A DISCOVERY
Almost stunned by the suddenness of the event, the three nevertheless realized that they had probably brought it upon themselves. Their movements must have been observed by the German airmen, who, perhaps thinking that the ancient château was again going to be used as an observation post, had reported the fact.
"We'd better get out of here the fastest ever," yelled Don.
Then a wild dash for safety was on. Down the winding stairway they clattered, sometimes taking two or three steps at a time. If fear lent wings to their feet, their very disregard of the fear of tumbling served to prevent such a catastrophe.
In these thrilling instants Don Hale could not help recalling their experiences with the French artillery officer; he remembered the deadly accuracy of the fire, and how the wireless station had disappeared in a cloud of smoke and dust. He could hear the captain saying, "Inscribe the elements." No doubt some German officer would be giving exactly the same command in a few minutes, when the range of the château had been found.
In a panic of fear, the ambulanciers rushed out of the tower, and, like hares fleeing before the hunter, continued down the grand stairway. And scarcely had the three reached the foot when they heard another frightful roar. The building gave a sudden lurch, the violence of which sent them staggering, tumbling in all directions. Then the resounding din of smashing glass—of falling débris filled the air. Momentarily they expected the walls to come crashing down upon them. Each experienced a feeling of awful helplessness, as, with half stifled cries, they picked themselves up and made a concerted dash through the various apartments toward the window.
One after another, they fairly hurled themselves over the sill and landed in a heap on the ground.
Up they were in a second and off again, running wildly—desperately—trying to get out of the line of fire. Feelings of hope and hopelessness coursed through them, as, panting and breathless from their exertions, they plunged ahead almost abreast.
But before a distance of seventy-five feet had been covered there came a third detonation—a horrible, crashing, stupendous roar, so terrible in its character that it could only have been made by a very much larger projectile than the others.
The ambulanciers were lifted off their feet and hurled violently to the ground.
Don Hale's pale, fear-stricken face was turned toward the château, and, although partially dazed by the shock, his faculties remained sufficiently clear for him to see what was taking place. Above an enormous, swirling cloud of inky smoke rose the tower of the ancient château. It was beginning to lean. It was shaking.
Unable to regain sufficient control over his trembling nerves to rise, Don Hale, quite breathless, almost spellbound, kept his gaze fixed upon it.
Grandly—majestically, as though even at the end of its existence it must be worthy of the noble building to which it belonged, the tower slowly began to topple, and the boy presently saw it go crashing downward with a thunderous and muffled roar.
Then, as the wreckage piled over the ground, a vast, whirling column of dust mingled with the smoke, and through it all jagged and broken walls could be faintly discerned.
Don Hale again tried to regain his feet, but his limbs refused to support him.
Dunstan and Chase were lying almost flat on the ground, their faces ashen and drawn, and they too had been witnesses of the catastrophe. Don gained sufficient command over himself to struggle up, and was about to resume his flight when a fourth mighty, echoing blast resounded.
Shaken and jarred off his feet, he again fell back to the earth with a half articulate cry, gasping for breath. He looked toward the château. The massive walls were tumbling and crashing inward and outward. The dull roars, as débris piled upon débris, were terrific, and before they had ceased Don Hale saw the black smoke swirling in front of the building and completely hiding it from view.
And a few seconds later the mass hurled aloft by the explosion began descending all about the ambulanciers. Pieces of stone landed only a few yards from Don and sent the turf flying in his face. A few terrible instants passed before he quite realized that the danger from the deadly rain of missiles was over. Once more they had actually escaped a peril from which it had seemed that there could be no escape.
A great body of low-hanging smoke and dust rolling slowly over the ground soon shut from his eyes every vestige of the surroundings. Coughing and gasping from the fumes, he scrambled to his feet, and, though weak and shaky, managed to stagger away. No obscurity of fog could ever have been so dense as that in which he found himself. Like a blind man groping his way, the boy sought to get beyond its choking reach, and by the sound of footsteps close at hand he knew that Dunstan and Chase were making the same desperate efforts as himself.
Suddenly the faint light struggling to pierce the obscurity brightened. A few yards more, and, almost overcome, Don Hale emerged into the glorious sunshine.
His first thought was for his companions. Yes, they too were all right. But he had not yet recovered sufficiently from the suffocating effects of the smoke to speak. His brain was still whirling with a jumble of confused thoughts and impressions, and uppermost among them was the unpleasant reflection that perhaps they might have been responsible for the destruction of the grand old Château de Morancourt. Ah, indeed, Dunstan had been mistaken—there was something interesting in this part of the story.
The boys staggered along with all the strength they could command, but no other shells landed in the vicinity.
It was Chase Manning who finally broke the silence.
"I say, fellows," he called, in a voice which trembled, "I thought I heard a noise somewhere. Did you?"
"Where? What did it sound like?" asked Don, faintly.
"Not a hundred miles away; and it seemed to fill the whole world. I say, Dunstan, how are you feeling?"
"Kind of mixed," grinned Dunstan; "but very thankful to be still here on earth—a most unexpected privilege, I can assure you. Boys, I don't think we need continue our flight. Look!" He waved his hand toward the building. "The Germans have made a mighty good job of it."
"Yes; and having done so I don't believe they'll send any more marmites in this direction," declared Don. "What a thriller that was!"
"No words in any language could ever begin to describe it," said Chase shudderingly. "What a sight!"
It was indeed a melancholy-looking spectacle upon which the three grave-faced ambulanciers were gazing. Of the once great and stately structure there remained but a few bits of scarred, unsightly walls, and the surrounding ground was covered with a vast collection of wreckage, all showing the fearful force of the explosions. The impenetrable black smoke had thinned out, though a haze still hovered over the ruins, to soften their ugly and forbidding aspect.
Though feeling quite sure that no immediate danger existed, the boys, to be on the safe side, withdrew to a point some distance away. They were troubled in mind. Had the airplane observer seen them? Had they not visited the château it might still have been standing.
"What is to be done?" asked Chase.
"Make a report of the matter, of course," declared the aviator's son.
"We have perhaps merely hastened its end," remarked Dunstan. "Just think of all that magnificence gone—swept away in a few moments of time! I wonder what the Count de Morancourt would think!"
"I am mighty glad he isn't here to express an opinion," put in Chase, dryly.
"And the 'mysterious poilu' might have a few observations to make," suggested Don, in a reflective tone.
"I can't say that I'm so very anxious now to have that third meeting," admitted Chase.
"We'll have to accept the situation philosophically and hope that others may do the same," declared the art student, his brow wrinkled with disturbing thoughts. "It's not the first time that good intentions have brought about disastrous results."
"No," said Don, thoughtfully.
Somehow or other the ambulanciers felt disinclined to leave the spot. The sight of the ruins held a strange and peculiar fascination for their eyes. It was very hard for them to realize that they would never again see the grand old Château de Morancourt or tread its great apartments. The variety of emotions which had assailed all three left them in a depressed and uncomfortable frame of mind. They could not help wondering, too, what the authorities might have to say.
"Fellows, suppose we get a look at a little closer range," suggested Don Hale, finally.
"You'll not find me afraid to follow your lead," declared Dunstan, with a faint smile.
"Lightning isn't apt to strike twice in the same place," said Chase.
Carefully scanning the sky to see that no airplanes were in the immediate vicinity, the three began to retrace their steps.
Very soon they were climbing over great heaps of débris. The wreck and ruin were almost complete. Now they came across pieces of ornaments which had once contributed to the beauty of the interior. From a torn canvas a head of one of the ancient and noble De Morancourts seemed to stare at them with a stern and reproachful glance.
With mingled feelings of sadness and regret, they pursued their investigations. Here and there the three came across bits of marble and stained glass or portions of shattered doors and furniture. Sometimes they peered over the edge of a jagged wall, to look into an interior wherein traces of chaos and magnificence lay side by side.
The ambulanciers conversed but little; they felt in too solemn and serious a mood. Suddenly, however, Don made a discovery which brought about a change in their demeanor. Close outside the wall an immense opening in the ground had been torn. Of course there was nothing in that to be wondered at; but what Don Hale saw was something more than a huge crater. A tunnel-like passageway had been uncovered, the bottom lying perhaps twenty feet below the surface.
"Hello! What in the dickens is that!" he cried.
"We must find out," said Chase, viewing the opening with considerable astonishment.
"It may be some secret passageway," put in Dunstan, excitedly. "Upon my word, this is a mighty interesting development!"
"I should say it is," exclaimed Don Hale, and having uttered these words with much conviction, he began hastily climbing over the wreckage. The broken, uneven surfaces leading downward afforded a good foothold, and thus he was able to make his way to the bottom without much trouble.
"Yes sir, it's a subterranean passageway," he called to the others, who were sliding and slipping down the incline. "Now we'll see what's ahead of us."
With Chase and Dunstan at his heels, he plunged boldly through a wide and spacious passageway which led directly away from the building.
"I'll bet I was right, fellows!" cried Dunstan. "This is probably a secret passageway connected with the basement. I suppose in the old feudal times, when law and order weren't so much in fashion as they are to-day, such places were often mighty convenient."
"You bet!" agreed Don.
He brought out his flash-light, for the passageway ahead was becoming dim and somber. A click of the instrument, and the white rays streaked the walls and floor with a series of fantastic flashes.
Their interest and curiosity highly aroused, the three ambulanciers pushed slowly ahead, and after covering a distance of many yards discovered an open doorway.
"Aha!" cried Dunstan, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. "Lead on, Monsieur le torch-bearer."
"Nobody could stop me," grinned Don.
"Be a little careful now," cautioned Chase, as the aviator's son stood at the threshold. "There may be some deep pit in there. You don't want to take a tumble."
But as Don thrust the light inside he saw nothing to warrant any such fear. Before his eyes was a great square apartment, the ceiling supported by massive pillars. Its appearance did not suggest a dungeon, however, but rather a well-built room. It was furnished, too, with a table and several chairs, while against the walls were piled numerous handsome picture frames and ornaments of many different kinds.
"Well, what do you think of this!" cried Don, in astonishment. "Who could have ever suspected that such a place existed?"
"A whole lot of people never did, I suppose," said Dunstan.
"To me it suggests a retreat where plotters, in comfort and seclusion, could plan dark deeds," commented Chase, and as he spoke in a loud tone his voice echoed and reëchoed in a most startlingly weird fashion.
The boys thought there was something very strange and unique in the situation. Here they were, exploring a mysterious underground room, and while Don Hale's light flashed and crisscrossed through the intense blackness and objects momentarily tumbled into view and out again, they speculated as to who had been the last person to visit it.
"Let's make a hasty exploration of the whole place before spending any time in here," suggested Dunstan.
"A good idea," agreed Don. "I say, if we were to all yell together wouldn't it sound just like an exploding marmite?"
"Please don't remind me of 'em," pleaded Chase.
Preceded by the "torch-bearer," they filed out into the "subway," as Don termed the passageway, and walking a short distance came across another room, situated, however, on the opposite side. But the ambulanciers, desirous of finding out where the corridor led, did not enter.
Their curiosity was quickly gratified. At the end they discovered a third room—the largest of all, and though bare of furnishing, the light immediately disclosed the fact that it was by no means empty. Neatly piled against the four walls were great numbers of boxes and cases of all sixes.
"Hello, what's in those, I wonder!" cried Don.
"I can't offer any explanation," replied Chase, dryly.
"A little investigation, however, wouldn't come amiss," declared Dunstan. "It strikes me, fellows, that these things are here because somebody had particular reasons for wishing to keep them out of sight."
"Well, he certainly succeeded, all right," declared young Manning.
"Then, of course, they are probably of some value," cried Don. "I say, Dunstan"—a sudden idea had flashed into his mind—"I wonder—I wonder——"
"What?" demanded the art student.
"If—if——" Don, pausing again, began to laugh. "No—no—that's absurd!"
Walking forward, he began to examine several of the boxes, while Dunstan and Chase peered earnestly over his shoulder.
"Aha! If they don't contain pictures I'm pretty badly mistaken!" cried the art student, suddenly. Excitement was in his tone. "By George, Don, having guessed your meaning, I'm beginning to wonder myself if——Hello!—by all that's wonderful, just look at that name!" Dunstan's voice almost rose into a shout. "Great Julius Cæsar! Astounding—astounding! Just think of it—Giovanni Bellini!"
Now the name of Giovanni Bellini, which the art student pronounced with a degree of earnestness that almost suggested a feeling of awe, meant very little to either Don or Chase, neither of whom were especially interested in artistic matters, but nevertheless the excitement displayed by the art student at once communicated itself to them.
"Do you really think it's possible that the mystery of the Château de Morancourt is solved at last?" cried Don, his voice quivering with suppressed eagerness, his eyes open to their widest extent, while Chase, staring with considerable curiosity at the name of Giovanni Bellini, murmured:
"What a marvelous thing it would be!"
"I'll give you my opinion in a few minutes," burst out Dunstan, who was acting in a manner totally unlike his usually calm self. "Quick, Don—your light! Let me see the name on this case—quick, I say!"
And as the illumination played across the one he indicated the art student rose to his feet and waved his hand in the air, at the same time uttering a loud hurrah, which made wild echoes ring and reverberate throughout the room.
"Fellows, in my opinion the mystery is solved!" he exclaimed. "The name I have just seen is Andrea Mantegna, a most celebrated artist born in Padua, Italy, in fourteen thirty-one. His works are priceless. By Jove, fellows, I honestly believe the tale we have to tell is going to create even more excitement than we dreamed. Ha, ha! I can almost see our pictures in the papers. Monsieur le torch-bearer, I believe your light has been the means of lighting our way to fame."
"I—I can scarcely believe all this is real!" cried Don.
Almost feverishly, the three examined case after case, and these names, one by one, fell from Dunstan Farrington's lips:
"Hobbema, Hans Holbein, Franz Hals, Velasquez, Ribera."
And with each word the art student's voice became louder—his excitement greater.
"A most remarkable and unexpected sequel to the great event!" he cried. "Boys, there is a finis to the story, after all—and what a grand, dramatic one! I wonder—I wonder what 'Peewee' will have to say!"
Seating themselves on convenient boxes, the ambulanciers, full of strange, pent-up emotions, continued to converse in eager, animated tones. A remarkable change had come over the feelings of every one. Now, instead of being disturbed and distressed, they were happy—almost exultant.
Suddenly Don Hale leaped to his feet and exclaimed:
"Listen—listen! There's somebody coming."
The others ceased speaking, and a strange, oppressive silence seemed to hover over the chamber.
Then, almost instantly, there came sounds which indicated that several people were approaching along the passageway.
"We are discovered!" exclaimed Dunstan, grim humor in his tone. "Ah, fellows, our sensational exploit must be revealed to a gaping world sooner than we expected!"
Simultaneously, the three sprang to their feet and made for the doorway.
Beyond the beams of Don Hale's flash-light the passageway was illuminated by the yellow glow of a lantern carried by the leader of a dim and shadowy group.
Anxiously—expectantly—the ambulanciers waited, while the sound of voices, steadily growing louder, echoed through the subterranean retreat.
And one of them made Chase Manning give a loud gasp of surprise.
"Well, well, can you beat that!" he exclaimed, clutching Don Hale tightly by the arm.
"Who is it?" asked Don. But the question needed no answer from Chase. For at that moment the lantern, swung high, illuminated the face of the man who carried it, and the boys recognized the "mysterious poilu."