Mildred silently turned and regarded her companion. Her eyes were not
hard and cold now. They were glowing with anxiety and terror.
“Cannot we get out?” demanded Inez.
Mildred shook her head.
“Not the way we came in,” she replied. “I remember now that Cristoval
warned me never to close the door behind me; but I forgot to tell you
that, so you are not to blame.”
Inez looked down at baby, who had again fallen asleep, snuggled close to
her breast. Her fear at this time was not for herself. It was dreadful
to think of the danger she had placed the darling baby in—the child she
would have died rather than injure.
Mildred saw the look and read its anguish. Her own cheeks blanched for a
moment, but there was an inherent quality of courage in this girl that
forbade her to despair. Speaking as much to herself as to Inez she said:
“We were able to open this adobe door only by pressing downward on a
block of the floor outside, which released a catch which is securely
hidden in the lower edge of the opening—where I cannot reach it. So,
unless some one knew the secret and could press that block in the
nursery, the door cannot again be opened.”
Inez staggered to a stool and sat down.
“Must we stay here always?” she pleaded piteously.
“I think not. I am _sure_ not, Inez. They will find some way to break
through the wall and rescue us.”
“But no one knows we are here!”
“True. Well, I believe there are other ways to get out of this hollow
wall, besides the opening we came through. I am quite certain I was told
that Señor Cristoval could enter from his room, on the second floor; and
perhaps there are other entrances. Stay here and keep baby quiet and I
will make an examination of our prison.”
As she started to ascend the stairs Inez arose to follow her.
“Let me come, too,” she begged. “I am afraid to stay alone.”
“Very well; but try not to waken baby.”
The stairs were built the full width of the space, completely blocking
it at that end. At the top they stepped into another narrow room, which
was not over the lower one but extended farther along the wall. It was,
indeed, extraordinary to note how comfortable the genius of that ancient
Cristoval who had planned the place, had made this originally
comfortless corridor-like room, for room it was despite its narrow
confines.
The ceiling was high, and light and air were admitted by gratings placed
at the top, letting onto the bastion of the roof, where they could not
be observed by those below. The gratings were covered by projections
that kept out the rain and dew. On the floor was a thick carpet,
somewhat musty and dusty now, and at the far end was placed a couch with
silken curtains. This was still piled high with bedding and pillows and
was boxed in, the full width of the passage, with elaborately carved
woods. Upholstered seats, rather narrow but long and quite comfortable,
were built against the wall and supported by richly carved frames of
ebony and panels of cherry. There were pictures upon the walls; oil
paintings of quite good quality. A sort of wall-cabinet and some small
brackets supported numerous hooks, ornaments, and several boxes of metal
and sandalwood, which last Mildred eyed expectantly but had now no
leisure to examine.
The girls were both awed by this discovery, for Mildred had never been
permitted to mount the stair to this room when Señor Cristoval had
allowed her to peep into the lower passage. The intense silence lent a
weirdness to the place that was at first quite disconcerting. A gray rat
scuttled along the carpet, causing them to jump and cry out, and then
disappeared somewhere beneath the couch. Inez, trembling with nervous
fear, hugged the baby with one arm and clutched Mildred’s arm with the
other, and then they sat together on one of the cushioned seats and
tried to collect their thoughts.
Mildred reflected that no person had entered this place for at least
eight years, for it was eight years since the last Cristoval had passed
to his fathers. Yet, aside from the dust, everything seemed in an
excellent state of preservation. The secret room had been fitted up by
its builder more than fifty years before and much of the furnishings
must have been placed there then.
“My first task,” she said to Inez, “must be to make a thorough
examination of this place. Since there is no one to help us, we must
help ourselves, and any weakness at this time would be fatal.”
With this she rose and carefully began to inspect the walls. The heavy
carpet was merely laid flat on the adobe floor and she raised it here
and there and tested the blocks to see if any was movable. There was no
means of reaching the ceiling but an opening there was out of the
question.
Near the center of the room, on the inner wall and about two feet from
the floor, was a square of wood firmly embedded in the adobe. This, she
thought, might possibly be a means of egress or ingress, so she tested
it eagerly, pressing not only upon the wood but on all the blocks of
adobe near it, in the endeavor to discover a hidden spring or some other
clever mechanical contrivance which would prove the “open sesame.” But
the panel and the wall defied all her efforts and she finally concluded
it was solid planking placed there to support the wall or to allow
cupboards or shelves to be nailed against it.
Another similar place, where a huge panel of plank was set in the wall,
she found at the very end of the passage, beyond the couch, and was only
able to reach it by mounting the bed and climbing over the bedding. This
panel was also immovable and she decided it could not be an opening
because the wall beyond it was doubtless solid. This space beyond the
bed, where the room ended, contained a huge chest of quaintly carved
oak. As she saw the chest her heart gave a great bound and forgetting
for the moment her desire to escape she reached down and raised the lid.
Then her face fell. Despite the dim light in this corner, which she had
grown somewhat accustomed to in investigating the panel, she could see
that the chest contained merely papers, with which it was half filled.
This might be the accumulated correspondence of the Cristovals, of no
use to any but themselves, and losing all interest in the chest she
closed the lid and again crossed over the high bed to Inez.
The result of this investigation, which had consumed a full hour, so
thorough had she been, convinced Mildred that there was no immediate way
for them to leave their prison. So she began to plan how they might keep
themselves and baby Jane comfortable until they were rescued.
The bottle of milk, which Inez still held in her hand, was a prepared
food of a highly nourishing quality. The contents of the bottle had
scarcely been touched by baby when, rousing from her sleep, she had been
taken up and comforted by Inez until slumber again overtook her. Usually
Jane consumed two bottles of such food each day, and another during each
night.
Mildred looked at her watch and found it was nearly four o’clock. With a
little care in its administration the baby’s food might last until
morning, but not longer. For themselves, they must be content without
food, unless—
She decided to search the boxes and shelves while daylight lasted, and
bade Inez place the sleeping infant on one of the cushioned seats and
support it with a pillow brought from the couch. Then the two girls
began to take down the boxes from the shelves and explore their
contents. Some were of tin and square in shape; others were round, like
canisters.
In one they found some tea and in another a small quantity of loaf
sugar. There was no other food, except a few cracker crumbs in the
bottom of a tin.
Leaving Inez to sit beside baby, Mildred next visited the room below.
Here the light was more dim, but she discovered a box of wax candles—two
or three dozen in number—and a quantity of matches in a small iron safe.
She tried these last and after several attempts managed to light one of
them and with it light a candle. The matches were at least eight years
old, but there was not a particle of dampness in the place and so they
had not greatly deteriorated.
A broad slab of redwood, hinged and fastened to the wall by
turn-buttons, was made to let down and serve as a table. When Mildred
lowered it she found that it covered a small recess or cupboard in the
wall, in which stood three tin cans. One was labeled “tomatoes” and the
other two “corn.”
Here was food, of a certain sort; but the cans were tightly soldered and
there seemed to be no tool that might be used to open them. Although the
place was littered with many small articles there was nothing else among
them that especially interested the girl. Two sabers were crossed upon
the wall over the table, and below them hung a big revolver. A panama
hat, yellowed with age, hung upon a peg. A broom made of palm fiber
stood in a corner.
Mildred returned to the upper floor, carrying with her several candles
and some matches.
“Inez,” said she, “we must make the best of our misfortune. I hope that
before long we shall be rescued, both on baby’s account and on our own.
There are some tins of tomatoes and corn down stairs, but nothing that
baby could eat. However, we shall suffer more from thirst than from
hunger, as there is not a drop of water in the place.”
Inez had been thinking during Mildred’s absence.
“Can we not scream, and so make them hear us?” she asked.
“I have thought of that and we will make the attempt. The servants are
all in the opposite wing, so it is useless to try to arouse their
attention; but when Mr. and Mrs. Weldon return, with the others, they
may be able to hear us and so rescue us.”
“When will they be back?” Inez inquired.
Mildred considered this question.
“I heard them say they were to stay in town for luncheon, but Mrs.
Weldon remarked that they would be back soon after. I think, Inez, they
may already have returned and even now may be searching for us. Stay
here, and I will go below, so as not to disturb baby, and call.”
She went again down the steep stairs to the lower room where, standing
near to the place where they had come through the wall, she uttered a
sharp, shrill cry, such as she thought might penetrate the thick blocks
of adobe. The sound echoed with startling reverberations through the
secret chambers and baby Jane, wakening in affright, set up a series of
such lusty screams that it seemed as if they ought to be heard a mile
away.
Inez did her best to soothe and quiet the baby, but succeeded only when
she had given little Jane the precious bottle of milk.