CHAPTER 17 : A Trail Of Question Marks
WORTHINGTON and Bob Andrews were getting
anxious. They had been sitting in the Rolls-Royce an
hour, waiting for Jupiter and Pete to come back, but
so far there had been no sign of them. Every five
minutes Bob hopped out of the big car to look up
Black Canyon. And every ten minutes or so
Worthington got out and took a look, too. It was like
staring down the throat of a giant snake.
“Master Andrews,” Worthington said at last.“I
think that I should go after them.”
“But you can’t leave the car, Worthington,” Bob
reminded him.“You’re not supposed to let it out of
your sight.”
“Master Jones and Master Crenshaw are more
important than an automobile,” 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
knob, and could not be opened from the outside. Then
Worthington spotted the loose knob 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,
flashing the light in the windows. Suddenly Bob
spotted the mark―a big ?― 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 passage.
“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 passage 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 scraping 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 scraping 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 passage 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 smashing
at the wall. In a moment they both pricked 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 passage 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
passage 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.
“Worthington!” he shouted.“They’re big as
pigeons! They’re giant vampire bats!”
“I think not, Master Andrews,” Worthington said
as his light finally came on again. He aimed its beam
upward, and they could see dozens of things with
wings flying around them. But the things were birds,
not bats. As soon as they saw the light, they flew
towards it, squeaking and screeching in their
excitement.
Worthington snapped off the lantern.
“The light attracts them,” he shouted to Bob.
“We’ll make our way back in the darkness. Here, give
me your hand.”
Bob grasped Worthington’s hand, and the
Englishman led the way back, groping along the
rough wall. The birds seemed to disappear. At least in
the darkness they quietened down again, so that the
two investigators got to the door and back into the
cellar of Terror Castle without any more interference.
They closed the door to keep out the birds.
“I don’t think the lads were taken through that
tunnel,” Worthington remarked.“Their captors would
have had to put them down to open the hidden door.
Then Master Jones would have had a chance to leave
a mark. And there is no mark here.”
There was no mark. But suddenly a voice started
yelling. And there was no mistaking whose voice it
was. Jupiter was calling for help. A moment later Pete
joined in.
Their voices were coming from behind Bob and
Worthington, and were very muffled. The tall
chauffeur hurried back up the dark corridor, and
found a closed door he had missed while chasing after
the vanishing woman. Inside was a real dungeon cell
with iron ring-bolts on the wall. And there were Pete
and Jupiter, tied up like Christmas packages. They
didn’t seem any too happy to be rescued, either. In
fact they were annoyed that their yelling hadn’t been
heard sooner.
As he cut them loose, Worthington explained that
in chasing after the mysterious woman and
hammering on the hidden tunnel door, he had made
too much noise to hear their shouting.
“We must get out of here at once and fetch the
authorities,” the English chauffeur said, while Jupiter
and Pete were dusting themselves off.“These people
are dangerous. They left you here to die.”
But Jupiter wasn’t paying much attention. He had
pricked up his ears when Bob mentioned being
attacked by birds in the tunnel.
“What kind of birds were they?” he asked.
“What kind of birds?” Bob yelled belligerently.“I
didn’t stop to ask them. They acted like small eagles,
the way they came after us.”
“Actually they were harmless,” Worthington said.
“They were merely attracted by the light. They
seemed to be parakeets, Master Jones.”
“Parakeets!” The First Investigator acted as if he
had been stung by a hornet.“Come on, follow me!
We must act fast!”
And getting the torch loose from his belt, he dashed
out.
“What bit him?” Pete asked as Bob handed him his
torch.
“A clue, I guess,” Bob answered.“Anyway we
can’t let him go alone.”
“Definitely not,” Worthington agreed.“We must
follow him, lads.”
They raced after Jupiter, who was already fifty
yards ahead of them, despite his taped ankle. Pete
out-distanced Worthington, who paused to assist Bob.
As the latter two ducked into the tunnel, they could
see the others’ lights bobbing along ahead of them―
going up, then down, then round a corner of the
natural rock tunnel.
They made the best time they could, ignoring the
frightened parakeets that fluttered round them. In
some spots Worthington had to duck low to squeeze
through. Finally they came to a straight section of
tunnel, and saw the bobbing lights ahead come to a
halt. They hurried along the final stretch and found a
wooden door wide open. Stepping through it, they
joined Jupiter and Pete in a big wire cage, surrounded
by fluttering parakeets screeching in fright.
“We’re inside the big cage where Mr. Rex raises his
parakeets!” Jupiter yelled to them.“The end of Black
Canyon must lie exactly parallel to the end of
Winding Valley Road, with only a few hundred feet
of rocky ridge separating them. I never thought of
that possibility―they start so many miles apart on
opposite sides of the mountain.”
Jupiter pushed hard on the wire door that closed
the cage, and it burst open. All four squeezed out and
found themselves just a few feet away from Mr. Rex’s
little bungalow. Through the window they could see
Mr. Rex and a small man with bushy hair playing
cards, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
“We’ll surprise them,” Jupiter whispered.“Extin-
guish all lights.”
They did, and followed him silently round to the
front door. He pressed the doorbell. In a moment the
door opened. Mr. Rex stood in the doorway,
glowering at them. For the first time Bob had an
opportunity to see at first hand how sinister he looked,
with his bald head and the awful scar on his throat.
“Well, what is it?” Rex whispered in a menacing
way.
“We’d like to talk to you, Mr. Rex,” Jupiter said.
“And supposing I do not wish to be bothered,
boy?”
“In that case”―it was Worthington speaking up―
“we shall have to call the authorities to investigate”
Mr. Rex looked alarmed.“No need for that!” he
whispered.“Come in, come in.”
All four followed him into the room where the
other man sat at the card table. He was a very small
man, scarcely more than five feet tall.
“This is my old friend, Charles Grant,” Rex said.
“Charlie, these are the boys who have been
investigating Terror Castle. Well, boys, have you
found the ghosts yet?”
“Yes,” Jupiter said boldly.“We have solved the
secret of the castle.” He sounded so convinced that he
startled both Pete and Bob. If they had solved
anything, nobody had told them about it.
“Indeed?” The Whisperer said.“And what is the
secret?”
“You two men,” Jupiter said,“are the ghosts who
have been haunting the castle and scaring people
away. And just a few minutes ago you tied up Pete
Crenshaw and me and left us in the dungeon under
the castle.”
The Whisperer scowled at him so hard that
Worthington tightened his grip on the hammer.
“That’s a very serious accusation, boy,” Rex
whispered.“And I’ll wager you can’t prove it.”
Which was what Pete was thinking, too. Had Jupe
gone off the rails? They had been tied up by an
Englishwoman and an old gipsy.
“Look at the tips of your shoes,” Jupiter said.“I
marked them with our secret mark while you were
standing beside me, tying me up.”
The two men looked down at their shoes. So did
the others.
On the polished black leather of each right toe was
chalked the trade-mark of The Three investigators―
a question mark.
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