Crown and Sceptre Part 8

"Well, it looks like it," said Fred. "Shall we go any farther?"

"Yes, of course. I want to see what's behind the door."

Nerving himself to the effort, Scarlett stepped over the intervening s.p.a.ce, and took hold of the top bolt, which, like its fellow, was shot into a socket in the stone wall.

But the bolt was rusted to the staples, and he could not move it with one hand.

"Hold the light, Fred," he exclaimed; and his companion stood behind him, bearing both candles, as Scarlett tugged and strained and wrenched vainly at the corroded iron.

"Wants a hammer to start it," said Fred, as the interest in these proceedings drove away the sensations of nervousness. "Shall we go back and fetch one?"

"I'm--afraid--we shall have to," panted Scarlett, as he toiled and strained at the stubborn bolt. "It's of no use to try and--"

There was a sharp creak, the bolt gave way a little, and the rest was only a work of time, for by wriggling it up and down the rust was ground out, and at last it yielded and was drawn back.

"Let me have a try at the other," cried Fred; and Scarlett squeezed by him and took the candles, to stand, hot and panting, watching intently while his companion attacked the lower bolt.

This was even more compactly fixed than the other; but the thumb-piece was projecting, and Fred began on this with his foot, kicking it upward with his toe, and stamping it down again, till it gradually loosened, and, after a little more working, shot back with ease.

Fred drew away from the door then, and looked at his companion.

"Shall we open it now?" he said, with his old hesitation returning.

Scarlett did not answer for a few moments.

"Think it is a tomb?" he said.

"You said it was not," replied Fred.

"It would be very horrible if it is; I shouldn't like to look in."

The door opened from them, and, as they stood there, they could see that it had given a little, so that the edge was nearly half an inch from the stonework, and a faint, damp odour reached their nostrils.

"Don't let's be cowards," cried Fred; and, raising one foot, he placed it against the door, gave a hard thrust, and started back so suddenly that he nearly overset Scarlett with the lights.

But the door did not fly open. It only yielded a few inches, the hinges giving forth a dismal, grating sound, and for a few moments the boys stood hesitating.

"I don't care," cried Fred, excitedly. "I mean to have it open now;"

and he rushed at the door, and thrust and drove, each effort moving it a little more and a little more, the ironwork yielding with groan after groan, as if it were remonstrating for being roused from a long, long sleep, till the door struck against the wall with an echoing bang; and once more the boys hesitated.

But there was nothing to alarm them. The heavy, dank odour came more plainly, and, after a few minutes, Fred took one of the candles and advanced into a stone vault about a dozen feet square, with a very low, arched doorway opposite to them, and another flight of steps descending into darkness, while on one side lay a little heap of rusty iron in the last stages of decay.

"Why, the place is nothing but pa.s.sages and cellars," cried Fred.

"This must be the end, though," replied Scarlett, eagerly. "We have come a good way, and there should be a door at the bottom of these stairs leading into the park."

"Let's come and see, then," cried Fred, advancing boldly enough now.

"What fun if we've found another way into the--Here, Scar, look, look!"

The boy had stopped half a dozen steps down, and he was stooping and holding the candle as far as he could stretch as Scarlett reached his side.

"Water?"

"Yes; water."

"What is it--a well?"

"I don't know. We could soon tell, if we had a stick. Here! what are those at the side?"

They went back to the heap of old iron, and to their surprise found that it was a collection of old arms and armour, rusted almost beyond recognition.

From this heap they dragged a long sword, one which must have been heavy, but which was now little better than a thin collection of scales.

"This will do," said Fred, returning to the farther doorway, and descending till he was on the lowest step, where, reaching out, he tried to sound the depth.

This proved an easy task, for, as near as they could make out, the water was about a yard deep, and the steps went to the bottom, where all was level ground.

They stretched out the lights, and gazed before them to where the retreating pa.s.sage grew lower and lower, till the top of the arch seemed to have dipped down and touched the black water; and having satisfied themselves that no farther progress could be made, Fred turned and said, as he rubbed one ear--

"Now, if we were fishes or water-rats, we might find out some more.

But, I say, Scar, we've taken a deal of trouble to find out very little."

"I think we've found out a great deal," replied Scarlett. "This is no well. It's the edge of the lake, and this--"

"Nonsense!"

"I feel sure it is, and this must be a secret way into the house, hidden under water. Fred, we must have a search outside, and see if we can't find the place."

"Then you will not stay here any longer?" said Fred, throwing down the sword upon the rusty heap.

"No; let's go back now. We have found out a very curious thing; and if we can discover the way in from outside, it will be splendid."

"Come along, then," replied Fred, crossing to the heap of old armour, and stooping over it, candle in hand. "But I wonder how old these things are. Do you think we could clean the armour, and make it look bright again?"

Scarlett shook his head as he picked up the remains of an old helmet.

"It must have been a time of war when this house was built," he said thoughtfully; "and the secret pa.s.sage was forgotten when it became a time of peace."

"But it is not a time of peace now, is it? I heard that there would very likely be war."

"Who told you that?"

"I heard your father and my father talking about it; and they both grew cross, and your father soon got up and went home."

"Then your father must have said something he did not like against the king."

"My father does not like the king," said Fred, sharply.