Part 15 (2/2)

”Then,” returned Phil, ”let us see if he is in there now.” Then, crossing to the door, he tried the handle, turned it, flung open the door, and boldly entered the room, closely followed by d.i.c.k, who closed the door behind him.

The apartment was empty of human occupants, and otherwise presented a bare and uninviting aspect, the only furniture in it consisting of a table and two chairs. It was imperfectly lighted by a small window looking out upon the cloisters which surrounded the courtyard that the prisoners had crossed a quarter of an hour earlier, and a bell suspended near the ceiling and attached to a chain leading out through a slit in the wall seemed to indicate that it was the room in which the warder of the outer gates was accustomed to sit. But the man was certainly not then in the room, nor was there anything to indicate that he had recently been there. If therefore d.i.c.k's belief that he had seen the lay brother enter had been well-founded the man must have left again almost immediately, while the two Englishmen were being conducted to their cell by the now imprisoned jailer. True, he might have pa.s.sed on to an inner room; for there was another door opposite to that by which d.i.c.k and Phil had entered.

After a hurried glance round, the two friends, moved as it might have been by the same impulse, crossed to this door, and, quietly opening it, glanced into the adjoining apartment. A single glance round this room sufficed to show that the man whom they sought was not in it, for it also was empty, so far as human occupants were concerned. It was a room of very considerable size, and was apparently the refectory, for two rows of tables, each capable of seating about fifty persons, ran lengthwise down the hall, and were draped with coa.r.s.e white cloths upon which were set out an array of platters, water pitchers, knives, and the rest of the paraphernalia used at meals. This room was very much loftier and better lighted than the one which the Englishmen had just left, there being four large windows in the outer wall, overlooking a large and beautifully kept garden in which several people were working, some of them attired in the garb of monks, while others wore the dress of lay brothers. There were two doors in this room, in addition to the one by which our friends had entered, one being at the far end of the room and communicating with the kitchen of the establishment, if the sounds and odours which emanated therefrom were to be trusted, while the other and much larger door occupied the centre of the inner wall and was obviously used by the inmates of the establishment at meal times.

”Now, what can have become of the man?” demanded Phil in an angry whisper, as the pair glanced round the room and noted its deserted appearance. ”Are you quite sure that you were not mistaken as to the door by which you saw him enter?”

”No,” answered d.i.c.k in the same subdued tones, ”I am not quite sure; but I believe I am not mistaken all the same. But, Phil,” he continued, ”is it really necessary that we should find him? Cannot we get out of the building in some other and safer way than by finding that man, knocking him down, and taking his keys from him? Besides, even if the way were free for us to leave here this instant, where could we go? We could not walk half a dozen yards along the street, attired as we now are, without attracting attention and being recognised as strangers. We should inevitably be recaptured within ten minutes!”

”Then, what a plague are we to do?” demanded Phil, impatiently. ”To remain here is to court recapture as surely as if we showed ourselves in the streets. Why, even now, at any moment a man may enter this room, see us, and give the alarm.”

”Yes,” agreed d.i.c.k; ”that is very true; and no doubt if we remain here long enough that is what will happen. But this Inquisition seems to be a rambling old pile of a place, and I cannot help thinking that it must contain many an obscure, little-used recess or cupboard in which we might find at least temporary safety and concealment until the small hours of the morning, when we might leave the place and make our way out of the city with comparatively little risk.”

”You are right, d.i.c.k,” agreed Stukely; ”that is undoubtedly our best plan--if Dame Fortune will but stand by us. But it will be plaguey risky for us to attempt to remain in here until the small hours of the morning. How can we possibly hope to avoid being seen by some prowling priest or lay brother within the next twelve hours? But pis.h.!.+ what is the use of antic.i.p.ating trouble? Your plan is certainly the right one, and the sooner that we see about carrying it out the better. Now it is quite evident that there is no place of concealment in this room, so there is nothing to be gained by dawdling here. Also, we know that it is useless to retrace our steps; and yonder is obviously the kitchen, and must therefore be avoided. That leaves us with no resource but to try the big door; so come along and let us see how far our luck will hold good.”

Without further ado the pair advanced cautiously to the door which Phil had indicated, and the latter laid his hand upon the handle, which he turned gradually and noiselessly as far as it would go; then, having noticed that the door opened inward, he drew it toward him the fraction of an inch and glanced through the slit thus created. Phil now found that he was looking into a long and wide corridor, or pa.s.sage, imperfectly lighted by two small windows, one at each end. There was no one to be seen in that part of the corridor which came within his somewhat limited range of vision, so, emboldened thereby, he opened the door widely enough to enable him to peer out and take a hasty glance along the full length of the corridor. That glance a.s.sured him that, for the moment at least, the pa.s.sage was empty; and at the same moment he became conscious of the low, sweet notes of an organ being played somewhat toward the far end of the building.

”Good!” he whispered excitedly to d.i.c.k. ”Do you hear that, lad? It is an organ; which means that the chapel is not very far away; and if we can but gain its interior we shall be reasonably safe; for there is sure to be a dark nook somewhere in it where we may be able to lie concealed for a few hours. Since the coast seems to be clear just now we may as well proceed upon our hunt at once; all hands are probably now engaged upon their regular morning's business, and, if so, we may be lucky enough to go a good way without meeting anybody, whereas later on the whole place will probably be alive with people. So, come along, lad; no time like the present.”

Silently as ghosts the pair slid through the open doorway into the corridor, drawing the door to and closing it behind them in the very nick of time; for as Phil released his hold upon the handle he heard the door leading from the kitchen to the refectory open, the hitherto subdued sounds of activity in the kitchen suddenly became greatly intensified, while voices and the sound of shuffling sandals on the stone floor of the refectory came through the door which he had just closed.

”Quick, lad, for your life,” whispered Stukely in his companion's ear.

”This way, and run; for we are lost if they come into the corridor and find us here!” And, running tiptoe on their bare feet, the two sped down the corridor like mist wreaths driven before the wind.

At the very end of the corridor they came upon a large doorway fitted with folding doors, one leaf of which was ajar, and through the aperture the notes of the organ softly played floated out to them. With the tips of his fingers Phil gently pushed the door a trifle wider open, and, peering in, saw that they were indeed at one of the entrances to the chapel which formed part of the Holy Inquisition of Cuzco. The building of which Phil thus obtained a glimpse was unexpectedly large; so large, indeed, that he instantly jumped to the conclusion that it was intended for the use of the general public as well as for the members of the Order, the accommodation being sufficient for at least four hundred wors.h.i.+ppers. The door through which they were peering was situated underneath a gallery, in which was placed the organ loft, for the notes of the instrument floated down to them from immediately overhead. To the right of them stretched away the main body of the church, one half of it--the half nearest them--being fitted with pews, while the other half, toward the great west door, was furnished with common rush-bottomed chairs, evidently intended for the use of casual wors.h.i.+ppers and the lower orders generally. To the left lay the chancel, fitted with exquisitely carved and gilded stalls, tall, elaborately worked bra.s.s standards for lamps, gaudily painted and gilded statues of various saints, a superb reredos in marble surmounted by a cross bearing a fine lifesize figure of the Redeemer; the whole illuminated by the rainbow tints which streamed in through the beautiful stained gla.s.s of the magnificent east window, and a faint odour of incense still clung to the air of the place. The main thing, however, or at least that which chiefly interested the two interlopers, was, that although the west door stood wide open, affording a glimpse of a broad gravel path leading up through a superb garden, beyond which could be seen a road, houses, and the traffic of foot pa.s.sengers, hors.e.m.e.n, and vehicles, there was not a soul to be seen inside the church, the organist being apparently its only occupant for the moment. Phil therefore wasted no more time, but, pus.h.i.+ng the door wide enough open to afford admittance to himself and his companion, slipped through, dragging d.i.c.k after him, and pushed to the door again behind him, leaving it ajar as he had found it. Then, advancing a pace or two, but taking care to keep well beneath the shadow of the gallery, the pair made a rapid but comprehensive survey of the building in search of a hiding-place where they might safely lie _perdu_ for the next few hours.

They noted several places that looked quite promising, if they could but reach them, only, unfortunately, there was the organist up aloft, and doubtless an a.s.sistant to blow the bellows. If either of them should chance to glance down into the body of the church at the moment when the fugitives happened to be making for the chosen spot, all would be lost.

For instance, the choir stalls rose in tiers one behind another, and that of course meant that beneath the floor of the rearmost tier there would be a hollow s.p.a.ce amply sufficient to conceal a dozen men--if they could but obtain access to it. Then there was the high altar. It was doubtless hollow, and possibly access to its interior might be obtained at the back; but to gain either of those positions it would be necessary to pa.s.s over a part of the pavement which Phil conjectured might be seen from the organ loft, and he felt very strongly disinclined to take the risk of being seen after they had thus far so successfully evaded detection. But he fully recognised that he must not waste much time in making up his mind. There was the priest whom they had left senseless outside the door of the torture chamber, to say nothing of the jailer.

It was simply marvellous that the one had not yet been found or the other missed. As the thought flashed through his mind a confused sound of shouting and scurrying feet came to his ears, m.u.f.fled by distance, through the slightly opened door. And he knew in an instant what that meant. The thing which he had all along been fearing, which indeed he knew must very soon happen, had happened; a discovery of some sort had been made. Probably the priest had recovered sufficiently to raise an alarm, and now in a minute or two the whole place would be swarming with searchers, hunting in every possible and impossible place for the missing prisoners. Something must be done, some decision arrived at instantly. There was no more time for indecision, and Phil once more flung a lightning glance about the building. The walls of the chancel on either side of the high altar and up to the level of the sill of the glorious east window were draped with rich tapestry, depicting on a background of gold thread, on the one side the Annunciation, and on the other the Apotheosis of the Blessed Virgin; and Phil noticed that these tapestries were suspended from rings strung upon ma.s.sive bra.s.s rods, which were supported by bra.s.s brackets let into the wall. It seemed to him that those brackets were of such a length as to afford s.p.a.ce enough for a man to hide between the tapestry--which reached right down to the floor--and the wall. The organ was softly breathing out the notes of the ”Agnus Dei” from a Ma.s.s which the organist was evidently practising, and the man would probably be intent only upon his music. The organ-blower, Phil decided, must be risked--perhaps he would be behind the organ, or in some part of the loft from which the chancel could not be seen;--and, as the voices outside grew louder and seemed to be drawing nearer, he plucked d.i.c.k by the sleeve, beckoned him to follow, and the pair stole softly up the length of the chancel to the altar, dropped on their knees, lifted the bottom edge of the tapestry, crawled underneath it, let it fall behind them, and rose to their feet in the enclosed s.p.a.ce between wall and tapestry at the precise moment when a great bell began to peal out its alarm note from some distant part of the building. The organist almost immediately ceased playing, and a minute later the soft pad-pad of his own and another's sandalled feet descending a wooden staircase not far away came, m.u.f.fled, to the ears of the fugitives; then followed the slam of a door, the turn of a key in a lock, and the two friends knew themselves to be alone in the church, with the west door wide open, affording them the means of instant flight into the outer world, if they chose to avail themselves of it.

But that thought came to them only to be rejected on the instant. They were still clad in the skins of beasts, which had taken the place of their worn-out clothing; they were unkempt, unshaven, and altogether far too conspicuous in every way to justify them in venturing into the streets by daylight, or indeed at any time while the inhabitants were abroad, therefore they must remain in hiding until darkness fell and the people had retired to rest; and both fervently hoped that the citizens of Cuzco kept early hours. Then they began to feel hungry, for it was now several hours since they had tasted food; but they had grown accustomed to such petty discomforts as hunger and thirst long ago.

They were as nothing compared with the torture which that poor wretch must have been undergoing in the room yonder; and as Phil thought of the possibility that, even yet, d.i.c.k and he might be recaptured and subjected to similar suffering, he worked his way along the foot or two of distance that separated him from the high altar, and proceeded to examine the latter. As he had more than half-expected, the structure proved to be hollow, being built of ma.s.sive slabs of marble as to the front and sides, but having no back, and for some reason which he was quite unable to divine, but which he was most heartily thankful for, there was a s.p.a.ce left between the sides of the structure and the wall of the church just wide enough for him to squeeze through without undue discomfort, and so gain the interior of the altar. This seemed a distinctly safer place to hide in than merely behind the tapestry; there was room for three or four men to bestow themselves comfortably, and they could lie down if they chose, therefore they lost no time in transferring themselves to this new place of concealment; and they had scarcely settled themselves comfortably therein when they heard a door noisily unlocked and thrown open, and the sound of many sandalled feet swarming into the church.

Judging from the sounds alone, the fugitives crouching in the interior of the altar estimated that about a dozen people had entered the church.

They seemed to rush forward a few paces and then halt, as though staring about them; then followed a few brief, desultory movements, and silence. Finally, a voice said, in Spanish:

”Well, it is perfectly clear that they are not here.”

”From what do you draw that inference, brother?” demanded another voice.

”First, from the fact that the door by which we entered was locked on the other side; and next, because the great west door is wide open,”

answered the voice which had first spoken.

”True,” answered the second voice. ”Yet neither of those facts is proof that the fugitives are not lurking somewhere in the church. Do you ask why? I will tell you. First, Brother Gregorio has been here this morning, as usual, practising; and we know that it is a habit of his to leave the door communicating with the domestic part of the establishment unfastened, and very often open, while he practises. Therefore, if he did the same thing to-day--and I happen to know that he did, for I was in the church myself half an hour ago--it would be an easy matter for the fugitives to gain access to this building and conceal themselves somewhere in it. As to the open door yonder, I attach no importance at all to it, for the Englishmen are much too conspicuous in their appearance and attire to venture abroad in the city by daylight; they would be recaptured in less than five minutes if they did so, and I give them credit for being sensible enough to know it. Consequently, I maintain that they are still somewhere within the walls of the establishment, and, as likely as not, may be in this church; therefore let the place be thoroughly searched at once.”

Nothing more was said; but sounds of renewed activity immediately followed upon the order to search, the scuffle of footsteps along the aisles and on the steps leading to the organ loft distinctly reaching the lurking pair as they crouched beneath the altar intently listening, to gather, if they might, some indication of the direction in which the search was proceeding. Presently, to their discomfiture, they heard the footsteps of apparently two persons approaching the enclosed s.p.a.ce within the altar rails, the pair talking in low tones as they approached.

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