He knew where there was a torch, to check it, so he pulled himself away.
In a room along the corridor, he found the torch, and he speedily returned. And he climbed back in, and instantly saw its true size, and that it went further down than the room below, deep beneath the castle.
He thought of other castles, as he tried to work out why the builders would have logically added it to the castle. And he concluded that it had to be for ventilation! The people at that time did not have tightly confined buildings: they could easily have believed that they could suffocate in such places.
But what about the chimneys, why would they not have done? And why was it so large? And where was the opening that allowed the air to flow in?
His breathing echoed down into its abyss, and its coldness made him imagine clouds of steam pouring out of his mouth, into its darkness at the edge of him, out of the range of the torch beam.
His mind could not imagine anything.
He shone the torch upwards, and saw the end of the shaft, near the roof.
At the end of the corridor, behind him, he heard voices coming towards him, and he pulled himself out.
In the corridor, he saw Merton and Mortimer strolling towards him, probably wondering where he was. He had not arrived back, when they had expected him to.
“What’s happened?” Merton asked, shifting awkwardly, looking at the dust covering him.
“It’s not a chimney,” he quickly remarked, moving back to the room.
“We can’t leave you on your own ...” Merton joked, astonished, entering the room, wondering what he had been doing.
Bryson handed Mortimer the torch, and he climbed onto the bed.
Merton went over to the window to observe the police.
Mortimer reached in, ignoring the dirt.
“It could be for ventilation,” he confirmed.
Bryson nodded once, showing that he agreed.
Merton looked at it. “It could be something like one of those small lifts that they use in hotels to hoist things up.”
Mortimer pulled himself out, while Merton shuffled his way to it. “Or it could have been used in the construction of the castle. That would explain why they hid it.”
After a few minutes, Merton seemed to see something in it.
“What is it?”
Merton pushed himself further in, moving the torch about inside it. “Did you see those holes down there?”
“I never saw them!”
“There are small holes going into other places. They’re all the way through it! It has to be for something like ventilation.”
He carefully considered something else, and he ignored it.
As he removed himself from it, Bryson moved back into it.
He instantly saw the holes at the places that Merton had looked. They were like the outlets of drainpipes, going into a sewer pipe. Perhaps it, in fact, had been an old sewer shaft, which led outside.
They obviously had built the castle toilets much later. Its strange design could have been an early invention, perhaps made by the builders. The relics of some Roman structures had them! Yet it did look more like a ventilation shaft! He could recall seeing something like it in the wall of another castle, which workmen were repairing.
“It would be interesting to find out where it leads,” he spoke, clambering out of it. “Did you have anything to eat?”
“I could do with something,” Merton replied, delighted, and Mortimer agreed.
“Let’s clean up some of this mess first,” Mortimer explained, brushing some of the dirt on the bed inwards with his hand. “It really is only on the bed.”
“If we can shift that block of stone into the corner ...!” Bryson continued.
Mortimer went onto the bed, feeling it, making sure that it did not collapse any further under his weight, and he cleaned some dirt out of the hole, onto the bed.
Bryson and Merton joined in, and then Mortimer wrapped the outer bed sheet around the block. Then they lifted it off the bed, and shifted into the corner of the room – out of sight.
Bryson closed the door tightly shut, and they left. He did not want to draw too much attention to it.
He tried to recall what group had been working there.
As they walked into the dining room, Bryson saw that most of the others were there.
And he sat opposite Inspector Bailey, and a policewoman shifted from her distant seat to sit next to Inspector Bailey.
“What were you doing out there?” Bryson asked Sarah, trying not to speak too loud, and only put a slight noise into the background sounds.
“We were looking for another building,” she explained, trying not to look devious about something.
She took a sip of coffee, and gently placed it on its saucer, sensing some annoyance from them about it.
“How did you end up away out there though?”
She shrugged her shoulders, showing that she had no part in what had occurred, and that she did not wish to explain any further than she had done.
Inspector Bailey seemed to realize that they had not realized the trouble that they had caused.
He captured his attention for a moment, and continued to digest a piece of potato. And he lifted a smoldering cigarette from an ashtray, next to him, breathed it deep into his lungs, and blew it away from him, in their general direction.
“I heard that you had your detection equipment at the tombs out there!” he muttered.
“We did,” Merton replied first.
“Why did you go back to the tombs?”
Mortimer reached into his jacket pocket, and he removed the small tape recorder. Then he played with it, activating it.
“We left behind this noise-activated recorder in the vault. We went out to collect it! There are some sounds on it of the reporter going in there. He seems to have gone back to the tombs after we left ...”
“You met him at the vault! What do you think he had been doing there?”
“We don’t know,” Mortimer replied, switching on the machine. “He could have been looking for the money. He did not stay long. There are sounds on it of him going in, and us arriving. After it, you’ll hear him returning there, before he went to where he died.”
Mortimer handed the machine over to him.
Inspector Bailey put it near his ear, and listened.
“That’s intriguing,” he muttered, handing it back, looking slightly puzzled.
Bryson took it from Mortimer, wondering if he would hear anything else on it. He had not heard it that well the first time, because of its low battery power. And it clearly did sound different.
He listened to the sounds of James’s friends leaving, with a slight amusement. Then the reporter arriving, when he had gone to the tomb. And he turned the volume up to try to hear him. He instantly heard a noise of him shifting something heavy, over stone. And, when he had returned after they had left, he heard the sound again, similar to the noise, as if he had returned something that he had altered.
“What have you found?” Inspector Bailey asked, noticing his reactions.
“Do you want to go over there to check?” Merton asked, guessing what was going to come next.
“If you wish ...” Inspector Bailey answered.
“He could’ve hidden something there ...”
Chapter 48
Underground Explorations
Inspector Bailey rushed down the vault stairs, grasping his torch, as though he expected something dangerous to leap out at him.
His reactions created a tense atmosphere amongst them, making Bryson wonder if all the policemen were reacting like him.
It was phenomenal, they were holding a full murder inquiry over in the trees, with them still searching for genetic evidence, as it grew dark.
Inspector Bailey was not stupid, and he did not push things too far, if he could help it.
Bryson led Inspector Bailey over to where the reporter had been standing. The place looked much different in the bright light of all their tor
ches, and he was now able to see William Randall’s tomb properly.
Inspector Bailey moved at the ground, shifting his light downwards, creating a bright circle of light where he could closely examine the dirt.
Webs, pieces of vegetation, and layers of dirt covered everything.
In the dim outer illumination, Bryson watched Merton and Mortimer’s tense faces patiently waiting for the outcome, or for something to occur.
Inspector Bailey placed the torch at his side, rubbed his hands hard together, and moved his fingers as though he were going to carry out delicate surgery. He eventually shifted to another position, to allow them to see that there were faint shoe marks on the ground near him.
He then started brushing the dirt away, delicately removing it, and looking for traces of anything.
Bryson recognized a small hole in a slab – surely designed for some type of lifting contraption.
Inspector Bailey shoved a small stick in it, and used it to give it a hard pull up, lifting the entire slab a couple of inches.
Bryson recalled testing the floor near there.
It was where the reporter had been standing.
Merton shifted about breaking the deep silence, and Inspector Bailey carefully lifted the slab.
Bryson noticed a shaft, and that it would have prevented water flooding the vault floor. Small amounts of water had seeped through cracks, flowing down into it.
“Are we going to check it?” Inspector Bailey asked, trying to make them come to a conclusion.
Inspector Bailey looked uncertain at what it was.
It reminded Bryson of the shaft that he had seen in the room. But when he thought of it, he did not have a clue what it was. What was a tunnel doing in a vault? Why had they gone to such lengths to construct it? What hidden motive had been behind it?
They had to have built it for logical reasons, as all the constructions, which he could recall, of that era had been built for. They had built them for their needs!
“Perhaps it’s another part of the burial chamber,” Merton spoke, trying to recollect something such as it; maybe even from his memories of Egyptian tombs.
“Therefore, we’re going down into it!” Inspector Bailey forced himself to announce.
He pointed the light straight in front of him, illuminating part of the ground, and a few feet further down into it. And he lunged at it, as if he had decided that he would have to go into it eventually. He shifted down, examining steps, going into the darkness, which seemed to go down endlessly.
“Are you coming!” he yelled back at them, making Bryson move in next, startled at his actions.
Its main feature was its neat size, making it resemble an ancient mine, but more expertly constructed than that, as though built to last a long time, like an ancient sewer.
Further in, they had cemented bricks around it, like a Victorian sewer, which led him to believe that its age might not be as old as the castle. But it was too much in the same style.
The tunnel, when it stopped descending, noticeably went endlessly on into the distance, in a direction where there was nothing but woods, and they marched off into, preparing themselves.
What dangers could it hold? Did it have something of an incomprehensible nature existing in its darkness?
All the significations of it were startling! He had not even believed that the money could be under the wood, and there was a tunnel going under it.
The vault vanished behind them, and it even felt absurd that they were going so far into it. It was like something that was out of place, and should not have been there. Especially not at a burial site. Nothing seemed to put a conclusion to what it had been needed for, and why they had gone to such lengths to construct it.
Questions endlessly went through his mind, as he followed Inspector Bailey’s dark figure trudging on like a soldier into it, behind a beam of light.
He was sure that he had his gun, but his hand did not go near it; almost as though he believed a gun would not do any good. He seemed obsessed with handling his fantasy situation more than anything!
“Do you want one?” Merton moaned, handing him his cigarettes, as he blew out smoke about him; and he took one from him to break the endless routine.
He made sure Inspector Bailey took one, and he lighted it for him.
Bryson strolled on, blissfully smoking, wondering where they were going. They clearly were still under the wood, roots from trees had smashed their way through the brickwork, and they even had to avoid hitting some, going straight through.
It was surprising that it had not flooded with all the cracks and holes. But he saw signs that it had occurred, and saw a thick layer of dried mud over the stones under his feet.
There was no real chance of water leaking through anyway, as it would only snow.
“This could lead to that other structure, which we were looking for in the wood,” Mortimer announced loudly, from behind them.
“But why design and build a tunnel going from one building to another?” Bryson moaned back, to see what his reply would be.
The question hung in the air for a long time, with him trying to think of the conclusion. Even when he illogically thought about it, he could not find an answer.
Inspector Bailey lost his temper a few times, even with a cigarette, flaring away at his mouth, with the smoke spinning through the thin air behind him.
The mystery of where it led to was certainly the main inspiration that kept them going, seeking an answer, driving them on, no matter what.
If they turned back, they would never know, so they ought to keep going.
He realized that none of them would have believed that it went out to that length. Inspector Bailey might even have avoided going. His pace was slowing, his walk had changed, and he was struggling to keep going at a fast pace.
He was sure that he wished that he had ordered his men to go in it for him.
Bryson noticed that he took it for granted that the tunnel had not collapsed anywhere, and that they would not have to journey back.
There was something about that reporter and his casual attitude that gave him the impression that it had. If it was correct, then it surely proved that he had been in it before, and that would count out the money being at the end of it.
Bryson spotted something, in the distance, and his reaction instantly caught Inspector Bailey’s attention. And he went slowly, with his head facing there.
His head then went back to where it had been, watching the tunnel about him, making sure that nothing was in his way. But Bryson continued to examine what it was, and saw something blocking the tunnel ahead.
Merton and Mortimer soon noticed the problem, and Bryson attempted to hear their silent discussion. And he saw that they did not come to any real conclusion.
As they approached it, Inspector Bailey suddenly exploded with anger, and then held himself calm, on the brink of losing his patience, while he marched on.
“Why did they build a wall there?” Merton finally moaned, trying to obtain an answer, to such absurdity.
The four of them stood, resting, glancing at individual sections of the wall.
“They could have built another structure there,” Merton remarked. “Where do you think this is?”
Bryson saw that none of them knew, and that they had not been able to trace the direction with all the bends that had been in it.
Inspector Bailey started feeling along the edge of the wall, where there was a crack, going around it.
“We could shove it over,” Merton spoke, looking at it, showing Bryson a smile.
“That’ll not be necessary,” Inspector Bailey answered. “Even though that may do ... I believe that the reporter has been here. And perhaps someone else!”
Bryson waited to see what he was talking about before doing anything. And he watched Inspector Bailey touch something, hidden between the side bricks, and push the wall. He then shifted it, showing them that it was a hidden door, made of bricks and cement, with thick metal hinges.
Behind it, a set of steps went upwards, somewhere, and Inspector Bailey crept up them.
Maybe it even led into the killer’s home, or hiding place. By the stones in the walls, he was sure that it was a large ancient structure.
Bryson realized that it would now be very dark outside, and that they would need to go back through the dark wood.
The stairs were perpendicular, while the height that they moved up to grew unrealistic, until his imagination could not stretch that far.
Suddenly, Inspector Bailey became aware of something, and had them climbing back down.
Once he arrived at the bottom, he tried to see the other tunnel, at the side of it.
“Why was that camouflaged to resemble part of the tunnel?” he declared, astonished.
Bryson then recognized the wall next to it, at the front of the stairs, and he shoved it, and walked into the brighter storeroom, at the back of the castle kitchen.
Chapter 49
Deadliest Menace
Bryson’s dreams had been surreal, and of an incomprehensible nature. Shimmering lights and freakish sounds had whirled about him like an immense vortex.
And he calmly sat upright on the end of the bed!
He noted the air, and that it was cool and calm in the room. But he spotted that there was a blanket of snow falling outside. He remembered being in a huddled posture, with blankets tightly wrapped about him.
An array of silent knocks made the door vibrate. And he stopped breathing slowly.
Bryson sighed, and shifted across the floor, listening for sounds from the outer corridor.
He swiftly unlocked it, and pulled it slightly open.
Merton and Mortimer stood outside, suggesting something was along the corridor. Bryson nodded, and closed the door.
He quickly dressed, but when he opened the door, they were gone. So he shut the door, and went to the room, wondering what they were doing. It had to be significant, as they had been positive about it being a good idea to wake him, in the middle of the night.
Before he arrived at the room, he gasped, hearing the sounds blaring out. It then mildly amused him, as it were as if Merton and Mortimer had two creatures fighting each other in the room. He tried to compare it to his dream, but he could not notice any connection.
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