Part 4

As the door hid her from view, Beany drew a long breath. He seemed strangely excited and relieved. Once more he consulted his watch. It would be at least an hour before dark. There was a fighting chance. Death or life? Life or death? His fate was trembling in the balance.

Where was Porky?

*CHAPTER V*

*TO THE RESCUE*

Porky was getting worried. It was growing late, and there was no sign of Beany.

He asked a couple of the aides when they came in if they had seen anything of his brother, but no one had any news for him. Porky looked into the narrow hall at intervals, and twice he went out and wandered around the grounds that surrounded the castle. But nothing of Beany!

Finally he returned to the office, and took up his station at the window where he could see far down what had been the drive. The office was in a room in what had been the wing, and jutted out into the space now soiled and useless, which had once been a lovely, widespread garden of lawns and flowers, but which now looked worse than any ploughed field.

Something kept pulling at Porky's heart. He knew the feeling, had had it often; and it told him, as it always did, that his twin brother, whom he loved so well, was in trouble and needed him. Usually he felt something that impelled him to go in a certain direction in search of Beany; something, a _force_ directing him--he never could tell just what it was. But he always obeyed it, and so did Beany, to whom the same feelings came. But now Porky sat irresolutely at the window, baffled and worried. He felt anchored to the spot, yet knew in his heart that his brother's need was great. Every time he got to his feet and started out of the room, something pulled him back. Finally in despair, he settled down and stared with unseeing eyes into the growing darkness of the ruined gardens.

His heart beat heavily. His mind and soul called his brother, demanding an answer from the silence and the night. The officers and aides who had been in the room left it, and Porky was alone. Presently, as the waiting grew almost more than the boy could endure, a slight sound caused him to turn around. It was the old scrubwoman, broom in hand.

"Hullo!" said Porky, and turned back to the window. He was too badly worried to be polite.

"Hay-loo!" said the old cracked voice in broken English. Porky looked around again. She was standing at his side, smiling at him, a queer grinning leer not at all pleasant. Porky felt an insane desire to ask her if that was the best she could do. But he did not. He simply stared at her, at the wrinkled face and bright, twinkling, keen eyes. Porky felt that those eyes were almost too keen, almost too intelligent for that old peasant woman.

They looked steadily at each other, Porky wondering more and more at the expression on the old mask of a face. She was little, bent and feeble; she scarcely came to tall Porky's shoulder; yet to the sensitive, worried boy as he gazed at her there came a feeling of something wicked, powerful, and threatening. There seemed to the alert senses of the boy that there was a knowing twinkle in the old eyes when she looked questioningly around the room, and said, "Your brodder. Ware iss he?"

"I don't know," said Porky slowly. "You didn't see him outside, did you?"

"No, I dit not see heem outsite; me, I have seen nozzing outsite."

She smiled and wagged her old head, looked piercingly at Porky again, and turned away. Porky watched her squat old bent figure, then drew his breath sharply as something caught his eye! It was something caught on one of the ample folds of her ragged skirt, something that glittered! All the blood in Porky's body seemed to make a mad rush to his head, then ebbed back to his heart. He started toward the old woman, then stopped and thought, staring at the object on her skirt. He knew it well. The old woman stooped to pick up something and the object on her skirt swung free and glittered in the uncertain light. Porky drew a sharp breath as he recognized his brother's message. For a message he knew it to be. The little glittering object was a leather fob strap. At the end dangled a swimming medal that Beany had won long ago. He had always carried it as a pocket piece, and in some way it had accompanied him on the Great Adventure. It had never been out of Beany's pocket.

Yet there it was, hanging to a fold of the old woman's tattered dress swinging and glittering! Evidently she did not know that it was there.

Porky, suddenly alert, started to his feet and took an impulsive step toward the old woman. Then, before she had time to notice his action, he stopped. He could not remove the dangling medal without letting her know that something was up, and his only move was to watch her when she left the room. Somewhere, Beany was in trouble! Porky realized that the message of the medal was a desperate, last resort. A million to one shot, he told himself anxiously; but it had reached him, and while he lived there was hope for Beany. He studied the old scrubwoman with a new understanding. She no longer appeared harmless, stupid and ignorant. The keen twinkle in her old eyes; what had it meant? The seemingly simple and innocent question, "Your brodder. Ware iss he?" was just to sound him, the boy decided. He knew, all at once, that she knew all about Beany. To follow her was to find his brother, alive, or ... Porky could not say the rest even to his own soul. He _would_ follow her! He would _find_ the brother whom he loved better than his own life! His blood boiled when he thought of the condition he might find that dear one in, and he set his jaw in a way that promised desperate things.

Old Elise went pottering around the room, unconscious of the glittering eyes bent steadfastly on her, and ignorant of the glittering trifle fastened to her dress. Porky felt that he would gladly barter years of his life to know how it came to be there, but he clung to the happiest reason that he could think up: Beany himself had in some way fastened it on the old woman. Porky decided to obey the summons as he imagined them to have been sent. By hook or crook, he would follow the old woman, sly and crafty as he now believed her to be. By hook or crook, he would find his brother. Starting towards the old woman, he waited until she stooped over the General's table, wiping off the papers with a careful, shaking old hand. Porky, suspicious of everything now, fancied that she swiftly read the words on the uppermost pages, but he was busy with deft fingers unfastening the fob from the tattered skirt. He slipped it in his pocket, picked up a pencil and pad from the table, and once more sat down by the window. A few minutes later, while the old woman still pottered around, Porky rose and idly left the room, whistling as he did so. He unconsciously repeated Beany's performance in the dusky hall. He went to the turn, and dropping on one knee, bent a steady gaze on the door he had just closed. He was rewarded in a moment by a sight of the old woman. She came out of the General's office, softly closing the door behind her, and commenced feeling over the secret panel. It opened, and she entered, closing it as she went, but not before Porky was beside it, his eye on the spot he had seen her old fingers press. He waited for what seemed to him an eternity, then pressed the carved ornament of old oak. It gave, and the opening panel disclosed the passage in the wall down which Beany had so recklessly followed his quarry.

Porky was cautious, yet determined. Noiselessly he trailed the old spy until they reached the great chamber where the big bed was. Not once did she look behind. It did not occur to her that she could possibly be watched or followed. She had grown careless. She did not even mind the fact that she had left the heavy door swinging ajar behind her. Why, indeed, should she? Was not the door in the panel too cunningly contrived for any one to find, except perhaps that Boy Scout who now sat fettered in his chair waiting his end? His brother ... bah! She had left him above. She crossed the room, and stooped to reach a shawl she had thrown on the high bed. As she bent, something light and strong and cat-like leaped upon her seizing her wrinkled throat in a vise-like grip. She could not scream. In a second the curtain of the bed was wrapped over her, fold on fold. She struggled furiously, but to no avail. She was nearly smothered. Porky didn't much care. He worked in a frenzy of haste. He pulled down the thick cords that had been used to pull the bed curtains open and shut, and tied his human bundle securely. Then with a cautious thought he shoved her under the high bed, and made for the inner room.

It was silent. A single candle burned on the table. Beany sat in his chair. He was bound and gagged. As Porky sped across the room he saw the diabolical contrivance hanging above the boy's head.

A massive blade with a heavily weighted handle hung directly over the boy, point down. The cord which held the weapon passed through a pulley to another pulley, and from there to the table. There it was fastened to a short stick that was strapped to the alarm key of a common alarm clock. As Porky's quick glance took in the whole scene, the little alarm clock gave the cluck that precedes the striking of the alarm. Porky made a dash across the room, as the alarm commenced to sound and, seizing his brother's chair, swung him aside as the whirling alarm key tightened the cord. One after another, with deadly swiftness, the cords tightened until a quick pull on the smallest cord of all, a mere thread, snapped it.

The heavy blade seemed for a moment to balance in air, then it dropped down and buried its razor point six inches deep in the old floor.

Not until then did Porky slash the cords which bound his brother, and as Beany shook himself free, with many faces to ease his tired jaw where the gag had pressed it, Porky dropped limply into a chair and mopped his brow.

"The sword of Damocles!" was all he said.

"Don't know the gent," said Beany huskily. "Did some guy play this trick on him! If he felt as nervous as I did before you came, I feel good and sorry for him. Gosh, I have been sitting all trussed up there for about a year! Let's get out of this!"

"No special hurry," said Porky wearily. He could not recover at once from the shock, but Beany was chipper as a cricket.

"Well, I don't know," he said, "I have not grown so fond of this little old dungeon that I want to reside here long. Besides, perhaps you don't know the old lady who sweeps upstairs as well as I do. She is apt to be up to almost any trick."

"Not if the Court knows himself, and he thinks he does," said Porky positively. "I left her under the bed in the other room with about a mile of flossy curtain cord twined around her. She is safe enough. We will go up and report this little affair, and get a couple of men to come down and take her to the General. She is a hard character. A spy, in fact."

"I guess I know that!" said Beany, rising and rubbing his stiff legs and arms. "I have a lot more to report than you have. Let's be off!"

Together they hurried into the first chamber, and made for the door leading into the passage. Porky, in passing, looked under the bed. Then with a gasp he looked again and, dropping on one knee, seized a bundle of ragged clothing and a tangle of crimson curtain cords.

He looked at them, turning them over and over. Then he shook them. Then he looked under the great high bed again.

"What ails you?" demanded Beany impatiently.

"She's--she's gone!" said Porky feebly.

The old woman had vanished.

*CHAPTER VI*

*DEATH CLOSE BEHIND*

"Cut for the passage!" cried Porky as he realized that his quarry had escaped and knew that her release meant fresh dangers for them. Instinctively he held on to the bundle in his hands, and with Beany at his heels raced through the door and up the narrow passage that led to the secret door in the panel.

They found it closed tight. Furiously the boys shook and tugged at the heavy handle which was wont to turn and release the sliding panel. It did not budge. They shook and banged.

"It's no good," said Porky finally, as they paused, gasping and out of breath. "We are trapped!"

"Some one will hear us if we bang long enough," said Beany, kicking at the secret door.

"Not so you would know it," said his brother bitterly. "You can't hear a sound. That paneling is six inches thick along here. Made so on purpose, I suppose. We had better go down and try to get out by the passage that leads into the garden."

They turned and hurried back, retracing their steps through the passage and the two underground rooms. As Beany passed the great sword, he dragged it from its upright position in the floor and took it with him.

"I guess this belongs to me as much as to any one," he said grimly. "I'll take it home to Pop."

As he, spoke, the candles on the table shook in a sudden draft and went out.

"That's about the last straw!" said Porky, falling over a chair.

"Gimme your hand!" said Beany. "I know where the passage is and it is short, because I counted the number of steps they took before I heard the outside door open and smelled the outside air. I know it opens into the castle garden because I heard them talking about going out that way. Oh, I have a long story to tell you, Porky, but it will have to wait until we are well out of this. I don't feel any too happy yet."

He clasped his brother's hand in his with a sudden close pressure. Porky returned it, and laid an affectionate arm around his brother's shoulder as together they went cautiously toward the passage leading to the garden.

They found it easily; Beany had used his eyes to good advantage. Feeling carefully as they went, they reached the end where a massive, rough door barred their way.

Porky drew a box of safety matches from his pocket, and by their feeble light they examined the heavy barrier. There was no sign of a latch or keyhole, but the door was securely fastened on the other side.

They were trapped!

"Well, what do you know about that!" muttered Beany, scowling. He felt slowly along the crack of the closely set door and pressed the barred surface, but it did not give under his touch.

Porky flipped a match out of his fingers as it burned him, and the boys stood motionless in the darkness, wondering what to do next. Beany leaned on the hilt of the long sword; Porky traced figure eights on the wall beside him with the tip or the scorched finger that had held the match.

Beany leaned over and tapped his shoulder.

"What's the noise back there?" he whispered.

"Didn't hear anything," answered Porky after a breathless pause of listening.

"I certainly heard something," declared Beany. "Let's pussyfoot back and see if we can find out what it was. I _know_ I heard something. Perhaps our dear friend the old dame is somewhere around."

"There was nothing for her to hide in or behind," said Porky. "The bed was the only piece of furniture large enough and, besides, I feel sure she skipped out the other passage. What would she come back for? She must have known that we were here."

"There is mighty little she _doesn't_ know if any one should ask you," answered Beany. "Oh, just wait until I have a chance to tell you the whole yarn! Only it is not finished yet. There were a couple of prisoners in the room I was in, a young fellow in uniform and a girl. They must have carried them into the garden when they turned my chair around so I could look toward the way you came in. I heard them scuffling about."

"Well, let's go take a look," said Porky.

They silently retraced their steps back to the great chamber where the bed stood. Carefully, with their backs to the wall, they lighted a couple of candles they had taken from the table. The room was empty, but with the keen trained sensitiveness of young animals, they sensed danger.

"I bet it is the bed," said Porky as though answering a question. "Let's look it over."

Beany, holding the candles, stood by as Porky carefully removed the tumbled and tattered fragments which had once been satin and down coverlets fit for queens to dream under. He cautiously lifted the top feather bed in his arms and laid it on the floor. Beany gave a gasp and, reaching forward, almost flung himself on a black object which rolled down into a depression in the under bed. He fumbled with it, then stood erect, his face glistening with a cold sweat. He pointed to the object in silence.

Porky stooped over it. It was a time bomb, large enough and vicious enough to wreck the entire wing.

"That's funny," said Porky. "You turned the trick that time but it does seem they are taking a lot of bother just to get rid of us."

"Why, you're crazy!" said Beany. "What's over this room? The General's office, of course! That was the trick. They had us in here, and after she got away, the old woman came back and set that thing where she thought we would never think to look for it. I think she heard us in the passage that goes to the garden, and thought we would stay there fussing with that outside door. If this thing went off, of course it would wreck this room, and even if we were not killed by falling stones, we would be trapped in there like a couple of rats. Well, it will never harm any one now, but we have got to get out of here somehow or other."

Both boys were unnerved and shaken They stood looking at each other. They knew that it must be very late, but overhead they could hear the muffled tramp of booted feet in the General's office. They stood gazing at the oak paneled ceiling. A big square directly over the high bed was sagging, and it was there that they could hear the sounds from above. Porky commenced to study the situation.

The bed was a four poster, hundreds of years old. When the castle had been shelled, it had been brought down from some upper room of state.

The high, massive posts, beautifully carved, supported a great roof of heavily carved black oak.

"Look here," said Porky. "Can't we shin up on top and beat on the floor with the hilt of that sword?"

"What good would that do?" demanded Beany. "They wouldn't know where to find us. I don't believe we could make enough racket anyhow so they would pay any attention to it."

Porky thought a moment, then to Beany's disgust he commenced to caper around in a manner that Beany thought little befitted their serious position. He knew that when the explosion failed to occur, some one would be sent back by the master spy, and Beany could not doubt that that would mean a quick death for them both.

"What ails you?" he demanded.

"Just this," said Porky. "We will rap out a call for help in the code--the Morse code. Half the fellows in that office understand it. If there is any one there at all, they will catch on."

"Honest, Porky--" said Beany, then he stopped. He certainly was proud of Porky but decided not to tell him so.

Porky chuckled. He knew what his brother was thinking. "Some little nut, eh?" he asked, patting his own head.

"Tell better after you have tried it," growled Beany, shinning up the post nearest him. Porky started after him.

"Wait!" said Beany. "We will have to have a chair. You can't reach high enough."

It was difficult to get one of the massive carved chairs aloft. They had to tear the bedding into ropes and pull it up in that way; but once on the top, Porky shinned hastily up and mounted it. He was rather quicker at telegraphy than Beany.

He wrapped his handkerchief around the blade of the long sword, so he could grasp it, and beat heavily on the paneled ceiling. Then he shook his head.

"Listen to that!" he complained. "That loose panel will have to come down. You couldn't hear that little clack a foot away. Steady me."

He handed the sword to Beany and, springing up, clutched the loose sagging edge of woodwork in his lean, muscular hands. It sprung up and down under his weight, but did not give.

"Grab my feet and pull!" he ordered over his shoulder.

Beany obeyed.

There was a sharp tussle but the old, centuries old wood was not proof against the fresh young strength measured against it. It suddenly gave way and a couple of yards fell with a clatter and cloud of dust, hurling the boys flat on the top of the bed canopy, which swayed in an alarming manner.

They shoved the paneling over the edge, and stood up. Once more their candles were out, but Porky lit a match and soon the little flame made a light about them. Beany kicked something with his toe.

"What's that?" he said.

"Don't know," said Porky, rubbing his hands together. "There's a couple more of them.

"Don't bother with that junk! Bundles of rags, I suppose. We have got to get out of here. You don't know what those spies will be up to next."

But Beany, always curious, ripped a hole in the side of the rough, pouch in his hand.

"It's full of gold money," he said.

"My word!" said Porky, looking down from the chair. "Scoop 'em all into your pockets, for the love of Mike!"

"Pockets!" said Beany scornfully. "There's a couple of _quarts_ of stuff in these three bags!"

He slipped out of his blouse and, tying the sleeves together, made a sort of bag in which he carefully placed the sacks. Then he stepped carefully across their swaying platform and steadied the chair on which his brother stood with the sword hilt thrust between the huge rafters against the floor above.

The tramping in the room overhead sounded quite clear now that the paneling was gone. It annoyed Porky, who was trying the best he knew to make his pounding heard.

"Why don't the geezers sit down?" he complained. And as though in answer, there was a sudden silence above.

"It won't be so funny if they have all gone away," said Beany, listening intently.

"You bet it won't!" said Porky, beating still harder.

"They are all there," said Beany. "If they had gone out, we would have heard the steps all turning in the direction of the door, which is over there behind you."

"Well, here goes!" said Porky, pausing a moment to rest. "I am going to give the wireless call for help."

Then while both boys almost stopped breathing, Porky slowly and distinctly tapped out the thrilling summons that turns great ships out of their courses to race across leagues of angry sea to help the perishing.

"S.O.S! S.O.S!" Over and over, carefully, slowly Porky rapped, pausing now and then to listen.

"No go!" said Beany despondently.

"Wait," whispered Porky; "they are stirring up there."

Once more he rapped out his message, and gave a groan of relief as faintly but distinctly a spurred heel on the floor above beat the answer:

"We hear. Where are you? Who speaks?"

As rapidly as he dared Porky, who was an expert in the code, explained their position, gave the necessary directions for opening the secret door in the panel, received an "All right!" from above, and the boys, leaving the chair standing in its lofty position, slid down the bed post, Beany still clinging stubbornly to the sword.

As they stood for a moment beside the great bed, a gust of fresh air entered the room.

"The garden door!" Beany hissed in his brother's ear. "They are coming! Run for it!"

The boys turned and raced for the passage leading to the upper hall. As they ran Porky stumbled against a chair. It went over with a crash. They turned as they hurried through the door leading into the passage.

Behind them, just perceptible to their eyes now accustomed to the darkness, three forms came running in relentless pursuit. One form reached them just as they turned into the passage. Beany paused in his flight and blindly hurled the heavy sword full at his pursuer, then slammed the door and followed Porky, now several yards ahead of him. Death was close behind.

*CHAPTER VII*

*THE IRON BOX*