by Sax Rohmer
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE DUNGEON
We were out in the corridor now, Smith showing the way with the lightof his electric pocket-lamp. My mind was clear enough, but I felt asweak as a child.
"You look positively ghastly, old man," rapped Smith, "which is nomatter for wonder. I have yet to learn how it happened that you arenot lying insensible, or dead, as a result of the drugged wine. WhenI heard some one moving in your room, it never occurred to me that itwas _you_."
"Smith," I said--"the house seems as still as death."
"You, Karamaneh, and myself are the only occupants of the east wing.Homopoulo saw to that."
"Then he----"
"He is a member of the Si-Fan, a creature of Dr. Fu-Manchu--yes,beyond all doubt! Sir Lionel is unfortunate--as ever--in his choiceof servants. I blame my own stupidity entirely, Petrie; and I praythat my enlightenment has not come too late."
"What does it all mean?--what have you learnt?"
"Mind these three steps," warned Smith, glancing back. "I found mymind persistently dwelling upon the matter of that weird rapping,Petrie, and I recollected the situation of Sir Lionel's room, on thesoutheast front. A brief inspection revealed the fact that, by meansof a kindly branch of ivy, I could reach the roof of the east towerfrom my window."
"Well?"
"One may walk from there along the roof of the southeast front, andby lying face downwards at the point where it projects above the mainentrance look into Sir Lionel's room!"
"I saw you go!"
"I feared that some one was watching me, but that it was you I hadnever supposed. Neither Barton nor his man are in that room, Petrie!They have been spirited away! This is Karamaneh's door."
He grasped me by the arm, at the same time directing the light upon aclosed door before which we stood. I raised my fist and beat upon thepanels; then, every muscle tensed and my heart throbbing wildly, Ilistened for the girl's voice.
Not a sound broke that deathly stillness except the beating of my ownheart, which, I thought, must surely be audible to my companion.Frantically I hurled myself against the stubborn oak, but Smith thrustme back.
"Useless, Petrie!" he said--"useless. This room is in the base of theeast tower, yours is above it and mine at the top. The corridorsapproaching the three floors deceive one, but the fact remains. I haveno positive evidence, but I would wager all I possess that there is astair in the thickness of the wall, and hidden doors in the panelingof the three apartments. The Yellow group has somehow obtainedpossession of a plan of the historic secret passages and chambers ofGraywater Park. Homopoulo is the spy in the household; and Sir Lionel,with his man Kennedy, was removed directly the invitation to us hadbeen posted. The group will know by now that we have escaped them, butKaramaneh ..."
"Smith!" I groaned, "Smith! What can we do? What has befallen her? ..."
"This way!" he snapped. "We are not beaten yet!"
"We must arouse the servants!"
"Why? It would be sheer waste of priceless time. There are only threemen who actually sleep in the house (excepting Homopoulo) and theseare in the northwest wing. No, Petrie; we must rely upon ourselves."
He was racing recklessly along the tortuous corridors and up the oddlyplaced stairways of that old-world building. My anguish had reinforcedthe atropine which I had employed as an antidote to the opiate in thewine, and now my blood, that had coursed sluggishly, leapt through myveins like fire and I burned with a passionate anger.
Into a large and untidy bedroom we burst. Books and papers litteredabout the floor; curios, ranging from mummied cats and ibises toTurkish yataghans and Zulu assegais, surrounded the place in riotousdisorder. Beyond doubt this was the apartment of Sir Lionel Barton.A lamp burned upon a table near to the disordered bed, and adiscolored Greek statuette of Orpheus lay overturned on the carpetclose beside it.
"Homopoulo was on the point of leaving this room at the moment that Ipeered in at the window," said Smith, breathing heavily. "From herethere is another entrance to the secret passages. Have your pistolready."
He stepped across the disordered room to a little alcove near the footof the bed, directing the ray of the pocket-lamp upon the small,square paneling.
"Ah!" he cried, a note of triumph in his voice--"he has left the doorajar! A visit of inspection was not anticipated to-night, Petrie!Thank God for an Indian liver and a suspicious mind."
He disappeared into a yawning cavity which now I perceived to exist inthe wall. I hurried after him, and found myself upon roughly fashionedstone steps in a very low and narrow descending passage. Over hisshoulder--
"Note the direction," said Smith breathlessly. "We shall presentlyfind ourselves at the base of the east tower."
Down we went and down, the ray of the electric lamp always showingmore steps ahead, until at last these terminated in a level, archedpassage, curving sharply to the right. Two paces more brought us to adoorway, less, than four feet high, approached by two wide steps. Ablackened door, having a most cumbersome and complicated lock, showedin the recess.
Nayland Smith bent and examined the mechanism intently.
"Freshly oiled!" he commented. "You know into whose room it opens?"
Well enough I knew, and, detecting that faint, haunting perfume whichspoke of the dainty personality of Karamaneh, my anger blazed upanew. Came a faint sound of metal grating upon metal, and Smith pulledopen the door, which turned outward upon the steps, and bent furtherforward, sweeping the ray of light about the room beyond.
"Empty, of course!" he muttered. "Now for the base of these damnednocturnal operations."
He descended the steps and began to flash the light all about thearched passageway wherein we stood.
"The present dining-room of Graywater Park lies almost due south ofthis spot," he mused. "Suppose we try back."
We retraced our steps to the foot of the stair. In the wall on theirleft was an opening, low down against the floor and little more thanthree feet high; it reminded me of some of the entrances to thoseseemingly interminable passages whereby one approaches the sepulchralchambers of the Egyptian Pyramids.
"Now for it!" snapped Smith. "Follow me closely."
Down he dropped, and, having the lamp thrust out before him, began tocrawl into the tunnel. As his heels disappeared, and only a faint lightoutlined the opening, I dropped upon all fours in turn, and beganlaboriously to drag myself along behind him. The atmosphere was damp,chilly, and evil-smelling; therefore, at the end of some ten or twelveyards of this serpentine crawling, when I saw Smith, ahead of me, tobe standing erect, I uttered a stifled exclamation of relief. Thethought of Karamaneh having been dragged through this noisome holewas one I dared not dwell upon.
A long, narrow passage now opened up, its end invisible from where westood. Smith hurried forward. For the first thirty of forty paces theroof was formed of massive stone slabs; then its character changed;the passage became lower, and one was compelled frequently to lower thehead in order to avoid the oaken beams which crossed it.
"We are passing under the dining-room," said Smith. "It was from herethe sound of beating first came!"
"What do you mean?"
"I have built up a theory, which remains to be proved, Petrie. In myopinion a captive of the Yellow group escaped to-night and sought tosummon assistance, but was discovered and overpowered."
"Sir Lionel?"
"Sir Lionel, or Kennedy--yes, I believe so."
Enlightenment came to me, and I understood the pitiable condition intowhich the Greek butler had been thrown by the phenomenon of theghostly knocking. But Smith hurried on, and suddenly I saw that thepassage had entered upon a sharp declivity; and now both roof andwalls were composed of crumbling brickwork. Smith pulled up, and thrustback a hand to detain me.
"_Ssh!_" he hissed, and grasped my arm.
Silent, intently still, we stood and listened. The sound of a gutturalvoice was clearly distinguishable from somewhere close at hand!
Smith extinguished the lamp. A faint
luminance proclaimed itselfdirectly ahead. Still grasping my arm, Smith began slowly to advancetoward the light. One--two--three--four--five paces we crept onward ...and I found myself looking through an archway into a medievaltorture-chamber!
Only a part of the place was visible to me, but its character wasunmistakable. Leg-irons, boots and thumb-screws hung in racks uponthe fungi-covered wall. A massive, iron-studded door was open at thefurther end of the chamber, and on the threshold stood Homopoulo,holding a lantern in his hand.
Even as I saw him, he stepped through, followed by on of those short,thick-set Burmans of whom Dr. Fu-Manchu had a number among hisentourage; they were members of the villainous robber bands notoriousin India as the dacoits. Over one broad shoulder, slung sackwise, thedacoit carried a girl clad in scanty white drapery....
Madness seized me, the madness of sorrow and impotent wrath. For, withKaramaneh being borne off before my eyes, I dared not fire at herabductors lest I should strike _her_!
Nayland Smith uttered a loud cry, and together we hurled ourselvesinto the chamber. Heedless of what, of whom, else it might shelter,we sprang for the group in the distant doorway. A memory is mine ofthe dark, white face of Homopoulo, peering, wild-eyed, over thelantern, of the slim, white-clad form of the lovely captive seeming tofade into the obscurity of th passage beyond.
Then, with bleeding knuckles, with wild imprecations bubbling from mylips, I was battering upon the mighty door--which had been slammed inmy face at the very instant that I had gained it.
"Brace up, man!--Brace up!" cried Smith, and in his strenuous, grimlypurposeful fashion, he shouldered me away from the door. "A batteringram could not force that timber; we must seek another way!"
I staggered, weakly, back into the room. Hand raised to my head, Ilooked about me. A lantern stood in a niche in one wall, weirdlyilluminating that place of ghastly memories; there were braziers,branding-irons, with other instruments dear to the Black Ages, aboutme--and gagged, chained side by side against the opposite wall, laySir Lionel Barton and another man unknown to me!
Already Nayland Smith was bending over the intrepid explorer, whosefierce blue eyes glared out from the sun-tanned face madly, whosegray hair and mustache literally bristled with rage long repressed.I choked down the emotions that boiled and seethed within me, andsought to release the second captive, a stockily-built, clean-shavenman. First I removed the length of toweling which was tied firmlyover his mouth; and--
"Thank you, sir," he said composedly. "The keys of these irons are onthe ledge there beside the lantern. I broke the first ring I waschained to, but the Yellow devils overhauled me, all manacled as Iwas, half-way along the passage before I could attract your attention,and fixed me up to another and stronger ring!"
Ere he had finished speaking, the keys were in my hands, and I hadunlocked the gyves from both the captives. Sir Lionel Barton, his gagremoved, unloosed a torrent of pent-up wrath.
"The hell-fiends drugged me!" he shouted. "That black villain Homopoulodoctored my tea! I woke in this damnable cell, the secret of which hasbeen lost for generations!" He turned blazing blue eyes upon Kennedy."How did _you_ come to be trapped?" he demanded unreasonably. "Icredited you with a modicum of brains!"
"Homopoulo came running from your room, sir, and told me you weretaken suddenly ill and that a doctor must be summoned without delay."
"Well, well, you fool!"
"Dr. Hamilton was away, sir."
"A false call beyond doubt!" snapped Smith.
"Therefore I went for the new doctor, Dr. Magnus, in the village. Hecame at once and I showed him up to your room. He sent Mrs. Oram out,leaving only Homopoulo and myself there, except yourself."
"Well?"
"Sandbagged!" explained the man nonchalantly. "Dr. Magnus, who is somekind of dago, is evidently one of the gang."
"Sir Lionel!" cried Smith--"where does the passage lead to beyondthat doorway?
"God knows!" was the answer, which dashed my last hope to the ground."I have no more idea than yourself. Perhaps ..."
He ceased speaking. A sound had interrupted him, which, in those grimsurroundings, lighted by the solitary lantern, translated my thoughtsmagically to Ancient Rome, to the Rome of Tigellinus, to the dungeonsof Nero's Circus. Echoing eerily along the secret passages it came--the roaring and snarling of the lioness and the leopards.
Nayland Smith clapped his hand to his brow and stared at me almostfrenziedly, then--
"God guard her!" he whispered. "Either their plans, wherever they gotthem, are inaccurate, or in their panic they have mistaken the way." ...Wild cries now were mingling with the snarling of the beasts...."They have blundered into the old crypt!"
How we got out of the secret labyrinth of Graywater Park into thegrounds and around the angle of the west wing to the ivy-grown,pointed door, where once the chapel had bee, I do not know. Lightseemed to spring up about me, and half-clad servants to appear out ofthe void. Temporarily I was insane.
Sir Lionel Barton was behaving like a madman too, and like a madman hetore at the ancient bolts and precipitated himself into the stone-pavedcloister barred with the moon-cast shadows of the Norman pillars. Frombehind the iron bars of the home of the leopards came now a fearsomegrowling and scuffling.
Smith held the light with a steady hand, whilst Kennedy forced theheavy bolts of the crypt door.
In leapt the fearless baronet among his savage pets, and in the rayof light from the electric lamp I saw that which turned my sick withhorror. Prone beside a yawning gap in the floor lay Homopoulo, histhroat torn indescribably and his white shirt-front smothered inblood. A black leopard, having its fore-paws upon the dead man'sbreast, turned blazing eyes upon us; a second crouched beside him.
Heaped up in a corner of the place, amongst the straw and litter ofthe lair, lay the Burmese dacoit, his sinewy fingers embedded in thethroat of the third and largest leopard--which was dead--whilst thecreature's gleaming fangs were buried in the tattered flesh of theman's shoulder.
Upon the straw beside the two, her slim, bare arms outstretched andher head pillowed upon them, so that her rippling hair completelyconcealed her face, lay Karamaneh....
In a trice Barton leapt upon the great beast standing over Homopoulo,had him by the back of the neck and held him in his powerful handswhining with fear and helpless as a rat in the grip of a terrier. Thesecond leopard fled into the inner lair.
So much I visualized in a flash; then all faded, and I knelt alonebeside her whose life was my life, in a world grown suddenly emptyand still.
Through long hours of agony I lived, hours contained within the spanof seconds, the beloved head resting against my shoulder, whilst Isearched for signs of life and dreaded to find ghastly wounds.... Atfirst I could not credit the miracle; I could not receive the wondroustruth.
Karamaneh was quite uninjured and deep in drugged slumber!
"The leopards thought her dead," whispered Smith brokenly, "and nevertouched her!"
