Chessmen of Doom (11 page)

"Sorry . . . to keep you waiting . . . John baby," he gasped as he sank down onto a bench. "My mom had a lot of chores for me to do, an' I thought I'd
never
get outa the house! Is the train in yet?"

As if in answer a long mournful wail sounded in the distance. Soon the big steel locomotive came thundering into the station, shooting off jets of steam. Johnny smiled weakly at his friend—he didn't know whether to be happy or sad. "Glad you made it," he said, not very sincerely. Together they headed out the door to the riveted steel steps that had just been lowered from one of the cars.

Johnny and Fergie sat in a smelly, dimly lit car and munched some candy bars they had brought with them. The only other passenger in the car was an elderly Catholic priest who was reading a small black book. Johnny put his head back on the wicker-covered seat and wished that he were asleep at home. This is all very crazy, he said silently. What are we gonna do once we get up there? How can we help the professor and Dr. Coote? Why did I ever agree to . . .

Johnny's head slipped to one side and he went to sleep. He was in the middle of a dream about a giant candy bar named Crazy Annie when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Huh? Wha—what is it?" mumbled Johnny thickly. He opened his eyes and found that a conductor in a navy-blue uniform was bending over him.

"Stone Arabia, young man," said the conductor in a bored monotone. "Don't want to miss your stop. Lucky you fellas told me where you was gettin' off."

As Johnny removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, the conductor reached over and shook Fergie, who was also asleep. Mumbling under his breath, Fergie came to life.

"Thanks, pal," he said, grinning stupidly at the conductor. Then he glanced across at Johnny, and he laughed. Johnny's stocking cap was stuck on the back of his head, and his hair was a mess. His glasses were crooked on his nose, and he looked crabby.

"Got your beauty sleep, didja?" asked Fergie with a chuckle.

Johnny gave him a dirty look. "Ho-ho," he muttered sarcastically. "You don't look all that great yourself!" He heaved a sigh and glanced out the window. The train was slowing down. "We're here," said Johnny in a voice that trembled. "I hope we can find a cab."

The train stopped, and the conductor bellowed, "Stone Arabia!" Wearily the boys stumbled to their feet and walked to the ridged steel platform outside the door of the car. Gripping the handrail, Johnny made his way down the steep steps to the ground, and Fergie came leaping down after him. Not far away was a little old-fashioned train station with a scallop-edged wooden roof and a fancy cupola. A weathered wooden sign said STONE ARABIA.

In the parking lot a taxi sat with its motor idling. Johnny grinned. He could hardly believe his eyes. It was at least eleven o'clock, and here was a cab waiting for them!

"Hey, John baby, we swing!" chortled Fergie as he stumbled forward through the snow. "I'll bet we get out to the mansion before the prof and his friend do!"

Johnny smiled wanly. He still had the front-door key that the professor had given him at the start of the summer visit, so they would be able to let themselves in. Nevertheless he was not happy about arriving at a cold, dark cavernous house in the middle of the winter. Gripping the handle of his valise tightly, he followed Fergie out to the waiting taxi. As they got closer to the cab, Johnny felt panicky, and he kept getting a strong urge to turn and run madly back to the train, which still stood in the station, blowing off clouds of steam. But Johnny told himself that he was being jittery over nothing, and he forced himself to plod forward through the white sparkling snow. As he stepped over a guard rail, he noticed that there was someone sitting in the backseat of the cab. At first this seemed strange, but then he thought, Oh, well, we're just going to be sharing a taxi ride with someone. As he reached forward to grasp the handle of the rear door, it was suddenly flung open.

Inside sat a hunched, shadowy figure, his face lit by a halo of trembling green light. It was the nasty red-faced man with the waxed mustache, and he held a small black leather case on his lap.

"Hello, boys," he said, sneering. "So nice to see you again!"

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

Before Johnny and Fergie could yell or run away, Mr. Stallybrass raised his left hand, and they were rooted to the spot. Their tongues stuck to the roofs of their mouths, and they could not speak. Moving woodenly, like two robots, the boys climbed into the back of the taxi. Mr. Stallybrass forced them to kneel on the floor and put their heads down on the seat. Then, with a triumphant smile, he told the driver where to go. For about ten minutes the taxi bumped and skidded along snowy roads until at last it turned into a lonely churchyard that was surrounded by a low stone wall. Snow blanketed the graves and rimmed the tops of the headstones, and at the top of a low rise a brick church could be seen. The cab crawled up the narrow drive till it stopped by the side of the dark, gloomy building.

"Ah, here we are at last!" said Mr. Stallybrass. He reached down and tapped each boy on the back. "Come on, lads! Let's go!"

The driver, an unshaven old man in a tattered overcoat, got out and opened one of the rear doors of the car. Mr. Stallybrass snapped his fingers, and the two boys clambered awkwardly onto the snowy drive and stood waiting with empty, staring eyes and half-open mouths. Taking his time, Mr. Stallybrass followed them. He reached into his pocket, took out a large brass key, and led the way to a low pointed door on the side of the church. It was bitterly cold now, and the snow had stopped. Sticking the key into the door, Mr. Stallybrass twisted it. The door opened with a scraping shudder, and as Johnny and Fergie were hustled forward by the two men, they saw worn stone steps leading down into the darkness. The boys clumped down the steps and through a low archway, guided by the pale beam of Mr. Stallybrass's flashlight. For a few minutes they halted while the driver searched for an oil lamp that he found at last in a cob webbed corner. He managed to light the lamp, and a pale yellowish glow spread through the low-ceilinged chamber. The boys saw that they were in a burial vault under the church. Coffins lay in niches along the walls, and more were scattered on the rough earthen floor. Some of the coffin lids had brass plates that glimmered faintly in the light, while others had been smashed, so that you could see the bones inside. Two lidless coffins lay in the middle of the room, not far from the lamp. And in them Dr. Coote and Professor Childermass were laid out. Both were deathly pale and still, with folded hands and closed eyes. Were they dead?

A choked sob rose inside Johnny, and despair filled his heart. This was it, this was the end of his life and theirs. They had taken on an enemy who was too strong, and they had paid for it. Out of the corner of his eye Johnny saw Mr. Stallybrass step menacingly forward. He stopped near the two coffins and stood tapping the large key against his chin.

"So, there they are, lads!" he said calmly; "You see the result of rash actions and ill-thought-out plans! In case you were wondering, they're not dead . . . yet. However, they will be, when the temperature in this vault gets down to minus ten, as it should before morning. I've forced them to drink a strong sleeping potion, and that, together with the cold, ought to take care of them. As for you two, I'm going to have my grubby friend here tie you up and leave you with your dear old pals. I could immobilize you by magic, but that takes energy, and I have to save mine for later tonight. Besides, I want you two to squirm and struggle and know that there's no way of getting free. Very soon the planets will be in the right position for what I'm planning to do, and then . . . well, after that, the earth will be living on borrowed time. I'd explain what I mean, but surprises are best, aren't they? It's a pity that you two won't be around for the final act of my exciting little drama, but maybe that's just as well. By morning you charming lads will be as stiff and cold as those two elderly adventurers." Mr. Stallybrass paused, and his face slowly changed to a mask of cold, insane hatred. Flecks of white foam appeared at the corners of his mouth. "This is what must always happen to those who oppose me!" he snarled. "The heavens have decreed it!"

After a wild glance around the room Mr. Stallybrass motioned to the taxi driver, who stepped forward with a coil of rope and a knife in his hands. Johnny and Fergie were not paralyzed any longer, but they were frightened, so they did not resist as the driver tied their hands and feet and forced them to lie down on the ground. When the driver had done his work, Mr. Stallybrass snapped his fingers imperiously and motioned for the man to leave. But instead of leaving, he planted himself stubbornly in the middle of the floor and glared at his employer.

"Now, look here!" the man growled. "I've done everything you wanted, and more besides! You gave me some dough, but I want the rest, and I want
out!
I ain't doin' nothin' else till I get what's comin' to me!"

Mr. Stallybrass stared in silence at the man for a while, and then a sneer of contempt curled his lips. "Don't you tell
me
what to do, you miserable cur!" he said haughtily. "You will have more money, all that I promised, once you have helped me back at the mansion."

The man glowered sullenly at Mr. Stallybrass. "I just want what's mine," he grumbled. "That's all."

Mr. Stallybrass sighed. Then he chuckled unpleasantly and unbuttoned his overcoat. He pulled out four twenty-dollar gold pieces from his money belt and, with a flick of his wrist, he threw them to the driver, who thrust them into a pocket of his coat.

"There!" snapped Mr. Stallybrass. "Are you satisfied for now? Good! Then let us leave these not-so-charming people and go to our next task."

The driver nodded glumly and followed Mr. Stallybrass out of the vault. With fear in their hearts the boys heard the door slam and the key turn in the lock. For several minutes they lay still and listened to their hammering hearts. Clouds of cold breath poured from their mouths, and they glanced hopelessly around. Then they began to struggle. Wildly Johnny and Fergie thrashed around on the cold dirt floor. But even after they had exhausted themselves, they still were securely tied. With a mighty effort Fergie wrenched himself into a sitting position and looked around. The oil lamp still burned and the professor and Dr. Coote lay stiff and unmoving.

"This sure looks bad!" gasped Fergie, who was out of breath because he had struggled so much. "I—I hate to be gloomy, but maybe this is the end for all of us!"

Johnny closed his eyes. He could feel the numbing cold seeping into his bones. Soon he would have that awful feeling of sleepiness that comes when you are freezing to death. He had read of such things in Jack London stories, but he never thought that he would face a death like that himself. Johnny racked his brain desperately. Wasn't there anything
anyone
could do? Fergie began to scuttle sideways. Grabbing a brass handle that hung from one side of a coffin, he lurched upward and came down on top of the coffin's lid. The rotten wood gave way, and Fergie sank down among bones and bits of rotten cloth.

"Oh, great!" he exclaimed. "Now what do I do?"

Johnny started to cry. Big tears trickled out of the corners of his eyes, and the bitter taste of salt filled his mouth. This was really it, this was the end. They would die miserably, all four of them. Weeping steadily, Johnny gave in to utter despair. He had never felt worse in his life, and he was utterly convinced that death was near. But as he sniffled and cried, he heard a slight sound as if some animal—a dog, maybe—was pawing at the door of the vault.

"Hey!" exclaimed Fergie. "It's a doggie! Shows there's life somewhere in this crummy burg!" Frantically Fergie tried to heave himself up out of the wreckage of the coffin, but with a loud, splintering crash he sank back down again. "Great!" he exclaimed angrily. "If I ever get my hands on that beefy-faced crud, I'm gonna—"

Fergie's voice died. The door of the vault shuddered open with a loud
crrrunk!
and a wavering patch of light fell across the floor. A short, odd-looking old woman with a flickering railroad lantern in her hand stepped through the doorway. Her clothing looked as if it had been rescued from a ragbag—the skirt was a patchwork quilt that fell to the floor, and her blouse was wrinkled and stained with berry juice. Her face was round and doughy, and she wore very thick glasses. A heap of untidy gray hair was held in place by a dirty polka-dotted ribbon.

The woman tottered into the vault. "Mercy!" she exclaimed as she sat down on a carved block of stone. "What are you people doing here? You'll die of the cold if you're not careful!"

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

"We didn't have much choice about bein' here, lady!" grumbled Fergie. "Some rotten egg tied us up an' left us here. Hey, have you got a knife on you?"

The woman smiled and fumbled at her broad leather belt. A small flat pouch hung there, and from it she drew a tiny bone-handled jackknife. Opening one of the blades, she stepped forward and began sawing at the ropes that tied Fergie's wrists. In a few seconds he was free. A little more sawing, and Johnny was free too.

"Boy, that feels great!" Fergie exclaimed as he heaved himself to his feet. "You came just in time, lady!" Then he paused. A thought had occurred to him. "What made you come here, anyway?"

The woman looked embarrassed. "Well, if you must know," she said shyly, "I'm a witch. And the recipes and potions I use call for ingredients like scrapings from skulls and ground coffin wood. I come here when I absolutely have to have something that I can't get anywhere else. I do hope you won't report me to the—"

"Please, lady!" exclaimed Johnny, cutting in suddenly. "We don't have time to talk! A couple of our friends are down there on the floor, and we have to help them! The guy that tied us up gave 'em some kind of sleeping potion, and if they aren't dead already, they will be if they stay where they are. Can you do something?"