IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
The first room the boys entered was the parlor. It was totally dark,
the blinds of the windows being tightly closed. It was full of
cobwebs, which brushed their cheeks as they passed along.
"Certainly this was a fine mansion in its day," said Dick, as he threw
the rays of the lantern around. "But it is utterly worthless now," he
added as he gazed at the fallen ceilings and rotted woodwork.
"I fancy the ghosts are nothing but rats and bats," said Tom. "Come
on," he continued. "It's damp enough to give one the rheumatism."
From the parlor they passed to a sitting-room. Here there was a huge
open fireplace, filled with ashes and cobwebs. As they entered the
room they heard a rushing noise in the chimney.
"What's that?" cried Stanley anxiously.
"Birds," answered Dick. "I suppose they have made their home in the
chimney, since it is not used for fires."
In a corner of the sitting-room was an old table, and on it several
musty books. The boys looked the books over, but found little to
interest them. As relics the volumes were of no value.
"Come on to the dining-room," said Tom. "Maybe we'll find something
good to eat."
"Ugh! I don't want anything here," answered Stanley with a shudder.
"Wouldn't you like a piece of ghost pie, or some specter doughnuts?"
went on Tom, who was bound to have his fun.
"Nothing, thank you, Tom."
The dining-room of the house was in a wing, and to get to it they had
to pass through a pair of folding doors which were all but closed. As
they did so all heard a peculiar rustling sound, but from whence it
came they could not tell.
"What was that?" asked Sam.
"I don't know," answered his oldest brother.
"Say, this room looks as if it had been used lately," cried Tom, as
the rays of the lantern illuminated the apartment. "Why, it's quite
homelike!"
"Maybe some tramps have had their headquarters here," said Dick. "It
would be just like them to single out a spot like this."
"Yes, provided they weren't afraid of ghosts," came from Stanley.
"Tramps aren't usually afraid of anything but work," answered Tom
dryly. "But this is queer, isn't it?" he added, as he picked up
an empty cigar box. "Somebody must smoke good cigars--these were
imported."
"Here is an empty liquor flask," said Stanley.
"And here are some empty wine bottles," added Sam.
"And here are some decks of playing-cards," put in Dick. "Yes, some
persons have certainly used this as a hangout."
"What is this in the fireplace?" asked Tom as he pointed to something
smoking there.
"It certainly has a vile smell!" exclaimed Stanley, making a wry face.
"That shows somebody has been here recently," was Dick's comment. "We
had better be on guard if they are tramps."
"I can't stand that smell," said Tom. "I am going to get out."
The stuff in the fireplace, whatever it was, now burned up more
brightly. It gave off a peculiar vapor that made the boys dizzy.
Tom turned to a door that led to the kitchen of the house. The door
was shut, and he tried in vain to open it. The others were behind him
and they, too, tried to open the barrier.
"Must be locked from the other side," said Tom. "Come on out the way
we came in. Gracious! Isn't that awful stuff that is burning?" he
added, for the vapor now filled the room completely.
In sudden alarm the four boys turned back toward the folding
doors through which they had entered the dining-room. To their
consternation, the doors were tightly shut.
"Who shut these?" asked Dick as he tried to open one of the doors.
"I didn't," said Sam.
"Neither did I," added Tom.
"Nobody touched the doors!" ejaculated Stanley. "It must be some of
the ghost's work."
"Nonsense!" answered Dick sharply. "Somebody shut the doors--and
locked 'em," he added after trying both. "Hi, you!" he called. "Open
these doors, and be quick about it!"
"Thou fool, to come here!" exclaimed a hollow voice from the other
side of the doors.
"It's the ghost! I said it was!" said Stanley,
"It's somebody fooling us," answered Tom. "Open the door, or we'll
smash it down!" he added in a loud voice.
Instead of a reply there came a weird groan and then the rattle of
some heavy chains. Stanley turned pale and began to tremble, but the
Rovers were not much impressed.
"We don't believe in ghosts, so you might as well let us out!" cried
Dick. "That stuff you set on fire is smothering us!"
At this there was a murmur from the next room, but what was said the
prisoners did not know.
"Come on, let us get out of a window!" cried Tom. His head was
commencing to swim, and he could hardly see.
"Tha--that's it," murmured Sam. "Say, I'm--I'm--going--" He did not
finish, but sank to the floor in a heap.
"Sam has been overcome!" cried Dick in horror.
"Oh, if only we hadn't come here!" groaned Stanley. "I--the
window--I--am--smothering!" He took another step forward and then
fell. Dick tried to pick him up, but went down also, with his brain in
a whirl and strange lights flashing before his closed eyes.
Tom was the last to be overcome. He reached a window, only to find it
tightly locked. He smashed the glass, but could not open the blinds.
Then he went down; but before he closed his eyes he saw the door to
the kitchen open and several masked faces appeared. He tried to
say something, but the words would not come, and then all became a
terrible dark blank around him.
For about half a minute after Tom went down nothing was done. Then the
door to the kitchen was thrown wide open and four figures appeared.
All wore sheets and masks.
"You are sure it won't kill any of them, Parwick?" asked a voice that
sounded like Jerry Koswell's, and which was far from steady.
"Yes, I'm sure," answered the voice of a stranger. "But we don't want
to leave them in this room too long. Take 'em below."
"If we get found out--" said another, and one could readily recognize
Flockley's voice.
"We won't get found out," put in a fourth person. It was Larkspur.
"Come ahead, and don't waste time here."
With great haste the masked ones picked up the three Rovers and
Stanley and dragged them into the kitchen of the old house. Then one
after another the unconscious ones were taken down into a dark and
musty cellar and placed on some straw.
"Now to fix up the evidence!" cried Koswell. "We must be quick, or it
may be too late!"
For all of a quarter of an hour the three Rover boys and Stanley
Browne lay where they had been placed on the moldy straw. They
breathed with difficulty, for the strange vapor still exercised its
influence on their lungs.
At last Sam stirred and opened his eyes.
"Wha--what's the matter with me?" he murmured, and then sat up.
He could see next to nothing, for the cellar was dark. His head ached
keenly, and he could not collect his senses. He also felt somewhat
sick at the stomach.
"Dick! Tom!" he called. "Where are you?"
There was no reply, but presently he heard somebody stir.
"Don't--don't kill me!" murmured Stanley. "Take the ghosts away!"
"Stanley!" called Sam. "Whe--where are we?"
"Who--who is tha--that?" stammered Stanley, sitting up.
"It is I--Sam!"
"Whe--where are we, Sam?"
"I--I don't know."
"My head is go--going around like--like a top."
"So is mine. Tom! Dick!"
"Is that you, Sam?" came faintly from the elder Rover as he opened his
eyes.
"Yes. Where is Tom?"
"Here, I guess, beside me." Dick shook his brother. "Tom! Tom! Wake
up!" he cried. But Tom continued to lay quiet with his eyes tightly
closed.
Sam was feeling in his pocket for a matchbox, and presently he brought
the article forth and made a light. He was still so dizzy he could
scarcely see about him. Stanley had fallen back again, gasping for
breath.
By the dim light afforded by the match the two brothers looked at Tom.
He was gasping in a strange, unnatural fashion.
"I believe he is choking to death!" said Dick hoarsely. "Air! He must
have air!" He arose unsteadily to his feet. "Bring him here!"
And he made for a closed cellar window with all the strength he could
command.