by Clara Benson
But what he had Barbara never found out, because at that moment she felt a hand on her shoulder and almost jumped out of her skin.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ said Harriet Dorsey.
THIRTY-THREE
Barbara gasped and looked about her for a means of escape, but Mrs. Dorsey had her arm in a steely grip and, try as she might, she could not pull free. The older woman wrenched her round and stared hard into her face.
‘What do you mean by listening at doors?’ said Harriet.
‘Oh, thank goodness you’re here!’ began Barbara. ‘I’ve just seen a suspicious man wearing an eye-patch climb through the kitchen window. He was carrying a hatchet, and—’
‘Can it!’ snapped Harriet. ‘I know your sort. That funny stuff won’t work with me. I saw you come out of that cupboard just now. Don’t try and come the innocent. You’re here spying for that woman, aren’t you?’
‘Who, Angela? Of course not,’ said Barbara truthfully. ‘I’m not spying for anybody.’
‘Then why are you here?’
Barbara was about to speak, when the drawing-room door opened.
‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ said Miss Trout, without notable enthusiasm, when she saw Barbara. ‘I might have known you’d be nosing around here.’
‘I’m only doing what you asked me to do,’ said Barbara, stung.
‘Yes,’ said Miss Trout. ‘I shall be more careful next time. You’d better come in, hadn’t you?’
Harriet pushed Barbara into the drawing-room and pointed to a chair.
‘Sit,’ she said.
Barbara sat reluctantly. Clifford, Lionel, Miss Trout and Harriet all regarded her with expressions ranging from surprise to mistrust.
‘How much did she hear?’ asked Lionel of his wife.
‘I don’t know. I was walking downstairs when I saw her come out of that old cupboard and start listening at the door. I don’t know how long she’d been there.’
‘I don’t know myself,’ Barbara said. ‘What time is it? I thought I’d left my umbrella here, you see, and I got into the cupboard to look for it and fell asleep—ow!’
She broke off with a yelp as Harriet slapped her hard in the face.
‘I said can it!’ said Harriet.
‘What did you do that for?’ said Barbara, rubbing her flaming cheek and biting back the tears.
‘Now, Harriet, dear, there’s no need for that,’ said Miss Trout. ‘I’m sure Barbara will tell us the truth of her own accord. Won’t you, Barbara?’
Barbara scowled.
‘Tell that woman to stop hitting me,’ she said mutinously.
‘But indeed, we must treat our guests kindly, Harriet,’ said Clifford. ‘Now, Barbara, I’m sure you have been taught that children ought not to listen at doors. In the normal way of things, a little girl caught eavesdropping would be punished very severely. We shan’t do that, of course, but you must tell us exactly what you heard.’
Barbara pressed her lips tightly shut. Lionel Dorsey clicked his tongue impatiently.
‘Why won’t she talk?’ he said.
‘Perhaps she has nothing to tell,’ said Clifford.
‘Of course she has,’ said Harriet. ‘I saw her listening, I tell you.’
‘We haven’t got time for this,’ said Miss Trout suddenly. ‘We still don’t know where Wally is. We have to find him, and quickly. Clifford, take the girl to Wally’s room for now. You go with him, Lionel. We don’t want her escaping. We can decide what to do with her later. And don’t forget to lock the door this time.’
‘I won’t, Ma,’ said Clifford.
He and Lionel rose and bore Barbara away between them. Barbara had a good idea where they were taking her, and her spirits rose within her as they crossed the hall and ascended the stairs to the top floor.
‘Who is Wally?’ she asked, although she thought she could make a pretty good guess.
‘Never you mind,’ said Clifford.
He opened the door at the end of the second-floor passage and motioned for her to enter.
Barbara was almost starting to enjoy herself. She opened her eyes wide.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she said, with a note of hysteria in her voice. ‘Oh, please don’t lock me up! I couldn’t bear it! They warned us about white slavers at school, and said it was a fate worse than death. Oh, please let me go! Please! I shall die, I know it!’
She sank to her knees and clutched at Clifford’s jacket, sobbing dramatically. He shook her off in disgust.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he said. Barbara howled and lunged at Lionel, who leapt back in consternation.
‘I knew she’d try some funny business,’ said a woman’s voice behind them. It was Harriet Dorsey, who had followed them upstairs. Barbara, her cheek still tingling from the slap, closed her mouth at once, jumped to her feet hurriedly and ran through the door.
‘That’s better,’ said Clifford. He followed her to the end of the hidden passage and unlocked the door at the end. ‘Down you go,’ he said brusquely.
Lionel and Harriet stood guard at the top of the stairs while Barbara descended, followed by Clifford. They went through the dark ante-room and emerged into the familiar surroundings of Jeremiah Trout’s bedroom.
‘Why, it’s a secret room,’ said Barbara, feeling that she ought to make some show of surprise.
‘That’s right,’ said Clifford. ‘That door at the top of the stairs is the only way out, and I have the key, so don’t bother trying to escape.’
‘How long are you going to keep me here?’ said Barbara.
‘That all depends,’ said Clifford ominously, and departed. Barbara heard him climb the stairs and exchange a word or two with the Dorseys, then the door was shut and there was the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.
Barbara waited a few minutes then pulled out her torch and ran into the ante-room. It took her a little while, but she eventually found the lion’s head on the panelling which hid the keyhole, and slid it aside. The gang were evidently unaware of the hidden door, and had assumed that Jeremiah had escaped up the stairs. How angry they would be when they discovered that she had gone too! Barbara smiled to herself at the thought of their furious faces, then fumbled in her pocket and brought out the key, and was soon on her way down to the cellar.
The trap-door was still open. She clambered through it and down into the tunnel, then set off down the steep passage-way. Very soon she reached the rock-fall and scrambled through the little opening that she had laboured so hard to create the previous night. She had just jumped down to the other side when she heard the sound of voices, and her heart leapt into her mouth. Of course! Lionel and Clifford had come to search the tunnel for Jeremiah! How could she have forgotten?
She very nearly turned tail and ran all the way back to the secret room, but immediately recollected herself. No, that was no good: if she waited any longer, she would miss the tide and have to wait here for hours, and that would never do. What if the gang decided she was too dangerous and made away with her? What Barbara wanted more than anything at this moment was to get as far away from Poldarrow Point as possible and tell Angela or Mr. Simpson all that she had learned. She had great faith in her own abilities, but there were times when only a grown-up would do. Someone had to come and arrest the gang as soon as possible.
Gathering all her courage, she crept along the tunnel to where it joined the main passage, and stopped to listen. It sounded as though Clifford and Lionel had passed the fork and gone on towards the barrel-chamber, for she could hear muffled footsteps to her left. She peered out and saw the beam of torchlight moving away from her. Swiftly, she followed it, keeping as silent as possible, and was soon within ten yards of the two men.
‘I don’t know how Ma thinks Wally could have got himself all the way down here,’ grumbled Clifford. ‘It’s hard enough for us, and we’re younger.’
‘Yes, but he wouldn’t think sensibly like that, would he?’ replied Dorsey. ‘He’s cracked
in the head. Who knows what he might decide to do?’
‘Cracked in the head is right,’ said Clifford, with a humourless bark of laughter. ‘With any luck he has cracked his head—on a rock, to save us any more trouble!’
They were now entering the barrel-chamber, where it was slightly less dark. Barbara stayed well back, in the pitch black of the upper tunnel, and watched as the silhouettes of the two men moved about uncertainly in the dimness.
‘What’s this?’ said Lionel, his voice echoing around the walls of the cave.
‘It’s where the old smugglers used to store their goods, years ago,’ said Clifford.
‘Could come in useful,’ said Lionel.
‘Too late for that now,’ said Clifford. ‘We’ve got to find the thing and get out by the fifth.’
‘Mightn’t it be down here?’
‘I hope not. I shouldn’t much fancy going through this place with a tooth-comb, should you? Besides, why hide it in a tunnel that anyone can get into at low tide, when you can keep it safe in your own house, close at hand?’
‘Just a minute,’ said Lionel. ‘You said the tunnel leads down to the beach. Surely, then, even if you do have to leave the house, we can still come in here and search, can’t we?’
‘We could have,’ said Clifford, ‘until that little brat cottoned on to us. Now we’ll have to find the necklace as quickly as we can and then disappear sharpish.’
‘Can’t we make her disappear instead?’
‘That’s for Ma to decide. I don’t know what plans she’s got for the girl, but it’s not all that easy to get rid of someone without drawing people’s notice.’
‘I know that, but there are ways,’ said Lionel. There was an unpleasant tone to his voice. In the tunnel, Barbara shivered.
‘Well, whatever we do, we’ll have to be careful, or that godmother of hers will be sticking her nose in—and she’ll most likely bring the police with her.’
‘True enough,’ said Lionel. He waved his torch around the chamber. ‘Well, Wally’s not here. Shall we go on?’
‘Not yet,’ said Clifford. There’s another branch of the tunnel back there. We’d better take a look before we go any farther.’
Barbara retreated hurriedly back up the passage, but in her haste tripped over a loose stone and nearly fell. The stone rattled down into the barrel-chamber with a loud echo, and Barbara froze in terror.
‘What was that?’ said Lionel.
‘Well I never!’ said Clifford. ‘The old devil must be down here after all. He’s been following us all this time. He’s got more tricks than a monkey!’
The two men directed the beams of their torches into the upper tunnel and advanced slowly. Keeping out of the light, Barbara retreated quietly, then turned and fled as fast as she could—which was not very fast, given that she dared not turn on her own torch. She heard Clifford and Lionel approaching behind her and quickened her pace. Her breath came fast in her throat and it was a struggle to keep silent.
‘Stop!’ came Clifford’s voice behind her. ‘I know you’re down here, you old villain. You didn’t really think you could escape, did you?’
Barbara heard the panting of the men as they toiled up the steep passageway behind her. Their torches were powerful ones; another minute and they would see her. She stumbled and gasped, then picked herself up and ran on blindly. She passed the fork in the tunnel. That way was no good—it led back to the secret room and then she would be back where she started. She half-ran, half-scrambled along the last few yards of the tunnel, and finally came up against the iron ladder. She began to climb, but before she had got more than four feet off the ground the light grew bright and they were upon her.
‘Here!’ said Lionel. ‘It’s not Wally after all, it’s the brat! How did she get out?’
He started forward and clutched at her ankles. She kicked out and caught him hard in the stomach.
‘Oof!’ he said, winded. He staggered backwards and Barbara scrambled further up the ladder, trying to reach the open trap-door.
‘Why, you little terror,’ said Clifford. ‘You’d better not try that on me.’
He grabbed her legs and pulled with all his weight. Barbara had no choice but to let go, and they both fell down in a heap onto the hard ground. Barbara scrambled to her feet and made a dart to escape, but Lionel was too quick for her. He grabbed her and boxed her ears soundly, and she whimpered and attempted to shield her head with her arms.
‘Try that again and it’ll be the worse for you,’ he said angrily.
Clifford had risen to his feet with difficulty, and now regarded Barbara grimly.
‘How did you get out?’ he asked.
Barbara pressed her mouth shut, and Lionel boxed her ears again.
‘Ouch!’ she cried. ‘Stop it!’
‘Answer the question, then,’ said Lionel. He made as if to hit her again, and she ducked.
‘All right!’ she said sulkily. ‘If you must know, I came out along that tunnel.’
She pointed towards the second passage that led to the rock-fall.
‘But it’s blocked,’ said Clifford.
‘Not now,’ said Barbara. ‘I unblocked it. It leads to the secret room.’
‘What?’ said Clifford, astounded.
Barbara nodded.
‘Maybe that’s how Wally escaped,’ said Lionel.
Barbara would have liked to boast triumphantly of the part she had played in Wally’s flight, but her ears were still ringing so she held her tongue.
‘Come on,’ said Clifford. ‘We’ll go and take a look. Don’t let her go.’
Dorsey gripped Barbara’s arms firmly and they set off towards the fork in the tunnel. The two men gazed in surprise at the rock-fall, with its hole just big enough for a man to climb through.
‘Where did you say it goes?’ said Clifford to Barbara.
‘It leads into another cellar, then up some stairs and through a hidden door into the little dark room with the armchair,’ she replied.
Clifford nodded to Lionel.
‘Go and take a look,’ he commanded. ‘I’ll hold the girl.’
Lionel approached the rock-fall and shone his torch through the hole.
‘All I can see is another tunnel,’ he said.
‘Yes, but then there’s a ladder that leads through another trap-door into a different cellar-room,’ said Barbara.
Clifford shifted his grip on his torch, and Barbara seized the opportunity to kick him in the shins as hard as she could. He yelled and dropped the torch, and Barbara wrenched herself out of his grasp and darted off down the passage. There was no question of creeping about secretly in the dark now—she was concerned only with getting away as fast as she could, so she pulled out her torch and switched it on, shining it on the ground before her as she went. She turned into the main tunnel and half-ran, half slid down the steep passage, hearing the shouts of the men behind her as she went. Soon she reached the barrel-chamber, and sprinted across it and into the lower tunnel. Here she had the advantage over her pursuers, as she had been through it several times in the past few days, and she heard the sound of their voices behind her grow fainter as they slowed down and stumbled along the unfamiliar route.
Barbara slackened her pace slightly and began to breathe again, but her relief was short-lived as she rounded a bend and ran straight into a pool of water. Aghast, she realized that it must be later than she had thought: the tide must have advanced some way into the cave already. She pointed her torch at the ground and saw that the water was not as deep as it had been when she had been caught by the tide the other day. The sound of the men’s voices was growing louder again. It looked as though she were trapped.
A beam of light approached.
‘There she is!’ growled Lionel’s voice. Barbara blinked into the light and made her decision. She took off her shoes then turned and ran straight into the water. It was freezing cold but she paid no heed and pressed on doggedly, and was soon up to her knees.
The men ha
d paused, evidently not relishing the thought of following her into the sea, but after a hasty conference they took off their own shoes and came after her. Barbara was up to her waist now. She glanced behind her and saw them, but continued determinedly. The passage ran level here, for the water remained at the same depth for some way, but then she felt the ground dip beneath her, and suddenly the icy water was up to her chest. Wading was too slow now, so she discarded her torch and began to swim. Ahead of her, she could see a dim light, and realized it must be the cave entrance. She redoubled her efforts, and to her joy felt the ground rise beneath her and the water grow shallower.
Gasping and panting, she emerged into the outer cave and blinked at the bright light that came in from the outside. Here, the water was only up to her thighs, and she began wading towards the entrance. She was halfway across the cave when Lionel and Clifford emerged. She squealed and stumbled, then recovered herself and pushed on. The tide had not yet quite covered the cave opening, and she ducked underneath it and emerged squinting into daylight, then started wading towards the beach as quickly as she could. But Lionel Dorsey was too fast for her: he was younger and fitter than Clifford, and was now almost upon her. She shrieked as he lunged at her, and wrenched herself away, but he caught up with her easily and brought her down. The water was knee-deep here and the current was strong, and she coughed and spluttered as she swallowed a mouthful of salt water.
‘I’ll teach you a lesson, you little beast,’ he said harshly, then grasped her by the shoulders and held her under the water. Barbara thrashed about frantically, and he pulled her back up, gasping and whooping for air. He waited until she had caught her breath, then ducked her again. This time, Barbara was ready for him. She went limp in his grasp, as though unconscious. Lionel relaxed his hold in surprise and Barbara bit him hard on the hand. He yelled and let go of her, sucking his bleeding thumb, and Barbara was up like a shot, splashing desperately for the shore, choking and sobbing. The water stung her eyes and she could hardly see where she was going, but she pressed on, her one thought to reach land.
Panting, she ran blindly into an obstacle. A pair of arms caught her and she shrieked, thinking for a second that it must be Clifford.