A Bid for Fortune, Guy Boothby [easy books to read TXT] 📗

Again I felt the door and wall in order that I might be sure where it lay, and having done so crossed the room. My heart was beating like a Nasmyth hammer, and it was nearly a minute before I could pull myself together sufficiently for my rush. Then summoning every muscle in my body to my assistance, I dashed across and at it with all the strength my frame was capable of. Considering the darkness of the room, my steering was not so bad, for my shoulder caught the door just above its centre; there was a great crash⁠—a noise of breaking timbers⁠—and amid a shower of splinters and general debris I fell headlong through into the passage. By the time it would have taken me to count five, Beckenham was beside me helping me to rise.

“Now stand by for big trouble!” I said, rubbing my shoulder, and every moment expecting to see a door open and a crowd of Prendergast’s ruffians come rushing out. “We shall have them on us in a minute.”

But to our intense astonishment it was all dead silence. Not a sound of any single kind, save our excited breathing, greeted our ears. We might have broken into an empty house for all we knew the difference.

For nearly five minutes we stood, side by side, waiting for the battle which did not come.

“What on earth does it meant” I asked my companion. “That crash of mine was loud enough to wake the dead. Can they have deserted the place, think you, and left us to starve?”

“I can’t make it out any more than you can,” he answered. “But don’t you think we’d better take advantage of their not coming to find a way out?”

“Of course. One of us had better creep down the passage and discover how the land lies. As I’m the stronger, I’ll go. You wait here.”

I crept along the passage, treading cautiously as a cat, for I knew that both our lives depended on it. Though it could not have been more than sixty feet, it seemed of interminable length, and was as black as night. Not a glimmer of light, however faint, met my eyes.

On and on I stole, expecting every moment to be pounced upon and seized; but no such fate awaited me. If, however, our jailers did not appear, another danger was in store for me.

In the middle of my walk my feet suddenly went from under me, and I found myself falling I knew not where. In reality it was only a drop of about three feet down a short flight of steps. Such a noise as my fall made, however, was surely never heard, but still no sound came. Then Beckenham fumbled his way cautiously down the steps to my side, and whispered an enquiry as to what had happened. I told him in as few words as possible, and then struggled to my feet again.

Just as I did so my eyes detected a faint glimmer of light low down on the floor ahead of us. From its position it evidently emanated from the doorway of a room.

“Oh! if only we had a match,” I whispered.

“It’s no good wishing,” said Beckenham. “What do you advise?”

“It’s difficult to say,” I answered; “but I should think we’d better listen at that door and try to discover if there is anyone inside. If there is, and he is alone, we must steal in upon him, let him see that we are desperate, and, willy-nilly, force him to show us a way out. It’s ten chances to one, if we go on prowling about here, we shall stumble upon the whole nest of them⁠—then we’ll be caught like rats in a trap. What do you think?”

“I agree with you. Go on.”

Without further ado we crept towards the light, which, as I expected, came from under a door, and listened. Someone was plainly moving about inside; but though we waited for what seemed a quarter of an hour, but must in reality have been less than a minute and a half, we could hear no voices.

“Whoever he is, he’s alone⁠—that’s certain,” whispered my companion. “Open the door softly, and we’ll creep in upon him.”

In answer, and little by little, a cold shiver running down my back lest it should creak and so give warning to the person within, I turned the handle, pushed open the door, and we looked inside. Then⁠—but, my gracious! if I live to be a thousand I shall never forget even the smallest particular connected with the sight that met my eyes.

The room itself was a long and low one: its measurements possibly sixty feet by fifteen. The roof⁠—for there was no ceiling⁠—was of wood, crossed by heavy rafters, and much begrimed with dirt and smoke. The floor was of some highly polished wood closely resembling oak and was completely bare. But the shape and construction of the room itself were as nothing compared with the strangeness of its furniture and occupants. Words would fail me if I tried to give you a true and accurate description of it. I only know that, strong man as I was, and used to the horrors of life and death, what I saw before me then made my blood run cold and my flesh creep as it had never done before.

To begin with, round the walls were arranged, at regular intervals, more than a dozen enormous bottles, each of which contained what looked, to me, only too much like human specimens pickled in some light-coloured fluid resembling spirits of wine. Between these gigantic but more than horrible receptacles were numberless smaller ones holding other and even more dreadful remains; while on pedestals and stands, bolt upright and reclining, were skeletons of men, monkeys, and quite a hundred sorts of animals. The intervening spaces were filled with skulls, bones, and the apparatus for every kind of murder known to the fertile brain of man. There were