THE MEN INSIDE THE CASTLE.
There was something so weird and so unreal in the sound of his own name,
coming to the detective as it did, seemingly from the infinity above
him, that for a moment he quite refused to believe that his ears had not
deceived him.
Remember, there was the thundering of the waves against the rocks all
around him; the boom of the surf as it broke beneath its own weight and
violence farther out toward the sea; the sobbing and moaning of the wind
over the bleak cliff and through the ruins of the older part of the
castle, and the faint cries of sea-birds coming to him from far away to
windward. All this tended to render him uncertain about the voice which
seemed to call to him from the black sky over his head; just as all this
made it impossible to determine whether the voice, if it were indeed a
voice, had proceeded from a man or a woman.
But sober second thought reassured him.
Who, but one person in all the world, could have called to him there?
He knew that it was impossible, even if Bessie Harlan were indeed a
prisoner inside the old château, that she should have witnessed his
approach, or that she should have recognized him from her aerie window,
even if she had discovered the approach of two pedestrians before the
gathering darkness had hidden them from view. But he explained the
seemingly inexplicable phenomenon in quite another way than that.
“If Bessie is a prisoner there,” he reasoned to himself, “she believes
absolutely that Max and I will come to her rescue, sooner or later. If
she is a prisoner there, she is confined in a room which overlooks the
sea—a room in this very tower, in fact; and if all that be true, that
call of hers was simply a wail of impatient waiting and longing, called
out by her to the heavens, the clouds, the sea, the wide, wide world. Not
in the hope that it would literally be heard, perhaps, but, nevertheless,
a call to us to hasten.”
Several moments he waited, wondering if there would be a repetition of
the call; and then, when one came, he wondered again if he should reply
to it. His better judgment told him not to do so, and so presently he
turned away to pursue his course around the castle.
But he discovered, presently, that he had been deceived in his surmises
that it would be possible for him to skirt the tower between it and the
water, and, at last, satisfied that he could not do so, he turned back
again over the course he had come.
He was not long in arriving at the spot where he had left Kane, but he
did not pause there. After hesitating just one instant in order to get
his bearings properly, he started forward again toward the place where
they had agreed to meet.
When he arrived there, however, Maxwell Kane was not there, and the
detective could discover no trace of him in any direction. He waited a
few moments, thinking that something might have detained him, and that
he had, therefore, not yet arrived, although he knew all the time that
nothing of an ordinary nature could have done so.
There were no impediments in the way between the spot where they had
parted and where they agreed to meet.
Nick had just traversed every inch of it, and he had met with no obstacle
of any kind, nor had he seen a sign of life or a light anywhere.
For that very reason he figured that doubtless something had attracted
the attention of Kane after his arrival at the place of meeting, and he
had gone to investigate. But after he had waited fully half an hour, the
detective decided that it was time for him to move.
He had not a doubt now that something had happened to his companion. He
was confident, however, that Kane could not have fallen, or have met with
an accident, without the intervention of another person.
Presently he scribbled these five words: “Wait here till I return,” on a
leaf torn from his book of memoranda, and, wrapping it in a handkerchief,
he weighted it with a pebble and left it where the white of the cambric
would attract the attention of Kane, should he regain the spot before the
detective could get back again.
“And now to break my way into that castle,” he mused. “And I must take
extra care, too, for if some prowlers around this old pile have captured
Kane, they will be on the lookout for me as well.”
The low building, which resembled a bowling-alley more than anything
else, and which extended from one wing of the castle to the edge of
the bluff on the side toward the harbor, had evidently been erected
originally to serve as a passageway between the château and the water
when the weather was inclement; and this was the building which was
before him now. But in inspecting it from a distance the detective had
decided that this would provide a means of entrance. It was almost
windowless, and such as it contained were much too small and too high
from the ground to serve his purposes.
He therefore turned again toward the castle, and hurried toward a spot
where he remembered to have seen a wealth of ivy growing against the old
walls. He had not forgotten their locality, and he went directly to the
spot.
The ivy was old and tough, and had grown firmly in its place, so that
when he placed his hands upon it he knew that it would sustain him
readily. He recalled the fact that the ivy trailed across several
windows, and so he began at once to make his way up it.
The dampness of the falling rain had rendered the ivy in such a condition
that it gave out no sound as he climbed, while the dark background
against which he clung afforded no opportunity for prying eyes to
discover him.
He climbed rapidly, for he realized now that haste was necessary. The
strange call to him from the window of the tower, and the disappearance
of Maxwell Kane, had convinced him that all was not to be as smooth
sailing as he had anticipated.
Soon he arrived at a window, set deeply into the wall, and casemented
for defense in time of attack. But this window had long been in disuse,
and even the glass had been replaced by heavy planking, to keep out the
wind and weather.
There were two more stories above that one, he remembered, and he
continued on, after a pause of only a moment. The second window at which
he arrived was in the same condition as the first, so in clambering
on, he worked to the right as well as upward, until he arrived at the
top story of the old building. Here the third window offered the same
impediments as had the others, so he continued on in a straight line
toward the front of the castle.
Suddenly, however, he stopped. Directly in front of him, not three feet
distant, a light had suddenly shot through the darkness, coming, as he
quickly discovered, from one of the windows.
These were set so far back into the wall that it is doubtful if the
sunlight could ever, even under the most auspicious conditions, penetrate
to the interior of the room; and it was almost as difficult for a light
from the interior to filter to the outside. Two steps more upon the vine
which held him suspended in mid-air brought him to the window, so that
he could see what was passing inside the room, and he peered cautiously
around the casement.
He was rather surprised, then, to discover that he was looking into what
had once been a part of a suite of rooms, set aside, doubtless, for
royalty, or for especially honored guests at the castle. The room itself
was very large, and had once been magnificently appointed, but now its
furnishings were tawdry and soiled, yellowed with age, and musty from
disuse.
Nevertheless, there were many persons within the room. Nick counted six
men there. Four of them were seated at a table engaged in a game of
cards, and the other two were standing near, observing the game.
They were so engrossed in their occupation that it did not occur to one
of them to look toward the window. But the detective did not linger there
to watch them. Instead, he lowered himself sufficiently so that he could
pass unobserved beneath the window, and then continued on his way, taking
careful note of the location of the room in the meantime.
He had noted, too, that he would have to pass two more windows before he
arrived at one which did not open directly into that room, and so he did
not pause again in his advance until he reached the third. Here, also, as
he raised himself, he discovered that there was a light; but as he peered
into the room through the narrow window he was assured that, for the
moment, at least, it was unoccupied.
The window, too, was slightly ajar; that is, it was open perhaps half
an inch, doubtless for the sake of ventilation. He stepped into the
embrasure, which was very deep, and slowly pushed the window open in
front of him. A second and more comprehensive glance rendered him
positive that nobody was in the room, and with another slightly harder
pressure, he opened the casement wide, and stepped inside, closing it, as
he had found it, after him.
The room was quite large—possibly twenty-five feet square; and it was
used as a sleeping-room; but he had no time to take in further details
of the place, for at that instant he heard steps approaching through a
corridor, and he had barely time to leap behind the door when it was
opened from the outside.
Nick had in that instant prepared himself to leap upon the person who
approached, whoever it was, and conquer him, preparatory to continuing
his investigations through the castle; but fate kindly stepped in and
served him a good turn at this juncture.
The opening of the door, together with the already open window, created
a draft which the flame of the lamp, burning on the table, could not
withstand. As the door swung open, the lamp flared, sputtered for an
instant, and then went out, leaving the room in total darkness.
Nick could not even discover the outlines of the person who had entered
the room, but a round, French oath, in a masculine voice, cursing at the
ill luck, left him in no doubt that it was a man.
The extinguishing of the lamp, however, afforded Nick an excellent
opportunity to act, and as the man stepped forward toward the table, in
order to strike another light, the detective slipped quietly and quickly
past him into the corridor. The man had left the door ajar when he
stepped forward toward the table, but Nick had the presence of mind to
close it, and to close it with a bang, exactly as if the draft had caught
it and slammed it shut.
Then he waited a moment and listened, to discover if his deception had
been successful; but there was no further sound from the interior of the
room, and the detective concluded that the man had relighted his lamp and
disposed himself to reading or some other employment, with no thought
that he had passed so near to the person of an intruder.
And just at this point Nick made another discovery which was interesting:
there was an inside and outside door to each of the rooms on that
corridor. That is, there was one for general use—the one which he had
already made use of—and another which opened outward into the corridor,
doubtless for use in emergencies.
This door was much heavier than the outside one. They were relics of old
days when the castle was likely to be stormed, and the occupants might
be compelled to fight from room to room, holding one after another until
they were finally driven from all.
Whatever the original uses were, the present one was manifest. The
detective lost no time in closing that outside door, and he was agreeably
surprised to discover that it was provided with a huge key, which he
had no difficulty in removing and replacing on the outside. In another
instant he had locked it.
That done, he passed along the corridor toward the doors of the room
wherein he had seen the six men; and he had no difficulty in locating it,
for he had counted carefully from the outside.
And these doors—there were two of them, he closed and locked in the same
manner as he had served the others, so that presently he was satisfied
that whatever adventures he might encounter inside the old château these
seven men whom he had seen would take no part in them.
“And now for the tower,” he said, aloud, as he turned away.