“It’s me first this time,” declared Henri. “I’m on the way home,
and it’s the duty of this son of my mother to open the door for our
guests.”
“You bluffer, you,” said Billy, “what you want is to take the first
risk of going into that hole. I know you.”
Henri did not stop to argue. He cat-footed it down the stone steps,
holding his lantern in front of him at arm’s length.
Billy came next, and Reddy last. The last boy, however, was not the
least when it came to thinking. He thought that it would be a good
idea to fix the oak cover so that he could support it with his hands
and let it drop again over the opening when the three should have gone
underground.
It would give a chance prowler no opportunity to find the mouth of the
tunnel, and either follow them or set up an alarm that would result in
the boys being caught like rats in a trap.
So Reddy wisely closed the way behind them, and thus insured that there
would be no disturbance from the rear.
The tunnel route was not an inviting one. The rounded roof in many
places had sagged and closed in to such an extent as to almost choke
the passage, and great care had to be taken by the boys so as not
to bring a mass of stonework and earth down upon their heads. This
dangerous condition was chiefly where the tunnel ran through the low
ground, for when the passageway began to ascend the boys were enabled
to go much faster and in greater safety.
But in the tunnel entire the air was stifling and from the cracks in
the slimy walls came hideous crawling things.
It was fully an hour before the boys had any assurance that the tunnel
really did have an end.
This assurance was a heavily grated door set in solid masonry.
“Now we are done,” was Billy’s despairing prediction.
“Never say quit; that isn’t like you.”
It was seldom that Henri assumed the rôle of bracer-up to Billy. It had
been generally the other way, but Billy was willing to acknowledge that
he was not much of a cave man. He liked the open too well.
There were faint streaks of daylight threading through the grated
spaces of the door. That was something for which to be thankful.
Reddy was giving the rusty grating a lively shake when with a clang
something hit the stone floor of the tunnel.
It was a key of the kind that locksmiths used to make by the pound.
The key had been suspended from a hook at the side of the door, and
Reddy’s vigorous attack on the grating had caused it to fall.
Henri pushed the key into the ponderous lock and with a strong-arm
twist succeeded in making it turn. The rusty bolt screeched as it was
drawn back, but the door could be opened, and it was opened by the
main pulling strength of three husky youngsters.
Just on the other side of the door was the rounded base of a tower,
and, looking upward, the sky could be seen through many openings in the
stonework.
There were four doors in this circular room, the one by which the
boys had just entered, and the other three in a row, close together,
directly opposite the tunnel entrance.
“This,” explained Henri, “is ‘Old Round Tower,’ far more ancient than
the château itself, and one of the landmarks along the Meuse. I never
cared much for it myself as a play place; it was too gloomy, and rats
used to swarm here. I remember of seeing this door to the tunnel, but
always thought it led to some cellar, and cellars are no novelties on
these grounds. I don’t know how many casks of wine are underground
about here, but there used to be a big lot.
“This door,” Henri was pointing to the middle one in the row, “opens
on a passage that runs back of the state dining-hall of the château,
and ends at a panel on the right of the most beautifully decorated
fireplace you ever saw.
“The passages behind the other doors run to the upper floors of the
north and south wings of the house.
“There are side connections to them all in the old part of the château.
Of course, in the east and west wings, added years later, there are no
secret passages nor sliding panels.”
“Which one leads to where the gold and jewels are kept?”
“I’ll show you in a little while, Billy.”
Henri pushed open the middle door of the row, and the boys had a whiff
of musty tapestry and other shut-in odors which indicated that the
passage had not been traveled for many a day.
Through the narrow way between the walls the boys walked, single file,
leaving tracks in the dust and with many a sneeze and gasp.
At a point where the passage widened, Henri stopped and lifted a finger.
On the other side of the walls there was a sound of many voices, an
occasional peal of laughter, the clink of glass against glass, and
every now and then merry snatches of song.
Henri felt along the side of the passage until his fingers touched a
little knob about level with his eyes.
With a slight pressure on the knob a panel on the other side was
controlled and began to slide noiselessly in polished grooves to the
left.
Henri held the movement to an inch.
“Cast your eye in there,” speaking softly to Billy.