Warrender flashed his torch upon the scene. Against the left, the eastern wall, sitting on a roughly contrived bunk supported between two ma.s.sive oaken beams that stretched from floor to roof, was the tall lank figure that Armstrong had described. He was chained by the leg to one of the beams, the chain forming a loop around it, the last link being riveted to one in the longer portion.

Ambrose Pratt gazed in speechless surprise at the two schoolboys.

"Uncle!" exclaimed Pratt, going forward with outstretched hand.

Mr. Pratt looked with an expression of utter bewilderment and incredulity.

"Don't you remember me? I'm your nephew Percy," said the boy.

"My nephew!" murmured Mr. Pratt.

"Let us postpone explanations," said Warrender. "We have to get away.

Hold the chain, Percy. I'll smash it with the spanner."

But the chain, which the general dealer's a.s.sistant had described as strong enough to hold a mad bull, resisted all the vigorous blows Warrender rained upon it.

"Run downstairs, Pratt," he said, "and see if there's a hammer and chisel below--or any tool about the printing press."

During Pratt's absence he repeated his efforts with the spanner, but made no impression on the tough steel. Pratt returned with a long steel rod which he had found lying near the press, and inserting this in one of the links, they tried to burst it.

"No good!" declared Warrender. "Nothing but a chisel and hammer will do it. I've both in my tool box in the motor-boat. We must have them.

It's the only chance. You had better go for them, Pratt. Jack and I could tackle the foreigners if they came up."

"All right," said Pratt. "What's the chisel like?"

"What's it like?" exclaimed Warrender. "Like a chisel! Hang it! We can't risk a mistake. I'll go myself. You stay with your uncle. Jack will keep guard below, with the pistol. The door's strong, and we may be able to keep the enemy out until I have time to get back, suppose they come. I'll be as quick as I can: afraid I can't do it under half an hour. Good luck!"

CHAPTER XX

THE PACE QUICKENS

"So you are my nephew Percy," said Mr. Pratt when Warrender had gone.

"Light the lamp and let me look at you. I don't recognise you. When was our last meeting?"

"About ten years ago," replied Pratt, surprised at his uncle's calm demeanour. "You tanned me for picking one of your peaches."

"Did I?" Mr. Pratt smiled. "You were always a mischievous young ruffian. But how do you come here? Do you bear an olive branch from that cantankerous father of yours?"

"I came through the tunnel," Pratt began, ignoring the aspersion upon his father. Mr. Pratt interrupted him.

"What tunnel?"

"The tunnel between No Man's Island and this tower. Didn't you know of it?"

"I never heard of it before. Who told you about it?"

"We discovered it by accident. My chums and I came for a boating holiday, and camped on the island. We have had----"

"You saw my signals?" his uncle interposed.

"Yes, and----"

"And the police are informed? These villains will be arrested?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, Uncle," said Pratt, and was again interrupted.

"You did not? Then I am afraid you and your companions have tumbled into a hornets' nest, young man. As we are to have apparently a few minutes' leisure, I think you had better put me wise, as our American friends say, about the essential facts of the situation. How many do you muster?"

Pratt, in the exalted mood of a rescuer, and himself bursting with questions, was a little dashed by his uncle's cool matter-of-fact manner.

"There are three of us," he said. "We got in through the tunnel, and found one man below at the printing press."

"A printing press! Indeed! What literature are my guardians disseminating?"

"Forged notes."

"Forgers!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Pratt, for the first time showing signs of agitation. "Things are worse than I dreamed. You are sure of what you say?"

"Absolutely. We found the watermarked paper."

"The scoundrels! You had better get away. If these fellows are an international gang of forgers they will have no scruples. The lives of you and your companions are not worth a rap. Leave me. Get away while there is time. Inform the police and leave matters in their hands."

"It's too late for that," said Pratt. "We have trussed up the man downstairs. Our only idea was to rescue you. If we left you now the others would find Jensen and know that the game is up. They might shoot you. We must get you away now at all costs."

"It is utter folly. Hare-brained adventuring! I fear you are right; it is too late. I must join forces with you when this chain is broken. I blame myself that my signals have let you young fellows into this terrible trap."

"We had suspicions before we saw them--in fact, ever since we heard about your staff of foreign servants."

"Yes, yes. I have been frightfully deluded. No doubt it is the talk of the village. I engaged my cook and gardener through an advertis.e.m.e.nt.

The cook introduced that scoundrel Gradoff as an unfortunate Russian n.o.bleman driven from his country. The plausible wretch engaged the others. They seemed a respectable, hard-working set of men. I was making hurried arrangements for a trip to North Africa via Paris.

Gradoff gave me every a.s.sistance. I was on the point of starting. They kidnapped me and shut me up here. I thought their sole motive was robbery. Gradoff tried to get me to sign cheques for large amounts. I flatly refused, of course. They adopted starvation tactics, threatened to murder me; but I have looked death in the face too often to purchase life at such a price. They dropped these efforts some time ago, but I suspected that Gradoff was forging my name, and thought he would liberate me as soon as he had fleeced me bare."

"And how did you signal, with the windows boarded up?" asked Pratt.

"With handfuls of flock from my mattress dipped in paraffin, stuck on a lath from my bed and poked up the chimney. Gradoff discovered me last night. I was in the chimney. He had gone to the roof, saw the flame emerge, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the lath from my hands. He whipped out his pistol and threatened to shoot me. I laughed at him; asked him whether he wished to add murder to forgery; he gave me a curious stare at that. I reminded him that we still retain capital punishment. He cursed me and left. This morning he brought the chain. No doubt he would have killed me if there had been anything to gain by my death; but he must have supposed that the signals had not been seen; they had had no apparent result. You say you had suspicions before you saw the signals.

Why?--apart from the usual British distrust of foreigners."

Pratt was beginning to recount the series of incidents that had occurred since the arrival on No Man's Island when there came a hail from below.

He went to the top of the stairs.

"What is it, Armstrong?"

"Can you come down for a moment?"