TRAPPED
Accordingly, when I set out again, well provided with a coil of rope
concealed around me under my cloak, a stout steel hook for grappling,
a lantern, and my pistol, I didn't invite Worthing to accompany me.
I tried to slink away from school unobserved, but Worthing must have
guessed what was brewing in my mind, and outside the school gate I came
face to face with him.
He gripped my hand, and looking straight into my eyes said, "Don't go,
Tommy."
I laughed, and shook myself free.
"Don't go," he repeated. "You know now that the house isn't yours."
"But the secret will soon be mine," I replied.
He looked at me quietly for a moment, and said very decidedly, "Tommy,
you're a fool."
Somehow I felt suddenly annoyed with him, though as a rule I could bear
his rebukes without ill-feeling. It seemed so absurd to stick at such
a trifle. What if the house was not mine! I hadn't been trained to
the creed of _meum_ and _tuum_. And the challenge of a mystery to be
solved was one that I couldn't refuse. Romance, adventure, this was my
life-breath; and if there were pedants and landlords and other petty
obstructions of authority to break through, so much the better.
"I'm a fool, am I?" I said, and added stupidly, "Well, I think you're a
coward."
He stiffened, and turned on his heel; and my anger died down like a
flame beneath a drench of water.
"Worthing," I cried; but he walked on. And then I remembered how he
had spent that night alone in the haunted room; and I had called him a
coward.... I knew I had merely done so under that foolish impulse of
self-justification which makes us whiten our own conduct by blackening
that of those who oppose us. As he walked away I was in two minds
whether to follow him or not. But my business was urgent, and I told
myself I could easily unsay the silly word later on. So I pushed
forward, and had soon forgotten the little tiff.
I took precautions this time not to enter the grounds where I was
likely to be seen, and I was soon among the ruins climbing up to the
roof by a way I knew well through long experience. Then came the real
obstacle, the wall of the false stack, high, smooth, and with no
foothold, approached by a steep, slanting roof which would throw me
to the ground far below if I slipped. And owing partly to the ruinous
state of the house, and partly to its original disposition, this was
the only way of reaching the stack in which I knew lay concealed the
entrance to the secret chamber. I crawled out on to the sloping roof,
keeping to the edge where I could get a certain purchase for my feet
against the level eaves, and when under the stack I lay flat on my
stomach and looked upward along the slates slanting away above me to
the wall standing stiffly up beyond.
I surveyed it for a moment, and felt just the least apprehension; but
taking a grip on my nerve I bound the hook firmly to the rope and slung
it up over the wall, then pulled in to see if it had gripped. It wasn't
an easy matter to throw at all in such a position, and the first
attempt was unsuccessful; but at the third throw the rope held. It was
difficult to test it properly by taking the strain, for I was obliged
to cling with one hand to the slates, and if I tugged at the rope and
it came away suddenly I should probably lose my grip and be sent over
the edge. However, I jerked it three or four times, and it seemed firm
enough; then summoning my courage I took the rope in both hands, pulled
myself slowly up along the slanting slates, and was soon at the foot of
the wall. Before ascending I again jerked at the rope to test it for
the last time, and feeling reassured began climbing up hand over hand.
But I had scarcely mounted a couple of feet before I felt something
give, and for a dizzying moment I hung in mid air expecting to fall,
and gazing frenziedly for some possible crevice in the roof beneath
me to catch my fingers in if the rope should slip. But it seemed to
be steady enough now, and cautiously I recommenced the ascent. I was
half-way up, when again there came that sickening jerk as though
something were breaking loose; but knowing now that my only chance was
to reach the top of the wall, for if I fell it would be with too great
a force to stay myself, I scrambled on with desperate speed, the rope
seeming to slip with every heave upward of my body. And it was just
as I reached the top, the fingers of one hand clutching at the stone,
that the rope came away in the other hand, while I swung perilously,
gripping at the wall with the bare tips of my fingers. But with a leap
upward I caught at the top with my free hand, though I had to drop my
rope to do so, and was soon safe astride the barrier looking down on
the other side.
If I had been met by a blank roof I should have been in a perilous
predicament indeed, perched up there, with no rope to descend by. But
my gamble with fortune proved a lucky one, for enclosed within the
walls of the stack, and only a few feet below me, was the window I had
hoped to find; or skylight rather, for such it was, like a shallow dome
looking up at me with a great round eye.
Before dropping down I gave another look to the way I had come, and
saw, caught in a broken slate of the sloping roof below me, the rope I
had dropped; but the greater length of it was hanging over the eaves.
The thought came to me that somehow I must climb back and recover
it before I left, otherwise it would remain as a tell-tale witness
against me. And then I remember speeding a fleeting glance across the
moors. I had never climbed as high as this before, and the prospect
was wonderful. For winding far away I saw the Rancey River flowing out
to sea, and I called to mind how I had seemed to sniff the brine when
first I had come to Sunset Towers.
And with that I was over the edge, and examining the skylight for an
entrance. Nor was I long about it, for it opened quite easily, leaving
ample room for me to slip through. But I had to risk a drop, for there
was no means of climbing down. I looked beneath me, swinging from the
open casement; and judging the distance as well as I could in the
shadowy room, dropped, and fell unhurt, though on all fours. And it
wasn't till I was well in the trap that the realization came to me that
if I couldn't find the secret of the doors from the inside I would be
buried alive there; for to climb back the way I had come without a rope
was utterly impossible. And then the memory of the skeleton came to me.
Had another been trapped there too? And was that the end of it all? I
shuddered.
But these thoughts were momentary merely, for I wasn't given to
brooding. I think it was the hollow echo of my feet in that secret and
deserted chamber that brought the horrid fear to my mind. I was soon
glancing about me, taking stock of my surroundings. And with the first
look round I was both relieved and dismayed. For the room, bare for the
most part, was evidently occupied, or being prepared for occupation.
In one corner was a small bed with posts and canopy; an old remnant of
furniture, it seemed. But on it was flung a bundle of bedding which
looked fresh enough, as though the bed were to be used that night
though not yet laid ready.
This puzzled me, and I fingered the stuff, but could find no name.
Nor was there anything else in the chamber to suggest occupation. The
mantelshelf lay thick in dust; and the skylight above was so dirty that
the light came through but weakly, leaving the panelled room in a half
shadow.
I lit my lantern and turned to examine the entrances. One was quite
obvious: a narrow slip of a door, opening, it seemed, into the side
of the chimney. I guessed at once that this led down to the old oak
wardrobe in the great bedroom below. I knew now where that apparition
had come from and vanished to, and my first thought was to descend and
investigate. But it occurred to me that there must be another entrance
opening into the passage of the skeleton, as I thought of it. But
there was nothing to show which panel hid the secret. Indeed I should
probably have been searching for an hour or more if I hadn't noticed
the marks of feet on the dusty floor disappearing into the wall; and
tugging at the panel there it came open in my hands. If I had tapped
for it I shouldn't have found it, for it was too solid to sound hollow
to the knuckles.
I was growing more and more excited with my discoveries, but through
my excitement I felt apprehensive, for it was clear that some one had
been in the chamber very recently, and might come back again. If so I
should be trapped like a rat in a drain, with no way to turn. Still, I
decided to examine the passage first, and holding out my lantern before
me ventured into the dark, trying to remember by the plan Worthing had
drawn up what turns and stairways to expect. But there was little need
for this; for, though the passage twisted and climbed and descended,
there was no chance of losing the way, for there was only one way to
take.
I pressed on step by step with the utmost caution, gazing intently into
the darkness ahead, and testing every step before I moved forward;
and so intent was I on the process that I didn't notice what was on
either hand till I suddenly became aware of a figure in a niche beside
me standing very still. I turned quickly, and stifled a faint cry.
For there was the skeleton; and at its feet lay my candle. I held up
my lantern and examined the dismal thing. There were chains about its
wrists and chest and feet, fixing it to the wall. It hadn't lost its
way then and perished in the darkness, but had been imprisoned there
by an enemy and left to die slowly and alone. I had enough imagination
to picture the terrible deed: the mockery of the triumphant foe as the
chains clanked into the staples; the cries of the victim, the frantic
curses and appeals; the dying away of the footsteps, and the closing of
the door; the terrible secrecy of the darkness, with death creeping out
of the shadow by lingering degrees; the screams of growing madness, the
sobs weakening into moans, the frenzied struggling at the bonds, the
prayers, the mutterings, the hours of dumb silence.... I stood there
fascinated by the horrid details of that slow agony, realizing more
vividly than before something of the meaning of the crime of the Mad
Captain in my father's story. Little wonder, it seemed to me, that with
such a picture in his mind of not one only but many of his comrades
perishing so, and he the author of it all, little wonder if sleep
forsook him, and his dreams grew frightful with avenging phantoms, and
the light brought only troubled memories to torment him.
Then before I could move forward I heard a sound in the darkness ahead
of me. I knew at once what it meant. The secret door was opening.
I turned and hurried back; and it was fortunate for me that the passage
was a tangle of turnings, for otherwise I should have had to put out my
lantern, or expose myself to the stranger. And something told me that
the stranger was no friend to me.
I was soon back in the chamber, and listening heard feet moving nearer
along the passage; and something too which stopped my breath in a
hushed pause; for very faint and low came the murmur of a moan such as
I had often heard in that haunted house. And then I could have laughed;
for I said, the door is open, and the wind is blowing through. But I
had no time to ponder on the sound, for the feet were approaching. I
turned to the chimney, and opened the narrow door in the side, and
before me was the first step of a spiral stairway, so cramped that as I
entered I brushed both shoulders against the walls.
At last I reached the bottom, and there I paused again to listen. I
could hear faint sounds above me, but I breathed freely when there
was no step upon the stairs. For a while I was safe. So I held up my
lantern and examined the wall in front of me.
From this side it was easy enough to see how the door opened. Two large
steel bars, pivoting on their centres and working together, lay across
the door, holding it immovably in place. But they were so well balanced
that they could be lifted with a finger, and when released dropped
almost noiselessly back into the well-oiled staples. A spring lever
which could be forced inwards from the outside to raise them clear of
the catch completed the simple mechanism.
I swung the bars from the horizontal, and the door opened soundlessly
in upon me; and as I expected I found myself looking into the oak
wardrobe. But what I wanted to learn was how to force in the spring
from the outside. If I went away without discovering that my adventure
would have been fruitless.
And then I heard some one coming up the main stairs....
What was I to do? If he came into the room I should be caught. And to
ascend again to the secret chamber would be impossible, for some one
was waiting for me there as well. I thought my best plan was to hide at
the bottom of the little stairway. But as I was creeping back I heard
the door above me open, and some one commence the descent; and at the
same moment there was a fumbling at the bedroom door.
I didn't stay to think what to do. I crept into the wardrobe, blowing
out my lantern, and shutting the door behind me, and crouched in the
farther corner, hoping the darkness would conceal me.
So for a terrible minute I hugged myself into a motionless ball, hardly
daring to breathe, and wishing I could silence the absurd hammering of
my heart which sounded loud enough to betray me. And soon the secret
door swung open, and there were two of us there in the great wardrobe.
But the stranger had no light; and the darkness hid me. Then the
wardrobe door was opened, and the stranger stepped out, shutting it
softly behind him. I heard a faint cry which changed to, "Ah, it's you,
Abou! You frightened me."
A soft voice replied, "Pardon, my master; I did not know you were here."
The first voice continued, "Yes, back once again. There's no other
place for me."
"It is a good place, my master," was the gentle reply.
Something in the tone of the last speaker soothed and calmed me. His
voice was placid and comforting. I thought I should like to see his
face. But the other speaker was troubled, though his voice wasn't
unkindly. Presently he uttered in a piteous sigh so unexpected and so
sorrowful that it seemed to melt my very heart to tears, "Oh, Abou,
Abou, why will he still pursue me? Why will he not have mercy?"
"Have courage, my master," Abou replied in that suave and gracious
voice of his which seemed to steal about me like a charm, though I had
hardly heard a dozen words of his uttering. "Have courage, my master,
he shall have mercy."
"But will it never end? Will it never end?" again came that broken cry.
"Courage, my master. It will end."
For a while there were subdued movements in the room as though clothes
were being unfolded and laid ready for putting on. I was tempted to
feel for the secret door, and if it were open to creep away and out
through the passage. But perhaps the door was closed; and Abou might
open the wardrobe at any minute. The sound of clothes being unpacked
made me tremble lest the wardrobe might be needed for use. Then, too,
I was curious to learn more of the mystery into which I had stumbled.
Here seemed even another case of a hunted man. I began to philosophize
in my boyish way, wondering if life were nothing but fleeing and
pursuing. My father's life was a constant flight. And then I remembered
Dirk and his vow, and wondered whether that treacherous King's Man had
paid the forfeit yet. And here was another victim under the shadow of
fear.
My thoughts came to a sudden stop with Abou's voice saying, "All is
ready. Will my master come up to his room?"
"No Abou, no; not for a while."
Then the bedroom door opened and closed; and there was a sound which
jarred alarmingly into my consciousness--the turning of the key in the
lock. Before I could grasp the full significance of this, the wardrobe
door opened. I peeped stealthily from my corner, in spite of my terror,
and saw a slim, darkish man, with a big black beard and whiskers
framing his face; but of his face and its expression I could see
nothing. He had a slender instrument in his hand, but how he applied it
to the secret door I couldn't see. It opened, and closed behind him.
I listened for his steps as he ascended, but so silent or so muffled
were they that I could hardly distinguish them. But I could hear enough
to know that he was safely landed in the room above. I breathed freely,
and cautiously opening the wardrobe crept out.
Once more I was in that bedroom I knew so well. Before me was a new
mirror in place of the one I had smashed. For a moment I stared at
myself, feeling very guilty, as though I had been caught at some prank.
But I had no time for idle fancies. I went quickly up to the door and
tried it; but, as I feared, it was locked on the outside. I was a
prisoner.
Even if later it were possible to venture back the way I had come, how
was I to open that secret door? Evidently some kind of instrument was
needed, and I had nothing; nor would I have known how to apply it had
there been one ready to hand.
For a moment I gazed stupidly round the room, idly noticing some
travelling gear thrown on a chair; then mechanically went to the
window, though I knew perfectly well that I couldn't climb down the
wall, and the drop to earth was far too deep to be considered. However,
I stood looking out, busily turning over in mind every conceivable
plan of escape. But the ground lay far below, and the wall promised
no foothold; nor had it developed any miraculous excrescences for my
special behoof. I turned away, and examined the wardrobe, the sudden
idea coming to me that perhaps Abou might have left his curious key
in the door. But there was no such luck in store for me. The door was
locked, and I had no means of opening it. Again I tried the bedroom
door; but it remained sulkily closed against me. Miracles refused to
come to my rescue.
Being at a loss I stood in the middle of the room staring forlornly
about me, and again made my useless round from the window to the
wardrobe, and from the wardrobe to the door. There seemed no way of
escape. The only thing to do was to hide and wait. And the only place
to hide in was the wardrobe. Still, it would be time enough to hide
when I heard anyone coming. Meanwhile I must continue to worry at the
problem of how to escape. Again the same old round; and again without
profit.
Then I had an illuminating idea. If I couldn't climb down the wall
perhaps I could climb up. I ran to the window and looked towards the
roof, and there dangling above me and a little to one side was my rope.
I nearly shouted with triumph, and jumping to the sill reached for it
and seized it; but it wouldn't come away. I tugged harder, but though
it seemed to give a little, almost precipitating me off the ledge, it
refused to yield. And all this while I knew I was exposing myself to
anyone who might be looking up from the garden. I scanned the ground
below, but could see no one, so again gave my attention to the rope.
It seemed fixed more firmly than ever. I jumped back into the room and
blew on my hands to cool them, for they were getting sore; and then it
occurred to me that after all my intention had been to climb up, not
down, and there was the rope ready for me. So again I sprang to the
sill, and taking a firm grip of the rope swung out into the open, and
still spinning round and round started to climb for the eaves. With the
memory of my earlier climb in mind, also with the vision of the rope
caught merely in a broken slate, and not understanding in the least
how it could hold so tightly to such a support, I was in a frenzy of
anxiety till breathless with haste I touched and seized the jutting
eaves, and swung myself up to safety on the roof, where I lay panting,
hardly able to realize my deliverance.
When I had recovered breath and composure I examined the slate where
the hook had caught. I must have kicked my foot through when scrambling
up the roof, for the hook had gone deeply in and was firmly gripping a
rafter beneath. So firmly indeed that it was no easy matter to release
it. However, after wrenching away at it for a few minutes with all my
might I managed to work it free; and with very little bother I climbed
back the way I had come earlier in the day, and soon found myself on
firm earth once more, and with freedom well in sight.
I was winding the rope about me when it occurred to me that I hadn't
yet finished my explorations. So choosing a hiding-place among the
ruins I deposited my rope and lantern there, and turned to go back to
school. Cautiously I peeped round the corner to see if the road were
clear; and behind me I heard a voice, "The devil! And who are you?"