The Lost Treasure Map Series (28 page)

Chapter 50

Into Oblivion

Clouds of gray dust mingled through
beams of light, edging into Bryson
’s
face and lungs.

He groaned to himself, and dangled about on
the rope, glimpsing parts of the shaft above, mentally exhausted,
wondering if he could wangle his way out of it. But it was not a
matter of persuading them, it was really himself.

It might be his final confrontation with the
room, which had shrouded his life.

If he had only known all those years ago, as
a youth, what he would end up doing, he would have forced himself
to forget about the haunted castle. Its sounds were now screaming
out at him, out of the darkness, in an abyss below, as if a gateway
into hell were there, with him suspended over it on a thin rope,
waiting to descend into its hideous reaches.

How had they managed to talk him into
this? One minute they had been chasing a murderer, who mysteriously
had appeared in the middle of the night, from the tunnel (somewhere
close to where Mortimer had descended), and next they had been
checking what he had been up to. Then they had listened to
Mortimer
’s
theories about the shaft. He had claimed as he had descended
into it, that he had heard the sounds coming loudly from the small
vents, and that the louder sounds had gone behind him as he had
fallen downwards into it. At the bottom it had been empty, and had
resembled the bottom of a well. But as he had been going to climb
back up, he had heard the person going through the tunnel, which
had been near him.

They were sure that they had scared him
away, by going down the stairs, with its loud creaks. The person
was either lucky or good. Any other night they would have had the
police search the area. The roads had been blocked with thick snow,
and the heavy blizzard would have quickly covered any trace of him
anyway.

Then, afterward, as they had been resting in
the room, discussing it, Mortimer had found another shaft, in the
wall at the other side of the room, at precisely the same spot as
the other.

It was part of a complex ventilation
system.

A few small shafts below went outside. It
was all that it needed.

He wondered where the killer had gone. How
could he have traveled there with the snow blocking the roads?
Could it be that he did not use a car, and was at some distant
location, at the fringes of the estate? Could there be another
tunnel going there? It would be a good way to sneak about without
them catching him.

He surely had not known that they had found
the tunnel into the castle.

What had he been trying to do? He had to
have a good reason for risking doing what he had done. If he had
been going to poison them, he would have tampered with the food.
But they had followed his prints into the dining room.

The person had to have been doing something.
And why had he been so desperate to do it?

Bryson went down the shaft in stages, edging
himself in it.

Why had he not gone to bed when the police
had?

Mortimer had believed that the main sounds
had been emerging through the small vents from this direction,
implying a possible source had been in this wall. And, of course,
he had soon located it, and removed a block of stone, to reveal the
shaft, hidden there all the time.

He jerked, startled, hearing a sort of
scream, as though from a faraway place, on a distant world. He
visualized it out in space, in the blackness.

There were traces of rotted vegetation in
the air, floating in the light coming from overhead.

Some of the blocks of stone about him
resembled the stones in the Egyptian pyramids. They were strange
things to use to build, but they were hard to penetrate, and had
been needed for a good castle.

He imagined a spectral figure in the thick
darkness, which was now swallowing him.

Merton
’s
face appeared, through the hole
above.

Bryson angrily waved his arm about to clear
away thick webs, and cleaned green slime from his face.

“
Here
’s
Inspector Bailey
’s
searchlight!
”
Mortimer voiced, from behind Merton, with
the searchlight that he had finally fetched, as the other had gone
dud, due to Mortimer leaving it alight.

Mortimer lowered the light to him on the end
of a length of string.

Bryson imagined weird shapes of giant
insects darting about him.

Once he had the torch, he illuminated
a thin tunnel going down, as if probing something that he should
not probe
–
lighting somewhere that perhaps centuries of people who had
stayed in those rooms would have cringed in utter horror
near.

It remarkably only resembled a well though,
and his eyes strained to see what was at the bottom. But the light
and his eyes were not good enough. And he looked until he could
maintain it no more and he shut his eyes, and mentally rested.

As he dropped down, the entrance slowly
disappeared out of sight.

He then realized that the main sounds
emerging were not mainly coming from under him
–
they were coming from
somewhere above
–
and when he listened more intensely, he heard them mainly
coming from somewhere above the entrance. In the loud sound, and
confusion, he had not heard it.

He was sure that it was coming from the top
floor.

Incredibly, nobody had been near there at
night.

Yet they were so muddled and strange, with
so many echoes, from the thick stone, he could not properly make
out what or exactly where they were coming from.

He released the rope, and landed on the
ground.

It resembled a well, under the castle.

A thick layer of dry dirt occasionally gave
off a cloud of dust, as he moved his feet.

Mortimer had been correct, about hearing
sounds easily from below the castle. The sounds from about the
lower castle, from the blizzard, were there, as though
magnified.

A silent whistle came from the wind blowing
against something.

It would be almost impossible to search the
whole castle. There must be many of these shafts through the walls.
How could they check them?

Strange objects about his sides, vaguely
captured his attention, but they were only building rubbish, which
had been discarded from somewhere above.

Yet an object, partly buried in dust, that
he had seen, and had ignored, started to interest him, and he
crouched at the side of it, to see it better.

And he carefully fitted the light onto an
old chunk of wood, behind it, so that the light brightly went over
it. Then he cleaned away the dirt, and revealed an old chest.

He grabbed the lid, and unsuccessfully
attempted to yank it up from it.

He then rested, while studying it, and
prepared himself. And he just took off the harness, and firmly
wrapped the object in it.

He energetically climbed up the rope, and he
was soon climbing out of it.

He then rested on the bed, breathing
heavily.

“
It
’s
mainly coming from above
somewhere,
”
Bryson stated, recalling what he had realized in the
shaft.

“
What do you mean?
”
Merton asked, screwing up
his face, as though he could not fully believe what he had said,
obviously seizing the opportunity to question him
–
probably
detecting that he had found something else.

“
Up at the top
floor!
”
Mortimer declared.

“
Nobody has been up there at
night,
”
Bryson replied, leaping off the bed.

“
What
’s
on the rope?
”
Merton asked, tugging at
it.

“
I found something. Pull it
up!
”

Merton hoisted the chest up, and he placed
it on the floor.

“
It
’s
locked!
”
he uttered, backing away from it.

“
I
’ll
go and get a hammer and
chisel!
”
Merton declared, and excitedly left.

Bryson felt how solid it really was.

What would a locked chest have in it? He
suddenly imagined valuable items there!

If Sir Richard had left it there, there
surely would be some signs of it.

Merton quickly arrived with the hammer and
chisel.

Mortimer looked surprised, that they were
now going to open an old chest.

The chest sat strangely upon the bed. It
looked very expensive, and even a shame to ruin. And Bryson was
sure that it was even exceedingly rare, and that it could be an
expensive antique. However, he could not imagine them spending
hours trying to pick its lock, when it might be worth virtually
nothing, while its contents might be worth millions.

Merton banged the chisel gently against it,
trying to separate the lid, waiting to see if they had any other
ideas on how to achieve their goal. Bryson just nodded, in
agreement, for him to continue. And he began firmly chipping away
at the gap, next to the lock.

It mildly surprised him to see that it did
not do much to it. But he continued with more zest.

Merton was almost licking his lips as he
tried to open it. Perhaps hoping that it would spring open, and be
full of jewels.

The clangs grew loud, and it started to dent
it.

“
Is that a type of chest used with
jewellery, or is it just an old sea chest ...?
”
Mortimer inquired, studying
the sides of it, seeing if they had any information.

“
It could be,
”
Merton moaned, partially exhausted,
not stopping to study it.

The chisel then entered a gap, and he
used it as a lever, forcing it upwards, making it into a bigger
gap. And a bolt became visible
–
locking it
–
over the keyhole.

It gave out rhythmical clangs, as he bashed
the chisel and the chest against the bed, becoming even more
desperate to acquire what he wanted.

Finally, the bolt started bending and
breaking, and he hit it with a last whack, breaking it. And
Mortimer and Bryson stood, to observe it better.

Merton shuddered nervously, and
realized something, just before he pushed it open. Then, it opened,
and they stood glaring at its contents
–
which were the remains of a pile of
newspapers.

Chapter 51

The Old Chest

Even though he had been prepared for its
contents having little value, it created some anguish,
contemplating that it had nothing but newspapers.

In those few seconds that Mortimer had
glared down at its contents, looking as if it had been one of the
saddest things that he had encountered, Bryson had made the
decision that he would do everything that he could possibly do to
acquire something of value there.

The next day, they met in the evening, at
the library.

“
Well, it
’s
another
‘
dead end
’
!
”
Merton groaned.
“
Why did your uncle, or whoever left
it, leave it locked, with that junk in it?
”

“
Perhaps it was the best place to put
it!
”
Mortimer replied.

“
It must have had some importance
...!
”
Merton pleaded, putting out his hand, and touching part of a
newspaper.

“
Let
’s
take a close look at the
‘
junk
’
!
”

Mortimer lifted the chest, and placed it
near the end of the table. Then he tipped its contents over the
floor, until it was empty.

It seemed just to have newspapers in it. But
Bryson gradually recognized the covers of some books. They were in
bad condition, but in good condition for the length of time that
they had been there.

Bryson grasped a newspaper, noticing that
Merton and Mortimer were waiting for him to do so. Then he gently
cleaned away its dust and loose bits, and placed it down on the
table. He turned pages, and lightly brushed them.

The contents were only the things that he
had already seen there, but he wanted to confirm it.

“
Do you think that they were your
uncle
’s
?
”
Mortimer spoke, sitting silently, observing
things.

“
I don
’t
know. I cannot tell how old they
are, but I
’ll
check to see what year they have ...
”

Some of them were really old looking.
And he found the tattered remains of the top of one, and glared at
its faint print.
“
They
’re
from the nineteenth
century!
”

“
So they
’re
not your uncle
’s
.
”