Chapter 6 HORRIFIED WATCHERS-IN THE TUNNELS AND VAULT.

"Where are we going, sir, if it's a fair question?" asked George, as they hastened up Court Street.

"To the Ernst House," was the brief reply.

"You expect to find out something there?"

"Yes, I expect to find out something about August Strouse, and I expect to learn something about that tunnel and vault from personal observation."

"Ah! you are going into it to-night, then?"

"Yes."

"But Bollmann's men are in the house."

"We must manage to hoodwink them."

"I don't see how it can be done."

"Nor do I; but we shall find a way."

At length they arrived in York Street.

"Now, then," said Old Spicer, "you have been over this ground."

"Yes," was the answer, "I think I know it pretty well."

"Then conduct me through the passage into the backyard of the Ernst House."

"This way, sir," and George led him through a narrow passage at the end of the brick block.

Presently they found themselves in the yard back of the basement saloon.

Old Spicer tried one of the basement doors.

It was locked.

He tried the next.

It yielded, and he entered, closely followed by George.

He led the way toward the room in which the trap door was situated. But in passing the bar-room, he saw, through the open door, three men grouped together in chairs, while a coffin, containing all that was mortal of Margaret Ernst, occupied the center of the apartment.

The darkness of the place was only dissipated in a small degree by an oil lamp, which burned dimly on the bar.

"Who are they?" asked Old Spicer, with his lips close to Morgan's ear.

"One's Cohen," was the answer; "another is--"

"Webber, isn't it?"

"By Jove! I believe it is."

"And who is the third?"

"I don't know; I can't see his face."

"Well, hark, then; let's hear what they have to say."

"Yes," the unknown was saying at this point, "it was the worst experience I ever had. I never want to be frightened so badly as that again."

"Tell us all about it, old fellow," urged Cohen.

"Well, you see, we had got the body in the way I hinted a moment ago; and in order not to attract too much attention, we laid it over on the back seat of the carriage, and my friend Jim and I took the front seat and drove off.

"By and by we came to a lonely road, leading through a piece of woods. As we entered the woods I thought I heard a slight sound just back of me, as of some one moving.

"Jim heard it too, and we looked back simultaneously.

"One glance was enough; then we gave a yell of horror and sprung from the carriage, Jim on his side and I on mine; and the way we legged it for the open country was a caution."

"Why," exclaimed Webber, "what the deuce was it that frightened you so?"

"Yes," added Cohen, "what did you see when you looked back?"

"See? We saw that confounded corpse sitting bolt upright on the rear seat, like any live man. And at the very moment our eyes rested upon him, he started forward, placing one hand on the front seat by my side, and the other on Jim's back, while his great wide-open eyes stared fixedly into mine."

"Good Lord! I should have thought you would have been frightened," exclaimed Webber.

"How did it all turn out?" asked Cohen.

"Why, this way," was the reply. "After running some distance, we stopped to consult. While we stood there, a man with a heavily-loaded wagon drove up and asked us what we were doing on such a lonely road at that time of night.

"I told him we were taking a dead body to the city for Dr. White, and that it had suddenly started up and driven us from our carriage.

"He said he couldn't swallow that story. We swore it was true. Then he asked where we had left the carriage. We told him about half a mile ahead. 'Come on and show me, then,' he said. 'I have a rifle and two revolvers here; I guess with those we are enough for one dead man, at least;' so we went forward with him.

"At length we came to our carriage; the horse had merely gone to one side of the road, and was quietly cropping the grass.

"The man took a lantern from his wagon, lighted it, and approached the carriage. Then we heard him laugh.

"'Come here,' he cried, 'and see what started your corpse to life.'

"We hastened forward, and saw at once that the dead man had not altered his position since we had so abruptly left him.

"Our new friend then pointed out to us how the wind had carried the ends of the loose robe in which the corpse was dressed on to the wheels. The motion of the wheels had then pulled the robe so that the corpse which it enveloped was raised to a sitting position, and at last drawn forward in the way I have described."

"And so-and so," murmured Webber, in a voice trembling with emotion, "and so you don't believe the fellow had come to life at all?"

"Of course not."

"I-I don't know. I've often thought-- Good Lord! what's that?"

The three men were seated near the foot of the casket, Webber having his back turned to it.

At the head of the casket was a window, and this was raised to permit the circulation of fresh air in the interior of the basement.

A lemon-colored curtain was dropped over the window to regulate the force of the wind that came through the aperture.

A sudden and powerful gust came through, and the curtain rustled against the window, making a noise as if somebody's dress was rubbing against the side of a wall. The sound had landed on the sensitive ears of Mr. Webber as if it had come from the coffin.

There was not a soul in the room at the time but the three individuals, and they had been whispering in low tones. It is no wonder, then, that Mr. Webber promptly concluded, from the direction of the noise, that it came from the interior of the coffin, or that the pale glamour which one sees on the faces of painted women under an electric light quickly drove the flush of health from his face.

Then he suddenly turned, half in despair at the thought of seeing some movement in the casket.

He noticed nothing unusual, but for a minute he kept his eyes fastened on the face of the murdered woman, and his imagination, wrought upon by the story he had just heard, led him to believe that her eyes were fixed upon him with a steady and stern expression.

He grasped the arms of the chair, and half-way started up.

At that moment a deep, hollow groan, which was distinctly heard by all, came apparently from the lips of the corpse.

Webber gave a yell of horror, and dashing out of the bar-room, flew up the area steps into the street.

The other two, after one startled glance at the corpse, darted after their fleeing companion, and never even so much as stopped to breathe until they were far down George Street.

"Now, George," said Old Spicer, quietly, "I think we shall be able to get into the tunnel and vault without being seen."

"No doubt," responded young Morgan; "but how about getting out again? In ten minutes those fools will have a crowd here to see the murdered woman's ghost."

"I shouldn't at all wonder, my boy. But never mind the getting out. If necessary, you know, we can wait in there till the crowd is gone."

"Yes, and all that time Stricket will be waiting for us."

"I fancy he'll sleep till we get back, even if it isn't till morning."

"All right, then, I'm ready to dive into the bowels of the earth."

"I'm glad to hear it. Come on. But, by Jove! I've forgotten my dark-lantern. What shall we do?"

"There's that light on the bar there."

"That'll do, bring it along."

"But what'll they say when they come back and find it gone?"

"No matter what they say. Most likely they'll think Mrs. Ernst's ghost has hidden it."

"By Jove! I shouldn't at all wonder," and, with a laugh, George entered the barroom, and securing the oil lamp, returned to the so-called reception-room.

Old Spicer now raised the trap-door.

With some little difficulty he climbed over the ash-heap, and taking the lamp from George, waited until he had closed the trap and joined him.

Then together they moved forward through the tunnel, which they found much wider and higher than the opening had given them any reason to expect.

At length, after walking some distance, they came to a door that closed up the end of the tunnel.

"Great Jove!" exclaimed Morgan, "suppose it should be locked!"

"I don't think it is," replied Old Spicer quietly, and taking hold of the knob he pulled it open.

The door was of iron and quite heavy, but it moved on its hinges with the utmost ease.

"Oh, ho!" said Old Spicer, "those hinges have been oiled, and that quite recently."

He then examined them, and found he was right.

The key-a large one-was found in the lock.

The two detectives now entered the vault, which they found, as Morgan had already been informed, was a very large one.

It was plainly to be seen that the place had once been fitted up for a barroom; but it was also quite evident that it had more recently been used as a secret rendezvous, and to some extent as a sleeping-room; indeed, there were sleeping accommodations for at least half a dozen men.

Old Spicer looked about him with a thoughtful expression of countenance.

"What are you thinking of?" suddenly asked Morgan.

"This place is deep down under ground," answered Old Spicer, "and yet men have assembled here and slept here. That they could not do without plenty of fresh air. Now the question is, how is the place ventilated?"

Morgan hesitated a moment, then he exclaimed:

"Why, by means of the tunnel, of course."

"What tunnel?"

"The one through which we reached this vault."

"Wrong, George; the trap-door closes tightly, and the tunnel has no aperture in all its length."

"Then I give it up."

"That won't do, my boy, we must find the opening."

"All right, sir," and George immediately began the search in earnest.

But Old Spicer had already started with the same end in view, and rightly judging that the most likely place would be about opposite the door through which they had entered, he began his examination there, and almost immediately found what he was in search of.

It proved to be an opening about a foot square, close to the ground, and was concealed by a fixed table.

On searching further, Old Spicer found, just in front of this aperture, a trap-door, which opened under the table, and could be fastened to it.

On lifting the trap a flight of five steps was revealed. These the two detectives descended, and immediately found themselves in another tunnel, leading toward York Street.

This they followed, and presently came to another door, which, with some difficulty, they opened, and found themselves in the sub-cellar of a spacious house.

"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Old Spicer, in a tone of great satisfaction, "I thought it would turn out something like this. Now let us make certain of the way out, and then return and examine the big vault more at our leisure."

"What's this?" asked Morgan, pointing to a small sheet-iron door.

"That must open into a coal vault, I should think," returned Spicer; "but let's see," and he opened the door.

A glance showed that the place had in fact been built for a coal vault, but it was quite evident it had not been used as such for a long time. It contained only a very high step-ladder, which was standing directly under the coal-hole, which was closed with an iron cover and fastened on the under side.

"That's our way out," said Old Spicer, pointing to the hole.

"But where will we find ourselves when we get out?" asked George.

"In the narrow passageway you led me through less than an hour ago, if I am not greatly mistaken," was the answer.

"I believe you're right, by Jove!"

"Yes, I think I am."

"Then that matter is settled."

"Yes. But hold up a moment, George."

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