Once on level ground--which, he was surprised to find, was paved with stone--Laurence was able once again to stand upright and stretch out his hands, without touching anything in the pitch darkness.

He found the wall at length, and moved along it. Presently it came to an end, but, like the corner of a room, met another wall running at right angles to it. Some distance farther there was a break in the cold surface of the wall. Laurence concluded that it was the mouth of a pa.s.sage leading off somewhere. He did not turn down this, though, but groped on until he reached another angle in the wall that seemed like a second corner of a room. A third time he made a similar discovery; then he came upon another pa.s.sage, unbarred, leading away he knew not where.

At last he found himself once again at the foot of the staircase down which he had come.

Plainly this pointed to the natural conclusion that he was in a large square room, in which there was apparently no living creature except himself, but out of which led two pa.s.sages, in addition to the staircase that descended from the secret attic.

As Laurence stood consulting as to what he should do next, he became aware of a m.u.f.fled sound coming from above his head. The ceiling of the place in which he stood was high. He could not reach it without standing on tiptoe, when he found it to be of wood.

The sound he heard was a regular tap-tap, as though someone was moving about in a room directly above that in which he stood. What did it mean?

Why, Laurence decided without hesitation, the sounds of footsteps were those made by Lena as she strolled about in the barn. The room in which he found himself must accordingly be exactly under the barn itself. And yet, throughout the years he and his father had spent at the Manse, not a suspicion had entered the head of either that the old barn--dating back, it was said, to the time of Cromwell--was the centre of a labyrinth of secret pa.s.sages and chambers such as it now seemed to be.

There were two courses open to him, Laurence thought to himself--to return by the narrow staircase, find his way out into the light of day, and return later with a lantern and some weapon of defence; or to take one of the two pa.s.sages which he had found, and discover whither it led.

Wisdom and common sense urged the former course; daring and, perhaps, foolhardiness clamoured for the adventure that might be the result of further exploring. And, as might have, perhaps, been expected, the verdict of common sense was dismissed, the girl waiting upstairs forgotten, and Laurence, finding one of the dark pa.s.sages close at hand, plunged into it, and, feeling his way with a hand on either wall, quickly left the square room under the barn behind him.

The pa.s.sage seemed of interminable length, nor was there any break in the wall on either side. Not a ray of light pierced the grim darkness.

Not a sound was audible save that of his own footsteps. The air was heavy with an odour of decay. Altogether the experience was one which an ordinary person would not relish. But then, as has been said, Laurence was no ordinary person. He hardly knew what fear was; the only time he had been really unnerved being after his experiences in tracking the cyclist on the moor. Every moment he considered it possible that he might encounter the man he believed to be lurking in the many possible hiding-places that there seemed to be. Yet he did not hesitate for one instant, though unarmed with so much as a walking-cane.

'Tis a long lane that has no turning, and at length the prowler in the dark was brought to a sudden standstill by his outstretched hand coming in contact with something--either a wall or a door--that completely barred his way.

Laurence fumbled about, in the hope of finding some catch or handle which would a.s.sure him that he had reached a door. He naturally presumed that it would be a door, for otherwise what would be the meaning of the long pa.s.sage were it to lead nowhere? For some little time he searched in vain, then, deciding that there was no fear of the creature into whose haunts he had penetrated being in his immediate neighbourhood, the young man struck a match and held it high above his head.

The sight that met his gaze when the light of the vesta flared up and then burned quickly before going out was a strange one, yet he was prepared for what he saw. The pa.s.sage down which he had come closely resembled a railway subway, such as that at King's Cross Station, London. Though on the whole fairly straight, it swerved once or twice in such a way that he was unable, when looking back, to see for any distance the path by which he had reached the oak door before which he was standing.

He was able to make a cursory examination of this door while the light lasted. It looked very old, and the damp stood upon it like beads of perspiration. It was heavily studded with iron k.n.o.bs, and there was a ma.s.sive-looking lock at the foot of it, and another near the top.

Undoubtedly the man who had built the pa.s.sage and this door had taken good care to have the best work put into them. What was the builder's scheme--the cause of all the secrecy? Nothing more likely than that it was an illegal one.

But Laurence's meditations on this subject were cut short by a sound that fell upon his ear.

Someone was talking--someone on the other side of the oak door.

The sounds became louder. Two persons were speaking, one in loud and rough tones. They were approaching the door behind which he stood.

As they drew nearer Laurence became aware of a gleam of light that shot through the keyhole of the lock at the top of the door. In an instant he was standing on the bottom lock, clinging by his hands to the iron k.n.o.bs. With his eye to the keyhole he was able to see through into what looked like a s.p.a.cious lobby or hall. The figures of two men were standing facing one another half a dozen yards away, their faces lit up by the yellow glare from a candle that the shorter one of them was carrying. But for this artificial light the hall would have been as dark as the pa.s.sage in which Laurence stood. As it was, the watcher was enabled to get a good view of the men's features. To his amazement he discovered that the speakers were none other than Doctor Meadows and his convict servant Horncastle.

The discovery so startled young Carrington that in his astonishment he slipped from the protruding ledge on which he was standing and dropped with a clatter upon the stone pavement.

Both men turned suddenly and glanced in the direction whence the sound appeared to come.

As quietly as possible Laurence clambered up again and peered through, to find the two faces staring straight at him. How was it that they did not guess there was someone behind the door? They certainly did not, for Horncastle exclaimed--

"Drat them rats! The place is haunted by 'em."

"Are you sure that was a rat?" asked Meadows. "The noise was much greater than any I ever heard a rat make. There must be a colony of them--or is it possible that there is something else behind the panels of that wall? The house agent mentioned to me a secret room." He lowered his voice. Laurence did not catch what his words were. Then he went on--

"If that were the case there might be someone--someone suspicious; you know what I mean--overlooking us. Of course, the idea is absurdly improbable. Suppose we look behind that oak panelling, though? We can put it all back; we will, at any rate, drive the rats away."

"Well, you're a queer one, you are. Suspicious as I don't know what. I'm game, then, only I 'aves my pint o' gin afterwards, or else--or else I'll blab to that messing Carrington chap about----"

And to the eavesdropper's extreme annoyance, Horncastle broke off short when Laurence was thinking himself to be on the verge of a discovery acquired--though, in his excitement, he forgot all that--by means that could hardly be considered of exemplary fairness.

As the two men moved towards where he stood, Laurence's interest gave way to dismay. What might not these unscrupulous folks do when they discovered eavesdropping a man who had betrayed grave suspicions of the nature of their "secret"? At any rate, Laurence realised that he had a good start, and, as Doctor Meadows, throwing down a dog-whip which he had held in his hand, moved towards the panelling and ordered his convict servant to fetch the necessary tools, Carrington moved noiselessly down from his perch. He was about to turn back and effect his escape, when something--something like the lash of a whip--brushed past his face and suddenly caught his neck. At the same time two hands from out of the darkness behind seemed to strike against the sides of his head, a knee was planted in the small of his back, a leg seemed to entwine itself round his, and, like a flash of lightning, his senses left him, as Laurence Carrington fell like a dead man upon the stone pavement of the secret pa.s.sage.

CHAPTER XXV

IN THE OAK-PANELLED HALL

It seemed to him like an age, but was really only a few minutes, before Laurence Carrington recovered consciousness. When he did so it was with a violent pain in his head and neck.

Old "Doctor Meadows" was bending over him as he lay on a bench in the hall at which he had peeped through the keyhole of the great oak door.

The servant, Horncastle, was not to be seen.

Laurence struggled to rise, but the burning pain in his neck, and a feeling of dizziness and extreme weakness, prevented him. The "doctor"

motioned to him to keep still.

"You will be better soon," he said encouragingly; "thank Heaven we were in time, or the brute would have done for you. Strange, stranger than strange," he went on, half aloud, "that we should have returned from the distant East, have allowed a couple of dozen years to pa.s.s without being so much as aware whether each other still lived, and that--that we should come together like this."

Laurence saw that he was thinking aloud. He waited silently to hear what the old gentleman would say further. But though the young man could see his companion's lips moving, he was disappointed, in that the "doctor"

concluded his thoughts on the subject beneath his breath.

"What happened?" Laurence asked at length. "It was 'it' that attacked me, was it not?"

"Yes, 'it,'" replied the "doctor," with a shake of his head. "I trust,"

he went on, "that Horncastle will catch him."

"I should think," replied Laurence, "that the terrible enemy of my father and your convict servant would make a good match."

The old man leaped back as though shot.

"You know that?" he cried, evidently referring to Carrington's allusion to Horncastle--"you know that? What else do you know?"

Laurence shook his head.

"Not very much," he answered with a smile, as he raised himself to a sitting posture. "And you?"

"Me! Well, I know everything."

"What!" the young man shouted, "you know who my father's enemy is?"

"I do."

"And you know my father. What else do YOU know?"