reluctant Andrew, had left Bogota for a visit to Lake Guatavita. The
report that David's disappearance three years before had taken place
there was given as the reason for the trip. Arrived at the lake, Andrew
had declined to accompany the Doctor in his search among the cliffs that
guarded the mysterious body of water, and had stationed himself near the
cutting made centuries before by the Spaniards. This was a comparatively
well sheltered spot and sufficiently removed from the precipitous shore
which the cautious schoolmaster was anxious to avoid. His investigations
concluded after the lapse of something like two hours, Miranda returned
to the old Spanish cutting, expecting to rejoin Andrew. But Andrew was
not there. Surprised at not finding him, the doctor at first supposed
that the schoolmaster had grown tired of waiting and had journeyed back
to Bogota alone. A single circumstance proved that in this he was wrong.
There stood Andrew's horse where he had originally left him--and it
seemed altogether unlikely that his rider had deliberately set out to
cover the long and arduous miles to Bogota afoot.
"Another puzzle in psychology, I suppose," commented Leighton, with a
sarcastic glance at Raoul Arthur.
The latter, however, in spite of the fact that Andrew was an utter
stranger to him, appeared to be more amazed than the others by
Miranda's story, and for the moment paid no heed to Leighton.
"When you found his horse you made a thorough search for your friend, of
course, Senor?" he asked Miranda eagerly.
"Caramba! leetle fellow, what you think?" was the impatient reply. "I
look, and I look, and I call--fifty times I call. If I can swim I jump
into the lake to find him there. But I am too fat. So, I call more
times, and I throw stones, and make the trumpet with the hands. It is no
use. That leetle fellow say nothing. He is not there. So, I come away
after long time."
"He is drowned, poor fellow," murmured Herran in Spanish.
"It is not possible," declared Miranda, turning angrily upon the
general. "What make him drown? Of the water he is afraid. If he fall
in--by mistake--he make a noise, he call to me. I am close by, I hear--I
go to him quickly. But I hear nothing."
"Well, if he didn't drown, as our friend argues, what did become of
him?" demanded Leighton.
"Ah, Senor," replied Miranda, his mobile features expressing hopeless
bewilderment, "I do not know. It is just so as I tell you; he disappear,
he vanish, he is gone. If I know where, I find him--I would not be
here."
"So, there are two disappearances to account for," summed up Leighton.
"Foreigners visiting Bogota seem to have the trick of vanishing. What do
you make of it, Mr. Arthur?"
"I am as much at a loss as you."
"Hardly that, I should think. You, at least, know all about this
mysterious lake. You know what happened there three years ago, for
instance. And then you know----"
"You credit me with a great deal more knowledge than I can lay claim
to," interrupted Raoul. "I never heard of this man who has been lost,
as your excitable friend tells us, in such a singular manner--this Mr.
Andrew----"
"Parmelee," supplied the other. "Andrew Parmelee, schoolmaster, of
Rysdale, Connecticut. He is a very excellent person who, through his
devotion to my niece and myself, has fallen, I fear, a victim to some
strange plot. You will join us, I have no doubt, in his rescue. I am
ignorant of the psychology of Guatavita. However, as I have already told
you, I am here to add to my stock of psychological knowledge, and I
fancy there are few who could teach me more, in cases of this kind, than
you."
The sarcasm was not lost on Miranda, who shrugged his shoulders,
muttered some unintelligible Spanish imprecation and exchanged a
comprehending glance with General Herran. Raoul Arthur, on the other
hand, ignored the tone Leighton had adopted in addressing him. In his
reply he dropped the irritation and suspicion with which he had first
regarded the old savant, and there was even cordiality in the manner
and look accompanying his somewhat ceremonious acceptance of the task
imposed upon him.
"If I thought it possible of so profound a scholar, Professor Leighton,"
he laughed, "I would say you were chaffing me. As it is, I feel
the honor in your proposal that I should join you in solving these
mysterious disappearances. Perhaps I can be of some help. At any rate,
depend on me for whatever I can do."
"Two Americans unaccountably disappear in the heart of Colombia," mused
Leighton. "If it were not for certain odd circumstances, I should say
the country's indignation over the loss of Panama had something to do
with it."
Against this suggestion Miranda impatiently protested.
"Impossible!" he shouted. "Always these people fight with the gun, the
machete, if they are angry. They make much noise and talk; never they
steal the enemies of their country and say nothing. It is one plot--and
perhaps this senor will know," he concluded, darting an accusing glance
at Raoul.
But Raoul, now thoroughly composed, smiled disdainfully, although
agreeing in Doctor Miranda's rejection of Leighton's half-formed theory.
"If it is necessary," he assured them, "I can easily prove that I have
had nothing to do with all this. I have not been out of Bogota for
a month or more. Besides, I have the strongest business reasons for
wanting the safe return of David Meudon to this country. As for Mr.
Parmelee; I repeat--I never heard of him before. But, I agree with our
friend here; the disappearance of these two men has nothing to do with
the Panama trouble. It is something else. There is a mystery about it. I
have no doubt it can be solved."
"You have the clew?" demanded Leighton.
"I didn't say that."
"Well?"
"Perhaps I know some one here--a woman--who could help us."
But that evening, after the departure of his visitors, Raoul Arthur
found the little house in the Calle de las Flores tenantless, and
learned that the woman, known to the neighborhood as La Reina de los
Indios, had left Bogota, with all her household effects, a week before.
XI
IN WHICH ANDREW IS FOUND
Puzzled at not finding Sajipona, uncertain how to take up the promise
he had given in regard to her, an altogether unexpected turn of events
awaited Raoul at Leighton's hotel the next morning. Andrew Parmelee
had been found. In the custody of two delighted police officers the
missing schoolmaster, bewildered, quite speechless from his nocturnal
experience, had made his appearance, scarcely an hour before Raoul's
arrival. When, thanks to Miranda's persistent prodding, backed by the
calm questioning of Leighton and Una's sympathetic ministrations, he
found his tongue, the account Andrew gave of his adventure was so wildly
improbable that his friends were inclined to believe he had been the
victim of some temporary mental delusion. But this did not answer the
threefold question: what had brought on his delusion, how had he escaped
the vigilant Miranda, and how had he fallen into the hands of the
police.
The two officers gave a simple statement of what, so far as they knew,
had happened.
Late the night before, they said, Andrew had wandered into the alcalde's
office in a little pueblo a few miles this side of Guatavita. His
appearance, manner and mental condition--they hinted broadly enough
that the luckless Andrew, when first found was in a very irresponsible
condition indeed--called for the protection of the law. But as the poor
gentleman, they said, was apparently suffering from nothing more than
the effects of a too convivial outing in the country, he had been put
in jail, not as a punishment, but rather as an act of humanity. Unable
to express himself in Spanish, Andrew had evidently been something
of a puzzle to the simple-minded officials of the pueblo. Out of his
incoherent jumble of words, however, the name of a hotel in Bogota had
been seized upon. A telephone message was sent to the municipal police,
and the two officers who now had him in charge were detailed to conduct
him in safety to his friends. Beyond this, the clearing up of the
mystery of his temporary disappearance--if mystery it was--rested with
Andrew himself. But he, for a time, was unable to satisfy the curiosity
of his questioners.
"I don't understand it myself," he said hopelessly, addressing himself,
in the main, to Leighton, whose calm demeanor was less confusing than
the badgering of the excitable Doctor. "All I know is, that when Doctor
Miranda went off to make some explorations on his own account, I felt
a little nervous at finding myself alone in such a dismal place. Not
frightened, you know, but just nervous."
"Why you not call to me?" demanded Miranda.
"There was really no reason to call for help, you see, as nothing had
happened. So, just to pass the time until Doctor Miranda came back, I
walked along the edge of the lake, feeling very miserable, I confess,
wondering what had become of Mr. Meudon, and wishing that we were all
out of this terrible country and back in Rysdale. At first, there was
nothing to alarm me particularly; but the more I thought about the
disappearance of Mr. Meudon the more nervous I became. And then, just as
I was wondering if we would ever find him, and feeling more uneasy at
the strange silence of that melancholy lake----"
"Caramba! You would have the lake to talk?"
"I--I heard footsteps among the rocks behind me."
"A sightseer from Bogota, I suppose," suggested Leighton.
"No, it was not exactly that--at least, I don't think so. But at first I
really didn't turn around to see. I just kept on looking at the lake and
going over some of the terrible stories I had heard about it."
"You see, this leetle fellow was quite mad with the fright," interjected
Miranda. "He dream. He hear, he see nothing. Nobody was there. I know."
"I think, Sir, you are mistaken," protested the schoolmaster. "I admit I
was nervous. But I was perfectly sane--and I was not asleep."
"Of course you were not asleep, Mr. Parmelee," said Una soothingly. "As
for being nervous--any one would have been nervous."
"Well?" inquired Leighton impatiently.
"Well, Sir, as I was saying, I heard footsteps. They approached me. I
made up my mind I had better see who it was. I turned around. And then
I saw, a few yards from me, a stranger. How he came there without my
having seen him before, I can't imagine. And then, thinking about this,
I confess I became quite agitated."
"But what was he like, what did he say?" demanded Leighton. "It was a
man, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes, I am quite sure he was a man--a very tall man, and singularly
dressed."
"'Singularly dressed?'"
"I thought so, at least. But then, I am not familiar with the fashions
of this country. You see, it is very cold on the shores of the lake,
and I should think that any one going there would want at least to be
warmly clad. But this man had nothing on that I could see, except a long
sort of toga, just like the pictures I have studied in Herodotus. It was
looped up on one shoulder through what looked like a golden ring----"
"He dream! He dream! this leetle fellow!" laughed Miranda. "He is too
good."
"And this toga fell down to a point just below his knees. It was a
purple and white toga--or perhaps I ought to call it a tunic--with a
fringe of gold tassels. He had sandals on his bare feet and wore no
trousers--at least, I could see none."
"Caramba!"
"Really, Mr. Parmelee, you describe a very singular sort of person for
this age and climate," said Leighton coldly. "Are you sure that your
agitated state of mind--you admit you were agitated--did not create a
purely imaginary apparition?"
"Did I not say he dream?" demanded Miranda triumphantly. "And the police
say he drink. But that is not so--he never drink. I know. I am there."
"I am very sorry, Sir; I know it sounds ridiculous," protested the
distressed Andrew. "But I am certain that I was not asleep--or anything
else that these well-meaning gentlemen say. I am only telling you what I
really saw."
"Well, tell us the whole story. Setting aside this person's remarkable
costume, what was he like, what did he say?"
"I don't think he said anything. He was an Indian. That is, he was not
a white man. I never saw any one just like him, so I may not be right
about the race to which he belongs."
Andrew's confused statement brought protests from Leighton as well as
Miranda.
"In this country," remarked Leighton dogmatically, "a man is either an
Indian, a white, or a half-breed. There are no negroes up here, you
know. The negroes all stayed on the coast. As for your inability to
tell us whether he spoke or not--well, the whole thing begins to sound
absurd."
But the rebuke failed to bring out anything more clear in the way of
explanation from Andrew.
"Pray, Sir, remember," he expostulated, "that at the time of this
stranger's appearance evening was setting in. The growing darkness
prevented anything like a reliable estimate that I could have made of
his features. In the twilight he seemed dark to me, although not so dark
as the average Indian. And yet, allowing for the twilight, he certainly
was not a white man."
"But what happened?" urged Leighton.
"He appeared surprised at seeing me. And then he smiled, approached to
where I was standing, and waved a sort of salutation to me. I think he
may have muttered some words, either of invitation or friendly greeting.
But if he did, it was not in English, nor in Spanish."
"He, at least, was not agitated, it seems! But as you were afflicted
with more than the usual amount of timidity, I suppose you avoided him."
"I assure you, Sir, that as soon as I saw this person, I felt no further
fear. There was nothing threatening in his manner. And it flashed
through my mind that he could give me some information about Mr. Meudon.
I observed that he beckoned me to him--and as he did so I followed."
"Well?"
"That was the singular part of it. There was every reason why I should
not go with him--at least, not without first notifying Doctor Miranda.
But this strange being smiled so pleasantly and seemed so friendly that
my feeling of nervousness passed away, and I was eager to go with him.
This I did. Apparently he retraced his steps, leading me along the shore
of a little inlet to the lake until we reached a high wall of rock that
I had not particularly noticed before. Here he stopped and looked at me,
still smiling, as if to make sure that I was following him."
"Do you think you could identify this wall of rock if you were to see it
again?" asked Raoul Arthur, speaking for the first time.
"I am sure I could," said Andrew, "because we stood in front of it for
some time, this strange person in the toga passing his hand over its
surface, while I wondered what he was going to do next. I noticed that
it was a very high and blank wall indeed."
"Where was it?"
"Just next to the cutting that Doctor Miranda had told me was made by
the Spaniards to drain the lake."
"I did not see this wall," expostulated Miranda. "You are in one dream."
"Never mind," snapped Leighton; "go on with your story."
"I am afraid you will believe me less than ever," said Andrew
deprecatingly. "But I am only telling what I am certain I saw."
"Go on."
"As he passed his hand over the surface of the wall he gradually turned
to one side until we stood before a narrow cleft in the rocks."
"It is not there," interrupted Miranda contemptuously. "I examine all
this rock. It has no--what you call?--cleft."
"I am very sorry, Sir, but I know that there is such a cleft. I think
that is what you would call it. You might easily have overlooked it,
Sir. It was only a narrow opening in the rock, facing away from the lake
and reaching up not more than about three feet from the ground."
"I remember it," declared Raoul.
"Pray go on with your story, Mr. Parmelee," Leighton commanded.
"There is not much more to tell, although the little that remains is
quite the most extraordinary part of it. Pausing an instant before this
opening in the rock, my strange guide crouched down until he was able to
pass within it, beckoned me to follow him, and then disappeared."
The schoolmaster spoke with difficulty, hesitating every now and then
for the word that would best express what had happened. Having plunged
into his story, however, he went bravely on, gaining courage as he
recalled his singular experiences, and impressing those who heard him
with the sincerity, if not the truth, of the narrative. Of all his
auditors Raoul, apparently, followed him with the closest attention. His
attitude, indeed, seemed to indicate a belief, on his part, in Andrew's
statements.
"I hesitated about following this unknown man into so strange a
place," continued Andrew; "but his manner was so perfectly courteous
and friendly--and then I thought that behind all this mystery there
might be something to help us find Mr. Meudon--that I made up my mind
to keep with him as long as possible. I crouched down, therefore, as
I had seen him do, forced my way through the narrow opening in the
rock, and presently, after a little difficulty, found myself in a dark
passage that afforded me room to stand upright and move forward. I could
dimly perceive my guide walking at some distance in front of me, and I
hastened as well as I could to reach him. In this I did not succeed, and
so we followed the passage, he leading and I after him, for a hundred
yards or more, until we came to an abrupt angle in the wall where the
uneven path made a sharp dip downward. Here I stopped, having completely
lost sight of my guide, and after waiting a short time I called to him.
No answer came that I could hear, and in the darkness that surrounded me
I began to grow confused and alarmed. It seemed to me I had been lured
into some sort of trap. Repenting of my folly for having ventured so far
into such a dismal hole, I determined to get out of it as quickly as
possible. This, I thought, would be easily done because, to the best of
my knowledge, I had followed along a straight corridor and, if I turned
back, I would soon come within sight of the opening that led to the
lake. But either I had miscalculated the distance I had walked, or else,
in turning to go out I started in the wrong direction. At any rate, I
had not gone very far before I found myself in a labyrinth of passages.
I perceived this by feeling along the wall. And so--there I was, without
any clew to help me in choosing the right passage.
"I scarcely know what I did when I realized that I was hopelessly lost
in this pitch black cavern. For one thing, I shouted for help, thinking
that possibly Doctor Miranda might hear me. But the echoes from my voice
were more terrifying than the silence. The air was stifling; the ground
appeared to move beneath my feet; the darkness was like a heavy veil
winding closer and closer about me. Then, unable, as it seemed to me, to
move or breathe any longer, everything went from me. I sank to the floor
unconscious. And that's all I remember."
"But--how you say that? You are here, leetle fellow," blurted Miranda.
"You are all right."
"Yes, I am here," Andrew assented woefully. "But I don't know how I got
here. When I came to myself again I was lying on the shore of the lake.
It was quite dark. My horse had gone----"
"That is right; I take him," corroborated Miranda, with satisfaction.
"I don't know how I succeeded in doing it--I suppose it was
instinct--but I managed to follow the trail on foot, and after a
desperate struggle I reached the village where the people helped me to
get back to Bogota."
Andrew's story was variously received. No one could doubt his honesty.
With such transparent simplicity as his, it would be difficult to
suppose him capable of drawing--consciously at least--upon his fancy.
Doctor Miranda suggested that he merely dreamed what he afterwards
took to be reality. But the others, discrediting this theory, were
apparently inclined to accept the story, so far as it went, in spite of
its fantastic and well nigh incredible features. Raoul Arthur appeared
particularly impressed and proposed immediate action.
"I know the cleft in the rock," he said. "I have been over a small
part of the passage to which it gives entrance. It was there, three
years ago, in our attempt to undermine Lake Guatavita, that a charge of
dynamite exploded, after which David Meudon disappeared. I had no idea
that this passage extended back into the mountain as far as it does,
according to Mr. Parmelee's story. But now--it strikes me, Mr. Leighton,
that chance has given us the clew you were seeking last night. If you
are still anxious to trace David's whereabouts, the path lies down the
passage entered by Mr. Parmelee and his togaed, sandaled guide."
"You want to explore it?" demanded Leighton.
"I do."
"But why, if it was already known to you, have you not done this
before?"
"The natives have always fought shy of going into it further than our
mining operations made necessary. Besides, I never had any reason to
suppose that it was more than a mere natural formation of rock--as
it probably is--extending a short distance into the main body of the
mountain."
"And now?"
"I have no theory to advance. But," he added significantly, "it was in
this unexplored tunnel that David disappeared three years ago."
The reminder had its effect. This linking up of the mysterious tunnel
that had so nearly proved fatal to Andrew, with David's first adventure
suggested the possible solution of a problem that had baffled them until
now. In spite of Miranda's derisive comments on the schoolmaster's
"fairy tale," there seemed to be only one thing to do--explore the
tunnel. It might lead nowhere, and in that case the labor and the
risk--if risk there was--would be of small account. If, however, it was
the entrance to a subterranean dwelling, inhabited by people of whom the
strange being described by Andrew was a specimen, the discovery was well
worth making.
"We will rescue David!" exclaimed Una, the eagerness of hope in her
voice.
"But, my young lady," protested Miranda; "he go away many mile from this
tunnel."
"That is true," assented Leighton.
"All the same, David was lost there before," Raoul reminded him. "It is
a clew we are bound to follow."
The question remained, how carry out the proposed exploration? Equipped
with miners' lamps, a number of which, of the best pattern, were
still among the stores David and Raoul had brought to Colombia at the
beginning of their venture, the worst difficulty--darkness--could easily
be overcome. Firearms, a supply of provisions, and oil for the lamps,
were other items obviously needed. But the essential thing was, as
Doctor Miranda tersely put it, "brains"--a cool-headed leader who would
bring them back to the entrance of the tunnel in case of danger. General
Herran, with his military training and experience, was the man for this
rôle. This hero of unfought battles was thereupon chosen captain of the
expedition--not, however, without some modest disclaimers of ability on
his part.
"There will be five of us then," remarked Leighton. "General Herran,
Doctor Miranda, Arthur, Parmelee and myself."
"There will be six," amended Una.
"Six?"
"I will be one of the party."
"Preposterous! You might as well make it seven, and include Mrs.
Quayle."
"I wouldn't think of going," declared that lady quivering with
agitation.
"It is not for the womens," argued Miranda, in his most conciliatory
manner. "There may be troubles, and we want only the mens."
Una turned on him fiercely.
"I don't believe there is any danger," she cried; "but, anyway, I am
going. I am certain David is there. I will go!"
To all of which Miranda gave an untranslatable exclamation denoting
sympathy, admiration for the pluck of this unexpected volunteer.
Leighton, however, was less easily moved, and it was not until his niece
assured him that she would return if the expedition promised to be a
dangerous one, that he consented to her passionate plea.
XII
A DEAD WALL