Chapter 7 The Mystery of the Ivory Charm by Carolyn Keene
The Chamber of Horrors
“Don’t go inside!” Bess pleaded frantically. “Please don’t. Something dreadful will happen to you!”
Nancy paid no heed. Boldly she flung up the window and stepped through the opening to find herself on a narrow ledge. She was startled to hear a low moan directly below her.
“George!” she called. “Is that you?”
“It’s all that’s left of me,” a faint voice groaned.
Trusting herself to the treacherous stone steps just below her, Nancy quickly descended. When her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she found her chum lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom, surrounded by a circle of broken glass. Her arms had been cut in several places.
“What happened?” Nancy gasped, endeavoring to stop the bleeding with her handkerchief.
“Oh, I’ve had a horrible time!” George half sobbed. “I lost myself in a musty old passageway. When I couldn’t get out, I tried to come back the way I entered. I reached the top of the stairs and then I slipped. To save myself I clutched at something hanging on the wall. It wouldn’t support my weight. Down I crashed with it on top of me.”
“Apparently you pulled loose a heavy mirror, George. It’s a wonder you weren’t killed.”
“I can vouch for the heavy part,” George answered ruefully, rubbing her head. With Nancy’s supporting arm about her she slowly arose. “Did you ever see such a chamber of horrors?”
“I never did. Can you walk if I help you?”
“I think so.”
Cautiously groping their way, the girls climbed the steep stairway. George leaned heavily on her chum. Before they reached the entrance ledge, Bess thrust her head in through the open window.
“Nancy! George!” she called fearfully.
“Here we are, directly below,” Nancy shouted. “Bring Coya and come in. George has been hurt.”
“I’m all right now,” the Fayne girl insisted. “Have a care,” she added as Bess prepared to step through the window. “The ledge is very narrow.”
Nervously her cousin entered the house, standing motionless on the tiny platform until Nancy could locate an electric switch. As the room was flooded with light an amazing sight met their gaze.
The house was indeed “without insides.” The flooring had been torn away, and from the rafters of the ceiling there hung several swings and trapezes similar to those used in circus acts. Huge mirrors which reflected distorted images of the girls were suspended from the walls. A safety net, badly torn, stretched beneath the ropes and swings.
“What do you make of it, Nancy?” Bess inquired in awe.
“It looks to me as if this place has been fitted up by acrobats—perhaps by amateurs who are practicing to become professionals.”
“And how do you explain the mirrors?” George asked.
“I can’t, unless they’re used to aid the acrobats in their practice.”
The three girls for the moment had forgotten that Coya awaited them outside the building. Reassured by the flood of light from the windows, the boy now appeared at the entrance.
“Raining very hard outside,” he announced irrelevantly.
“Then do come in,” Nancy urged. “We’ll all stay here until the storm lets up.”
While Coya marveled at the strange sights, Bess and Nancy bound up George’s cuts and rubbed her bruises to the best of their ability. They had no bandages available but ripped strips of cloth from the former’s clean underskirt for the purpose.
“This isn’t a very neat job,” Nancy apologized. “Perhaps it will do until we can get home.”
Left to his own devices, Coya began to test out the ropes and swings. Bess uttered a little cry of alarm as the boy came swinging through space, hanging by his knees from the bar of a trapeze.
“He’ll be killed!” she exclaimed.
“Coya was reared in a circus,” Nancy reminded her chum. However, she thought that the boy was entirely too venturesome and warned him to be careful.
“Remember, the safety net is broken,” she cautioned. “And some of the ropes look very old and insecure.”
“Coya be careful,” he promised.
Outside the old house rain fell in torrents. The girls decided that it would be unwise to return to their car until the storm should abate.
“While we’re waiting, I believe I’ll do a little investigating,” Nancy said.
“We may as well go along,” George added. “I’m feeling quite all right now.”
Leaving Coya to amuse himself on the trapeze, the girls descended the stairway and entered the secret tunnel.
“Why was it ever built, do you suppose?” Bess speculated.
“That’s what I’d like to learn,” Nancy answered. “I have a feeling that so far we’ve not delved very deeply into the mystery of this place.”
At the entrance to the tunnel the girls discovered a tiny room which neither Nancy nor George had noticed upon their previous trip through the passageway. It was empty save for half a dozen steel lockers similar in type to those used in gymnasiums. They were heavily coated with dust and evidently had not been used for some time.
The locker room held slight interest for the girls. They soon moved on down the tunnel, coming presently to a turn-off. Nancy paused a moment to consider.
“I’m sure I must have taken the main branch before,” she said. “Let’s explore the other one.”
The passage which she indicated was very narrow and so low that the girls were forced to stoop. Suddenly Bess halted, gripping Nancy’s arm.
“What was that?”
“I heard nothing.”
“It sounded like a groan.”
“Nonsense!” Nancy laughed. “You must have imagined it, Bess. Not that I blame you. So much has happened that I easily could imagine it myself.”
Unwillingly Bess moved forward again, slightly in advance of her chums. She had taken less than a dozen steps when she stumbled over the inert figure of a man stretched across the floor of the tunnel.
“Water! Water!” he mumbled.
Poor Bess would have turned and fled but she could not do so, for Nancy and George, who were directly behind, blocked the path. They, too, were startled, yet both realized that the man had been injured and needed attention.
Nancy knelt down beside him, raising him to a sitting position. In the dim light she could distinguish only the faint outline of his face.
“Where are you hurt?” she asked gently.
“My head—I think it’s broken. I was struck by a robber and dragged in here. But I’ll get even! I’ll fix him!”
Spent by the effort of speaking, the man dropped back against Nancy, a heavy weight in her arms. It was several minutes before she could rouse him again.
“Who are you?” she questioned. “Tell us your name and why you are in this house.”
“I’m Jasper Batt. Old Batty some folks call me. I look after the property.”
“You mean you’re the watchman?”
“Yes, I’ve been here since Pete was fired.”
“Can you describe the person who struck you?”
“No,” the man muttered. “He sneaked up behind me. I have a good idea who it was, though.”
“Tell me his name,” Nancy urged.
“No,” Jasper Batt muttered. “I’ll get even with him myself. And I’ll get back my papers, too!”
“Papers?” Nancy inquired alertly.
“Valuable documents entrusted to me by Rai.”
“Rai!” the Drew girl exclaimed, believing that she had not heard correctly.
“I was to give the papers to Miss Allison when she came for them. If I don’t get them back I’ll lose my job.”
“I’ll help you recover them,” Nancy said soothingly when she saw that the watchman was becoming excited. “Only you must tell me more about the documents.”
“Nothing to tell,” Batt murmured, shaking his head from side to side. “I’ll get the papers myself! I’ll get square with that crook!”
He struggled to his feet, only to fall back into Nancy’s arms, exhausted by the effort to arise.
“Leave me alone,” he muttered angrily. “Leave me alone. Go away before I lose my job.”
“The poor old fellow is out of his mind,” Bess whispered. “What shall we do?”
“We must go for help,” Nancy decided. “We can’t possibly carry him ourselves.”
“Coya is strong,” Bess said. “Let’s call him.”
The three girls hastened back to the main tunnel and groped their way along until they reached the illuminated apparatus room where they had left Coya.
Hearing nothing, Nancy called the lad’s name, but the only sound that came to her ears was the fluttering of a sparrow against a high window.
“Coya was here just a short time ago,” she said, her brow wrinkling in a puzzled frown.
Then George gripped her chum’s arm excitedly. She pointed to the overhead web of ropes used for the gymnastic routine of the aerialists. Entangled among them, like a fly in a spider’s web, hung the limp body of the boy, Coya.