Part 37 (2/2)

”Whoever they are, evidently they have no welcome for us,” said Carstairs, ”but I'm going in, anyhow. Whew, this wind cuts to the bone!”

”I'm just as cold as you are,” said John, ”and I'm just as much resolved as you are to find shelter here, whether I'm asked in or not. It may belong to a n.o.ble family, but I'm a n.o.bleman myself, a king, one of a hundred million American kings.”

”Then, king, you lead,” said Carstairs. ”It's your place. Go right up those steps.”

A half dozen marble steps led to the great central door, and John walked up boldly, followed closely by the others. He lifted a huge bra.s.s knocker, and beat heavily with it again and again. No sound came back but its echo.

”Push, king,” said Carstairs. ”Any door will open to royalty. Besides your majesty has been insulted by the refusal to answer your summons.”

John pushed hard, and the great door swung back slowly, quivering a little, but with the automatic in his hand, he walked into a hall, the other two at his shoulders. They closed the door behind them and stood there for a little s.p.a.ce, accustoming their eyes to the dusk.

It was a long hall with tall windows, through which a faint light filtered. To the right was a stairway, on the first step of which was a figure, of complete medieval armor. Several faded pictures of ancient knights hung on the walls.

”It's old, very old,” said Carstairs, ”but its owners, whoever they are, have left with all their people. There's n.o.body to dispute our claim to lodgings, but did you ever see anything more lonesome?”

”There's a double door, leading into the interior of the house,” said John. ”Let's explore.”

They entered a large apartment which John took to be the drawing-room.

It was at once splendid and dignified, furnished in a style at least two centuries old. John liked it, and thought what it would be when it was filled with light and people.

A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there were ornamented sconces about the walls, all containing many candles.

Evidently the owner of this chateau scorned such modern lights as gas and electricity.

”We might light a candle or two,” said Carstairs. ”Doubtless we can find matches about.”

”No! No!” exclaimed Wharton. ”I'm not at all sure that we're safe here from intrusion!”

”Think you're right,” said Carstairs. ”Let's explore further.”

”Then I vote that we go downward,” said John. ”I've gathered from my reading that in the big European houses the kitchens are below stairs, and just now a kitchen will be much more welcome to me than a drawing-room.”

True to John's reading the kitchen and storerooms were in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Nothing had been disturbed, and they found ample food. Carstairs discovered a wine cellar, and he returned with a bottle of champagne.

”It's an old and famous vintage,” he said, ”and there'll be no harm in taking one.”

”Here's a furnace in the cook-room,” said John, ”and billets of wood.

Suppose we make a fire, and dry ourselves thoroughly while we eat and drink. It's too far down for the reflections of the flames to be seen outside.”

The others promptly agreed with him. All wanted to get rid of the wet chill which struck so deeply into their bodies. A search disclosed matches, and John built the fire which was soon burning redly in the furnace. What a glorious warmth it threw out! It created them anew, and they realized that light and heat were the great vital elements of the world.

They drew a table before the fire, and put upon it the food and the bottle of champagne.

”We've been made welcome here after all,” said John. ”The souls of the absent owners have provided these things for us.”

”That's dreamy sort of talk, John,” said Wharton.

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