CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
"Cunningham!" gasped Tom Swift, taken aback as much by the boldness of the rascal in coming into his presence as by the force the Englishman had used in swinging him aside. "You—Cunningham!"
"Yes!" hissed the crook, but he appeared agitated because of having had his mask torn off. "You made a wrong move that time, Swift!"
"Wrong move! What do you mean?"
"I mean I came in here only to save this drunken fool from a beating he well deserves. That has nothing to do with it. If you had kept your hand to yourself and left my mask alone I would not have minded so much. But, now that you have found me out, it will go hard with you—both of you!" and he pointed an accusing finger at Ned.
"I'm not afraid of you!" blustered the financial manager. "Come on, Tom!" he yelled. "It's even now! And the other man's fuddled. We can handle Cunningham!"
At that moment another guard, attracted by the loud talking, entered the stone room, and as he was armed with a rifle the odds were too great to risk a fight.
"Better not try anything!" snarled Cunningham, putting in his pocket the black handkerchief Tom had pulled from his face. "Yes, Swift, you made a wrong move! We might have let you go, but, now that you made me show myself, it is impossible!"
"So you're going to keep us here?" inquired Tom.
"Yes!"
"It can't be for very long," said the young inventor. "We'll be missed. My House on Wheels will be traced. It was known we were coming to Dismal Mountain and searching parties will soon be on our trail."
"They won't find you!" snapped Cunningham. "You've made your own bed and now you can sleep in it. Take 'em out!" he ordered another guard who had joined the one with the rifle. "As for you—drunken fool that you are—clear out!" and his eyes blazed as he kicked the man who had blurted out the news of the approaching marriage of Floyd Barton and Mary Nestor. "Take 'em out!"
"Where, Boss?" asked one of the sober guards.
"To the dungeon, of course! Where else?"
Tom and Ned did not think it wise to put up a fight for, so they feared, Cunningham, in his rage, might order them shot. So they accompanied their captors along the corridor and down a flight of steps to what was evidently the cellar of the castle. A little later they were shut in another stone room, but smaller and much less desirable than their former prison. They were, indeed, in a dungeon.
"Now maybe you'll wish you hadn't been so fresh!" sneered one of the guards as he departed, locking the door.
Left to themselves, Ned and Tom looked at each other with somewhat woebegone and puzzled faces. Their dungeon was dimly lighted and was damp and depressing. It was almost like a prison cell.
"Well, I'm not going to stay here long!" declared Tom determinedly.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned.
"Get out the first chance I see. This is sure rotten!"
"It will be if they don't feed us," agreed his chum. But they did not have to worry long on that score, for presently a man they had not seen before appeared with a tray of as good food as had before been served to them. They were hungry and ate heartily. Then they were left alone and talked matters over.
"What do you think of that fellow's talk about Mary?" asked Tom. "Think there was any basis for it?"
"That drunk seemed to know what he was talking about. But you know Mary better than I do," answered Ned. "However, I don't believe Mary would ever consent to marry this Barton."
"Don't you?" cried Tom, and Ned saw that he caught at this straw.
"No, I don't. I believe, for reasons of his own, Barton has been telling that story and he's circulated it among these men, hoping it would reach you and break down your nerve!"
"It shan't!" cried Tom.
"No! Don't let it!" urged Ned. "It's a dirty, rotten game, Tom. They're trying to get your nerve!"
"That's it—a game!" cried Tom Swift, with new energy. "Well, they'll find that two can play at it! I'm out for revenge now, and when I meet Barton——"
"I hope I'll be there to see the fight!" chuckled Ned.
However, if Tom and Ned hoped for any immediate change in their captivity, they were disappointed. For three days they remained in close confinement, and when meals were brought there were always two guards, one with a gun and the other with a tray, so there was no chance for a surprise attack.
Not giving up easily, though, Tom and Ned tried to escape from the small stone room at night. They took a fork and spoon from one of their trays, and with these simple implements tried to loosen some of the window bars.
At first they thought they were going to succeed, for they dug out some mortar. But it was only to find under the mortar that the bars were set in lead upon which their tools made no impression. So they had to give that up.
They were below the level of the ground, there being a little dug-out area upon which the only window in their cell opened. So they could see nothing of what went on in the courtyard on which they judged their prison room faced, for they could hear trucks coming and going and the murmur of many voices.
"Well, if we can't leave by the window we must try the door," said Tom, when they had been locked up a week. They still had the spoon and fork and hoped to be able to pick the lock. But a few trials convinced them that it was too strong.
Then, unexpectedly, their chance came. The same guard, again drunk, who had blurted out the gossip concerning Mary and Barton came in with a tray of food for their supper, and in a flash Tom and Ned saw that he was alone.
For once the cunning of their captors had slipped!
"We'll get him this time, Ned!" whispered Tom, and his chum understood.
Smiling with drunken vacuity, the guard had unlocked the door. The tray was heavy and he had had to set it down on a stool outside to do this and use both hands in carrying it into the cell.
"Now!" cried Tom suddenly, and he and Ned threw themselves on the unsuspecting fellow. Before he could utter a cry Tom clapped his hand over the guard's mouth and while he got a knee into the small of his back, Ned bound the struggling hands.
In a trice they had wound strips torn from their bed clothes around the man's ankles and improvised a gag which effectually silenced him. Then they trussed him up so he could not move and, having taken from his pockets a bunch of keys and a pistol, they were ready for their long deferred escape.
"Talk about luck!" panted Ned, for the capture had not been easy in spite of the fellow's drunken condition.
"We're not out of the woods just yet," cautioned Tom.
"Well, let's get out of this dungeon for a start," proposed Ned.
Then, having shoved the trussed guard under one of the cots, they arranged the clothes on both of them to make it appear that the prisoners were sleeping after their meal, and, having gone out by the door, they locked their gagged guard within and stole swiftly down the corridor.
They had to proceed cautiously, for they were unfamiliar with the interior of the castle and did not know at what moment they might run into Cunningham or some of his men. So they paused at every turn to look about them before advancing.
Twice, as they did this, they saw forms or heard through the gloom approaching voices and footsteps, and had to hurry back and secrete themselves. But at length they made their way up a flight of stairs, the same ones down which they had been taken after the exposure of Cunningham's masked face. They were now on the ground floor of the castle, where they had first been imprisoned.
It was night, and only a few dim lights here and there in the long, deserted corridors showed them which way to go. They did not know what turns to take. Any moment might send them stumbling upon a band of their enemies.
They conversed in whispers, went a little way down one passage, only to find that it ended against a blank wall, returned to try another with like poor results. They wanted to get out into the open, to find the House on Wheels if possible, and escape in that. But luck seemed to be against them.
They wandered about, several times having to take refuge behind piles of débris to escape groups of men. Presently they saw a light at one end of a long corridor. Stealing toward it, they found that the light came from an open room, whence proceeded the murmur of many voices. Adjoining the large room, in which several men were gathered, was a smaller apartment, a storage place, evidently.
"Come in here!" whispered Tom to his chum, and they slipped in not a second too soon, for Cunningham strode down the hall and entered the main, lighted room where a conference seemed to be going on.
Then, hidden in the small room and listening at a ventilator communicating with the other apartment, Tom and Ned heard enough talk to make clear to them the nature of the business carried on in the old castle.
As Tom had suspected, Cunningham was a rascally but talented manufacturer of fine optical and scientific machines and instruments. He had failed in doing a legitimate business and had turned to crooked ways.
As the talk went on, Tom saw why he had been approached to make machinery and tools for turning out illegal goods. It was because Cunningham wanted to sell them at an enormous profit, not having to pay any patent royalties. Owing to Tom's refusal, and because of his inability to get other firms to make any machines, Cunningham had taken to stealing shipments of goods from large manufacturing concerns. He had allied himself with a band of train robbers who, departing from the usual holding up of pay and express cars, were looting fast freights. Sometimes the trains were held up by means of false signals and again cars on sidings were broken into and the cases stolen and brought to the castle for distribution among fences, as dealers in thieves' loot are called.
Cunningham was doing some manufacturing in the castle, it became known to Tom and Ned as they listened, and this branch would have been gone into on a larger scale had Tom consented to make the necessary machinery.
Then, unexpectedly, the two heard some startling news. Floyd Barton was Cunningham's nephew and the young man who had danced so often with Mary Nestor was using part of his wealth in the illegal manufacture of patented goods. Whether Barton was present at the conference, Tom and Ned could not discover, for though they could hear the talk they could not see the speakers.
"Well, we've found out all we want to know, Ned," remarked Tom, as they got down off the box on which they had been standing to bring their ears nearer the ventilator.
"I should say so! Why, this Cunningham is nothing but what you said he was—a crook!"
"And those with him are just plain thieves!" said Tom. "Well, we've got enough evidence to jail the lot of them."
"Including Barton!" said Ned.
"Yes, including Barton!"
"But first we've got to get out of here," went on Ned. "Come on, before that meeting breaks up," and he nodded toward the other room.
He and Tom came out of their hiding place and, as they did so, Ned saw, lying on a ledge, an automatic pistol. With an exclamation of satisfaction, he picked it up, ascertained that the magazine was filled, and put it in his pocket. Tom had the one taken from the guard.
"We've got to work fast!" Tom whispered to his chum, as they went back along the corridor. "Try the first window you come to and we'll light out!"
"This looks like a good one," said Ned, indicating a casement which, they could see by looking out, was not far from the ground. "Come on!"
As Ned threw one leg over the sill and Tom was in readiness to follow, they heard a noise behind them and saw Cunningham running toward them.
"Guards! Guards!" yelled the Englishman. "The prisoners are escaping! Help me!"