The soldier was evidently figuring in his mind as to what would be the
next move on his part. Finding no sign of life in the place where he
expected, no doubt, to lay a hand or an eye on the impertinent party
that had stolen the flagon, the chasseur seemed to hesitate about
dropping down into what must have appeared to him a dungeon, and
risking the chance of a hidden enemy leaping upon him from some shadowy
corner.
It apparently occurred to him that more light would clear the problem,
for he drew himself up to a sitting position on the cross-piece,
produced a match and scratched it across the sole of his shoe.
The tiny flicker did not give much satisfaction. The shadows were
too deep for a little flame like that to penetrate them to any great
distance.
The boys stood like statues, flat against the wall, on the same side,
and some twenty feet from the opening where the soldier was wasting
matches. The darkness hung about them like a pall.
It was one exciting moment when Billy had a sneeze coming on, and did
not know whether or not he could conquer it. A sneeze just then would
have settled the whole business.
But Billy did not sneeze; he nearly suffocated, though, by holding his
cap so closely against his face.
The soldier had apparently exhausted his supply of matches, for the
final scratch was accompanied by a grunt that sounded like _sacres
allumettes_, blasted matches.
With that he swung himself down into the passage on the other side of
the opening.
Billy, after a few minutes’ wait, made a move toward the opening.
Henri laid a restraining hand upon Billy’s arm.
“Wait a bit,” he whispered, “better let Reddy do his shadow act and
find out where our friend in the red trousers has taken himself.”
Reddy instantly shifted his heavily laden knapsack from his shoulders,
removed his gold-filled jacket, kicked off his shoes, and edged his way
along the wall on tiptoes.
Under the opening he stood in listening attitude for several minutes;
then, taking advantage of the rough stonework of the inside wall, he
climbed like a squirrel to the cross-piece.
Cautiously poking his head through the opening, Reddy had another look
and listened for his fellow countryman in uniform.
The soldier was nowhere to be seen--and Reddy could view the short
passage as far as the foot of the spiral staircase, where the light
came down from the open plate above.
Reddy lowered himself into the passage and cat-footed to the staircase,
winding his way upward, every nerve on edge, and he ready for any
emergency.
The soldier was not in evidence yet, but Reddy could now trace the
chasseur by the marks on the dusty floor of the passage, for it was
still light up here, though the sun, it could be seen through the panel
opening in the royal bed chamber, was sinking, and evening was near.
With eyes to the floor and crouched like an Indian trailer, the boy
noted that the chasseur had gone toward the panel opening into the
dining-hall, at least the traces showed that the footmarks reversed
themselves, retracing in the same direction. Reddy could distinguish
the soldier’s tracks from those which he and his companions had made
that morning, because the legging strap under the man’s shoes was
clearly outlined in the dust.
Reddy, seeing that the coast was clear, for the time being, scooted
back to where Henri and Billy were anxiously waiting and called them
by name. Reddy’s knapsack, jacket, and shoes fell about him in the
passage, speedily followed by the two boys. Henri stood on the chair
and closed the wall section, which settled back without leaving a seam
or mark on the wall surface.
“I’ll bet they won’t find that hole unless they batter down the whole
wall,” was Henri’s comment.
The boys lost no time in getting upstairs and into the main passage,
and there paused to give Henri a moment to figure the next move.
It was suddenly made manifest that at least one way was blocked, for
loud voices rang out in the passage in the direction of the dining-hall.
The chasseur had gone for assistance to aid him in solving the puzzle
that he had at first wanted to solve by himself.
Billy and Reddy thought that this time sure they were done for, but
Henri was still in the reckoning. He was at home, and knew every crook
and cranny in the maze of passages.
As the soldiers approached nearer and nearer, arguing in rapid-fire
French as they came, Henri wheeled, slammed the bedroom panel into
place, and hustling his companions into a run retreated up the passage
to the north, stopping an instant to close the plate over the staircase.
“That fellow will have to do some tall explaining when he comes up with
his crowd, for he won’t be able to show all that he may claim to have
seen; that is, for a while, anyway.”
Henri was taking a positive dislike to the soldier who had proved such
a bother at this critical period.
At the very end of the passage they were traversing arose a stained
glass window of most exquisite design. On each side of the window the
wainscoting was inlay work, model of ancient arts and crafts.
Henri used his hands on this surface as he would finger a checker or
chess board. A large square swung open like a cupboard door and Henri
motioned his comrades to pass through, and he, at their heels, closed
the panel.
They stood in a narrow gallery, looking down into a chapel interior,
most beautiful to behold. Hurrying along this gallery, the boys halted
at a door heavily mounted with brass fittings. It was opened without
effort and the boys found themselves at the head of another of those
steep stairways, this one, however, running straight down--and a long
way down.
It led to the crypt, or subterranean vault, under the chapel. Here the
boys lighted their lanterns, at the suggestion of Henri. The latter
shouldered a protruding stone in the wall of the cell and it gave way,
disclosing of all the passages they had encountered in the house the
most dismal and forbidding.
“Push in,” said Henri, “and we’re on the way to ‘Old Round Tower!’”