was again. Surely it was some one calling him. He tried to turn
his quivering limbs in the direction whence the voice came. Was he awake
or was he dreaming?
The figure of a boy was creeping towards him--creeping, as it seemed
to him, from the shadows in the tunnel. Who--who was it? Was it
really a being of flesh and blood? At first it seemed to him that
it must be the wraith of the little fellow about whom he had been
speaking--Hibbert--but even as the thought filtered through his mind the
boy was kneeling beside him, looking anxiously into his face.
It was Moncrief minor.
"Harry!" cried Paul in amazement.
"Are you all right?" came in a whisper from the boy.
[Illustration: "THE BOY WAS KNEELING BESIDE HIM,--IT WAS MONCRIEF
MINOR.... 'ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?' CAME IN A WHISPER FROM THE BOY."]
"Right enough, but not altogether comfortable. Where in the name of
wonder did you spring from?"
"Is there any chance of that man you called Zuker coming back?"
"No; you may be sure of that."
"Then, first, let me get that rope off."
Paul, as may be imagined, was by no means opposed to that proceeding. So
Harry drew out his pocket-knife and promptly severed his bonds.
"Ah, that's better," cried Paul, springing to his feet and stretching
his limbs. "It's worth while being tied up, so as to feel how nice it is
to be free again. Now perhaps you'll tell me how you got here?"
"There's really no fear of that man, Zuker, coming back?"
"No; I'm sure of it."
"Then I'll explain. First of all, I must tell you that I've done a mean
thing. You lost a letter when that scrimmage took place between you and
Stan in the Common Room. I found it, and seeing that it was from my
father, read it; then I was too ashamed to give it back to you, so I
kept it. Hearing that there'd been a meeting about you in the Forum, I
took the letter to Stan and showed it to him. As I came away from
interviewing Stan, I saw you hurrying through the gates. You looked
round, and seemed anxious that no one should see you. That made me
curious. I'd just been reading my father's letter to you--remember. I'd
begun to see there was some mystery which wanted clearing up. Why
shouldn't I have a hand in it? I asked myself. So forgive me, Paul, I
followed you."
Paul was silent. How could he blame him? Was it not the same spirit of
curiosity which had first led him to that place?
"It was fortunately dusk, and I took good care that you shouldn't see
me," continued Harry. "Besides, you seemed to be so taken up with your
own thoughts that you scarcely looked round once when you had gained the
common. It was easy following you after that. I was never so puzzled in
my life when I saw you creeping about amongst the bushes, then disappear
through the ground.
"I was so close to you then, that I saw the exact place where you had
disappeared, so that it did not take me long to find the opening to the
tunnel. I must say that I funked following you farther; but my curiosity
grew. I was on the verge of a big discovery. If I followed you, I should
find out the secret which would explain the mystery about you, and set
you right with the school. Believe me, Paul, that was what I longed for,
and I don't think that anything short of that would have made me go
farther, and so I felt my way along the tunnel until I could just see
you stretched at full length beside the curtains at the entrance to this
place."
Paul recalled the sounds he had heard as he made his way along the
tunnel. His hearing had not deceived him after all.
"I was still more amazed when I saw that, I can tell you. I was struck
all of a heap," went on Harry. "What were you up to? What were you doing
there? You seemed to be watching for somebody. Who? I was burning. I got
more and more curious. All thought of turning back had gone. I must find
out what it all meant. So, when you rose to your feet, and stepped
cautiously into this chamber, I just as cautiously crept to the place
where you had been lying, and watched you moving about. Then I saw the
man you called Zuker enter, and all that went on after.
"It was fearful, Paul. I saw you were in a fix, but I could do nothing
to help you. Once I tried to cry out. It was when that man used the long
foreign word. I did not understand what it meant at first, though you
seemed to; but presently, when you began to say 'Our Father,' I knew
what it meant. Then it was I tried to cry out, but no word came from my
parched throat. I think it must have been God who prevented me from
crying out, for had I done so, it might have been worse for both of us.
"A minute later I could see that a great change had come over the man
when you began speaking about your father and Hibbert. Then I was
knocked all of a heap again when I learned that poor little Hibbert was
the man's son, and that you knew it. I think that the time I passed
while I was watching and listening behind the curtain was the most awful
I have ever been through--yes, worse than the time on the raft, and
that's saying a great deal; but there was one good thing about it--I was
beginning to see how we had all wronged you at Garside--what a noble
fellow you really are, Paul."
"Humbug! Get on."
"There's little more to tell. I didn't so much mind when the man bound
you, especially as I saw that he was going to leave you. I waited till
he had gone--long enough to make sure that he didn't mean popping in his
head again; then I crept from my hiding-place. The rest you know. I hope
you're not sorry I followed you?"
Paul began to think that the hand of God was in this, as it had been in
so many other things. It must have been Something Higher than mere
chance which had prompted Harry to follow him to that place.
"Heaven only knows what might have happened to me, Harry, if you hadn't
followed me. But come, we mustn't waste any more time. We don't want to
spend the night in this place."
"Not quite, though I would not mind exploring it some other time,"
exclaimed Harry, gazing round the chamber curiously. "Plunger would give
something to strike on a place like this. It's chalks better than desert
islands. Where does that other passage-way lead to?"
Paul had more than once put the same question to him self. That place of
mystery had often been in his thoughts since the day he had first
visited it, and frequently had he asked himself--Where does it lead to
on the other side? He had now seen clearly enough that there must be
some way out on the other side, for Zuker had gone that way. If he
could only find out, the information might be of some service to Harry's
father.
"I don't know, Harry; but I'd very much like to find out. Would you mind
waiting here for a few minutes? I won't be long."
"What are you going to do?"
"Going to explore--just a little way. The coast's clear."
"Going to explore? Well, then, I do mind waiting here. If you mean
exploring, I mean going with you."
"Very well, Harry, we'll explore together."
So the two boys passed together through the passage on the other side of
the chamber.