* * * * *
Without another word, we went over to the parsonage.
That was what the other staff members of Camp New Hope called the cabin next door to the chapel. And Theo Wisemann (as camp chaplain) was the only other person besides Mr. Draconicov who had keys to the front door of the latter.
Needless to say, the good chaplain was a bit astounded by what Schmidt told him, concerning the possible location of the missing girls. Carefully editing out, of course, the allegedly true identity of Anna Stepwicz.
"Even if you're right," Wisemann replied: "...how on Earth could they have gotten down there from the east end of the lake?"
"We shall ask them once we find them," Sir Anthony commented: "In the meantime, sir, would you be so kind as to unlock the chapel?"
Wisemann acquiesced. Grabbing a kerosene lamp and leading the way to the chapel's front porch. Once there, he handed me the lamp while he sorted through an old-fashioned brass key ring. He then took back the lamp and led us over to a short staircase in the upper left corner of the narthex.
Now, this being a summer camp, there was naturally not that much to the chapel's basement. Most of the time, it was used merely as a storage area for the extra tables and chairs set up for Independence Day celebrations. With this moment being little different!
But, it was at this point that Schmidt dropped the duffel bag he'd been carrying over his right shoulder like Santa Claus. And, what he subsequently withdrew from its interior bore no resemblance to toys what-so-ever! For example; he traded in his black slouch hat for a miner's electric battery-powered headlamp. He also handed to Sir Anthony and myself one electric lantern each.
It was by the added illumination from these that he pointed out the tell-tale outline of a square...with one of the lines containing two metallic hinges.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Wisemann: "A trap door?"
Schmidt nodded: "According to Herr Draconicov, this chapel dates back to the existence of a British army outpost on this site, prior to the War of 1812. Ostensibly founded to keep an eye on the Saulteaux Ojibwas at Deepaytinee! In any event, the military engineers uncovered the entrance to a played-out copper mine in excavating the chapel's basement. And, the garrison commander decided to use it as a brig for those of his men who made the mistake of falling asleep on guard duty. Twelve hours of freezing subterranean cold being an effective reminder to never do so again!!"
"Interesting anecdote," I replied: How does that open the trap door, though?"
His only response was to withdraw (from his right pants pocket) an object that looked like an overgrown corkscrew. Using the light from the headlamp, he found a small hole in the floor (opposite the hinges) that fit the pointed end just right. Whereupon, Schmidt began grunting and pulling. Eventually drawing the trap door upwards with the kind of protesting creaks that only old hinges can make. And, which are guaranteed to make one instinctively grit one's teeth!
When the trap door was finally wide open, Schmidt took one last set of items from out of the duffel bag. The first item being an iron spike. The second item resembling a short-handled sledge hammer. And, the third item being a lengthy coil of multi-knotted, whitish-colored rope.
The spike he hammered through the underside of the trap door. Not only to keep the latter in place. But, also, to tie one end of the rope around the spike, and thereby use it as an anchoring point while he threw the remainder of the length down the hole.
"Coming mein herren?" he inquired of Sir Anthony and myself.
The former looked at me, and I nodded. Whereupon, we reholstered our Mausers, and put the handles of of the electric lanterns over the crooks of our left elbows. So, that we might have both hands free to climb down that rope right behind Schmidt.
I went second, because Sir Anthony wanted to leave Wisemann with some precautionary instructions.
"If we are not back by dawn, wake Mr. Draconicov and Mr. Gabriel. Tell them what we've told you. Mr. Gabriel will know the appropriate steps to take."
Wisemann nodded, and added that he would pray for us.
* * * * *
Our descent was, by necessity, a slow one. For one thing, this vertical shaft became quite dark after the first ten feet or so. As a result, only our portable electric lights provided enough visibility to keep us from excessively banging our kneecaps against the shaft walls.
There was also the fact that the lower we went, the colder it got. And, as Sir Anthony and myself had not anticipated a spelunking expedition, we had naturally omitted to bring windbreakers with us! So, we had to make sure we didn't build up too much of a sweat, too fast, and make our hands too slippery to hold on to the rope.
Finally, however, we reached the bottom of the shaft.
Drawing our Mausers, again, Sir Anthony shined his electric lantern in Schmidt's direction and asked him which way we should go, first (his condensed breath highly conspicuous in the beam of light).
"You two, go in that direction," he replied (indicating the pitch-black passage behind us): "Und, I will go this way. If neither party finds anything, after ten minutes, we meet back here. Trying again after daybreak, when we have more manpower for a second descent."
Because of our nearly chattering teeth, Sir Anthony and I merely nodded.
Taking the electric lanterns off the crooks of our elbows, and clenching them firmly in our respective left hands, we slowly proceeded down our share of the tunnel. The combined brilliance of the beams showing us that the only thing one might possibly remove from the walls of this mine, now, would be moss.
Also, as we had set out, Sir Anthony and I had agreed that he would be the time keeper. With him counting out the sixty-second intervals, sotto voce.
He would tell me later on, after the resolution of this case, that he had only reached nine-and-a-half minutes before we were both startled by the sound of gunfire. Followed by the vociferous shoutings of "Alarm! Alarm!" that came reverberating down the passage behind us.
Without hesitation or discussion, we double-backed along the way we had just come with all speed. And, in less time than it takes to tell, we not only reached that white rope. We ran right past it. For both shouts and shots were getting nearer! Making me realize (and, no doubt, Sir Anthony, as well) that whatever Schmidt had found, it was definitely _not_ any of the missing girls.
This realization was confirmed, seconds later, by a blood-curdling scream. The likes of which I had not heard since our ill-fated meeting with Constable B.C. Weir back in Northgate!
The two of us rounded a corner. Sir Anthony covering my back, while I crouched in front of him. Just like one of those paintings about the Civil War, where two rows of riflemen are depicted facing down a cavalry charge. Only it was no cavalry we beheld before us. It was Tomas Schmidt. Lying face down on the floor of the tunnel...with some kind of javelin sticking out of his back!
Or, at least, that's what the beam from my electric lantern was showing. Sir Anthony's, being slightly higher, revealed the owner of that javelin. Namely; an eight-foot tall Amazon wearing a faded pink toga of some kind!
Only this eight-foot tall Amazon had scaly, greenish-colored skin--and a thick swishing tail--like some kind of bipedal reptile.
tbc
Giantess World
