The Mystery of the Fifteen Sounds

by Van Powell

  Chapter 17 BLACK SILENCE

  Without looking up from the radio over which he was fussing, DoctorRyder spoke snappishly. His nerves were on edge.

  "We ought not to have brought him."

  "But he was so clever," protested Clark, "and surely if anybody evercould interpret what that temple must hide in that queer sound, he'd bethe one. He interpreted claws on glass, you said--and----"

  "Be still. Let me listen."

  The doctor fidgeted, trying to tune, to amplify, to adjust knobs on theunresponsive radio set.

  "We had no intention of getting him into hot water," Clark said,morosely. "We did want to get into that temple. The bandits wereunforeseen complications; but when the Lama came, I thought that forRoger it would all be simple, once he got into the lamasery."

  He watched a few minutes.

  "Can't you raise even a whisper?"

  "No! And it has been three nights. And besides we can't operate thewireless, because you don't know code. Brown, in America, will be wild.Our three days of uncertainty is nothing. He hasn't heard since Rogerleft us, and that was a week before our last contact with him."

  "Let me try. You go and turn the dynamo."

  "I wish I knew more about it. I know precious little, come to find out,whether it's burned out, or the brushes gone, or how to adjust thesethings." The doctor relinquished his place, went into the tent.

  At the tuning dial and control knobs, as he whirled them and almostfrantically called into the telephone transmitter, Clark worked.

  In the tent his companion swung the flywheel over, and around, and thenstopped, groaning.

  "Guess we are licked," he came out.

  "You go back. We'll keep trying."

  Doctor Ryder nodded.

  Ten minutes of silence.

  "I'm--sh-h-h!"

  Clark tuned delicately, getting the "hang" of the controls.

  Out of the receiving diaphragm issued a low, male voice.

  "You will return to your America."

  Desperately Clark swung the switch to the sending side.

  "Who are you? Where is our boy? Roger? Is he there? Is he----"

  "He is gone. The Voice of Doom spoke his sentence. He has learned thesecret of the hidden darkness."

  "We'll have a hundred thousand American troops in your darn country ifthat boy has been hurt----"

  The other end of the transmission mocked with a hoarse laugh.

  That was all.

  Doctor Ryder, informed, looked defeated.

  "And all for a tawdry jewel. And we still have----"

  Clark motioned for silence, trying desperately, vainly, to raise aresponse from the dead ether waves.

  They retired, at last, because with the glowering clouds hanging low ina star-obscured sky, with possible guards in sight, they dared not makea move.

  Discussion had been fruitless. They had drawn only blanks in theirsearch for a course of action.

  Clark, lying on his cot, tossing, got up.

  "I can't sleep. I'm going to walk around--see if I can think up some wayto find out about Roger--and that man with him, too, of course, becausewhat happens to one will happen to the other."

  He went out into the somber blackness of midnight.

  Walking did not keep him from brooding, nor help his brain to do itstask.

  He sat on a large tussock of dry turf.

  "For a tawdry gem!" he muttered.

  A slight sound made him leap up, revolver drawn.

  Had it been the ever-blowing gale, stirring something? Or some freshmenace, some creeping creature, some vindictive priest, who had madethat tiny sound of a scraping shoe?

  "Who's there? Speak or I'll fire!"

  He knew no direction to shoot in. But the light might disclosesomething. He raised the weapon.

  "Mr. Clark, don't----"

  "_Roger!_"

  "In person, and not a ghost."

  In a heavy sheeps-wool coat, shaggy and rough, the figure came to hisside. His grip of the young hand was sincerely strong.

  "Quick!" Roger gasped, "give me the Eye of Om--I can exchange it and getback and we can go before they discover me."

  "Where have you been?" as they walked fast toward camp. "What happened?"

  "They tried us, and the Voice of Doom sentenced us, and they put us inthe chamber behind the image. But we can't stop to talk."

  "Are you all right? Is Potts safe?"

  "Yes. Yes. Hurry!"

  "Let me go with you."

  "Only hurry, and bring the Eye."

  Dashing into the tent, scattering explanations to befuddled Doctor Ryderas he broke apart the small secret compartment in a bedroll and got thegem, Clark met Roger and handed him the stone.

  Instantly Roger fled into the darkness.

  When Clark overtook him he saw Potts holding two ponies. Sending Tip tocamp, the pair mounted and galloped away.

  "It was easy to find the secret," Roger said as they made a quick ridetoward the distant cliffs, "Tip helped me keep my head. We figured outthat somebody worked the Voice, and it was louder than human sound. Wewere in a tunnel. It sloped downwards. It seemed as though the Buddhaimage had howled. That meant a way to get into the image or open a portfrom the tunnel to it. Phonograph records wouldn't have been their way.

  "The wind always howled around the lamasery, up so high. From what weknew about acoustics and how they shaped the old phonograph horns toincrease sound amplification, we worked it out that we were in a sort ofwind-tunnel or horn, and it didn't seem that they opened any rock at theimage or we would have heard it. If the far end of the tunnel opened,and wind howled in and through the hollow image, it could make thoseweird howls, high and low, moans and screeches. So we followed thetunnel down, and by using Tip's pencil flashlight we located a lever,and risked making the sound. But we got out."

  By reversing the method, he and Mr. Clark also got in, and with theolder traveler's wisdom they found the trick of getting into the image,and saw that when the way was closed, the tunnel did not make it howl.Also, from the eye-places, they made sure the temple was deserted, andsoon enough the change of gems was complete and later, blocking thelower door lever with a wedge of stone, they prevented pursuit from thatdirection and eventually reached camp safely. On the way Mr. Clarkdiscarded his now useless Eye taken from the prongs, and Roger, at lastsafe, with a plane radioed for, slept and dreamed that he was beingawarded a medal "for 'sound' wisdom."

  "After all," he said in his dream, "my deduction was 'sound'."