It was bright moonlight when Forrester left the house and walked south
on Sheridan Road. He had decided to walk to Lucy's, believing that he
would attract less attention, both on the way and after reaching his
destination, than if he used his roadster. Though wayside trees cast
great shadows across the road, and the gloom near bordering hedgerows,
or the underbrush of vacant tracts, afforded partial concealment,
Forrester looked with apprehension upon the brilliancy of the night.
Fortunately for his plans, large clouds began shortly to drift over the
moon. The gloom was more intense during these moments of darkness
because of the transition from periods of strong moonlight.
The night was unusually still, undoubtedly because of an approaching
storm, and few people seemed to be abroad. Only two motor cars passed
him during the journey between his home and Jasper lane. One of these
passed at a time when the moon was shining brightly and Forrester was
sure that it was Melville's limousine. At the moment, he was walking in
the deep shadow of a high hedge and was probably invisible to the
occupants of the car. It was a providential circumstance, for to be
stopped and questioned at this time would not only cause delay, but
might attract undesirable attention.
Reaching Jasper lane, Forrester kept to the grass at the side, and
walking slowly, succeeded in approaching the oak tree without any sound
that would be audible to others than himself. He paused, listening long
and intently. The silence seemed almost palpable, its noiseless fingers
clutching at him from the darkness. A momentary flash of the moon gave
him his bearings. During the succeeding darkness, Forrester, stooping
low, carefully felt his way past the tree and down the path toward
Lucy's cottage. Unless the colored woman had secured another dog,
Forrester was sure that he could reach her door unnoticed. It was then
his purpose to tie her fast and either frighten her into some helpful
admission or else discover for himself some clue possibly overlooked by
the police.
The cottage stood dark and silent in its little clearing. Forrester
reached it without hearing a sound, but he had a momentary feeling of
uneasiness when the moon shone full upon him as he crossed the clearing.
At the door he paused to consider. Was the woman away? Or had she
retired for the night? If the latter, then he would probably be able to
surprise her while she slept. Forrester placed his hand on the doorknob
and turned it slowly and quietly. Then he exerted a gentle pressure, and
was gratified, though astonished, to find that the door opened. Fearful
of squeaking hinges Forrester moved the door inward an inch at a time,
and entering, closed it in the same careful way. There was no key in the
lock, but running his hand along the edge of the door, Forrester
discovered a bolt which he softly pushed into place.
Forrester took out the muffler and wound it about his neck and face
until only his eyes were exposed. Then he pulled his cap down so that
its vizor shadowed even these. With intermittent and cautious flashes of
his pocket lamp he found that the room was unoccupied and the door
leading to what he believed to be Lucy's bedroom closed. This he
approached with wary tread and opened the door slowly and softly. A
flash of his light showed that the bedroom was also deserted. Lucy was
not at home! It was a wonderful opportunity that might be interrupted at
any moment, so Forrester worked fast. He considered it immaterial what
the woman might discover after he was gone. Any disorder she would
probably attribute to another visit by the police.
Forrester tore the coverings from the bed and scattered the contents of
drawers on the floor. His search was unrewarded. There was not a line of
writing anywhere; no concealed arms, Bolshevik literature or suspicious
bottles; absolutely nothing to form the slightest clue. He then carried
his search into the sitting room with equally unsuccessful results.
Forrester received an uncomfortable shock as he turned his pocket lamp
into the aquarium and saw the slimy bodies of the snakes writhe uneasily
under the glare of the light.
Thus far the search had been fruitless and discouraging, but the sight
of the snakes in their glass prison started Forrester's mind to working.
What was the real purpose of these snakes? Their uncanny, loathsome
bodies were repellent to the strongest man. _Repellent!_ The word was
illuminative. Was not one of its definitions "drive back"? Was this the
actual purpose of the snakes?
Forrester fixed the button on his pocket lamp to keep the light steady,
and laid it on the center table to illumine his work. Lifting the stand
on which the aquarium rested he placed it near the middle of the room
and pulled aside the heavy rug.
_Directly beneath the spot where the aquarium stood was a square
trapdoor in the floor!_
Forrester stooped, placed two fingers in a hole, evidently provided for
the purpose, lifted the section of carefully fitted flooring and set it
to one side. Taking his light from the table and turning its rays into
the opening Forrester saw a ladder leading into a cellar beneath the
cottage. Swiftly he dropped his legs through the hole and descended.
The underground room in which he found himself was smaller than the
space covered by the cottage. The walls were of large rough stones,
showing evidence of dampness. Along these walls was piled litter of a
varied nature--old barrels, boxes, empty food tins and the broken
remains of furniture. Against the front wall, at a point almost under
the entrance door, stood an old, dilapidated sideboard. It attracted
Forrester's attention because he could not conceive how such a large
object had been brought into the cellar through the small trap. It was
the only thing in the cellar that could be readily moved, and Forrester
had an inspiration to look behind it. At the first effort the sideboard
swung out from the wall on smooth-running casters that strangely had
apparently not been affected by the dampness of the cellar.
Moving the sideboard disclosed a small, rough-board door in the wall.
This Forrester opened and flashed his light into the space beyond. It
seemed to be a narrow passage, the floor a little below the level of the
cellar. Forrester dropped into the passage and started along it,
throwing his light about him and studying its formation. The floor was
sandy, the walls of solid rock, and the roof appeared to have been
formed by a multitude of interlacing tree and plant roots. The average
width of the passage was about five feet and its height somewhere
between ten and twelve. Forrester's trained eye saw instantly that it
was the work of Nature, not of man. At some remote period a cleft had
been riven in the solid rock and the intertwined roots above prevented
the caving in of the surface soil.
A momentary sparkle on the ceiling caught Forrester's eye. He then
discovered that electric lights were hung from the roof at regular
intervals. They were beyond his reach, and as no connection or switch
along the walls had been discovered, Forrester concluded that the lights
could be operated only from some point inside the cottage.
Presently Forrester came to an indentation in the wall on his right,
forming a sort of shelf. On this rested two bright steel cylinders about
the size of the small fire extinguisher he carried in his car. To one of
the cylinders was attached a five-foot length of a slender rubber tubing
which connected it with one of the rubber death masks he knew only too
well. Here at last was evidence beyond dispute. Forrester did not meddle
with the cylinders. The slightest mistake made by one unaccustomed to
them might release the deadly gas he had reason to believe they
contained. In that confined space its action would be swift and sure.
Continuing along the passage Forrester finally came to the end. At this
point it widened out slightly into a small chamber. At one side a ladder
led up into a mass of tangled tree roots that hung in fantastic shapes,
which gave Forrester an uncomfortable feeling that he had stumbled into
a veritable den of snakes. Forcing back this feeling of revulsion he
climbed the ladder.
Here the handiwork of man was in evidence. He was ascending into a space
that had been hollowed out of the heart of a tree. Above his head was a
small wooden trapdoor held in place by a wood slide or bolt. Releasing
the bolt allowed the door to drop silently downward on hinges formed of
stiff leather. A package fell into his hands, followed by a draft of air
laden with the scent of summer woods. Pushing up his light Forrester
recognized the hollow in the oak tree. He saw also that the upper side
of the trapdoor was so prepared that it would seem like part of the tree
to anyone investigating from above.
At last the most vital secret of the "Friends of the Poor" was in his
hands--the method by which they had so mysteriously secured their toll
under the very eyes of the detectives.
Forrester examined the small, flat package in his hand. Someone had
placed a contribution in the tree that night. Then Forrester shivered.
The scoundrels would come to collect at any moment! He was shut in at
the far end of a narrow passage, the only way of escape leading back
through the cottage where they would enter. If they met him here his end
would be sure and his disappearance a mystery forever. Hastily he
climbed down the ladder and was about to go when several objects drew
his attention. The temptation to investigate these before he left was
too strong to resist and Forrester lingered a moment or two longer.
All the paraphernalia that had made possible the ghostly illusions,
which had frightened others and puzzled him, now lay revealed as nothing
but mean claptrap. On the wall hung a group of rusty chains, a small
megaphone for throwing the voice and an old locomotive bell. In one
corner stood a tin similar to a paint can. This, Forrester found,
contained a preparation commonly known as phosphorescent paint and a
nearby glove, which smelled strongly of the substance, solved the riddle
of the flaming hand which had impressed even the phlegmatic Green. The
greatest curiosity of all, however, was a black tube standing against
the wall. Forrester instantly remembered the appearance of something of
this kind in Humphrey's photograph. On examination it proved to be a
homemade periscope. By pushing it up into the opening in the oak tree it
was probably possible for a person in the cave to ascertain what was
occurring on the surface. Forrester did not wait to experiment, for he
was sure that on the night of the Italians' visit someone was taking in
the scene and the projecting end of the periscope had been picked up by
the camera.
Forrester now hurried down the passage. Unquestionably he had lingered
longer than was wise, and a quick escape was imperative. As he passed
back through the passage Forrester's engineering training caused him to
note certain things about him. Though the rocky walls and the sand
beneath his feet were now dry, he saw indications that the cleft must
serve as a drain for the neighborhood. In the winter it was probably a
well; full of cold, stagnant water, which, he surmised, accounted for
the peculiar inactivity of the "Friends of the Poor" after the winter
rains and snow fell.
Before he reached the end of the passage Forrester was startled to hear
a grating sound, followed by a slight thud.
Like a flash the truth came to him. Someone had discovered the moved
sideboard and open door and surmising that the visitor was still in the
cave had shut him in.
Forrester paused to reflect. It would be useless to try and force his
way out. Even if he could get through the door, which he doubted, there
was no telling how many of the band were in the cottage. Forrester was
unarmed, as he had expected to deal only with Lucy, and a battle with
more than one man would be an unequal struggle. To make matters worse,
his electric lamp, which had been in constant use since he entered the
cottage, now gave out. The bulb still glowed, but with a dull light that
had no power. Forrester flung the lamp down and felt his way back toward
the tree. He reasoned that as a package had been placed in the tree it
was more than probable that detectives were concealed nearby. To climb
into the opening in the tree, attract their attention by shouting, and
then give directions for reaching him, seemed the only solution.
Continued calls, however, brought no response. Either there were no
detectives there, or else his cries for help, which necessarily had to
be subdued, were acting on superstitious minds and accomplishing just
the opposite of what he intended--driving help away. Forrester ceased
his calls and climbed slowly down into the cave once more.
Suddenly the place was brilliantly illuminated by the turning on of the
electric lights over his head. The meaning of this was clear. The time
had come when he must fight for his life and Forrester looked about for
a weapon. There was nothing that would serve his purpose. Then he
recollected the cylinders. Who knew better than these men their
death-dealing power? With these cylinders in his hands would it not be
possible to hold his assailants at bay--even to overcome them? Forrester
dashed down the passage to reach the cylinders before his enemies. It
was too late! As he rounded a slight curve in the rocky cleft he saw the
figure of a man only a short distance away. Still there might be time.
He could see the depression where the cylinders rested and the man was
some distance on the other side. Forrester kept on, but his hopes fell
as he saw the man reach the spot first and stop.
Forrester also came to a halt and the two men surveyed each other in
silence. Completely covering the man's head and shoulders was a black
hood. Through two slits Forrester could see the sparkle of his eyes.
Forrester recalled Prentice's description of the two hooded men who had
attacked him and realized that at last he was face to face with the
"Friends of the Poor."
The man moved forward. As he approached, his body slightly crouched like
a wrestler waiting for his opening, Forrester took heart. If it was
simply to be a hand to hand contest and the men came only one at a time,
then there was some hope.
Forrester kept the man off at first with his fists, but at length they
closed and a desperate struggle began. Back and forth they tugged and
pulled, neither man seemingly gaining any advantage. All at once
Forrester saw the cylinders at his side and suddenly realized that
throughout the struggle the man had been slowly dragging him along
toward these death machines. And with the realization he saw the man
reach out and seize the one with the rubber mask attached.
From that moment the battle changed. Forrester's one thought was to keep
the mask away from his face, while the man's main effort was evidently
directed toward placing it there. Presently Forrester detected the
peculiar odor of the gas. Either the cylinder had been accidentally
opened in the struggle or the man had intentionally released the gas. As
the mask was directed toward Forrester, and only a few inches from his
face, he received the full effect of the fumes, while the man was
partially protected from its effect. Forrester felt himself weakening,
as he had on the night of the battle in Jasper lane.
With a last despairing effort he tripped his antagonist and as they fell
Forrester managed to come down on top. Slowly he forced the mask over
the man's hooded face and just as he had it in place Forrester sank down
unconscious.