THE MYSTERY OF ROANOKE; CHAPTER 7: A SECRET PASSAGE IN THE SPRINGHOUSE (SEVENTH OF 14 PARTS)

The story so far: While exploring the grounds of Belle Vie, Melissa and Brian again see the young man they met in the morning. They follow him into the springhouse, only to find themselves alone and shut in. Their strange acquaintance has disappeared and taken Faithful the dog with him. Who is this mysterious person, and where has he gone?

When the door to the springhouse slammed shut, the twins spun around. Nobody was there.

Melissa whispered, "Brian, what is going on here?"

"I don't know," said her brother.

"I think the wind blew it shut," Melissa said hopefully, looking at the door. She went over and tried the handle. It turned. "It's not locked. Maybe we should go."

"Wait a minute," Brian said. "Where did they go?"

Through the small window by the door they could see the sky growing dark and the trees waving about. It was going to rain again, but at least they were inside.

They looked around the dark springhouse. Against one wall, like soldiers at attention, stood rakes, shovels, and hoes. There were stacks of clay pots. A bag of potting soil slumped in a corner.

"Where did he get the water for Faithful's paw?" Brian said. "From here?" He stared at the back wall. Then he stepped into the low, dry trough where the spring water had once come in from the hill. A small metal pipe poked out from the brick. It was caked with rust. Brian braced one hand against the wall above the old pipe and jiggled it.

The wall under his hand swung open.

Brian fell forward and landed in damp dirt. "What!" he cried.

"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Melissa. She stood behind him, at the edge of the trough, and stared.

It was a tunnel. The smell of wet earth flooded out, and far inside it was as dark as midnight.

Brian stood up again. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a key chain. On it hung the key to their house in West Virginia, his jackknife, and a tiny flashlight. He switched on the light. Its beam was no wider than a pencil, but it helped.

Brian looked back at Melissa. "Come on," he said, and climbed into the hole. It was not quite big enough to stand up in, so he hunched over and shuffled in a few feet.

"Be careful," Melissa said. She gulped and followed him slowly. "Can you see anything?"

Stringy roots hung overhead and sprouted from the walls. A few yards in, they saw that the walls widened into what looked like a room. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, they saw something else: someone's belongings.

There was a large brown blanket, covered with dirt and piled against one wall. Next to it was an old, rusty lantern. Scattered on the floor were a few burned-out candle stubs.

There were some dishes, too: a large wooden bowl, three tin cups, and a clay cooking pot. Some of the dishes had been broken; several curved clay shards lay on the ground.

In the middle of it all, coiled like a snake, was a long, thick rope.

Melissa's voice was barely a whisper. "Was this somebody's house?" What a creepy place to live, she thought. She shuddered as she looked around at the cobwebby walls, buried so far away from sunlight.

"I guess so," Brian whispered back. "Maybe it still is."

He inched toward the blanket, carefully avoiding the broken dishes, and with the toe of his tennis shoe lifted the edge of the fabric. A fat black spider scuttled out. The twins jumped and the spider disappeared.

Brian flipped up the edge of the blanket. To his relief, nobody was under it. "This stuff looks like it's been here a long time," he said.

Melissa exclaimed, "Brian, look at that!"

Beyond the room, there was a wooden handrail on the right wall that angled down into darkness. It was shiny with moisture.

The twins crept forward. Brian looked down at a set of stairs leading out of sight. Even with the flashlight, he could not see the bottom. But the wooden stairs seemed sturdy. He stepped on the first one, and it held.

"It's okay," he said.

Slowly, one slippery step at a time, they made their way down. The darkness grew thicker. After about 30 steps, the rail ended and they hit solid, wet ground. There were no more roots down here, only clay, and the walls were braced with wooden beams. Overhead they heard a dull roar that came and went, like waves. "That sounds like cars," Brian said. "I think we're under the road."

"Listen, there's something else," Melissa whispered. "Water."

They heard the gurgle of moving water. As they moved forward, a pale light appeared in the distance. They got closer and saw daylight from a large hole. With a few more steps, they were at the mouth of a cave, which opened onto the river. They stepped out into the gray light.

They heard a bark and there was Faithful, splashing at the edge of the water.

"Hello, friends." There was the young man they had been looking for. The light rain fell around him. He smiled. "I don't believe I've properly introduced myself," he said. He held out his hand. "My name is John O'Donnell."

Melissa and Brian were speechless. Then, slowly, Melissa reached out and took his hand. It was as warm and soft as flannel.

There was something strange about the young man. All around him, there was a faint light.

Next week: John's story.