CHAPTER XVIII
STRUCK DOWN
Nothing more was needed to increase the nervous tension of the young people in the Corner House, especially of Ruth and Agnes, on whom responsibility rested.
The hurried trip home before the storm, the discovery of the plight of the children, the crash of the broken shelf and the freaks of the storm—all this had added up and piled on with the result that all were keyed to the highest pitch.
And when, on top of this, that weird noise sounded, each and every one gave a nervous start, though the boys, at least, were ashamed of themselves a moment later.
“Did you hear that?” gasped Agnes, the first to recover her startled breath.
“Did we hear it?” murmured Nally. “I should say we did! What was it?”
“And where was it?” asked Ruth, looking around nervously.
“The Corner House is living strictly up to its reputation of a quiet, homelike family hotel,” joked Luke.
“No, but seriously, that was—something!” declared Neale. He had paused before the last word as if in doubt what name to put to the strange noise.
“It was something all right,” asserted Luke. “And we’ve got to find out what it was.”
“Locate it first—that would be my suggestion,” came from Ruth.
“It was in the cellar!” declared Neale.
“That’s what I’d say,” remarked Nalbro.
On this point there seemed to be little doubt.
“If it had been in the upper part of the house we’d have heard Mrs. Mac or Linda up and about by now,” asserted Ruth. “It was below us here—in the cellar, I’m sure.”
“It came right after that clap of thunder,” said Nalbro. “At first I thought we’d been struck.”
“The rumble of the thunder might have rattled down something in the cellar,” suggested Agnes. “I’ve known it to bring down a stack of tins in the pantry.”
“Maybe part of the swinging shelf and some of the glass jars that didn’t fall before, took a tumble now,” suggested Ruth.
Luke shook his head.
“If you had seen that shelf, after the children had finished with it, you wouldn’t say there was anything left to fall,” he remarked. “It was a wreck.”
“Then what was this noise?” asked Ruth.
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” asserted Luke. “I’ll go down and find out. Maybe a water pipe burst in real earnest this time,” he suggested, with a glance at Ruth.
“Oh, don’t say anything now to make me more nervous!” she begged.
“Why does that make you nervous?” Nalbro asked.
“It reminds me of those two horrid men—not that I think they’re around now, or Hop Wong either, but——”
“Oh, say! Maybe it is Hop Wong searching for treasure under cover of the storm!” cried Agnes.
“Stop!” commanded Ruth. “If you’re going to suggest such things——”
She made a tragic gesture. Usually Ruth was not nervous. Clearly something had occurred to upset her usual poise.
“I only suggested water pipes,” remarked Luke, “because I thought maybe this terrific rain might have washed away a drain or something, accounting for the gurgling noise.”
“Gurgling noise!” exclaimed Neale. “It was a groan that I heard.”
“So did I!” chorused some of the others.
“Well, air and water mingling and going through a pipe will make a groaning noise sometimes,” commented Luke.
“If any water going through a pipe made a noise such as we heard—then that pipe and water had better go on the stage and do a vaudeville turn,” declared Neale. “It would bring down the house!”
“Well, we’ll soon settle what it is,” remarked Luke. “I’m going down cellar. You have lights there, haven’t you?” he asked, turning to Ruth. “Can they be switched on from up here?”
“Yes. But you mustn’t go down there alone, Luke! Wait until I call Uncle Rufus!”
“Nonsense!” expostulated the young collegian.
Uncle Rufus had gone to bed earlier in the evening before the retirement of Mrs. MacCall and Linda.
“We’ll go with him!” offered Neale and Hal.
“One of you boys has got to stay with me, for I’m not going near that cellar!” declared Nalbro.
“Now, wait a minute,” said Luke slowly. “This thing—this investigation—must be done aright. I’m going to scout around down the cellar by myself. I can do it better alone. If two of us go, one is sure to think he sees something. He’ll call out and attract the attention of the other, perhaps just at a time when a valuable discovery is about to be made. Whereas one, alone, can devote his whole mind to the business in hand. So I’ll go down alone and if I find I need help I’ll sing out and some of you can follow.
“Neale, you and Hal stay here with the girls. No, Ruth, you are not going!” he added hastily, seeing determination in her eyes. “Burr-r-r-r! that was a bad one,” he exclaimed, as a vivid flash of lightning was followed almost immediately by a terrific crash of thunder.
“Oh, Luke, I don’t want to have you go down in that cellar alone!” begged Ruth.
“Nonsense!” he laughed. “I can do a lot better alone. And if I need help I’ll sing out. Don’t be afraid.”
He patted her hand tenderly, and she did not resent this little caress, given in public as it was. Luke had a masterful way with him.
Suddenly, while they stood there after Luke’s decision had been announced, and while they were mentally trying to picture what had taken place in the cellar of the Corner House, the lights again went dim.
“What if the current goes off when you’re in the cellar?” suggested Agnes to Luke.
“I’d better have a flashlight, I suppose.”
“Take this one,” and Neale offered his. “I always carry it when I’m in the car,” he added. “They’re mighty handy.”
Luke accepted the miniature electric torch and started for the kitchen, whence entrance was to be had to the cellar. The others followed him, Ruth pointing out the switch that controlled the cellar lights. It was thrown on and Luke prepared to descend.
“We’ll be listening for you,” said Neale, to inspire confidence. “Don’t let the bogey-man get you!”
“I won’t,” laughed Luke, starting down the stairs. “I think it will turn out to be, just as I said, some water gurgling through a drain-pipe. But if I should be——”
Before he could complete the sentence the front doorbell suddenly pealed out its electric warning.
Luke was already half-way down the cellar stairs.
“Goodness! Callers at this time of night!” gasped Agnes.
“Probably some one who wants shelter from the storm,” suggested Luke, calling the words from the cellar stairway.
“Agnes, you and Hal go and see who’s at the front door, and Neale and I will wait in the kitchen to see what Luke finds,” suggested Ruth.
“I’ll appoint myself a member of the door committee!” remarked Nalbro. “Unless you want me to stay with you and Neale?” she added, turning to Ruth.
“No, go ahead,” Ruth answered.
A dim glow came up from the cellar, showing that the electric lights there were working properly. But Luke did not trust them. He held in his hand, ready, the little electric torch Neale had given him.
Agnes, Nalbro and Hal went to the front door to answer the bell, while Ruth and Neale remained in the kitchen.
“He’s moving around down there,” murmured Neale, for he could see that Ruth was under a nervous strain, and he thought perhaps that a little talk might relieve her.
“Yes,” she answered. “I hope he doesn’t get cut on the broken glass jars from the swinging shelf. I must tell him. Oh, Luke!” she called down the cellar stairs.
“Yes? What is it?” he asked, his voice showing that he had not yet moved far away from the foot of the flight.
“Be careful of the broken glass.”
“I will—thank you.”
“See anything yet, old man?” asked Neale.
“No. Not a thing. The outside back cellar door is open, though,” he said, “and the rain’s coming in there in a regular stream.”
“Oh, dear!” murmured Ruth. “I suppose those children left it open when they were treasure-hunting!”
“I’ll shut it,” volunteered Luke.
Neale and Ruth could hear him moving about below them. Neale was just going to say that perhaps, after all, nothing would develop, that they would have all their fears for nothing, when Agnes, Nalbro and Hal came back from the front door.
“Well?” asked Ruth.
“No one was there!” announced Agnes in a strained voice.
“No one?”
“Not a soul!”
“The street’s deserted—a regular rain-swept desert!” remarked Hal.
“That is strange,” murmured Ruth. “Someone must have rung the bell. I wonder——”
At that moment a cry came from the cellar—a cry that caused them all to start.
It was Luke’s voice!
“What’s the matter, old man?” called Neale, for the cry had in it something of terror and alarm.
There was no answer.
“We must go to him!” declared Ruth.
Without waiting for any of the others, she darted down the stairs, but Neale was after her in a trice. They saw a dim light in the cellar as they almost fell down the narrow stairs. The light came from the front part of the dark depths, up toward the street.
“Luke! Luke!” called Neale.
“Is anything the matter?” Ruth demanded anxiously.
“Want any help?” asked Hal. “Shall we come down?”
“No, stay up there and watch the front door!” cried Neale, with sudden suspicion. “There’s queer work going on here! Watch the front door, Hal!”
Neale and Ruth caught a glimpse of a dim form moving about the cellar.
“There’s Luke!” cried Neale. “Luke! Luke! What’s wrong? Why did you cry out?” he asked.
There was no answer. But as Neale and Ruth started forward from the cellar stairs they saw Luke struck down by a club in the hands of some one invisible to them. He fell like a log, and the next moment the cellar was plunged into darkness.