Don knew it would be useless to try and get out of the door back of Dennings, and without answering the man he began to run down the dark hall that led to the front of the farmhouse. Dennings sprang after him in swift pursuit. When Don reached the hall which opened from the narrow passage he found that he had no time to try and open a door. Dennings was close behind him so the cadet turned at the foot of the stairs and ran rapidly up them. His pursuer followed unhesitatingly, and Don rushed into a bedroom in the center of the place and slammed the door. To his joy he found a bolt on the inside and he shot it closed just as Dennings threw his weight against the door.
“You open that door!” shouted the man, kicking savagely against the lower part of the wooden barrier.
“Nothing doing!” Don panted, leaning against the door. “You can’t come in here, Mr. Dennings!”
There was a pause and then Dennings spoke up. “Well, never mind, kid. I was told to keep you a prisoner until I heard from the major, and that’s what you are now. You saved me the trouble of locking you up myself.”
“Seems to me like I did the locking,” Don replied.
A key was thrust into the lock and to Don’s dismay it was turned with a sharp clicking noise. A chuckle came from the other side.
“Just doing a little locking of my own,” Dennings informed him. “You’ll just stay where you are for some time, boy. Don’t waste your time calling or pounding. No one will hear you out here.”
He walked away from the outside of the door and Don could hear him going down the front stairs. He shook the door, after drawing his bolt, and found that it was tightly locked. Then he turned to examine the room, a task that did not take him long. It was unfurnished, and the two windows were boarded up tightly. There was only the one door and a single deep closet with a shelf. Otherwise there was not a single object in the room.
“Well here’s a pretty mess,” reflected Don, in disgust. “Ran my head right into a noose. So the major is deeply concerned in all of this business, eh? Not a doubt in the world but what he knows very well where the colonel is, too. If I get a chance I’ll certainly ruin their little game.”
He set to work to find a way out of his prison, but after an hour of searching he gave up. The door was solid and the windows were well boarded. There were no other openings. He stopped and began to consider seriously his position. As there was no fire any place in the house he was beginning to feel chilled through, and he fell to rubbing his hands.
Three hours passed in this way and it grew darker in the room. The only light which entered the place filtered in through cracks in the boards, and it was not until some snow drifted in that Don realized what was causing the darkness. The threatened snowstorm had arrived.
Once more he looked around the room and his eyes fell on the closet. He opened the door and looked around the little compartment, but the walls were as firmly built as the rest of the room, and he had no hope of breaking through them. Then he looked at the ceiling above the shelf and a new thought struck him.
“Perhaps the ceiling above the shelf is not so strong as the rest,” he thought. “Might as well give it a try.”
The next problem was to climb upon the shelf. He tried the strength of the boards by hanging on them with all his weight suspended and he found that they would stand the strain. Using the door frame for his hands and feet he scrambled up on the shelf and sat there panting for a moment, to regain his breath. Then he reached up and pressed the ceiling with his hands.
The plaster was soft and the ceiling springy. It was evident that a layer of lath was the only covering, and he felt confident of breaking through that. Sliding forward on his back he raised one foot and sent his heel crashing against the ceiling of the closet. The heel broke through the soft plaster and the wood above splintered loudly. A shower of powdery plaster sprinkled over him, but he did not care for that. Much encouraged he sent another kick and still another against the ceiling, until his feet had crashed out a jagged hole in the plaster.
Now he sat up and carefully removed the fragments which hung around the ragged hole. He had broken a place between two beams, an opening large enough to admit his body, and when he had torn the splinters away he stood up and thrust his head and shoulders through the opening. Although he could see very little he realized that he was half way in an attic, and it took him but a brief instant to raise his body and haul himself to the level of the floor. He stood up and knew that he was free, for the moment at least.
His next task was to find the stairs. This took him several minutes, for the attic was dark by this time, and he had to proceed with caution. But at length he located them and began a careful descent. A door stood at the foot of the steps. He opened it and after a hasty look around, stepped out into the upper hall.
There was no sound in the house and Don made his way to the head of the stairs up which he had run a few hours ago. He looked over the railing and peered into the darkness below, but there was no light to be seen anywhere. Perhaps Dennings had gone away, and if such was the case he was free to get out of the house and make for the lake. He had no future plan in mind, but his sole idea was to get out of the farmhouse.
He made his way down the stairs with increasing boldness and arrived safely at the lower landing. The windows in the downstairs floor were unbroken and not all boarded up, and if he found that he could not raise one he was planning to break his way out and to freedom. He tiptoed into the living room and was making his way toward the nearest window when hasty steps sounded on the front porch. Someone stamped the snow from his feet and a key rattled in the lock. Waiting until the door was swung inward Don smashed the glass with a single kick and jumped the sill, landing on the porch with a bound. A startled cry sounded near him and he turned to run.
But the new-fallen snow proved his undoing. It was slippery and he fell. Scrambling desperately, he managed to get to his knees, but it was too late. Someone loomed up in the darkness and grasped him by the collar.
“Got him, chief,” cried a strange voice, and the grip on his collar tightened. With the quickness of thought Don brought his fists up against the chin of the man who had hold of him. The blow was a hard one and the man grunted in anger, but did not loosen his grip. The man who had entered the house ran up at that minute and Dennings grasped him by the arm.
“Thought you’d get away, did you, sonny?” asked the man, pushing his face close to Don’s. “Well, we were too fast for you that time.”
“You had better let me go,” cried Don, struggling furiously. “This will mean a lot of trouble for you if you don’t.”
“It would mean a lot more trouble if we did,” returned Dennings. “March him in the house, Dan.”
Between them they pushed Don into the hall and out into the kitchen, where the leader lighted a candle. Don discovered that the man who had captured him was a powerfully built man, with a rough, hard face and narrow eyes. He kept his grasp on the cadet’s arm until Dennings ordered him to let go.
“He won’t get away again, Dan,” Dennings promised, as he looked Don over. “How did you manage to get out of that room?”
“I just walked out,” Don replied, briefly.
“I see,” nodded Dennings. “Won’t talk, eh? Well, it is perfectly all right, son. We were just coming to get you anyway, so you saved us the trouble of going upstairs. I’ll find out how you got out some other time.” He turned to Dan. “I guess it’s safe to get him over now, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” growled the man, rubbing his chin where Don had hit him.
“Then let’s go,” said Dennings. “Just keep a tight hold on him, and if he tries to get away, you know what to do.”
“You bet I do!” the man replied. “I hope he does try something. I’ll pay him back for that crack on the chin with interest.”
Dennings lighted a lantern and led the way out of the house, Dan and the unwilling Don following. It was snowing lightly at the time and Don found that the ground was covered to a depth of two inches. The ev
ening was clear and cold, and a keen wind was blowing. Dennings ranged himself beside Don and the three made their way through the woods side by side in silence, going away from the house and parallel with the lake.
“The snow will cover up any footprints,” observed Dan, as they went along, and Dennings nodded.
“See here, where are you taking me?” demanded Don, as they plunged deeper into the woods.
“You’ll know soon enough,” Dennings growled, swinging the lantern before him. “Keep quiet and come along, or it will be the worse for you.”
Seeing that obedience would be the best policy Don hurried along, glad of the opportunity to walk briskly and keep his blood in circulation. They skirted the shore for a distance of a mile or more and then the two men turned abruptly toward the water. Just before they reached the edge of the lake they came to a dense tangle of brush and creepers, and cleverly concealed under this natural bower Don was astonished to find a low boathouse.
Leaving him in charge of Dan, who kept an iron grip on his arm, Dennings unlocked the door of the hidden boathouse and dragged out a round-bottomed rowboat. Dan pushed the boy into it and followed, and Dennings, after putting out the lantern, took his place at the oars. Under Dennings’ expert guidance, the boat headed for the opposite shore.
The snow continued to drift down over the boat and the three men in it. They were at the lower end of the body of water, a part that Don was not familiar with, and it took them less than a half hour to gain the shore upon which the school stood. Don wondered if they were going to take him directly to the school, but as he could see no reasonable excuse for doing that he gave the problem up. When they had reached the other side they got out and Dennings led the way along the shore in the direction of the school.
They followed the shore for a distance of three quarters of a mile and the outline of Clanhammer Hall loomed before them. They were making straight for the old building. In an instant some inkling of the truth came to him, and when at last they stood on the stone steps and Morton Dennings took a key from his pocket, his guess became a certainty. They were indeed going to enter Clanhammer Hall.
“Well,” reflected Don grimly as the door was swung open. “We fellows agreed to break into Clanhammer Hall tonight, but it looks as if I would be the only one to get in, after all. All I hope is that I can break out of it once I get in.”
Dennings pushed him through the open doorway, into the blackness of the school and stepped in himself, followed by Dan. The door was closed and locked and then Dennings again took his arm.
“Now I guess we have you where you won’t break out in a hurry,” he said. And then he turned and whistled loudly into the darkness.
CHAPTER 16
Vench Learns Something
Jim and Terry noted with some astonishment that Don failed to attend any of his classes that morning. They were aware of the fact that he contemplated going to the major and asking for a change in his schedule, but why he had not appeared during the course of the first class they did not know. As the second and the third class came and Don had not appeared, they found themselves growing anxious.
After the third period Jim ran up to their room, to see if Don had become ill, but he was not there. His hat and overcoat were both gone, a circumstance which caused some lively speculation. He was not there at dinnertime, and after their last period Jim and Terry hunted up the major and asked him about Don.
The major looked interested and tapped his glasses on his thumb. “He was coming here to see me about a change in lessons, eh?” asked the major. “But, gentlemen, he never did come here. I haven’t seen him at all. You say his overcoat and hat are gone?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jim.
“How very odd,” commented the major. “He certainly wouldn’t have left the building without permission, and no one gave him that, I’m sure. Wait until I call Captain Chalmers.”
Captain Chalmers had not given Don permission to go anywhere, it developed. The major was more puzzled than ever. He went to their room with them and looked about carefully, but nothing was found.
“This is most unexpected and disturbing,” declared the major. “We must find out from town if any of the cadets were seen there.”
A telephone call to town failed to lead to the discovery of the missing boy. It was with anxious hearts that Jim and Terry went to the supper table that night.
The news of Don’s strange disappearance spread over the school like wildfire and the cadets dropped in to see Jim and express their sympathy and their determination to help if possible. It was on that evening that one lone clue was discovered. A man who worked in the kitchen told Chipps that he had seen Don go out the back door and head for the lake. Jim and Terry went to see this man, but he had no news but what he had told Chipps.
“He had on his hat and his overcoat,” the man told Jim. “And he went down to the boathouse. That’s all I saw of him. I only noticed it because I thought it was funny he wasn’t in class. I don’t know if he went into the boathouse or not.”
The major dropped in to tell them that he had put off his business trip until Don should be found. Jim thanked him for his interest and thought.
“Oh, nonsense,” protested the major, waving his hand. “I’m deeply interested in all of my boys, and of course I wouldn’t rest easily until he had been found.”
The light fall of snow, which the boys had looked forward to with eagerness, was disregarded in their new anxiety. It made the school and its surrounding hills a picture of beauty, but the boys were not in a mood to enjoy it. After a restless night Jim and Terry again attended classes, but they did poorly and the instructors said nothing about it, knowing the strain the young men were under. During noon recess Rhodes, Jim and Terry decided to push a vigorous search as soon as classes were over.
“It seems to me,” argued the senior, “that we might be able to pick up some tracks somewhere in this snow. We don’t know how far he could have gotten before the snow, but if he was traveling after it did begin to come down there are tracks somewhere and we’ll try to find ’em. They may be across the lake.”
“What would he be doing across the lake?” Jim asked.
Rhodes shrugged his shoulders. “What did he go away for?” he asked. “No one knows, but we do know that he went toward the lake, at least toward the boathouse. The very first thing we’ll find out after classes is whether or not a boat was taken from the boathouse. I don’t know what he would cross the lake for but he may have and we can make a good attempt to find out.”
Every cadet in the school had Don’s disappearance on his mind and no one was more puzzled and interested than Cadet Vench. He turned the problem over and over in his mind and he longed to be of service. Back in his head the idea was firmly seated that he should be the one to find the missing cadet. That would give him a chance to even his score with Jim for his heroic act at Hill 31, and Vench decided to put his whole mind and energy to the problem.
As soon as classes had ended that day Vench put on his overcoat and walked swiftly to the lake. It had not occurred to him to check up on the boats to see if one had been taken, but he planned to scour the edge of the lakefront in both directions. He was now walking along the shore away from the school, wholly absorbed in watching the snow-covered ground, when he heard his name called. Even as he glanced up he knew that the voice was unfamiliar and had a slight accent to it. Then, a few yards before him he saw the man who had cut him dead in the drugstore, Paul Morro.
Instinctively, Vench stiffened and grew cold. Morro had evidently been taking a walk around the lake path and the meeting was quite accidental, and Vench, who knew Morro’s love for nature in all aspects, could readily guess that the Frenchman was walking merely for the sheer pleasure of the day and the prospect of the magnificent view. Comparing the attitude of the man on the previous meeting to his friendly attitude now, there was something to wonder about. Vench was astonished that his friend of former days should so readily hail him. Vench bowed distant
ly.
Morro strode forward and held out his hand. “How do you do, Raoul?” greeted Morro impulsively. Then, seeing that Vench had no intention of taking his hand the artist hurried on, “My dear friend, forgive me for not speaking to you the last time I saw you. It was so totally unexpected, so much of a shock, that I could not speak or collect my wits. Won’t you forget my rudeness?”
“It struck me as being a bit queer to treat me like that after the type of friend I have always been to you, Paul,” answered Vench still aloof.
“I know, my dear friend, and I apologize. Won’t you forgive me?”
He looked appealingly at Vench, and the cadet relented so far as to shake hands briefly with him. Morro fell into step beside him and they followed the edge of the water together.
“I had no idea that you were a student in this academy,” Paul Morro said to him. “I often wondered what had become of you after you returned from Paris.”
“I wrote to you several times,” Vench retorted. “You did not answer.”
Morro smiled, showing a set of unusually white teeth. “You must blame that on my artistic temperament, my friend,” he said. “I meant to, but never got to it.”
“I see,” said Vench, evenly. “What are you doing here, Paul?”
The Frenchman hesitated. “I cannot tell you that, my friend,” he declared, at last. “I am employed by the man with whom you saw me, and I am not at liberty to disclose his secrets.”
“Very well,” said Vench. “I don’t want to know, if that is the case. Would you like to go back and look around the academy?”
Morro smiled. “I have seen quite a bit of your academy, my friend. Your headmaster is a most mysterious man.”
“What do you mean?” asked Vench, stopping suddenly.
“What do you keep in that old building, that Clanhammer Hall?” Morro countered.
“There is nothing in there,” Vench declared. “That is, there is nothing important. Some desks and old books and several portraits, that is all.”
The Mercer Boys at Woodcrest Page 10