The House On The Cliff by Franklin W. Dixon

Chapter XVIII - A Startling Discovery

The Hardy boys were tense with a realization of their peril.

The strong electric light that hung from the center of the ceiling cast such a vivid illumination that they were sure they would be seen, particularly when they found that the boxes behind which they were hidden were spaced some distance apart. But for the folds of silk that hung down over the opening they would certainly have been seen.

"Here's some of that special silk," they heard the first man say. "Perhaps I'd better bring it up too. Burke was saying he could handle some more silk."

"We're done for!" thought Frank. "If he ever comes close enough to pick up that silk he'll see us, sure."

But the other man objected.

"What's the use? You won't get any more thanks for carrying all that stuff upstairs, even if Burke does take it. And if he doesn't, you'll just have to cart it all the way down again. My motto in this gang is to do just what Snackley tells me and no more."

"I guess you're right. We'll just bring up the dope."

To the relief of the boys the man turned away and went back to the other side of the chamber. They could hear a rustling sound. Then came the words:

"Well, we've got it. Let's go back up."

The switch snapped and the cavern was steeped in darkness immediately. It was a darkness immeasurably welcome to the lads crouched behind the boxes. They began to breathe more easily. They heard the door close and then they could hear the footsteps of the two men as they ascended the stairs in the passageway.

When the footsteps could be heard no more, Frank switched on the flashlight with a sigh of relief.

"That was a close call. Gosh, but I was sure they had us."

"We wouldn't have had any chance with that pair. You can bet your life they carry guns."

"Well, let's follow them."

"I'm with you. We know we're on the right track."

"And we know we're liable to blunder right into the whole den of smugglers if we don't watch our step. It's going to be ticklish from now on."

"It can't be any more ticklish than it has been. I lived about ten years while that pair was in here."

They crossed the chamber and again opened the door. Cautiously, they stepped out on the landing, closed the door behind them, and again confronted the flight of steps.

"I'll go first," said Frank. "Stick close behind me."

He decided to turn out the flashlight, because it was barely possible that the smugglers might have a guard at the top of the stairs, in which event their approach would be discovered. So, in the inky blackness, they ascended, step after step.

They reached the top of the first flight of stairs and then they found themselves upon a crude landing of planks which ran along the side of the rock wall for some distance until it ended in another flight of steps.

Here the boys stopped again to listen. All was as silent as the tomb save for the distant pounding of the sea upon the cliff.

"I don't hear a sound," whispered Joe.

"Come on," came from his brother.

The passage through the rock was of considerable depth, and they went on up countless steps until their limbs were weary. They had never realized that the cliff was so high until now.

But at length they reached the final landing and there they were confronted by another door. This door, they assumed, either led out into the open or into some cave just below the surface of the ground. Perhaps, thought Frank, it even led into the cellar of the Polucca house.

The boys pressed close to the door, taking care to make no noise, and listened.

They heard not a sound.

Still, with the caution arising from their previous narrow escape, they decided to wait a little while longer. As later events proved, it was well that they did.

For a while they could hear nothing from beyond the door and there was no indication that any one was there. But, after listening intently for as long as five minutes, they heard a queer shuffling sound and then a sigh. That was all.

"Some one there!" breathed Frank, in a low whisper.

Joe nodded in the darkness.

They did not know what to do. It seemed apparent that there was some one beyond the door. Possibly a sentry. If there was only one man it might be possible to attack him and disarm him, although it was scarcely possible that they could do this without noise and without attracting the attention of the smugglers.

The problem was solved for them.

A door thudded in the distance. Then there was a muffled murmur of voices, growing in volume, and a trampling of feet.

"I tell you this nonsense has gone far enough. He'll sign, and he'll sign right now, or I'll know the reason why."

The boys started. For the voice was none other than the voice of the man who had ordered them out of the cove that afternoon.

"That's the stuff, chief!" returned some one. "Make him sign and promise to keep his mouth shut."

"If he doesn't he'll never live to tell about it, that's one thing sure!" snapped the first man coldly.

There was the sound of a switch being snapped, and then the boys could see a yellow beam of light beneath the door at their feet. From the sounds they judged that three or four men had entered the room beyond.

"Well, he's still here," said the man who had been addressed as "chief." He strode across the room and the boys could hear a chair scrape on the board floor. "You'll find that this is an easier place to get into than it is to get out of."

A weary voice answered him. The tones were low. The boys could not make out the words.

"You're a prisoner here and you'll be a prisoner here until you die unless you sign that paper."

Again the weary voice spoke, but, as before, the tones were so low that the words were indistinguishable.

"You won't sign, eh? We'll see about that!"

"Wait till he goes hungry for a few days and then he'll think differently," put in one of the other men. There was a hoarse laugh from his companions.

"Yes, you'll be hungry enough before we're through with you. I can promise you that," said the harsh voice. "Are you going to sign?"

"No," they heard the prisoner in the other room answer.

Who was this man who was evidently held captive by the smugglers in the underground room? The same thought was in the mind of each boy as he listened to the conversation.

"You know too much about us. You've found out too much, and we'll never let you get out of here to use your information. You may as well get that straight. You've read that paper. If you don't sign it you will starve."

The prisoner evidently did not reply.

"Give him a taste of the hot iron," suggested one of the smugglers.

"No, nothing like that. It's too crude. I'm giving him his chance. He can sign this paper now or take the consequences."

Still there was no reply.

"Getting obstinate, are you? Won't you even answer me!" The leader of the gang was evidently getting angry. Suddenly he shouted out:

"Sign this paper, Hardy, or you'll starve—as sure as my name is Snackley!"