Part 12 (2/2)

Worthington said. ”I am going to search for them.”

He got out of the Rolls and opened the boot. Bob was right beside him as the chauffeur picked out a big emergency electric lantern.

”I'm coming with you, Worthington,” Bob said. ”They're my buddies.”

”Very well, we shall go together.”

Worthington paused to take a heavy hammer out of the boot, in case he needed a weapon, and then they started up Black Canyon. Because of his leg, Bob had difficulty keeping up with the tall, rangy chauffeur, but Worthington half lifted him round the worst piles of rocks. In almost no time they were at Terror Castle.

They discovered at once that the front door had no k.n.o.b, and could not be opened from the outside. Then Worthington spotted the loose k.n.o.b lying on the tiles.

”Obviously the lads did not enter through the door,” he said. ”We must look for another entrance.”

They ranged up and down the front of the place, flas.h.i.+ng the light in the windows.

Suddenly Bob spotted the mark a big ? ? chalked on a French window which was slightly ajar. chalked on a French window which was slightly ajar.

”They must have gone in here!” he yelled, explaining to Worthington about The Three Investigators' secret mark. They pushed the window open and slipped through.

Inside, as Worthington flashed his lantern round, they could see they were in an old dining room.

”No telling where the lads went from here,” Worthington said, looking disturbed.

”There are several doors and none is marked.”

Then Bob spotted the big mirror. There was a question mark chalked in the centre.

”They could scarcely have walked into a mirror,” said Worthington, perplexed.

”Still, it bears investigation.”

He grasped the frame of the mirror, and to their amazement it swung open like a door. Behind it there was a narrow pa.s.sage.

”A secret door!” Worthington exclaimed. ”The boys must have gone through here, so we must do the same.”

Bob was sure he wouldn't have had the nerve to go down that narrow, pitch-dark pa.s.sage by himself, but Worthington marched directly into it. Bob had no choice but to go along with him. Discovering the First Investigator's mark on the door at the other end, they went through and found themselves in the projection room.

Worthington flashed the light round, over the decaying velvet drapes, the ragged seats, the old dust-covered pipe organ. But they could see no sign whatever of Jupiter and Pete.

Then Bob noticed an odd gleam coming from under the seat. He reached down.

”Worthington!” he shouted. ”Here's Pete's new torch!”

”Master Crenshaw would not simply leave it here,” Worthington said. ”Something must have happened in this area. Search carefully for indications.”

They got down on hands and knees in the aisle between the seats, and Worthington held his light close to the floor. ”Look, the dust here has been disturbed over a large area.”

He was right. And in the middle of the place where the dust had been stirred up there was a raggedly chalked white question mark.

Worthington seemed upset when he saw the mark, but he did not tell Bob what he was thinking. Rising, he scouted around carefully until he found footprints in the dust, leading round in front of the seats, then behind the rotted movie screen, and through a door behind it. Beyond the door was a hall. A flight of steps wound down into more pitch blackness. The hall itself, however, went off in a different direction.

As they stood there wondering which way to go down the stairs or along the hall Worthington spied a faint question mark on the top step.

”Down the stairs,” he said. ”Master Jones is very resourceful. He has marked his trail for us.”

”But what do you think happened, Worthington?” Bob asked as they trotted down stairs that wound round and round until he felt dizzy.

”We can only guess,” Worthington said, stopping briefly to inspect another chalked mark on a landing. ”If Master Jones had been walking, he would have placed his mark as eye level on the wall. I am forced to conclude he was being carried, and that he took the opportunity to make the mark when the person, or persons, carrying him set him down to rest. He could probably touch the floor unseen.”

”But who would have carried him down into this cellar?” Bob asked in dismay. ”If it is a cellar. It looks more like a dungeon to me.”

”It is exactly like a dungeon I once saw in an old English castle where I was employed,” Worthington told him. ”A very unpleasant place. As for who may have been carrying Master Jones, I cannot guess. Unfortunately we seem to have lost the trail.”

They had reached the bottom. Three different directions, each one blacker than the others. And there weren't any more chalk marks.

”Let us turn out the light and listen,” the chauffeur said. ”In the darkness we may hear something.”

They strained their ears in the silent blackness, smelling the damp, musty air.

Then, unexpectedly, they heard a sound like a rock sc.r.a.ping against another rock. A moment later they saw a glimmer of light, coming from far down the middle corridor.

”Master Jones!” Worthington shouted. ”Is that you?”

For a brief second they saw a woman holding a lighted lantern. Then the light vanished and they heard the sound of sc.r.a.ping rocks again. Once more everything was dark and silent.

”After her!” Worthington shouted. He dashed down the corridor, leaving Bob to hobble after him as fast as he could. By the time the boy caught up with the chauffeur, Worthington was pounding on a smooth concrete wall. The pa.s.sage simply came to a dead end at that point.

”She went through here!” Worthington said. ”I'll swear to that. Stout measures are called for.” Pulling the heavy hammer out of his belt, he began smas.h.i.+ng at the wall.

In a moment they both p.r.i.c.ked up their ears. One section sounded hollow.

He gave that spot a few hard smashes, and the cement began to crumble. In no time he had knocked a hole right through the wall. It was only about six inches thick there, made of cement on a wire frame. A secret door, When he found that he could get a hold on the door, Worthington began to yank it back and forth. On the fourth yank it came open, revealing another secret pa.s.sage behind it. This one seemed to lead directly into the hillside. The roof and sides were formed completely of rock.

”A tunnel!” Worthington exclaimed. ”Whoever captured the lads departed through this tunnel. That woman must be one of them. Quick before she gets away from us.”

He tucked Bob under his arm to make better speed and started into the tunnel.

After a few feet, the pa.s.sage became very rough, and the roof dipped down so low that Worthington had to stoop to get through. As he was stooping, he knocked his lantern against the wall and dropped it. The light went out. While Bob was feeling round for the lantern, he heard a flapping of wings all round them, then excited squeaks and chirps. The next moment something soft slammed into him in the darkness. Then another object and another flapped against his head.

”Bats!” Bob yelled in alarm. ”Worthington, we're being attacked by giant bats!”

”Steady, lad!” Worthington said. ”Don't panic.”

He got down on his knees to hunt around for his light, while Bob covered his head with his arms. Large, soft creatures were flapping all round him now, and one tried to land on his head. He gave a wild yell and knocked it off.

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