The Cave

The long descent gradually leveled, and the passage widened side to side, and above. The vonHedwigs walked abreast, inspecting stalactites and stalagmites, the calling cards of ancient waters, and pointing out unusual formations in the rock. They said little, each in awe of the wonders around them. Their footfalls echoed softly, but they heard nothing else, and quiet grew large around them.

Herr vonHedwig heard his wife gasp in that great silence, and hurried to her side.

“Darling, illuminate this for me!”

She was examining a fuzzy brown smudge against the cavern floor. He held the lantern low, and saw a dark tangle of tiny stems and leaves.

“Some sort of plant, my love?” he asked. “What could grow in here?”

“Not this little fellow.” She scooped up the tangle. “This is Andreaea alpina.” She hesitated. “Andreaea alpina Hedwig, actually.”

“One of yours?”

“I classified it, yes. It’s a moss, native to Greenland, bits of northern Europe, and the west of South America. It’s not growing here, it was left here – and recently! It’s still alive.”

Herr vonHedwig straightened, face growing grim.

“He’s here then. Good. I want a word with that botanist fellow, so-called Count-“

“Oh he’s a genuine Count, for whatever that’s worth, but I wouldn’t call him a botanist. No respect for plant life! He’s a dangerous, scheming meddler, and he’s brought my Andreaea to Nepal, where it has no business being.”

“I believe we may have crossed into Tibet, but no matter. Perhaps you might take the lantern. If this Montesanto is as dangerous as you say, I’d best be prepared.”

He took a coil of silk rope from the back of his pack, and hung it from his belt, where it would be more accessible, and retrieved his geologist’s pick, which he held.

Madame stored the moss in her pack, wrapping it in a damp cloth and tin sample box.  “Right. Let’s find out what he’s up to.”

They had no eye now, for the wonders of geology, but moved quickly and quietly down the passage. The tunnel delved nearly straight into the mountain, with no turns or branches, yet they heard no sound, nor perceived any light in the blackness ahead.

Suddenly, Madame stopped short, and her husband collided with her.  She slipped downward and he grabbed her around her waist, heaving her onto solid ground. A pebble, dislodged by her foot, tumbled into the darkness that yawned before them, where the cave floor gave way to nothingness. They watched the pebble fall out of their lamplight, and listened, listened, listened, for the sound of its landing – a sound which never came!

She held the lantern high.  “There’s a ledge to our left that goes around.”

They made their way along the narrow ledge, the floor of which leaned precipitously towards the gap that opened at their feet, the mouth of a hungry giant, tipping them into its maw.

“Slowly, love,” Herr vonHedwig said. “We’re in no rush, and I’m no slackroper.”

Madame stopped, leaning against the cave wall, and studied the crevice.  “This is a very odd formation. The sides are smooth, and it’s perfectly round.”

“Fascinating,” he said, “but perhaps we might study it from firmer ground.”

She led the way, slowly now, along the edge of the gap, and stopped when they came around it. Her husband shook the tension from his limbs, taking deep breaths. Madame studied the vast hole.

“Look! It’s above us as well! It’s a tunnel! Goodness, it’s wide enough to fly the launch through it.”

“Jupiter!” her husband exclaimed, “It’s exactly as that woman described!”

Madame left off examining the tunnel to study her spouse. “What woman?”

“We met her in Washington last winter, she’s a volunteer with the French Armée Aeronautique. Rather a daredevil, I gather.”

“Capitaine Charette! I remember her – striking woman – smile that lights up the room.”

Herr vonHedwig cleared his throat. “I didn’t notice.”

“Silly!” Madame stroked his cheek. “Why are we recalling La Capitaine?”

“She told me she had flown tunnels like these – described a mad underground flight from Krakatoa to Fuji through volcanic tubes, or something. I didn’t believe her, of course. It was over brandy. I never believe anything a flyer says over brandy, generally.  Well!”

“Indeed. I wonder if this one goes anywhere?” She pondered. “Or if the Count is using it somehow?”

“Let us find out!”

This story began with On Grandmothers. The previous episode is Aboard the Schmetterling and the next is The Cage.