Now, if we guarded the trap, though they found it, to force an entry that way might be very hard, for three men armed, in the darkness, could hold it against an army similarly equipped. But what a man has done once, he will do again; and we had little doubt that, if we opposed their entry, they would at once resort to the use of that terrible weapon which they had already employed, that is to say, bombs; and stand up to these we could not, if for no other reason, because against such an attack no man born of woman could hope to hold such a place. We could bar the postern of nights, we could set an electric alarm above the stile, we could keep watch: but more we could not do, and must try the fortune of war when the moment came. But Mansel decided that in future we must always go armed, even though we were working at the nose of the shaft.
It was then arranged that the next morning I should go to the culvert, and, taking the Rolls from Carson, send him back to the dungeon and myself drive to St. Martin for the last time.
“You see,” said Mansel, “at the moment we’re not up against Time; but I shouldn’t be surprised if we were, before the curtain comes down. Give me five minutes’ start, and I’ll be at Calais five hours before Rose Noble; but not if I’ve got to trip round, paying my bills. So we’ll do three more reliefs. When you’ve bade farewell to St. Martin, Hanbury can visit Villach; and then I can go to Salzburg and make all smooth and clear for us to withdraw. I think we should each go alone, because four’s none too many to hold the fort. And I think we’ll have Tester here; he’ll rather like this place, and he’ll be devilish useful, watching that trap.”
With that we talked no more, but went to work, Mansel and Hanbury to setting the electric alarm, and Rowley and Bell and I to driving the shaft.
Thirteen days had gone by since we had altered our course, and so well had we wrought in this time that but twenty-three yards lay between us and what we had come to call “live ground.” We gave it that name, because, though we knew it was surrounding the chamber, as a garden a house, we were far less certain where within it the chamber lay. We hoped and believed that, by holding straight on through this region, we should strike some part of the chamber before we had gone five yards; we were equally sure that, if we had not found it in nine, this would be because we had passed it; and, in such an event, we proposed to go no further, but to drive a new shaft at right angles through the middle of the live ground. We had made up our minds that this region was not more than nine yards square, and we steadfastly refused to consider that somewhere within its area the chamber did not lie.
Whether the progress we made was actually swift or slow I cannot fairly pronounce, for how six sextons would have fared, had they been set such a task, I cannot say. But what we lacked in experience, I think we made up in zeal; and, after all, digging is a simple, downright business, which one man, if he will, can soon do as well as another. Be that as it may, I do not think any men could have laboured more heartily than we had, since our brush with the tanner upon the ninth night of June. But now, since our life was to be less easy, we determined to cut our confinement as short as ever we could and to that end to redouble our efforts to reach our goal. We had not much hope of so doing before the thieves discovered the trap; but there was a chance that we might, and, faint though it was, this certainly spurred us on, for, although we were ready enough to show our teeth, once such a battle was joined, no one could possibly tell what the outcome would be.
And there, of course, the thieves had a valuable advantage; for, if one of them was wounded, the others would let him lie or die for want of attention, rather than care for him to the cost of their enterprise; but, if one of us was hurt and needed a doctor’s aid, everything else, of course, would go by the board.
In this sense the dice were loaded, and, though hitherto we had been most fortunate, this spectre always haunted each passage of arms that we had.
Full of these thoughts, we worked as hard as we could, and by the end of that day had actually advanced five yards, so that but eighteen remained between us and the live ground.
At one o’clock the next morning I left for the culvert, charged by Mansel to swim down the middle of the river and not to attempt to land for a quarter of a mile. I was then to strike across country and by no means to use the road, until I had left the junction two miles behind. Directly I had found Carson I was to send him back, for else it would be broad daylight before he could reach the shoot. “Indeed,” said Mansel, “I’m banking on your meeting by half past two, for Carson is sure to be early and so, I think, are you, for the culvert is less than four miles as the crow flies. Tell him on no account to let Tester off the lead and to hold the end in his mouth as he swims to the shoot.”
I was at the culvert at half past two and had just found the note which Carson had lodged in the brickwork under the arch, when I heard a step above me, and there he was.
Two minutes later he and Tester were gone, and I was turning the Rolls.
There was little to do at St. Martin, except to collect my belongings and pay my bill. But I had to explain how it was that I came a day late and alone and without the basket which my hostess had so often put up. I might have found this hard; but, between their relief to see me and their distress to learn that I should return no more, the good people seemed to have no room left for surprise. Indeed, I might have been a fugitive monarch, resting at the house of a loyal subject before resuming his flight, for they could not do enough to show their esteem and goodwill. And, when at last I left them, I had to give them my word that I would one day come back, and, even so, enough honest tears were shed to make me feel ashamed that I had imposed so much on their simplicity.
Hanbury met me at the culvert, but had nothing at all to report, save that another five yards had been added to the length of the shaft. And, by the time he was back on the following day, we were within eight yards of the live ground.
We were all glad of Tester, and Tester was glad of us. He soon understood that, when there was no one to spare, he was expected to guard the oubliette, and I think he enjoyed wandering about in the darkness—for now we burned no lights, except in the gallery and at the nose of the shaft—and conducting an endless scrutiny of the great banks of earth. The shoot seemed to fascinate him, and he always contrived to be present, when its flap was withdrawn. I fancy he thought that it must have been made by some beast and was continually hoping that its creator would emerge.
When Carson took his leave, I could not help wondering when we should see him again, for, with Mansel’s return, the last of our reliefs would be over, and, if all went well, the next time we crossed the river would be the last. He was very loth to leave us and constantly lamented that he had not killed Rose Noble on the night when we visited the well. “One minute more,” he would say, “and I should have had him cold. And that would have saved us a peck of trouble, sir, for, if ever I saw one, there goes a dangerous man.”
Be sure I agreed with him. And yet I must honestly confess that, if we had suddenly learned that the thieves had withdrawn, the game would have lost a curiously attractive savour, which even the lifting of the treasure would not have wholly restored. For danger, once you have tasted it, is a superlative spice.
If Carson was loth to go, we were sorry enough to lose him, for he was a fine workman and a first-class shot. What was more, he had the brain of a fighter and, though there might be no one to lead him, could be trusted to think for himself and to hold his own.
However, neither Rowley nor Bell could manage a car as could he; besides which, it was good to know that our line of retreat was held by such capable hands.
His instructions were clear.
So soon as he reached Salzburg he was to lay up the Rolls and, taking the second car, drive her to Villach. There he was to bestow her at the inn which Hanbury had used, and then to return by train in search of the Rolls. After that he was to go no more to Salzburg, but to take up his quarters at Villach, holding both cars in condition to leave at an instant’s notice by day or night. Each n
ight at eleven o’clock he was to be at the culvert and, having concealed the Rolls, to wait there till twelve. He was then to walk to a point a mile and a half away, where seven trees grew together on the top of a hill. From here could be seen the castle and a slice of the river below. If he saw nothing unusual, he was to go his way; if he saw one window lighted, he was to return to the culvert and wait till we came; if he saw two illumined, he was to leave the Rolls and come to the shoot; but, if all three were aglow, he was to get the Rolls and drive down, past the junction and on to the Lerai road.
We had little to report to Mansel, beyond that our progress had been slow. For, since he had left, we had only advanced three yards, because we had encountered a boulder as big as a sheep, the dislodgement and disposal of which had taken the best part of five hours. But, if, instead of progressing, we had actually retired, I do not think Mansel would have cared, because he was so much relieved to find that the secret of the trap was still inviolate and that we had not, in his absence, been called upon to fight for our lives.
That day we made a great effort; and by eight o’clock that evening we had reached the coveted region and had broken the live ground.
Our excitement now began to run high, and I was for bolting my supper, in order to get back to work; but Mansel said he should like to visit the combe, and me to go with him.
“It may seem idle,” he said: “but those who don’t look don’t see. To visit the well or the castle would take more time than I think we can fairly spare; but to go to the combe and back will take us less than an hour. I hope and believe it will be our last reconnaissance, but I think we ought to make it before we take off our coats for the final push.”
And so we went out together, when it was dark.
Hanbury told me later that, when we returned, Mansel was rather pale, but I looked an older man. I have no doubt I did; for, although we had seen no one and heard no sound, what we had found was enough to age any man who thinks the fruits of his labour worth taking up.
At the foot of the gutter we had found a miniature lake.
Now, whilst we were drawing water, we had never gone down to see the pool we had made, and, though we all remembered the sodden condition of the ground on the day I was taken by Ellis, that was nothing to go by, for then no water had been drawn for eighteen or twenty hours. We had, therefore, the bare fact before us that the enemy was making for the first time a truly formidable effort to empty the well—a feat which we had accomplished in less than three days. How long they had been at work, how much water they had drawn, how the results of their labour were comparing with those of ours we could not so much as guess; but what six men had done eight men could do; and this indisputable verity, sternly illustrated by the lake at the foot of the combe, bade fair to sap the resolution from which our endeavours sprang.
I can only speak for myself, but I know that, when I was back in the gallery, I felt tired and was glad to sit down and that, when Bell brought me dry shoes, the business of changing seemed a burden and I told him to put them down and let me be.
Then I heard Mansel laugh.
“Rose Noble leads,” he said lightly. “And yet I’ll back the old firm. There’s the straight to be covered yet, and I fancy they’re full of running. Besides, I don’t know how you fellows feel, but I haven’t shovelled dirt for six weeks for the pleasure of watching Rose Noble pick my peach. Then again, the game’s the thing.
“And now let’s see where we stand.
“As yet they’ve not got to the shaft. That is clear, for that water was drawn today, but the gutter was dry, which means they’ve stopped work for the night. If it was over, and they’d found, there wouldn’t be so much water at the foot of the combe, for once they’ve uncovered the shaft, they’ve only to bail to keep the water down; and five hours’ bailing wouldn’t make all that mess.
“Again, I know they’re eight; but only four will draw water as fast as we: and one of those—Rose Noble—has something better to do, for you can’t command such a rabble and bear a hand as well. Besides, I’ll stake my oath that, water to draw or no, Rose Noble’s still trying to find the way to the oubliette. And I think it more than likely that they’re keeping an eye on the shoot.
“And last of all, they none of them know of the bars. And that’s a fruit of a thought, for I’ll lay my soul to a cesspool that, apart from anything else, they’re short of a file.”
With that, he ordered Rowley to open a case of champagne, “for, though,” said he, “I meant us to drink it when the treasure had been won, now that I come to think, we might not have time, and it seems a pity to leave it for Ellis and Rose.”
I can relate his words, but I cannot describe the way in which he spoke them, or the quiet, confident manner with which he seemed to be putting Misfortune to shame.
Enough that he lifted us up and carried us all away.
And, since neither Hanbury nor I would wait for the wine, Mansel himself brought a bottle to the nose of the shaft and made us drink.
We worked straight through that night, and it was eight the next morning before Mansel called a halt. By then we had tunnelled four yards into the live ground. This had meant working at a tremendous pace, for we faithfully maintained its dimensions and propped the shaft as we went. The heat was awful, and the want of air most vile: but we had grown used to these conditions, from which we had begun to suffer as soon as we turned the shaft. Still, we came down into the gallery, swaying like drunken men, and Hanbury and Bell fell asleep over their food.
Then Mansel told Rowley and me to take our rest and said that he should take Tester and sleep in the oubliette. I believe he said something else, for I remember laughing, but before my laughter was over I was asleep.
Now how long Mansel slept I do not know, but he woke us at noon, to say that he had sunk a crow-bar at the nose of the shaft and had encountered water four feet below its floor.
Except that he had found the chamber, he could not have brought us more encouraging news, for it showed that we had, at least, no vertical error to fear and that, roughly, our floor was level with that of the chamber itself.
In a moment, therefore, we were wide awake and afoot and all agog to return to the nose of the shaft. But of this Mansel would not hear, until we had all of us bathed and broken our fast.
“Method in all things,” he said. “Disorder never won yet and never will. We went off the deep end last night, but we’re not going to do it again. From now on we’ll labour by shifts; there’ll always be four at work and one at rest. I don’t know how much we can stand, but it won’t be for long, and four hours on to one off seems the most convenient rule.”
And, whilst we were eating, he outlined what must be done to cope with a sudden attack.
“The one who is off duty must sleep in the oubliette. Tester will wake him all right, in the event of attack. The moment he’s waked, he will withdraw to the ramp—of course, taking Tester with him—and close the postern gate. And he will hold the ramp, while the others will hold the shaft. In this way we shall have them between two fires, and, if we don’t loose off too soon, it ought to be a walk-over.”
Then he told us to mind how we went at the head of the ramp, as well as at the mouth of the shaft, because he had built two breast-works out of some sacks of earth.
“Why, you can’t have rested at all,” cried Hanbury.
“I had two full hours,” said Mansel, “and now I’m off to have one more. Chandos, what time do you make it?”
I told him twenty past twelve.
“I shall be your relief,” said he. “I count upon you to wake me at half past one.” I suppose I hesitated, for he continued at once. “Unless you give me your word, I shall not sleep.”
“I promise,” said I.
“Very good,” said Mansel. “But if, before then, you strike oil—well, I don’t mind being called early to hear the news.”
Five minutes later we were at the nose of the shaft.
We had still five yards to go, be
fore we should come to the end of the belt of live ground, but, though we went steadily forward, we now took to searching right and left, by dint of driving a crow-bar, as though it were a great nail, into the wall. Again and again, by this means, we thought we had found the chamber, but when we had laid bare the obstruction, each time it proved to be some boulder or two or three smaller stones. In this way the tunnel began to lose its symmetry, and, though this could not be helped, the propping of the roof with timber became a less downright business and wasted a lot of time.
We worked frantically, speaking very little, but doing the best we could to maintain the system of labour which should turn to the best account such joint strength as we had.
The hewer stood on a sheet on to which his winnings must fall. As soon as these began to encumber him we would stand back and away; at once his assistant would draw back the sheet from the face and lay in its place another to catch the next fall of earth. The assistant then disposed of the soil he had drawn away, and by the time he was back the second sheet would be full. The carpenter followed the hewer as close as he could, pitching his uprights and cross-bars and wedging them into place; and the fourth was man of all work, now shovelling loose earth that had fallen clear of the sheet or had not fallen, now helping the carpenter, and now bringing up fresh wood.
An hour before his relief, each man had a pint of champagne, and, when he was waked, was given a quarter of an hour in which to bathe and eat. Mansel fed Tester himself twice in the day, and that was all the attention the poor dog had, yet he was as good as gold, never obtruding himself as so many dogs would have done, but seeming to know that we were fighting with Time and faithfully keeping to his post in the oubliette.
By eleven o’clock that night we had advanced five yards and were clear of the live ground.
It was impossible not to be disappointed and very hard not to be dismayed. And, when I had called for a crow-bar and, with three mighty blows, slammed this up to its head into the nose of the shaft, and touched not so much as a pebble, I think we all avoided each other’s eyes.
Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Page 17