The Bradys Beyond Their Depth: or, The Great Swamp Mystery

CHAPTER XV.
THE PRISONER IN THE CAVE

"Harry, this is the most astonishing place I ever was in in all my life."

"It certainly is wonderful, Old King Brady."

The detectives were gazing in amazement where the lights of their lanterns rested, and beheld a wonder of nature very seldom seen.

In the first place, they were in a huge cavern of circular shape.

The flight of stairs wound around one of the walls, and beside the bottom step there was a yawning hole in the ground fifty feet in diameter.

It seemed to go straight down into the earth.

Harry picked up a big stone and dropped it into the opening.

They listened intently, but failed to hear it strike bottom in the pit.

"This hole must be of enormous depth!" the boy exclaimed, "else we would have heard that stone hit the bottom."

"Look at the church organ rising up from the depths against that side of the abyss," said Old King Brady, pointing across the chasm.

His light rested upon a number of stalactites forming what looked exactly like the pipes of an enormous organ.

Beneath them was a bank of keys.

The silence of death prevailed.

Nature had wrought a wonderful formation there.

The entire interior of the cave was pure white, looking like camphor.

Huge pendants like great icicles hung from the ceiling, and similar formations rose from the floor.

In some cases the ends of the pendants nearly touched the points of the stalagmites rising from the bottom, and not a few were dropping pure, clear water, which formed little pools that ran in rivulets to the great well, and there vanished in the bowels of the earth.

It was quite cold there, yet there was a strong, fresh, invigorating taste to the air, which was agreeable to the lungs.

At various parts of the walls were other natural formations, and among them, in a niche, the figure of a woman holding a child.

"For beauty, the Mammoth Caves of Kentucky cannot compare with this place," said Young King Brady, in tones of delight.

"We are forgetting our object," said the old officer.

"True. But no one is in this place."

"Let us see if there are not adjoining caverns."

"Explore those openings in the wall."

He pointed at an arched aperture, and they crept into it on their hands and knees, and went ahead a dozen yards, then paused.

They were on the brink of another chasm.

A rift split the passage in two crosswise.

It looked as if some convulsion of nature had ripped the earth apart, and they crept back to the main cavern and tried another opening.

It was possible to stand upright in this place.

The passage wound and zigzagged.

Following it for some distance, they suddenly caught view of a lurid glare ahead as they turned an abrupt bend, and halted.

"Put out your light," whispered Old King Brady, in warning tones.

"See them?" asked the boy, complying.

"No, but they must have kindled that fire."

"Advance carefully now."

They got down on their hands and knees again, and went on to the spot where the passage opened into a smaller cave.

Here the sight was prettier.

The floor, walls and ceiling were a delicate shade of pink, and the icicles formed many fantastic shapes that sparkled in the firelight.

Pausing, the detectives now saw that the place was about fifty feet in diameter, with a vaulted roof, through a hole in which the smoke from a big log fire was pouring upward.

Upon the floor there were some skins of animals, benches, boxes, dishes and other articles used for cooking and comfort.

Two men were lying upon the ground smoking pipes before the big fire, and as the lights glowed upon their faces, the detectives observed that they were Roland Mason and Sim Johnson.

Both were conversing.

"Sim," the white man was saying, "are you quite sure the detectives have got Nick locked up in jail?"

"Dat's whut I heered dis mornin' in de town, Massa Ronald," replied the negro, in serious tones.

"He may give us away, Sim."

"If he do, Ise gwine ter gib it to him."

"You won't have the chance if he's locked up."

They both laughed heartily at this grim remark.

When Sim's mirth abated, he said thoughtfully:

"Peahs ter me, if dem yere 'tectives wuz a-gwine ter pump any news outen dat coon, dey would hab done it las' night, an' come right heah aftah us, sah."

"Their absence is all that relieves my mind, Sim. I quite agree with your idea. Still, Nick may weaken later on, and make a clean breast of it."

"Hab we got ter stay heah much longer?"

"No. Old Dalton is losing his nerve."

"Gwine ter sign dat check?"

"Yes. He hasn't had anything to eat for three days, and his spirit is broken entirely. He's begging me for food."

"What yo' tell de ole fool?"

"I told him I'd feed him the moment he signs that check."

"An' he gwine ter do it, hey?"

"I'm going to tackle him once more. I'm sure he will obey now. You see, there's a balance of $75,000 in Dalton's bank, in ready cash. It can't be drawn without a check, and I'm bound to get such a check. Once I have the money I'll let him go."

"Whar yo' go den?"

"England."

"An' take me?"

"So I promised you."

"De quicker yo' settle dat business, de better."

"Yes. It's too dangerous to remain around here much longer."

"Let's go and hab a look at de ole fellow now?"

"Very well. Light your lantern, and I'll get a fountain pen and a blank check."

They got upon their feet.

While the negro was procuring the light, Mason got his check, and they crossed the cavern, entered a narrow fissure in the wall, and vanished.

The detectives glided from their place of concealment.

Every word uttered had been heard by them.

They entered the fissure.

Some distance ahead was the light.

It suddenly disappeared around a bend, and the officers observed, its dim rays illuminating a small chamber, as black as midnight.

Reaching the end of the passage, the Bradys glanced through the big opening and saw a small cavern of the same crystal formation as the two other caves, excepting that everything here was black and dark brown from some chemical discoloration.

It was a gloomy place.

In the middle of the room was a huge rock.

An iron ring was mortised in the side of it, to which a short, rusty chain was fastened. This chain held a human being a prisoner by being padlocked around his ankle.

The man was Oliver Dalton.

But the detectives scarcely recognized him.

His face was pale and haggard, his eyes deeply sunken in their sockets, his hair dishevelled, and his face covered with a short beard.

From privations his figure was so shrunken that his clothing hardly fit him, and the garments were so dirty and torn that he looked like a tramp.

Mason and the negro had paused near him.

The villain stood looking at the pitiful object he had so basely wronged with a cold, calculating glance, and finally said to him:

"How are you feeling, Dalton?"

"Oh, you miserable cur – " began the old broker, bitterly.

"Shut up!" roared Mason, roughly interrupting him. "No raving!"

"You'll kill me yet."

"That makes little difference to me."

"For mercy's sake give me some food; I'm starving."

"Not till you obey me."

"Have you no pity left in you?"

"I'm simply determined to carry my point."

"This is horrible – inhuman!"

"Oh, I know very well it's unpleasant," testily answered Mason, "but you might have spared yourself all the suffering you have been undergoing for the past three days had you done as I asked. You know me, Dalton. I've started a desperate game to get your money, and I've been baffled at every turn by those accursed Bradys. This is my last resource to raise money enough to get out of the country, and, by Heavens, I'll win, or you'll die!"

The broker gazed steadily at him a moment.

In the hard, cruel expression of Mason's eyes he read his doom, and he was so overcome with absolute misery of mind and body that he leaned against the rock and cried like a child. All hope had left him.

He was broken down in body and spirit.

A cold, cynical smile hovered over Mason's face.

He was not moved by the signs of weakness his prisoner showed. On the contrary, he gloated over it.

This was the surest indication to him that Dalton was upon the verge of collapse, and intended to give in.

He waited for his victim to get over the first paroxysm of grief, and watched him as closely as a cat watches a mouse.

Finally he asked in sharp, metallic tones:

"Well, which shall it be – obey me, and sign a check, or remain chained here like a wild beast, and perish of starvation?"

For a moment there was a deep silence.

Slowly the prisoner removed his trembling hands from his wan, pinched face, and said in reproachful tones:

"I can't stand this any longer."

"Then you will sign the check?" eagerly asked Mason.

"Yes. And you will then give me my liberty?"

"The moment you affix your signature to this check, we will give you food. And the moment I get the money, you will get your liberty."

"Give me the check."

Mason drew the pen and paper from his pocket, eagerly strode over to the poor wretch, and held them out to him.

But instead of taking the pen, Dalton gave one mighty leap, clutched the wretch by the throat with both hands, and, choking the villain till he grew black in the face, he yelled frantically:

"I've got you at last, you dog; and by the eternal, I'll kill you, if it's the last thing I do on earth! Die, confound you, die! And this is the vengeance I've been craving all through the moments of torture you've put me to in the past!"

He hurled Mason upon the floor, pinioned him to the ground, with a knee on his chest, and Sim, with an oath, rushed to his master's aid.

CHAPTER XVI.
ESCAPING FROM THE CAVES

The Bradys were very much astonished by the violent turn affairs had taken. In the prisoner's desperate attack they saw the last expiring act of a wronged man thirsting to avenge his injuries.

It pleased them to see Mason caught in a trap.

But when the negro showed signs of attacking Mr. Dalton, they realized that it was about time for them to act.

Harry had a revolver in his hand.

Aiming at Sim, he fired.

The sudden report startled every one.

A yell of agony escaped the negro, and he paused and staggered back with a wound in his side which filled him with pain.

The shot caused Dalton to relax his awful grip.

Hoarsely gasping for air to breathe, Mason sprang to his feet.

"I'm shot!" groaned the coon.

"It's the detectives!" gasped Mason, seeing the Bradys.

"We'll get hung!" screamed Sim, in tones of horror.

"Run for the swamp passage!"

"Put out de light!"

Mason seized the lantern and hurled it to the ground.

There was a crash, a jingle of broken glass, then dense gloom.

The Bradys paused.

They heard the patter of rushing footsteps crossing the floor, and made violent efforts to get out and unmask their lanterns.

Only a few moments passed before they had a light flashing on the scene, and they swept it around the cavern.

But they saw nothing of the two villains.

They had made good their escape.

Mr. Dalton stood by the rock, trembling and anxious, and after a few moments of silence, he asked, eagerly:

"Who is that?"

"Friends," cheerily replied Harry.

"Thank Heaven for that!"

"Harry, the villains are gone."

"Can you see how they got out?"

"Yes. There's another tunnel."

"Let them be for the present, and help me liberate this man."

"Wait till I get something from the other cave to break that chain."

He hastened back to the living room.

After the lapse of a few minutes he returned with a file.

While he was cutting open the padlock, Mr. Dalton asked:

"May I ask who you are, gentlemen?"

"The Bradys," replied Harry, quietly.

"What!" gasped the prisoner, in astonished tones.

"We've been hunting for you a long time, and found you at last."

"This is wonderful!"

"Perhaps to you, but not to us."

"For mercy's sake explain matters."

Harry complied as concisely as he could.

When he finished the old broker was thoroughly amazed at the great crime Mason committed in order to rob him.

That it was a failure was due to the detectives, he easily foresaw.

He thanked them again and again, and said, sadly:

"Poor Lizzie! She was faithful to me through all."

"No one will be gladder to see you than she," said Harry.

"And she's so near me now?"

"Yes. In a quarter of an hour you can be with her."

"I feel renewed hope now."

"Will you please tell us how your rascally nephew first managed to get you into his power, Mr. Dalton?" asked Harry, in curious tones.

"It was a very simple plan," replied the old broker. "He knew that I was going to get you to run down the thief who was robbing my mail. But he did not know that I suspected him of the crime. At any rate, on the night you mentioned, I had gone to the Union Club. A telegram reached me, saying you wished to see me at a house in Thirty-sixth street. I went there. Mason and my valet were waiting there for me. They attacked me. I shouted for help. They chloroformed me, bound and gagged me, put me in a box they had prepared for my reception, and – well, all became a blank."

"They had the box and wagon ready ahead, eh?"

"It was a prearranged plot," the broker replied. "That was evident. I came to my senses in the box, and realized that I was being carried off on a railway car. Then you opened the box. The next thing I knew, the box I was in was thrown from the car. The shock stunned me. When I recovered I found myself being carried over a swamp into a hut. The gag was off my mouth, and I shouted for help."

"Yes; we heard you."

"The negro who carried me brought me down here and secured me this way. Then Mason made his appearance. For the first time I then learned that he was the author of all my trouble. He was bound to secure my bank balance, and I refused to sign a check so he could get it. Infuriated over my persistent refusal, he tortured and starved me. The rest you probably know."

"We heard all they said this morning."

Just then Old King Brady finished cutting the lock, and the man was free and able to walk.

He was very weak, though, and the detectives had to support him.

"Do you know anything about the passage by means of which the villains escaped from here?" asked Old King Brady.

"Oh, yes. I've often explored this place," replied Mr. Dalton, readily. "It's a passage leading under the swamp to the mainland."

"Show us the way, and we will follow it."

"Come along, then, and in a few minutes we'll be out of here."

They entered the tunnel, and Old King Brady said to the broker:

"When I entered the Thirty-sixth street house the night you were abducted, I found a curious dagger lying on the floor, and blood-stains on the boards. These clews led me to suppose a murder had been committed there. Do you know anything about those things?"

"Yes," replied the broker. "The dagger was one I had purchased as a curiosity that evening from a shop in Fourth avenue. When those two men attacked me, I drew it, and cut the negro before they got the best of me by knocking it from my hand. Sim bound up his wound, and then they knocked me down and drugged me."

Old King Brady laughed.

"Another mystery solved," he muttered.

"You thought I was the victim, eh?"

"I did. But I see my error now."

"Daylight ahead," interposed Young King Brady just then.

"That's the exit from this tunnel," explained Mr. Dalton.

They left the passage among some rocks in the grounds above the house, and saw Lizzie Dalton near by.

She sat on a log gazing away toward the big swamp with a sad expression upon her pretty face.

Mr. Dalton became excited.

"Lizzie!" he shouted hoarsely.

She sprang to her feet as if electrified, glanced around at him with a joyful look beaming all over her face, and cried emotionally:

"Oh, papa!"

The next moment they rushed into each other's arms, and kissed and wept over each other, their hearts too full for utterance.

The Bradys turned away from the affecting scene.

"Guess everything's all right, Harry," muttered the old detective.

"Looks that way," replied the boy.

"We've got very little more to do now."

"Only to get the nippers on Mason and his black pal."

"Where in thunder could they have gone?"

"Let's notify the authorities along the line of the railroad in both directions to keep a lookout for the pair."

Acting upon this suggestion, they quietly stole away, leaving the reunited and happy father and daughter talking over past events.

Proceeding to Swamp Angel, and learning that neither of the villains had yet put in an appearance there, they got the telegraph instrument operating, and flashed a warning message all along the line.

News reached them that neither Mason nor Johnson had made any attempt to get away on the cars yet.

In discussing this on their way back to Dalton's the old detective came to a wise conclusion, when he said:

"After all, they ain't apt to show themselves for a while yet, Harry. Both know the game is up, and that we'll be on the lookout for them to escape. They'll expect us to make a bee line for the railroad depots the first thing. Therefore, they'll shun the stations."

"You think they'll remain concealed around the swamp a while?"

"It's more than likely. Now that we've got the railroad guarded so they can't escape, it will be best for us to watch the swamp, and I think we'll find them lurking there until they think the excitement blows over. They won't expect us to look for them there. That will make our task all the easier, Harry."

"Suppose we secrete ourselves there to-night, then?"

"I'm agreeable. If we can pounce upon the pair while they're asleep, we will be spared the difficulty of a fight in taking them."

They finally reached the Dalton house in time for luncheon.

Both the old broker and his daughter greeted them warmly.

The detectives advised him not to go to New York, or to let on to any one that he was alive, until they had captured his enemies.

After supper, the Bradys departed for the swamp.

When they got around on the south side of the swamp, they heard the murmur of voices coming from a dense thicket.

"Hark! What's that?" muttered Harry, holding up his finger.

"Part the bushes and look through."

Harry moved the tangled shrubbery aside.

They had a clear and uninterrupted view of the broad expanse of swamp, and to their delight saw the two men they were hunting for.

The villains were only fifty yards from where the Bradys crouched.