CHAPTER XX
WE FIND THE PASSAGE
I MOVED back down the hall, retaining within my hands the carbine wrenched from her grasp. It was not easy to lock her in as a prisoner, to treat her as a dangerous enemy, and yet there was no other way. From all appearances the cavalrymen below were fully capable of defending the house from any open attack; while, judging from all I could see and hear, the besieging party did not greatly outnumber our own, although their numbers were increasing, as Colonel Donald's irregulars gathered in about us like hawks to their prey. But the real danger existed in a secret attack from the rear, and I alone suspected this possibility. Our safety lay in discovery of the hidden entrance and our preparation to defend it. More than this, the grim secret of the murder appeared to centre there also. I could not divorce from my thought the conviction that along that passage would be found evidence that I was innocent of the crimes of the past night. And Jean Denslow had attempted to prevent investigation, not from any desire to injure me, but to help Donald, and to aid the Confederacy. There was nothing for it but to treat her as an enemy, unpleasant though I found the task.
What surprised me was the slowness with which those without availed themselves of this advantageous point of attack. Both their officers knew the secret way leading into the house; and, while Dunn's caution, or cowardice, whichever it was, might restrain him from so bold an effort, yet Donald must have long since reached their lines, and action was the dominating trait of his character. What could they be waiting for—the arrival of more men, or the coming of daylight when they could observe better the nature of their work? Both, perhaps. O'Brien had reported a grouping of men toward the rear of the building. No doubt they were being advanced into the passageway, but might be held there until daybreak before pressing the assault home. This would give them ample time to gather in their scattered bands, enabling them to advance on the house from both front and rear in sufficient force to make victory assured. It was their supreme confidence in the final result which kept them idle, firing merely enough to let us know they remained watchful, and using the cloak of darkness as cover to their movements. Our only hope lay in discovery of their means of entrance; this once found and securely guarded, we could surprise them in turn, and defend our position indefinitely. So assured was I as to this, that my entire thought focussed upon the one point, the immediate importance of uncovering this hidden way eclipsing even the memory of the girl I had just left a prisoner in the room behind. The fireplace was where all my suspicions centred, and I turned toward it, grasping the Irish lad by the sleeve of his jacket, and facing him in the same direction.
"What is it, sor?" he asked, surprised and staring.
Before I could answer, the huge, overhanging mantel seemed slowly, silently to swing outward as if hung on a central pivot. We both saw it plainly enough, although, for the moment, we were motionless from surprise, O'Brien leaning forward, I with hand still grasping his arm as in a vise. There was the yawning of a narrow black hole, the rays of light barely revealing, as if it were a shadow, a white haggard face, the unmistakable features of a woman. Her eyes, blazing oddly, seemed to glare into ours, like those of a wild animal. Then it was all over, the mantel had swung back into position, and we beheld nothing but the solid wall. It was a weird, uncanny thing, the memory of it like a delirium of fever. O'Brien gripped the rail of the baluster, his face fairly gray from terror.
"By God! did you see that, sor?" he choked out, his voice barely audible.
"Yes," nervously wetting my own lips, yet convinced this was no supernatural visitor. "It was a woman's face."
"You mane it was rale—rale, wid flesh an' blood behoind it?"
"Sure, O'Brien," and I shook him fiercely. "As real as you or I. Brace up, man! It is not ghosts we're fighting, awful as the face looked. It was a woman, looking out at us through some opening in that fireplace."
His clutching fingers relaxed, and he straightened up, still staring, as if only half convinced.
"God grant you're right, sor," he muttered solemnly, "but niver did I see such a face before on a human. Sure, it's no woman I iver want to know."
"And it's one I should like to be better acquainted with. At least the sight has established one fact—the fireplace there is the entrance to the secret passage. Here, take the carbine, and stand by while I try to discover how it works."
He advanced with me reluctantly enough, although the familiar touch of the weapon gave him a measure of confidence. Yet he stopped, as if rooted to the spot, ten feet away, and, I doubted not, would have run at the slightest alarm. I had not as yet attained full control over my own nerves, the recollection of that ghastly face haunting me strangely; yet I compelled myself to advance, convinced the vision had been no illusion, but an earthly reality to be met with boldness. Here was the spot I sought, here the revealment of the mystery, here the point of attack. Whatever of horror might lie hidden in the blackness beyond that fireplace, it must be explored and uncovered. With every nerve tingling I bent to the task, cursing the cowardice which made my hands tremble. my blood like ice. Apparently the entire lower half of the mantel had revolved as if on a central pivot, and I felt carefully for the slightest crevice indicating the place of separation. To sight and touch there was none; not even after I had called O'Brien to bring the lamp, and we had together gone over the entire surface inch by inch. Nowhere was there an opening sufficient even for the insertion of a knife blade; apparently the mantel was as solid and immovable as the closely fitted stones of the chimney. I stepped back, staring in bewilderment, begining to doubt the evidence of my own sight. O'Brien still held the lamp in unsteady hands, the flame full on his face, and flickering along the wall in grotesque shadows.
"I tould ye, sor," he burst out wildly, "that was no human. 'T was the Divil's own face that I saw, an' niver a doubt of it. Saint Mary! but it manes the death of the wan or the both of us."
I set my teeth grimly, his fear the very cordial I needed, my anger yielding me new resolve. There was no superstition in my blood, and I realized I faced nothing but human inventiveness and human malice. There was certainly a way leading into that chimney, and I intended to find it, even though I tore the thing apart stone by stone. Not alone our defence of the house was involved in this search, but the solution of the crimes of which I stood accused gave me fresh incentive. That awful face, woman's though it was, was demoniacal enough to cause me to connect it instantly with these deeds of blood feud. Whatever the cause or purpose; whatever of hellish suffering lay behind, that dreadful apparition pictured the very spirit of murder—murder in the dark.
"Perhaps it does, my lad," I answered, my hand on his shoulder, "but when that death comes it will find us plucking the heart out of this mystery. Now come to your senses and listen to me. Two murders have been committed in this house within the last forty-eight hours, and whoever committed them has left no trace. There is a secret passageway leading in here with an opening on this floor. We have got to find it for two reasons—to keep the Rebs out, and to solve the mystery of these murders. You and I both saw that mantel move until it revealed an opening. It was done by human hands, and the face which glared out at us was a human face. It was devilish enough, I admit. but with flesh and blood behind it. Now shake yourself together and stand by, for I am going to find a way in, and you are going along with me."
He did not appear a very promising subject, and I half expected to see him break for the stairs. Under other circumstances I would have laughed at the expression of his face, but then I was not myself wholly free from the spell of those eyes which had glared forth at us from the wall, and I could appreciate the lad's honest terror. Action alone would supply the remedy, and I must drive him to it remorselessly, commanding and domineering. until his natural courage responded.
"Come on, lad," I insisted. "Place the lamp on the chair, so you can keep the gun in your hands while I feel over every inch of this contrivance. There is a spring-lock here somewhere."
There was no doubt he would keep a thorough watch, his eyes roving backward to the dark end of the hall, the rays of light revealing each nook and corner of the mysterious fireplace. I heard him cock the carbine, the sharp click plainly audible in the silence. and was pleased to note the thin line of his compressed lips.
"Av yer sure it was human, sor." he said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with one hand, "then I'm damned av I'm afraid of it, at all, at all. But niver did I see sich a face before."
"They were insane eyes, that was all, O'Brien. At first I almost thought as you did, but now my senses have come back, and I am for probing this thing to the bottom. Now stand ready."
I went over the entire surface with my fingers, pressing against every protuberance which might conceal the spring controlling the mechanism. The mantel fitted back into the chimney so perfectly I found no spot where even the thin blade of my knife could find entrance; the stones were solidly mortared, and the iron fire-screen was bolted down securely in place. A brass rail extended out a foot or so, and ran across the front, and two iron andirons were let in through a slight cutting of the screen. I moved one of these, finding it loose, and then placed my hand upon the other, simply because I knew not what else to do. To my surprise it was immovable, seemingly as solid as the stones beneath. I endeavored to pull it forth but without result.
"Here 's a queer thing, O'Brien," I exclaimed, "That other andiron is loose but this one is fastened solidly."
He leaned over, and stared at it, his gun ready under one arm.
"Thry pullin' up on it, sor," he suggested. "Maybe it's just caught on something."
I got up from my knees, and bent down, both hands gripping the iron. As I straightened my arms, without the slightest resistance, or noise, the bar uplifted a bare inch, and then caught again with a dull metallic click. There was a low whir as of some hidden machinery, and I stepped instantly back, gripping the revolver at my belt uncertain for the instant whether my pull had operated the strange contrivance, or whether some happening was responsible. Slowly, utterly silent but for that soft whining, the mantel swung as on a central pivot, half-way round, and then stopped with a click, leaving before us a black opening, large enough to admit easily the passage of a man's body, and about four feet high I seemed to see this, and O'Brien's face at the same instant. The latter was absolutely gray, and his limbs shook under him. What power held him from flight or kept him from discharging his gun into the orifice, I could not determine, yet his very terror gave me relief.
"Unncock your carbine," I ordered. "There is nothing there to shoot at. See," and I caught up the lamp and held it where the light streamed through the opening. He obeyed mechanically, as he would in battle, but still shrinking back, the muzzle of his weapon pointing into the depths of the hole. I stepped in front of him, advancing the lamp, so as to yield me a clearer view. It was simply the interior of a huge chimney, built of stones, carefully mortared, and so clean as to be proof positive no smoke had ever passed that way. The opening downward was square, three feet across I judged, but, as I held the lamp lower, the passage appeared to widen out considerably below the floor level, and I caught glimpse of a ladder, with wide steps, tilted to such an angle as to make climbing scarcely more difficult than would a pair of stairs. In a niche of the wall, on a wooden shelf, was a lantern, and a metallic box of matches. I handed O'Brien the lamp, bidding him place it on the chair, and then, carefully avoiding all contact with the andiron which apparently operated the machine, stepped inside the opening, upon the narrow stone rim encircling the shaft. My extended hand touched the roof, seemingly proving that the form of a chimney above was a mere sham, intended to bear out the deception of the fireplace; yet several iron bars, conveniently located for steps, were bolted to the side wall, making me suspicious that the space above might be utilized m a small room. I shook the lantern, found it half filled with oil, and applied a match to the wick. The yellow flame gave a good view of the narrow quarters, but, although I held it above my head, scanning the closely matched boards of the ceiling, I could discover no signs of a trap door. There was sufficient dust collected on the iron bars to convince me no one had lately climbed them, and I determined to explore below.
"You see what this is, O'Brien, a secret passage," I said, glancing back at him. "That is human enough; the Devil don't need such things to help him get about. Whomsoever we saw peering out of here came up these steps, and, whether it was woman or man, we can travel the same route. I'm going down, and I want you to follow me, but don't touch that andiron as you come in."
He moved briskly enough, evidently convinced at last that merely flesh and blood fronted us, and ashamed of his first terror. His was naturally the reckless courage of a boy. and his cheeks flushed with excitement. his eyes peering into the black hole.
"'T is an aisy place to shoot from, sor." he volunteered. "av any wan was hidin' down below."
"You are right about that: give me the sling-strap from your carbine."
Unbuckled, it was long enough to extend half the length of the ladder, and I dangled the lantern down the well, leaning forward and peering anxiously at what the yellow glare revealed. I could see to the bottom, but the shadows there might have concealed a dozen men. Evidently the shaft did not go to the basement, and there was a black opening at the ladder's foot, which would likely prove the entrance to a tunnel. Any further delay was useless, and I drew up the lantern. handed the sling-strap back to the lad, and tested the ladder rungs with my weight. They were sufficiently solid, and I went down swiftly. half anticipating a shot from out the darkness beneath. dangling the lantern, the yellow flicker of flame merely accentuating the deep shadows.