CHAPTER XXVI
A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH
When the chief engineer of the Olive Branch at last put off from the ship for the shore in response to Captain Dove's second and still more peremptory message, he took the tiller of the boat himself, and steered straight for the water-gate of the castle. In one of his pockets he had a rusty key which presently served to turn its creaking lock.
He had left his coat in the boat and ordered the boat's crew to await his return. And he made his way with accustomed steps, almost noiselessly in his rubber-soled shoes, up the sloping underground passage which leads from the long-disused water-gate toward the gun-room which long ago was the armoury of the castle.
Once he halted to strike a match. Its feeble light showed him the rough rock walls and roof of the tunnel, the uneven slope underfoot worn almost smooth by nefarious traffic long since at an end.
He advanced again, cautiously, till he came to the brink of a broad, gaping chasm, which, but for a couple of carelessly carpentered fir-trunks stretching across it, would have closed that pathway effectually against him or anyone attempting to enter the castle by stealth, as he was doing.
He tested that makeshift bridge as well as he might before crossing it. Half-way over, a cold, damp breath from the depths beneath blew out another match he had struck as he started. A muted gurgle and squatter that came uncannily to his ears told of the subterranean tide crawling in to cleanse again the far floor of the pit below which had so often in the past served for a charnel-house. Creeping over the tree-trunks, he shrugged his shoulders as that thought passed through his mind, and drew a breath of relief as he stepped on to the solid rock on the other side.
From there, the way to the steps at the gun-room entrance was clear and the old iron gates above and below were both wide, as he discovered by sense of touch. He set an ear to the panel beyond, to find out whether the gun-room was occupied, and heard only a long-drawn groan. That seemed to come from somewhere behind him. He descended the steps again, listening intently.
Another safety-match sputtered and broke into a blue light in his tremulous fingers. He saw that the bolt on the outside of the cell door at the foot of the steps was shot and judged that there must be some one within. For a moment, he hesitated; and then he pulled the bolt free.
"Who's there?" he asked of the darkness that gave him back only another low groan for answer.