by Robert Louis Stevenson
Saranac Lake, April 8, 1888.
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The passage in which Dick and Joanna now found themselves was narrow, dirty, and short. At the other end of it, a door stood partly open; the same door, without doubt, that they had heard the man unlocking. Heavy cobwebs hung from the roof; and the paved flooring echoed hollow under the lightest tread.
Beyond the door there were two branches, at right angles. Dick chose one of them at random, and the pair hurried, with echoing footsteps, along the hollow of the chapel roof. The top of the arched ceiling rose like a whale’s back in the dim glimmer of the lamp. Here and there were spyholes, concealed, on the other side, by the carving of the cornice; and looking down through one of these, Dick saw the paved floor of the chapel—the altar, with its burning tapers—and stretched before it on the steps, the figure of Sir Oliver praying with uplifted hands.
At the other end, they descended a few steps. The passage grew narrower; the wall upon one hand was now of wood; the noise of people talking, and a faint flickering of lights, came through the interstices; and presently they came to a round hole about the size of a man’s eye, and Dick, looking down through it, beheld the interior of the hall, and some half a dozen men sitting, in their jacks, about the table, drinking deep and demolishing a venison pie. These were certainly some of the late arrivals.
“Here is no help,” said Dick. “Let us try back.”
“No,” said Joanna; “maybe the passage goes farther.”
And she pushed on. But a few yards farther the passage ended at the top of a short flight of steps; and it became plain that, as long as the soldiers occupied the hall, escape was impossible upon that side.
They retraced their steps with all imaginable speed, and set forward to explore the other branch. It was exceedingly narrow, scarce wide enough for a large man; and it led them continually up and down by little break-neck stairs, until even Dick had lost all notion of his whereabouts.
At length it grew both narrower and lower; the stairs continued to descend; the walls on either hand became damp and slimy to the touch; and far in front of them they heard the squeaking and scuttling of the rats.
“We must be in the dungeons,” Dick remarked.
“And still there is no outlet,” added Joanna.
“No, but an outlet there must be!” Dick answered. Presently, sure enough, they came to a sharp angle, and then the passage ended in a flight of steps. On the top of that there was a solid flag of stone by way of trap, and to this they both set their backs. It was immovable.
“Someone holds it,” suggested Joanna.
“Not so,” said Dick; “for were a man strong as ten, he must still yield a little. But this resists like dead rock. There is a weight upon the trap. Here is no way out; and, by my word, good Jack, we are here as fairly prisoners as though the irons were on our ankle bones. Sit then down, and let us talk. After a while we shall return, when perhaps they shall be less carefully upon their guard; and, who knows? we may break out and stand a chance. But, in my poor opinion, we are as good as caught.”
“Dick!” she cried, “alas the day that you saw me! For like a most unhappy and unthankful maid, it is I have led you here.”
“What cheer!” returned Dick. “It was all written, and that which is written, comes still to pass. But tell me a little what manner of a maid you are, and how you came into Sir Daniel’s hands; that will do better than to complain, whether for your sake or mine.”
“I am an orphan, like yourself, of father and mother,” said Joanna; “and for my great misfortune, Dick, and so far for yours, I am a rich marriage. My Lord Foxham had me to ward; yet it appears Sir Daniel bought the marriage of me from the king, and a right dear price he paid for it. So here was I, poor babe, with two great and rich men fighting which should marry me, and I still at nurse! Well, then the world changed, and there was a new chancellor, and Sir Daniel bought the warding of me over the Lord Foxham’s head. And then the world changed again, and Lord Foxham bought my marriage over Sir Daniel’s; and from then to now it went on ill between the two of them. But still Lord Foxham kept me in his hands, and was a good lord to me. And at last I was to be married—or sold, if you like it better. Five hundred pounds Lord Foxham was to get for me. Hamley was the groom’s name, and to-morrow, Dick, of all days in the year, was I to be betrothed. Had it not come to Sir Daniel, I had been wedded, sure—and never seen you, Dick—dear Dick!”
And here she took his hand, and kissed it, with the prettiest grace; and Dick drew her hand to him and did the like.
“Well,” she went on, “Sir Daniel took me unawares in the garden, and made me dress in these men’s clothes, which is a deadly sin for a woman; and, besides, they fit me not. He rode with me to Kettley, as you saw, telling me I was to marry you; but I, in my heart, made sure I would marry Hamley in his teeth.”
“Yes!” cried Dick, “and so you loved this Hamley!”
“No,” replied Joanna, “not I. I did but hate Sir Daniel. And then, Dick, you helped me, and you were right kind, and very bold, and my heart turned towards you in spite of myself; and now, if we can in any way manage it, I would marry you with right goodwill. And if, by cruel destiny, it may not be, still you’ll be dear to me. While my heart beats, it’ll be true to you.”
“And I,” said Dick, “that never cared a straw for any manner of woman until now, I took to you when I thought you were a boy. I had a pity to you, and knew not why. When I would have belted you, the hand failed me. But when you admitted you were a maid, Jack—for still I will call you Jack—I made sure you were the maid for me. Hark!” he said, breaking off—“one comes.”
And indeed a heavy tread was now audible in the echoing passage, and the rats again fled in armies.
Dick reconnoitred his position. The sudden turn gave him a post of vantage. He could thus shoot in safety from the cover of the wall. But it was plain the light was too near him, and, running some way forward, he set down the lamp in the middle of the passage, and then returned to watch.
Presently, at the far end of the passage, Bennet came in sight. He seemed to be alone, and he carried in his hand a burning torch, which made him the better mark.
“Stand, Bennet!” cried Dick. “Another step, and you are dead.”
“So here you are,” returned Hatch, peering forward into the darkness. “I see you not. Aha! you have done wisely, Dick; you have put your lamp before you. By my word, but, though it was done to shoot my own knave body, I do rejoice to see you profit of my lessons! And now, what are you doing? what do you seek here? Why would you shoot upon an old, kind friend? And have you the young gentlewoman there?”
“No, Bennet, it is I should question and you answer,” replied Dick. “Why am I in this jeopardy of my life? Why do men come privily to slay me in my bed? Why am I now fleeing in mine own guardian’s strong house, and from the friends that I have lived among and never injured?”
“Master Dick, Master Dick,” said Bennet, “what did I tell you? You are brave, but the most uncrafty lad that I can think of!”
“Well,” returned Dick, “I see you know all, and that I am doomed indeed. It is well. Here, where I am, I stay. Let Sir Daniel get me out if he be able!”
Hatch was silent for a space.
“Listen,” he began, “I will return to Sir Daniel, to tell him where you are, and how posted; for, in truth, it was to that end he sent me. But you, if you are no fool, had best be gone before I return.”
“Leave!” repeated Dick. “I would be gone already, if I knew how. I cannot move the trap.”
“Put your hand into the corner, and see what you find there,” replied Bennet. “Throgmorton’s rope is still in the brown chamber. May it go well with you.”
And Hatch, turning upon his heel, disappeared again into the windings of the passage.
Dick instantly returned for his lamp, and proceeded to act upon the hint. At one corner of the trap there was a deep cavity in the wall. Pushing his arm into the aperture, Dick found an iron bar, which he thrust vigorously upwards. There followed a snapping noise, and the slab of stone instantly started in its bed.
They were free of the passage. A little exercise of strength easily raised the trap; and they came out into a vaulted chamber, opening on one hand upon the court, where one or two fellows, with bare arms, were rubbing down the horses of the last arrivals. A torch or two, each stuck in an iron ring against the wall, lit up the scene.