Cursed be the treasure
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?"
CHAPTER XIV
THE NEW TENANT
I was too frightened even to turn about, and stood petrified to the
spot. I felt I must have been seen and followed, and something of the
fear a trapped spy must experience laid hold of me. I was too terrified
to think; my faculties were numb and useless.
The question was repeated:
"Who are you?"
The answer came from my mouth as though it was the only one possible.
"Tommy," I said simply; and slowly turned and looked upon the
questioner.
"Ho, you're Tommy, are you?" he cried almost jovially. I saw a face
of angry suspicion smooth itself out to one of merry kindness; and
instinctively I smiled my broadest.
"So you're Tommy, eh?" repeated the man, whom somehow I immediately
knew to be Abou's master; perhaps by his voice, but rather as I think
because of a lurking shadow of uneasiness in his kindly grey eyes. I
had seen just such a look on my father's face when danger was imminent.
It was the look of the hunted which I knew so well. And I knew this man
was in hiding from some inveterate foe; he too lived with an enemy ever
on his trail.
For a moment we stood facing each other, for my part still smiling,
and growing reassured as the merry lines about his eyes puckered and
wrinkled with amusement. It seemed as though somehow I had found
favour with him, for a child is quick to read the signs of affection in
a stranger. And I know I felt a glow of heart as though I had stumbled
on a friend; for his face was one of the kindest I had seen, and the
lurking sadness, and something haunting and elusive in the whole
expression, appealed to my sense of the romantic and mysterious. For
already I knew there was a sorrow and a mystery in the life of this
new friend of mine, and his face bore witness to the shadow amidst the
sunshine. It was the kind of face I would have given to some favourite