“And who are you?”
“Oh, call me Pierre. I am Mr. Willoughby’s servant. Here are fine beefsteaks ready for breakfast. Come.”
“Pierre!” murmured Dick. “Pierre Luzon?”
“Zat is my name. I am Pierre Luzon.”
CHAPTER XX—In the Cavern
WHEN Dick proceeded to follow Pierre Luzon he found that the ponies had already trotted away through the semidarkness, evidently quite capable on their own account of finding their accustomed stable. Leading the way across the cavern, Pierre entered a corridor at the far end of which bright lights were burning. Soon, Dick, to his great wonderment, found himself in a comfortably, almost luxuriously furnished apartment.
There were big thick rugs on the floor, and the rock walls were completely hidden by tapestries. The dining table in the centre was set with napery, china, glass, cutlery and silverware that would have done credit to a first-class hotel. Above swung a bronze lamp of antique pattern. Another table was laden with books, newspapers and magazines. In one corner gleamed the snow-white counterpane of a massive bedstead built of oak in Old Mission style. Here and there portable oil stoves were burning, diffusing a genial warmth throughout the grotto.
Pierre watched the guest’s look of bewilderment as he gazed around him.