The Radio Boys with the Revenue Guards Part 15

If this latter supposition were correct, then, thought Jack, it behooved him to act quickly. For, if the smugglers returned and found they had escaped from the cell, there would be only one conclusion to draw as to their method of escape, and that would be the right one.

Bending down, he saw at once in the bright moonlight the outlines of a big trapdoor under his feet. A ringbolt at one edge showed how it was raised. Seizing it in a firm grip, Jack started to raise the trap.

His heart beat suffocatingly. What would he find underneath?

An inch at a time Jack raised the trap, while the others knelt at the sides, peering through the growing opening. Only darkness met their gaze, and the smell of hot air imprisoned in a closed house came out like a blast from a furnace door. The hinges, apparently long unused and rusted, creaked alarmingly despite all the care Jack exercised.

But not a sound came up from below.

At length Jack threw back the door, and the bright moonlight pouring down the opening in a flood of silver revealed a narrow, ladder-like stairway descending to an uncarpeted hall. Jack started down with the others at his heels.

In the hall he paused, to once more accustom his eyes to the dimness which now, however, was not impenetrable, as in their cell, because of the moonlight. Presently he was able to make out a long hall with only two doors breaking the double expanse of wall. One door, on the right, was ma.s.sive and over it was a huge iron bar in a socket.

"That's the door to the cell they had us in," said Frank, with conviction, as they stood grouped before it. "Brrr. We'd have had a fine chance to break that down."

Leading the way and walking on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, shoes in hand, Jack moved forward to the other door and had just laid his hand on the k.n.o.b and was about to turn it, when he heard voices on the other side and the sound of footsteps mounting upward.

His mind worked lightning-fast in this crisis. It was the door of a stairway leading to the lower part of the house. Somebody was ascending it, not one man but several. They could have only one purpose. There was only one room up here on this upper floor--the cell. Therefore, whoever was coming up intended to visit them, thinking they still were in that room.

These thoughts flashed through Jack's mind in less time than it took a man to mount a step. And, as quickly, he thought of a plan. Turning to his companions, he whispered:

"Quick, get back to the cupola stairs, Frank, because you're nearest.

Then run up and lower the trapdoor, and crouch outside until I call you. The rest of us can crouch down in this little s.p.a.ce beyond the door, and we'll be hidden by it when the door swings open."

Frank was off on noiseless feet, while the other four huddled into the s.p.a.ce indicated by Jack. By the time the men mounting the stairs swung the door inward, Frank had succeeded in gaining the cupola. The noise made by the rusted hinges, as the trap was lowered was covered up by the voices of the men.

Fortunately, they did not close the stair door, but left it standing open, thus hiding the four behind it. There were three in the party, judging by the sound of voices and footsteps, and one at least carried a powerful electric flashlight.

"Thought I heard a scratching sound," said a voice, which Jack and Bob recognized as that of Higginbotham. "But I guess it was made by mice.

This old house is filled with them."

A few steps farther along the party paused, and Jack, looking from his hiding place, saw three figures, shadowy and indistinct, before the huge door of the cell, upon which one man had thrown the light, while another was fumbling at the bar. The door swung open, and the three walked in.

"Come on," whispered Jack.

Not waiting for the others, realizing it would be only a moment or two before their disappearance from the cell would be discovered, he leaped from hiding, tore down the little hall like a whirlwind, dashed against the great door and swung it into place. Bob, who was close at his heels, dropped the iron bar into place.

They were not a moment too soon. Shouts of amazement and alarm came from the room even as the door was swinging shut. And hardly had Bob dropped the bar into the socket than those within threw themselves against the door. So tremendously thick and strong was the latter, however, that with its closing all sound from within was reduced to the merest whisper. As for trying to move it, as well attempt to push an elephant over by hand. This those within must have realized, for presently they desisted.

"Got 'em in their own cage," said Jack, triumphantly. And, pulling from his pocket Tom Barnum's little flashlight, he rea.s.sured himself the door really was barred, then mounting the stairway thumped on the trapdoor as a signal to Frank. The latter at once raised the door.

"Come on down, Frank," said Jack. "There were three of them, and we penned them in the cell."

Hastily he explained what had occurred.

"Now, fellows," said he. "Let's see who else is downstairs. Let's see if we can't get out of here, so we can radio Lieutenant Summers for help."

"But how about leaving these chaps behind, Jack?" protested Bob. "They can get out the same way we did, and give the alarm. What we want to do is to bring Lieutenant Summers to the scene without letting these rascals get an inkling of what's hanging over them. If Higginbotham and his companions escape, he'll start a search for us, and our plans will stand a fair chance of being spoiled."

"You're right, Bob," said Jack. "But what can we do? They can't get out of there in a minute. It will take them some time because, for one reason, they will be fearful of our lying in wait for them, perhaps.

Meantime, we can be moving fast. Captain Folsom," he added, deferring to the older man, "what do you think we ought to do?"

But the latter laid his sound arm on Jack's shoulder.

"Listen," he cautioned.

m.u.f.fled, but distinct, there came an outbreak of pistol shots, followed by shouts faintly heard.

"What I feared," said Captain Folsom. "They are out on the roof already, and shooting and calling to attract help. Come. We have no time to lose."

Fumbling his way along the dark hall toward the stair door, he said:

"Quick, Hampton, with your light. I can't find the k.n.o.b. Ah"--as the light of the little torch winked on--"that's better."

He pulled the door open, and started down the stairs, Jack at his shoulder and flas.h.i.+ng the light ahead. The others crowded at their heels.

CHAPTER XIV

THROUGH THE TUNNEL

At the foot of the stairway was another door, and this stood open. It gave upon another hallway, carpeted richly, and dim, yet not so dark but what Captain Folsom could see his way. This faint illumination came up a great open stairway from a wide and deep living room below into which descended another stairway at the far end of the hall.

A male voice, not unmusical, singing a rousing chorus in Italian, and peering circ.u.mspectly through an open bal.u.s.trade into that lower room, Captain Folsom saw the singer seated at a great square piano, a giant of a man with a huge shock of dark brown hair and ferocious mustaches, while a coal black negro, even huger in size, lolled negligently at one end of the keyboard, his red lips parted wide in a grin of enjoyment and ivory white teeth showing between, and at the other end of the piano, with his elbows planted on the instrument and his head pressed between his hands, stood or rather leaned a rough-looking man of medium height, his grizzled hair all awry where he had run his fingers through it, and wearing a khaki s.h.i.+rt open at the throat.

"Sing that again, Pete. What d'ye call it? The Bull Fighter Song, hey?

Well, I don't know much about music, but that gits under my skin. Come on."

The man called Pete was about to comply, and the Negro was nodding his head in violent approval, when the door from the outside gallery was burst open unceremoniously, and a villainous looking individual whirled into the room in a state of great excitement. Others were behind him but, evidently not daring to venture within, stood grouped in the open doorway.

"Here, Mike, wot d'ye mean, comin' in like this? Into a gentleman's house, too. Don't ye know any better, ye scut?" demanded the first speaker, he who had asked for a repet.i.tion of the song.

Evidently, thought Captain Folsom, here was the leader, for the other deferred to him, although it was apparent he was a privileged character.

"Ah, now, Paddy Ryan," said the man called Mike; "ah, now, Paddy Ryan, sure an' I know 'tis a gentleman's house since you rule it. But do them fellers on the roof know it?"

"Fellers on the roof?" said Ryan, advancing a step, threateningly.

"Mike, ye been drinkin' again. An' the night's work not done yet. Out on ye, ye--ye----"

"Listen," said Mike, holding up a hand. "Listen. 'Tis all I ask. Sure an' wid Pete caterwaulin', 'tis no wonder at all ye cannot hear wot's goin' on. Hear the shootin' now, don't ye?"

As if he were a magician calling the demonstration into being at command, the shooting and shouting of the trio on the roof, which for the moment had died down, was now violently renewed. Ryan's lower jaw dropped open grotesquely.

"Now will ye believe me?" demanded Mike, triumphantly.

"Who--who is it?" asked Ryan, still in the grip of his astonishment.