CHAPTER XXI
SPIRIT RAPPING?
Farquhar and Captain Kilmeny left next day for another short huntingtrip. The captain had offered to give it up, but Moya had urged upon himthat it would not be fair to disappoint his companion. He had gonereluctantly, because he saw that his fiancee was worried. His ownopinion was that his cousin Jack had disappeared for reasons of his own.
Colter did not relax in his search. But as the days passed hope almostdied within him. Jack had plenty of enemies, as an aggressive fighter ina new country always must have. His friend's fear was that some of themhad decoyed Kilmeny to his death. The suspicions of the miner centeredupon Peale and Trefoyle, both because Jack had so recently had troublewith them and because they knew beforehand of his intention to removethe ore. But he could find no evidence upon which to base his feeling,though he and Curly, in company with a deputy sheriff, had put theCornishmen through a grilling examination.
It had been understood that the young women should take a trip throughthe Never Quit before they left Goldbanks, but for one reason or anotherthis had been postponed until after the captain and Farquhar had startedon their final hunting expedition. The second afternoon after theirdeparture was the one decided upon for the little adventure.
Verinder, with the extravagance that went hand in hand with anoccasional astonishing parsimony, had ordered oilskin suits andwaterproof boots made especially for his guests. A room was reserved forthe young ladies at the mine, equipped for this one occasion to serve asa boudoir where they might dress in comfort.
The mine owner's guests donned, with a good deal of hilarious merriment,the short skirts, the boots, and the rubber helmets. The costumes couldnot have been called becoming, but they were eminently suited for thewet damp tunnels of the Never Quit.
After they had entered the cage it was a little terrifying to be shot sorapidly down into the blackness of the mine.
"Don't be afraid. It's quite safe," Bleyer told them cheerfully.
At the tenth level the elevator stopped and they emerged into an openspace.
"We're going to follow this drift," explained the superintendent.
They seated themselves in ore cars and were wheeled into a cavernlighted at intervals by electric bulbs. Presently the cars slowed downand the occupants descended.
"This way," ordered Bleyer.
They followed in single file into a hot, damp tunnel, which drippedmoisture in big drops from the roof upon a rough, uneven floor of stoneand dirt where pools of water had occasionally gathered. The darknessincreased as they moved forward, driven back by the candles of the menfor a space scarce farther than they could reach with outstretchedhands.
Moya, bringing up the rear, could hear Bleyer explain the workings tothose at his heel. He talked of stopes, drifts, tunnels, wage scales,shifts, high-grade ore, and other subjects that were as Greek to Joyceand India. The atmosphere was oppressively close and warm, and theoilskins that Moya wore seemed to weigh heavily upon her. She becameaware with some annoyance at herself that a faintness was stealing overher brain and a mistiness over her eyes. To steady herself she stopped,catching at the rough wall for support. The others, unaware that she wasnot following, moved on. With a half articulate little cry she sank tothe ground.
When she came to herself the lights had disappeared. She was alone inthe most profound darkness she had ever known. It seemed to press uponher so ponderably as almost to be tangible. The girl was frightened. Herimagination began to conjure all sorts of dangers. Of cave-ins andexplosions she had heard and read a good deal. Anything was possible inthis thousand-foot deep grave. In a frightened, ineffective little voiceshe cried out to her friends.
Instantly there came an answer--a faint tapping on the wall almost ather ear. She listened breathlessly, and caught again that faint fartap--tap--tap--tap--tap--tap--tap. Instinctively her hand went out,groping along the wall until it fell upon a pipe. Even as she touchedthis the sound came again, and along with it the faintest of vibrations.She knew that somebody at a distance was hitting the pipe with a pieceof quartz or metal.
Stooping, she found a bit of broken rock. Three times she tapped thepipe. An answer came at once.
Tap--tap--tap--tap--tap--tap--tap!
She tried two knocks. Again the response of seven taps sounded. Fourblows brought still seven. Why always seven? She did not know, but shewas greatly comforted to know that her friends were in communicationwith her. After all she was not alone.
A light glimmered at the end of the tunnel and moved slowly toward her.Bleyer's voice called her name. Presently the whole party was about herwith sympathetic questions and explanations.
She made light of her fainting attack, but Verinder insisted on gettingher back to the upper air in spite of her protests. He had discoveredthat Joyce was quite ready to return to the sunlight, now that hercuriosity was satisfied. A very little of anything that was unpleasantwent a long way with Miss Seldon, and there was something about thisunderground tomb that reminded her strongly of an immense grave.
At dinner Verinder referred to the attack of vertigo. "Feel quite fitagain, Miss Dwight?"
"Quite, thank you." Moya was a little irritated at the reference,because she was ashamed of having given way to physical weakness. "Itwas nothing. I was a goose. That's all."
Bleyer, a guest for the evening, defended the young woman from her ownscorn. "It often takes people that way the first time, what with theheat and the closeness. I once knew a champion pugilist to keel overwhile he was going through a mine."
"Were you afraid when you found yourself alone?" Joyce asked.
"I was until you tapped."
India looked puzzled. "Tapped. What do you mean?"
"On the pipe."
"What pipe?"
"The one that ran through the tunnel."
Miss Kilmeny shook her head. "I didn't see anybody tap. Perhaps one ofus touched it by chance."
"No. That couldn't be. The tap came seven times together, and after Ihad answered it seven times more."
"Seven times?" asked Bleyer quickly.
"Yes--seven. But, if you didn't tap, who did?"
"Sure it wasn't imagination?" Verinder suggested.
"Imagination! I tell you it was repeated again and again," Moya saidimpatiently.
"Spirit rapping," surmised Joyce lightly. "It doesn't matter, anyhow,since it served its work of comforting Moya."
"It might have been some of the workmen," Lady Farquhar guessed.
"Must have been," agreed Bleyer. "And yet--we're not working that end ofthe mine now. The men had no business there. Odd that it was seven raps.That is a call for help. It means danger."
A bell of warning began to toll in Moya's heart. It rang as yet no clearmessage to her brain, but the premonition of something sinister anddeadly sent a sinking sensation through her.
Verinder sat up with renewed interest. "I say, you know--spirit rapping.Weren't you telling me, Bleyer, that there was a big accident there someyears ago? Perhaps the ghosts of some of the lost miners were sending amessage to their wives. Eh, what?"
"The accident was in the Golden Nugget, an adjoining mine. The propertywas pretty well worked out and has never been opened since thedisaster."
The color had ebbed from Moya's lips. She was a sane young woman notgiven to nerves. But she had worried a great deal over the disappearanceof Jack Kilmeny. This, coming on top of it, shook her composure. For shewas fighting with the dread that the spirit of the man she loved hadbeen trying to talk with her.
Joyce chattered gayly. "How weird! Moya, you must write an account ofyour experience for the Society for Psychical Research. Put me in it,please."
"Of course, it must have been some of the men, but I don't see----"
Moya interrupted the superintendent sharply. An intuition, like a flashof light, had illumined her brain. "Where does that pipe run, Mr.Bleyer?"
"Don't know. Maps of the workings at the office would show."
"Will you please find out?
"
"Glad to look it up for you, Miss Dwight. I'm a little curious myself."
"I mean now--at once."
He glanced at her in quick surprise. Was she asking him to leave thedinner table to do it? Lady Farquhar saw how colorless Moya was and cameto the rescue.
"My dear, you are a little unstrung, aren't you?" she said gently. "Ithink we might find something more cheerful to talk about. We alwayshave the weather."
Moya rose, trembling. "No. I know now who called for help. It was JackKilmeny."
Verinder was the first to break the strained silence. "But that'snonsense, you know."
"It's the truth. He was calling for help."
"Where from? What would he be doing down in a mine?"
"I don't know.... Yes, I do, too," Moya corrected herself, voicebreaking under the stress of her emotion. "He has been put down there todie."
"To die." Joyce echoed the words in a frightened whisper.
Dobyans laughed. "This is absurd. Who under heaven would put him there?"
A second flash of light burned in upon the girl. "That man, Peale--andthe other ruffian. They knew about the shipment just as you did. Theywaylaid him ... and buried him in some old mine." Moya faced themtensely, a slim wraith of a girl with dark eyes that blazed. She hadforgotten all about conventions, all about what they would think of her.The one thing she saw was Jack Kilmeny in peril, calling for help.
But Lady Farquhar remembered what Moya did not. It was her duty todefend her charge against the errant impulses of the heart, to screenthem from the callous eyes of an unsympathetic world.
"You jump to conclusions, my dear. Sit down and we'll talk it over."
"No. He called for help. I'm going to take it to him."
Again Verinder laughed unpleasantly. Moya did not at that moment knowthe man was in existence. One sure purpose flooded her whole being. Shewas going to save her lover.
India wavered. She, too, had lost color. "But--you're only guessing,dear."
"You'll find it's true. We must follow that pipe and rescue him.To-night."
"Didn't know you were subject to nerve attacks, Miss Dwight," deridedVerinder uneasily.
Moya put her hands in front of her eyes as if to shut out the picture ofwhat she saw. "He's been there for five days ... starving, maybe." Sheshuddered.
"You're only guessing, Miss Dwight. What facts have you to back it?"Bleyer asked.
"We must start at once--this very hour." Moya had recovered herself andspoke with quiet decision. "But first we must find where the pipeleads."
Bleyer answered the appeal in Lady Farquhar's eyes by rising. Hebelieved it to be a piece of hysterical folly, just as she did. But someinstinct of chivalry in him responded to the call made upon him. He wasgoing, not to save Kilmeny from an imaginary death, but to protect thegirl that loved him from showing all the world where her heart was.
"I'll be back inside of an hour--just as soon as I can trace that pipefor you, Miss Dwight," he said.
"After all, Moya may be right," India added, to back her friend.
"It's just possible," Bleyer conceded.
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