by John Blaine
“All okay,” Nails said. “No trouble.”
“Good. You kids come with me. Nails, keep them covered.”
Nails took a shotgun from one of the other men who had followed them in. “Let’s go.
Follow the light.”
Their guide led them up creaking stairs into an upper hallway.
Rick kept his eyes open, trying to impress every detail on his memory. He had counted the men. Now he counted the stairs, and the doors in the upper hallway. There were five doors. All of them were closed. From under three of them light filtered.
The entire house was broken with age and disuse. A scent of mustiness filled the air. It was a depressing place. Rick half expected to see bats or spiders hovering just outside the rim of yellow lamplight.
Gizmo said, “This place gives me the creeps.”
“You’ll be comfortable,” Nails replied briefly.
The man with the lamp took out a key, opened a door, and motioned them inside.
Rick led the way into a boxlike room completely devoid of furniture. Wallpaper, bleached and peeling, hung in festoons from the walls. From overhead, a broken chandelier hung. In one corner, mud wasps had built tier after tier of nests.
The man with the lamp motioned to the two windows. They were sealed shut with
heavy planks. “Don’t bother trying to push out the boards. There’s an iron grill on the outside. You’d only waste your time.”
He put the lamp down in the middle of the floor. “You can keep the light. We’ll bring you blankets later. No chow until tomorrow morning, but you can have water.”
He and Nails backed to the door, keeping the boys covered with the shotgun. Then the door swung shut and the key rasped in the lock.
“Welcome to Dusty Manor,” Scotty said.
Gizmo shuddered. “I got the willies. What you bet this place is haunted?”
“Haunted is right,” Rick said.“By a bunch of spooks with shotguns and whispering boxes. That shotgun shows the kind of people they are. They have a perfectly good scientific weapon, but they carry a shotgun Just to be sure. Well, what now?”
Scotty shrugged. He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall.“Nothing. What I want to know is,Where are Weiss and Zircon?”
“In the house somewhere,” Rick said.
He examined the room again. In addition to the door through which they had come, there was a door that evidently connected with another room. He went over and tried the knob. It turned, but the door didn’t open. He pushed and the door rattled.
A voice spoke faintly from beyond the door. “Who is it?
Rick froze. The querulous voice belonged to Julius Weiss!
“Professor,” Scotty called, “is that you?”
For an instant there was shocked silence, then Hobart Zircon’s distinctive bellow shook the walls.
“Scotty, Was that your voice? Rick! Are you in there?”
Then they were all shouting at once.
“Are you all right, Professor Zircon?”
“Professor Weiss, are you okay?”
“Rick-Scotty!How did you get here?”
The door to the hall swung open. Nails came in, and he held a small black box that looked like a box camera except for the small affair on its front. To Rick, it looked like a tiny tin horn. Evidently Nails had more confidence in the box than did his friend.
“Knock off this noise or I’ll blast you,” Nails warned.
Rick reminded him. “You said we could see the professors!”
Nails considered. “Okay,” he said finally. “I guess it won’t do any harm.”
He called to someone in the hall. “Joe, got the key to the connecting door?”
The man who had carried the lamp came in. He selected a key from a ring. “Sure the boss won’t object? Maybe you better check with him.”
“It’s okay,” Nails said. “Open it.” He tapped the whispering box. “Talk to your pals all you want, but keep your voices down and don’t try anything. Remember it’s just as easy to blast you with this thing as not.”
“Well be quiet,” Rick promised.
The key turned in the lock. The door swung open.
CHAPTER XVI
The Man with the Mismatched Eyes
There was never such a reunion. Rick and Scotty were almost tearful with relief at
finding Weiss and Zircon in good health. Gizmo, who had heard Rick and Scotty talk about the two scientists, greeted them warmly. The two professors, aside from their delight at seeing the boys, were burning with curiosity about what had been happening in the outside world. It was several minutes before they quieted down enough so that their conversation made sense.
“Suppose we start with what happened to you?” Rick suggested. “Why did you get off the train at Baltimore, and what happened?”
Zircon grimaced. “I’m still embarrassed at how easily we were fooled. I was asleep in the lower berth, and Julius was in the upper. While we were still an hour away fromBaltimore , a voice awakened us.
“It said, ‘This isAmes . Listen, both of you, and get it the first time, because it’s urgent,’” Zircon continued. “Naturally, we had no reason to think that it wasn’tAmes . It sounded like him. It was dark in thePullman and we could see only a vague blur through the opening in the curtains. The man said we were in danger, and that we must leave the train atBaltimore . He said further that we should open the vestibule door on the side away from the station, and climb the embankment where we would be met by one of his men.”
“We did as directed,” Weiss said. “There was a man waiting, in a sedan. We got into the back seat. He turned around and-well, you can imagine.”
“The whispering box,” Rick said grimly. “I think they like to use it.”
“It amuses them,” Weiss agreed. “We were brought here and placed in the room next door. I can’t say that we have been mistreated. We have been given good meals on a regular schedule and allowed to bathe every two days. The floor is a little hard for sleeping purposes, but we’ve slept on worse beds. No, it hasn’t been bad from a physical standpoint. But you can picture our mental state. What has been going on?”
“Omit no details,” Zircon boomed. “We’re starved for news.”
Rick acted as spokesman. He told their story in detail from the time of their arrival inWashington until the connecting door had been opened between their two prisons.
“Ralph Bertona,” Weiss said reflectively. “I know his work. But we haven’t seen him.”
Zircon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “One time when our meal was brought there was an extra plate on the tray. I thought nothing of it then. Perhaps it was for the guard. On the other hand, Dr. Bertona may be here in this building. He could be in a room down
the hall and we would have no way of knowing.”
“I think we can assume that he is,” Weiss stated.
“The question of the moment, it seems to me, is the reason for Rick and Scotty beingkidnaped and brought here. Why not Hartson or Keppner? Surely that would make more sense.”
Gizmo had been sitting quietly during all the discussion. Now he spoke up. “Never mind the theories, gents. It seems to old Giz that the problem in hand, so to speak, is how do we get out of this rattrap?”
“Well spoken,” Zircon boomed. “Julius and I have discussed the possibilities of escape.
With a guard outside our door at all times and the windows barred, there wasn’t much chance. But with five of us here . . .”
“Keep your voice down,” Weiss said tartly. “Do you want to inform the whole house of our plans?”
Zircon slapped the little professor on the back. “You should know by now that these old walls are fairly soundproof, Julius. We haven’t heard a thing since we arrived. And I feel rejuvenated by the presence of our three young friends. It gives me new hope.
Remember all the tight places we’ve squeezed out of together? This creaking
mausoleum is surely no more difficult a nut to crack t
han the Hill of a Thousand Repentant Ancestors, eh?”
Scotty held a finger to his lips. “Go easy. I felt the floor vibrate a little. It may have been footsteps.”
They fell silent, watching and listening. In a moment Scotty’s warning was justified by the sound of a key in the door. Nails came in. He beckoned to Rick.
“Come on, kid.”
Rick got to his feet.“Where to?”
“You’ll see. The rest of you stay here.”
“I’m going with him,” Scotty stated.
Nails lifted the whispering box. “Want to bet on it?”
“I’ll be all right,” Rick said quickly. He wasn’t so sure that was the truth, but he saw no reason to involve his friends in a futile fight.
Zircon smiled unpleasantly. “Someday,” he told Nails, “I’m going to find you without that little box.”
“Don’t lose any sleep waiting,” Nails said. “Come on, Brant.”
Rick went before him down the corridor and the stairs to the first floor. Nails motioned to a closed door.
Go in.
The knob turned under Rick’s hand. He pushed the door open and went into a room lit by a single lamp.
At an ancient desk in one corner a man sat, and before him was another whispering box.
He was big, past middle age, with smoothly combed gray hair. But the oddest thing about him was that one eye was brown, while the other was a light blue.
Rick recognized him at once, even though he wasn’t wearing black glasses. He had been the passenger in the sedan the first day Nails had tried to get them. “I’ve seen you before,” he blurted. “In the . . .”
“In the car with Nails,” the man finished. “Yes. I was afraid your memory might be good. We were a little overconfident that day.” He motioned to a rickety chair. “Sit down. I want to ask you some questions.”
Rick obeyed. His palms were sweating and there was a queer feeling in his midriff. He wasn’t sure of what might be coming.
“You’ll be all right,” the man said, “and so will your friends, provided you don’t try anything. I dislike violence and bloodshed. You may have noticed that my men have avoided it up to the present. However, if violence becomes necessary, we will use it. We cannot let my personal qualms stand in the way when we are playing for such big stakes.”
“We won’t try anything foolish,” Rick said.
“That is wise.Now, a few questions. How far have your father and Keppner progressed in their quest for a weapon to combat the box?”
“Very far,” Rick said. “The box is as good as useless right now.”
The man smiled. “A slight exaggeration, I think.Another question. How much have you heard your elders talk of Dr. Bertona?”
Rick considered. An evasive answer wouldn’t do much good that he could see, and truthfulness might pave the way for a needed evasion later on.
“Not much. Dad doesn’t know him at all.”
“Does Keppner?”
There was some reason behind the last quick question. Rick wondered what sort of answer would be the least helpful. “Keppner knows him,” he said finally.
“How well?”
Rick was getting more and more nervous. He had the feeling that he might be able to throw his questioner off by the proper answer. But what was the proper answer? He decided on the truth, lacking an indication of the answer he was expected to give.“Not very well. He met him years ago, but he hasn’t seen him since.” He shot a sudden question of his own. “Why don’t you ask Dr. Bertona?”
“I have.” The questioner smiled. “I just wanted to see how your answers checked.”
“Why did you have us brought here? We can’t help you.”
“On the contrary, young Mr. Brant.You have helped me already. Now I suggest that you go back to your friends. Be content to remain quiet and I promise that in due course you will all be freed unharmed. I hope that it won’t be long.”
Rick stood up. “So you’re going to make one more try?”
The mismatched eyes narrowed. “I should be angry at your attempt to pry, but I must admit it’s a logical deduction. Yes, we will try again in a few days. We will be successful. After that, your JANIG people can hunt for us all they like. We will be out of reach.”
He motioned to Nails. “Take him back upstairs. Be sure the doors are well secured and guarded. You had better put the two scientists back in their own room. No use giving them a chance to work together.”
Rick’s hopes spiraled downward. Being separated lessened their chances of escape. As he started toward the door, the man at the desk rose.
“Have you instructed the men, Nails? I may have to make a fast getaway and I want them at hand.” He walked to the door, picking up his hat from a table. “You and Joe can handle things here, can’t you?”
“Sure, boss. Everything is fixed.”
Rick preceded the two men to the front of the house. The boss opened the front door and disclosed a car waiting, the motor already turning over, and a driver in the front seat whom he recognized as the one who had driven the van.
Nails waited until the boss had gotten in, and the car had driven off, then he closed the door and turned to Rick. “Okay, kid.Back to your room. With any luck, you and your pals will be out of here in a few days.”
“I hope so,” Rick said. He looked down at the whispering box, held ready in Nails’s hand. The cone of the nozzle was pointing right at him. He turned and went up the stairs.
Toward the top, he hesitated. His friends were singing in the upstairs room! He could hear even through the closed door. They must be bellowing at the top of their lungs!
Nails pushed him and he went faster.
“Joe!” Nails called to the man on the upper floor.
Joe appeared carrying a lamp and the shotgun.
“What’s the idea of letting them makeall that racket?”
“Aw, they ain’t making much noise. No one could hear it. There ain’t a house for half a mile.”
“Never mind that,” Nails snapped. “You got your orders. Keep them quiet!”
Rick strained to make out the words. It was queer. Why should his friends be singing?
He deliberately slowed his pace, and suddenly he caught on to the tune. He almost laughed out loud. Zircon’s booming voice rose above the rest, and he was singing an old Stephen Foster song they had in the record library at Spindrift. It was “Old Black Joe.”
Rick’s brows furrowed. The words weren’t as he recalled them.
When you come in, when you come in Just be sure you’re bending low Can’t you hear our gentle voices catting Hit the floor . . .
His pulse leaped. Zircon and the others were trying to give him a message. Suddenly he knew what they wanted him to do.
“Get going,” Nails said sharply. Rick moved faster. In a moment he faced the door.
“They’ll knock off that racket or I’ll stiffen them,” Nails growled. “Open the door, Joe.”
Joe reached past Rick and inserted the key. He turned it. He had to tuck the shotgun under his arm to do it. He reached for the knob and pushed the door open.
Rick dived headlong into the room.
Over his head, tumult broke loose!
CHAPTER XVII
The Third Scientist
Rick hit the floor and kept going, scrambling frantically out of the way. His friends had a plan of attack and he wasn’t going to ruin it by getting underfoot.
Once in the middle of the room, he whirled around. He was in time to see Nails stagger backward, Scotty and Gizmo clinging to him. One of Scotty’s hands was covering the nozzle of the whispering box, and his hand was dark brown as though he wore a glove.
Then Rick lost sight of Nails as the battling trio went through the door.
Joe had been trying to get the shotgun into position, but the press of bodies at the door effectively blocked his hands. Now Zircon swung a beamlike arm and Joe bounced against the doorframe. There was a shattering of glass as the lamp in his ha
nd dropped.
All this had happened in a fraction of a second. Rick charged into the melee. For a moment he lost track of his friends, because there was a single mad jumble of arms and legs in the hallway. He hurtled the pile and let out a sudden yell.
Flames from the shattered lamp were licking up the walls and across the hall floor through the spreading kerosene!
Joe and Zircon were locked together on the floor, threshing around as they fought.
Weiss danced back and forth across the narrow hall, seeking an opening to hit Joe with the shoe he held in his hand. Gizmo, Scotty, and Nails were all mixed up in a tangle of flailing arms and legs.
Strangely, after the first impact, no one had uttered a sound except for an occasional grunt as a fist connected. Rick spied the whispering box on the floor and scooped it up.
Holding it in one hand he began to stamp at the spreading flames. He saw at once that it was hopeless, but he kept trying, scorching his shoes and trouser legs. If only he had a bucket of sand! But as he stamped on one patch of flame, another sprang up a foot away, licking hungrily at the pool of kerosene.
Weiss stepped in and brought his shoe down on Joe’s head. The man stopped his
struggles long enough for Zircon to deliver a knockout blow. Then the big scientist got to his feet and reached down into the grunting, struggling trio next to him. Onehamlike hand found Nails’s collar. Zircon gave a mighty heave and Nails came out of the melee like an olive out of a bottle.
Scotty was on his feet instantly. He took Nails’s arm and pulled it behind him, locking the gangster in a judo hold.
“Got him,” he panted. “Get that fire!”
“The whole place will go up like tinder,” Weiss said shrilly. “Rick, it’s no use! We’ve got to get out of here!”
Rick saw that Weiss was right. The flames were going up through the torn, dried wallpaper. Already little tongues of red were near the ceiling. He abandoned his futile struggle and helped Zircon and Gizmo lift Joe to his feet.
“Hike!”Gizmo commanded. He propelled thegroggy thug toward the stairs, Scotty
following with Nails. Rick, Weiss, and Zircon hurried after them, Rick holding the whispering box and Weiss the shotgun.
