The servant tied the string to the nail that Mr. Barling pointed out, and then as he went along he let the ball unravel. The string would then serve as a guide to anyone not knowing the way. Otherwise it would be very dangerous to wander about in the underground tunnels. For some of them ran for miles.
After about eight minutes the little company came to a kind of rounded cave, set in the side of a big, but rather low tunnel. Here had been put a bench with some rugs, a box to serve as a table, and jug of water. Nothing else.
Sooty by now was coming round from his blow on the head. The other prisoner, however, still lay unconscious, breathing heavily.
‘No good talking to him’ said Mr. Barling. ‘He won’t be all right till tomorrow. We’ll come and talk to him then. I’ll bring Block.’
Sooty had been put on the floor. He suddenly sat up, and put his hand to his aching head. He couldn’t imagine where he was.
He looked up and saw Mr. Barling, and then suddenly he remembered everything. But how had he got here, in this dark cave?
‘Mr. Barling!’ he said. ‘What’s all this? What did you hit me for? Why have you brought me here?’
‘Punishment for a small boy who can’t keep his nose out of things that don’t concern him!’ said Mr. Barling, in a horrid sarcastic voice. ‘You’ll be company for our friend on the bench there. He’ll sleep till the morning, I’m afraid. You can tell him all about it, then, and say I’ll be back to have a little heart-to-heart talk with him! And see here, Pierre – you do know, don’t you, the foolishness of trying to wander about these old passages? I’ve brought you to a little-known one, and if you want to lose yourself
and never be heard of again, well, try wandering about, that’s all!’
Sooty looked pale. He did know the danger of wandering about those lost old tunnels. This one he was in he was sure he didn’t know at all. He was about to ask a few more questions when Mr. Barling turned quickly on his heel and went off with his servant. They took the lantern with them and left the boy in darkness. He yelled after them.
‘Hie, you beasts! Leave me a light!’
But there was no answer. Sooty heard the footfalls going farther and farther away, and then there was silence and darkness.
The boy felt in his pocket for his torch, but it wasn’t there. He had dropped it in his bedroom. He groped his way over to the bench, and felt about for George’s father. He wished he would wake up. It was so horrid to be there in the darkness. It was cold, too.
Sooty crept under the rugs and cuddled close to the unconscious man. He longed with all his heart for him to wake up.
From somewhere there sounded the drip-drip-drip of water. After a time Sooty couldn’t bear it. He knew it was only drops dripping off the roof of the tunnel in a damp place, but he felt he couldn’t bear it. Drip-drip-drip. Drip-drip-drip. If only it would stop!
I’ll have to wake George’s father up!’ thought the boy, desperately. ‘I must talk to someone!’
He began to shake the sleeping man, wondering what to call him, for he did not know his surname. He couldn’t call him ‘George’s father!’ Then he remembered that the others called him Uncle Quentin, and he began yelling the name in the drugged man’s ear.
‘Uncle Quentin! Uncle Quentin! Wake up! Do wake up! Oh, won’t you please wake up!’
Uncle Quentin stirred at last. He opened his eyes in the darkness, and listened to the urgent voice in his ear feeling faintly puzzled.
‘Uncle Quentin! Wake up and speak to me. I’m scared!’ said the voice. ‘UNCLE QUENTIN!’
The man thought vaguely that it must be Julian or Dick. He put his arm round Sooty and dragged him close to him. ‘It’s all right. Go to sleep,’ he said. ‘What’s the matter, Julian? Or is it Dick? Go to sleep.’
He fell asleep again himself, for he was still half-drugged. But Sooty felt comforted now. He shut his eyes, feeling certain that he couldn’t possibly go to sleep. But he did, almost at once! He slept soundly all through the night, and was only awakened by Uncle Quentin moving on the bench.
The puzzled man was amazed to find his bed so unexpectedly hard. He was even more amazed to find someone in bed with him, for he remembered nothing at all. He stretched out his hand to switch on the reading-lamp which had been beside his bed the night before.
But it wasn’t there! Strange! He felt about and touched Sooty’s face. Who was this beside him? He began to feel extremely puzzled. He felt ill, too. What could have happened?
‘Are you awake?’ said Sooty’s voice. ‘Oh, Uncle Quentin, I’m so glad you’re awake. I hope you don’t mind me calling you that, but I don’t know your surname. I only know you are George’s father and Julian’s uncle.’
‘Well – who are you?’ said Uncle Quentin, in wonder.
Sooty began to tell him everything. Uncle Quentin listened in the utmost amazement. ‘But why have we been kidnapped like this?’ he said, astonished and angry. ‘I never heard of such a thing in my life!’
‘I don’t know why Mr. Barling has kidnapped you -but I know he took me because I happened to see what he was doing,’ said Sooty. ‘Anyway, he’s coming back this morning, with Block, and he said he would have a heart-to-heart talk with you. We’ll have to wait here, I’m afraid. We can’t possibly find our way to safety in the darkness, through this maze of tunnels.’
So they waited – and in due course Mr. Barling did come, bringing Block with him. Block carried some food, which was very welcome to the prisoners.
‘You beast, Block!’ said Sooty, at once, as he saw the servant in the light of the lantern. ‘How dare you help in this? You wait till my stepfather hears about it! Unless he’s in it too!’
‘Hold your tongue!’ said Block.
Sooty stared at him. ‘So you can hear!’ he said. ‘All this time you’ve been pretending you can’t! What a sly fellow you are! What a lot of secrets you must have learnt, pretending to be deaf, and overhearing all kinds of things not meant for you. You’re sly, Block, and you’re worse things than that!’
‘Whip him, Block, if you like,’ said Mr. Barling, sitting down on the box. ‘I’ve no time for rude boys myself.’
‘I will,’ said Block, grimly, and he undid a length of rope from round his waist. I’ve often wanted to, cheeky little worm!’
Sooty felt alarmed. He leapt off the bench and put up his fists.
‘Let me talk to our prisoner first,’ said Mr. Barling. ‘Then you can give Pierre the hiding he deserves. It will be nice for him to wait for it.’
Uncle Quentin was listening quietly to all this. He looked at Mr. Barling, and spoke sternly.
‘You owe me an explanation for your strange behaviour. I demand to be taken to Smuggler’s Top. You shall answer to the police for this!’
‘Oh no, I shan’t,’ said Mr. Barling, in a curiously soft voice. ‘I have a very generous proposal to make to you. I know why you have come to Smuggler’s Top. I know why you and Mr. Lenoir are so interested in each other’s experiments.’
‘How do you know?’ said Uncle Quentin. ‘Spying, I suppose!
‘Yes – I bet Block’s been spying and reading letters!’ cried Sooty, indignantly.
Mr. Barling took no notice of the interruption. ‘Now, my dear sir,’ he said to Uncle Quentin, ‘I will tell you very shortly what I propose. I know you have heard that I am a smuggler. I am. I make a lot of money from it. It is easy to run a smuggling trade here, because no one can patrol the marshes, or stop men using the secret path that only
I and a few others know. On favourable nights I send out a signal – or rather Block here does so, for me, using the convenient tower of Smuggler’s Top…’
‘Oh! So it was Block!’ cried Sooty.
‘Then the goods arrive,’ said Mr. Barling ‘and again at a favourable moment I – er – dispose of them. I cover my tracks very carefully, so that no one can possibly accuse me because they never have any real proof.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ said Uncle Quentin scornfully. ‘It’s of no interest to me. I’m only interested in a plan for draining the marshes, not in smuggling goods across them!’
‘Exactly, my dear fellow!’ said Mr. Barling, amiably. ‘I know that. I have even seen your plans and read about your experiments and Mr. Lenoir’s. But the draining of the marsh means the end of my own business! Once the marsh is drained, once houses are built there, and roads made, once the mists have gone, my business goes too! A harbour may be built out there, at the edge of the marsh – my ships can no longer creep in unseen, bringing valuable cargoes! Not only will my money go, but all the excitement, which is more than life to me, will go too!’