The Riddle of the Frozen Flame
Page 25
CHAPTER XXV
THE WEB OF CIRCUMSTANCE
For a few days there was no more overtime to be earned by Cleek orDollops, so that they were free to spend their evening as they wished,and though the "Pig and Whistle" got its fair share of their time--forthe sake of appearances--there were long hours afterward, between thelast tattered remnants of the night and the day's dawning, when they dida vast amount of exploration.
That they made good use of this time was proved by the little note-bookthat rested in Cleek's pocket, and in which a rough chart of the countryand the docks was drawn--though there were still some blanks to be filledin--while opposite it was a rude outline of the secret passage into whichthey had blundered three nights before.
"Got to explore that hole from end to end, Dollops," said Cleek on thefourth evening, as they struck off together toward that gap in the hedge,soon after the clock in the village had chimed out ten, and the littlebar of the "Pig and Whistle" was slowly emptying itself of its_habitues_. "I've the main route fairly correct, I think, and a roughidea of where those sacks stood, and where we took to cover when BlackWhiskers was showing the master of this underworld domain through it.Happen to have learnt the chap's name yet?"
Dollops nodded.
"Yessir. Brent it is, Jonathan Brent, or so one of the men tells me. Sayshe's never seed 'im, though; nobody 'ardly ever does, from all accounts'e give me. Ole Black Whiskers and our silent-footed friend Borkins isthe main ones wot does 'is work for 'im."
"H'm. Well, that's something gleaned, anyway. Of course we may be able tofind out who he really is, but the chances are small. Men like this chapdon't go giving away anything more than they can help. They lie low andlet their paid underlings stand the racket if it happens to come along.I know the type. I've come cross it before. Well, here we are. Now forit--but this time I happen to have brought along a revolver."
He crept through the hedge and crouching behind it ran to the spot wherethey had found the open trap-door upon that memorable occasion threenights before. There was nothing to be seen. The ground presented anabsolutely unbroken appearance, so far as they could make out in themoon's rays.
"Clever devils!" snapped out Cleek, in angry tribute. "We'll have to useartificial light after all; but keep your torch light on the ground. Itwon't do for any one to spot us just now."
For perhaps a moment or two they explored the ground inch by inch,crawling round in the long grass upon their hands and knees, until alittle tuft of brown earth sticking up through a piece of turf, like theupturned corner of a rug, showed them what they were looking for. Withinfinite care Cleek lifted up the square of turf and set it upon oneside. The sight of the flat dark surface of the trap-door rewarded them.He ran his fingers along the two sides of it, and discovered a bolt, shotthis, and then catching the iron ring once more in his hands, swung thetop upward and laid it back upon the grass.
A minute more found them once more in the cavernous, breathless depths.Cleek handed the torch to Dollops.
"You hold that while I do a bit of sketching," he said, fidgeting in hiscoat-pocket for his fountain-pen. He then snapped open the flap of thenote-book and began to sketch rapidly as they moved forward. Cleek was anadept in drawing to scale. The thing took shape as they continued theirprogress, keeping this time to the left instead of to the right. Cleekpaced off the distance and stopped every now and then to check upresults.
The place was as silent as the grave. Obviously no one was about hereupon these nights when there was no loading and unloading going on. Inthat, at least, chance had been a good friend to them. They were goingto make the most of it. Through little runways, narrower than the mainroute, and so low that they had to bend their necks to get along insafety, they went, measuring and examining. Every few yards or so theywould come upon another little niche, stacked high with sacks of asimilar hardness to those others back there at the beginning of theirjourney. Cleek prodded one with his finger, hesitated, then slipping outa penknife, slit a fragment of the coarse sacking and inserted histhumb....
He pulled it out with a look of astonishment upon his face.
"Hello, hello!" he exclaimed. "So that's it, is it? Gad! This is theapproved hiding-place! Then those tubings--Dollops, just a little moreof this wearisome search, just a few telephone calls to be made, and Ibelieve I shall have untied at least _one_ part of this strange riddle.And when that knot is unfastened, it will surely lead me to therest.... Go on, boy."
They went on, stepping carefully, and hesitating now and again to listenfor any sound of alien footsteps. But the place might have been the gravefor any sign of human habitation that there was. They had it tothemselves that night, and made the most of it.
For some time they walked on, taking the road that most appealed to them,and in the maze must surely have retraced their own footsteps. Of asudden, however, they broke into a sort of rough stone passage, withconcrete floor that ran on for a few yards and ended at a flight ofwell-made stone steps, above which was a square of polished oak,worm-eaten, heavily-carved, and surely not of this generation'smake or structure.
"Now, what the dickens...?" began Cleek, and stopped.
Dollops surveyed it with his head on one side.
"Seems ter me, sir," he began, after a pause, "that this yere's thegenuyne article. One of them old passages what people like King Charlesand Bloody Mary an' a few other of them celebrities you sees at MadameTussord's any day in the week, used to 'ide in when things were a-gettin'too 'ot fer 'em. That's what this is."
"Your history's a bit rocky, but your ideas are all right," returnedCleek with a little smile, as he stood looking up at the square of blackoak above them. "I believe you're right, Dollops. It must have given thelater arrivals a big start in that tunnelling business, or else they'vebeen at it, or both. There must be years' work in this system ofpassageways. It is marvellous. But if it's a genuine old secret passage,those stairs will probably lead up into a house, and--let's try 'em. Ifthe house they lead into is the one I think it is.... Well, we'll beunravelling the rest of this riddle before the night is out!"
So saying, he fairly leapt up the little flight of stone stairs, and thenlet his fingers glide over the smooth polished face of the oak door,pushing, probing, pressing it, a frown puckering his brows.
"If this _is_ a genuine old secret hiding-place," he remarked, "thenaccording to all the rules of the game there ought to be some sort of aspring _this_ side to open it, so that the hidden man might be able toget out again when he wanted to. But where? Faugh! My fingers must belosing their cunning, and--Ah, here it is! Bit of wood gives way here,Dollops. Just a gentle pressure, and--here we are!"
And here they were, indeed, for as he spoke, the door slid back into theflooring out of sight, and they found themselves looking up into a roomwhich was lighted by a single gas-jet, which barely illumined it, butwhich, when Cleek poked his head up above the flooring and took a casualsurvey of the place proved to be no less a place than the back kitchen ofMerriton Towers!
He brought his head down again with a jerk, touched the spring in theedge of oak-panelling at the left of him, and let the door swing backacross the opening once more; and not till it had slipped into place witha little _click_ did he turn upon Dollops.
"_Merriton Towers_!" he ejaculated finally. "Merriton Towers! Now, ifyoung Merriton really _is_ a party to this thing that is going on downhere in the bowels of the earth, why--Dash it, it's going to prove aneven worse case against him than we knew! A chap who plays an underhandedgame like this doesn't mind what he walks over to attain his ends.But ... Merriton Towers...!"
He stopped speaking suddenly, sucked in his breath, his face turned verygrim. Dollops broke the silence that fell, a tremour of excitement in hislow-pitched voice.
"Yus--but it's the _back-kitchen_, sir," he threw out eagerly, like allthe rest of them anxious if possible to shield the man who seemed to havewon so many hearts. "And the back-kitchen don't spell Sir Nigel, sir.It's Borkins wot's at the bottom of _that_, and--"
"Maybe, maybe," interposed Cleek, a trifle hastily, but the grim lookdid not leave his face. "But if anything as curious as all this affairturns up in the evidence it won't help the boy any, that is acertainty.... Merriton Towers!"
He swung upon his heel and quickly retraced his steps, until the littlestone passageway was left behind them, and a few feet ahead loomed upanother of those queer turnings, which led--who knew where?
"We'll take it on chance," said Cleek as they paused, while he marked itin his chart, "and follow our noses. But I confess I've had a shock. Inever thought--never even dreamt of Merriton Towers being connected withthis smuggling or, whatever it is, Dollops! And if I hadn't been down inthat very kitchen upon a voyage of discovery the other day, I'd have hadmore reason to disbelieve the evidence of my own eyes. The light was on,too. Lucky for us we didn't pop our heads up at the moment when someonewas there. But then the servants are all gone. Borkins is keeping thehouse open until after the trial. So it was Borkins who was using thatlight, that's pretty obvious; and our necks have been spared by an inchor two less than I had imagined. We must hurry; time's short, and there'sa good deal to be got through this night, I can tell you!"
"Yessir," said Dollops, not knowing what else to say, for Cleek waskeeping up a sort of running monologue of his ideas of the case. "Don'tthink much uv this 'ere passage, anyway, do you?"
"No--narrower than the rest. But it may end just where we want to go.'Journeys end in lovers' meetings' the poet sings, but not this kind ofa journey--no, not exactly. We'll find the hangman's rope at the end ofthis riddle, Dollops, or I'm very much mistaken; and I've anuncomfortable idea as to who will swing in the noose."
For some time after that they pressed on in silence. Here and there alongthe passage the walls opened out suddenly into little cut-out placesfilled as ever with their built-up sacks. Each time Cleek passed them hechuckled aloud, and then--once more his face would become grim. For somemoments they groped along in the gloom, their heads bent, to prevent thembumping the low mud ceiling, their lips silent, but in the hearts of eacha sort of dull dread. Merriton Towers! Borkins, perhaps. But what ifBorkins and Merriton had been working hand-in-glove, and then, somehow orother, had had a split? That would account for a good deal, and inparticular the man's attitude toward his master.... Cleek's brain ran onahead of his feet, his brows drew themselves into a knot, his mouth waslike a thin line of crimson in the granite-like mask of his face.
Of a sudden he stopped and pointed ahead of him. Still another flight ofstairs met their eyes, but they were of newer, more recent make, andcomposed of common deal, unvarnished and mudstained with the marks ofmany feet up and down their surface.
Cleek drew a deep breath, and his face relaxed.
"The end of the journey, Dollops," he said softly.
Then, without more ado, he mounted the stairs, and laid his shoulder tothe heavy door.