“Then who was crying for help?” persisted the young captain.
“See here, cap’n, you are on the wrong trail,” came from the older of the regulars. “Me and Bill’s jest been having a little rumpus between ourselves. We meant no harm by it.”
“I don’t believe you,” came from Major Morris, promptly. “There is some mystery here, and as sure as you’re born I’m going to find out what it is!” he went on.
The major had scarcely finished when Ben’s eyes fell to the floor, and he saw the outline of a trap-door under one of the regular’s feet. One edge of the door was raised about half an inch above the floor proper, as if the door had been opened and not put back evenly into place.
“Major, look at that trap-door!” he cried. “I’ll wager they used it while we were coming up the outside stairs.”
“You must be right, captain. If you’ll—”
“We didn’t use no trap-door,” shouted the younger of the regulars, but he appeared much disconcerted over the discovery Ben had made.
“Captain, I have them covered,” came from Major Morris, as he brought out the two pistols with which 171 he had wisely provided himself. “Perhaps you had better investigate.”
“I will,” returned the young captain, and backed out of the room. The regulars wanted to stop him, but aiming his weapons at them the major told them to hold their peace.
“If everything is all right, you won’t be harmed,” he said. “But it doesn’t look right to me. You have no business here, for one thing.”