No Man's Island Part 23

As they began to retrace their steps through the tunnel, Armstrong said--

"If we count our paces we shall have some sort of an idea where we've been to. We know the tunnel runs pretty nearly due east from the ruins, and there must be a building at the end. It seems to me it's a choice between the Red House and that old tower. There's no other."

"True. Well, we'll both count. Bet you we don't agree."

"People never do agree when the count is a long one. Besides, we can't keep step in the dark, unless we left-right all the way, and I'm hanged if I do that!"

They started. Suddenly Warrender stopped.

"I say, we shall look pretty green if some one has discovered that open trap in our absence--Rush, for example."

"Frightful mugs, the two of us. We ought to have closed it. But it's still very early in the morning. Let's hope Rush isn't up with the lark. Hang it. I've forgotten how many steps I'd counted. What do you make it?"

"Fifty-eight. Concentrate your mind, my son."

"I'll start at fifty-nine, then. Don't you think we might venture on a light now?"

"Not for anything. The tunnel's straight, and if you've ever been in a straight railway tunnel you'll know a light can be seen for miles.

Better be on the safe side."

They completed the course in darkness.

"Well, what's your total?" asked Warrender.

"Two hundred and eighty-three."

"Mine's two hundred and ninety-one. Not so bad."

On emerging into the cellar, they replaced the flagstone and made sure that the hand-grips were turned as they had found them. Then they mounted to the upper floor of the cottage.

"I want to discover how that moaning is caused," said Armstrong.

"But it means shinning up to the roof," said Warrender. "It's broad daylight now. You might be seen."

"So I might. Well, let's take a look over Ambrose Pratt's grounds."

They went into the eastern room. The tower, a little south of the house, appeared to be slightly the nearer to them, but, ignorant as they were of the exact length of their paces, they agreed that the end of the tunnel might lie beneath either of the buildings.

Going then into the room facing south, they started back from the window. Rush was tramping along the weedy path leading to the southern end of the island.

"Lucky I didn't climb!" murmured Armstrong.

They watched the man. He seemed to be a little suspicious, stopping every now and again to listen and look round. Presently he disappeared into the thicket.

"Safe to go now?" asked Armstrong.

"Let's wait a bit."

Warrender kept his eyes fixed on the stretch of river which was visible over the low trees southward. After a while he saw a small boat moving slowly down stream.

"All right now," he remarked. "I dare say he's been spying out on our camp from the north end. Hope he hasn't missed us."

"Or found our pram! Come on, I want my breakfast."

They stepped out of the cottage, regained the western sh.o.r.e, discovered the pram where they had concealed it, and, having crossed the river un.o.bserved, so far as they knew, laid the craft in its former hiding-place, and returned to camp. Pratt was busy at the paraffin stove.

"What ho!" he exclaimed. "One must feed, even when pain and anguish wring the brow. I made sure the spooks or some one had got you, and after fortifying myself with bacon and eggs I was going up to ask old Crawshay whether an inquest would be necessary. You look very much washed out. Been on the tiles?"

"I'll wring your neck if you don't hand over that frying-pan," said Armstrong.

"Thy necessity is greater than mine. As you know, I'd lick Philip Sidney or any other old paladin in chivalry. Eat, drink, and be merry.

There's enough coffee brewed for us all. Make a fair division of the bacon and eggs between you, and I'll fry some more in a brace of shakes.

I say, I am jolly glad to see you! I've had the deuce of a time!"

"More pin-p.r.i.c.ks?" asked Warrender.

"No. But I'm blessed--or cursed--with a very vivid imagination, as you are aware. I stayed up till daybreak, expecting you back every minute, and when you didn't come I got in a regular stew, saw you tumble from the roof, and your members all disjected over the garden--horrid sight!

Saw you knocked on the head, trussed and gagged in the cellar; boated off to France; growing white-haired in a dungeon like that fellow in the Bastille--you know, finger nails a yard long--mice and rats and toads.

Toads were the last straw, I saw 'em hopping about, and----"

"That bacon done?" said Armstrong. "How many bottles of ginger-beer did you drink?"

"I am not drunk, most n.o.ble Festus. But I say, what _did_ happen?"

"I'd have told you already," said Warrender, "only I couldn't get a word in."

"That's the reward of patience! I only twaddled, you juggins, to give you a chance to feed. You did both look awfully done up. The hue of health is returning now. Fire away, then!"

Warrender, between the mouthfuls, related the experiences of the night, Pratt showing unusual self-restraint as a listener.

"My poor old uncle!" he exclaimed at the conclusion of the story. "He can't be convicted as an accessory, can he?"

"Of course not," replied Warrender. "No one could hold him responsible for what his foreign crew are doing in his absence. It's a pity you don't know where he's gone. A cable or a Marconigram would bring him home post-haste."

"I might, perhaps, ask Gradoff for his last address."

"The less we have to do with Gradoff the better, until we have got to the bottom of the business. Just run down to the boat, will you, and bring up our map."

The scale of the map was two inches to the mile. A moment's examination proved that the tower, marked on the map, lay within a radius of one-eighth of a mile from the island.

"There isn't much doubt that the far end of the tunnel is under the tower," said Warrender. "The house is a trifle beyond. Didn't you ever hear of the smugglers' pa.s.sage, Percy?"

"Never. All I know about it is the tradition that some one was starved in the tower centuries ago. My sister and I used to play in it as kids; it was a mere ruin then; no roof, no boarding on the windows."

"I wonder if a local guide-book would give any information?" said Armstrong.

"Good idea! We'll see presently," said Pratt.