Sally thought her own thoughts whilst Jock grabbed at her wrist—too late, and demanded in a furious voice what she thought she was doing. Perhaps that withdrawn look of hers disarmed him. Perhaps it came over him that their time might be too short to quarrel in, for he burst into sudden laughter and let her go.
“Quick work, Sally! I suppose you’re out to save Ambrose. I can’t think why. He’s always bored me stiff, but you had a fancy for him, didn’t you?”
“I loved him—long ago,” said Sally in an exhausted voice.
James felt in his pocket and produced the other thing which Hildegarde had taken from behind the panel. He didn’t want Sally to think about Ambrose. He wanted her to wake up, to come back, to be the Sally who would be all there if it came to the pinch. He thought the mysterious packet would at least distract her mind from Ambrose Sylvester.
She had drawn back and was leaning against the wall, as far from the well as possible, in a half sitting, half kneeling position. James put the parcel in her lap and sat down beside her. From her other side Jock West leaned forward.
Sally picked up what looked like a roll of brown paper clumsily fastened with string. The string had some old sealing-wax clinging to the knots, but it was so loose that it was quite easy to slip it off. There was tissue paper inside, very much creased and lumped together round something which weighed heavy and loose in her hand.
Jock gave a sudden curious laugh.
“It was in the letter—Aunt Clementa’s letter! She put Hildegarde’s book behind the panel with one of our bats, in the place with the family secret. And what’s the betting this is the family secret? Off with the paper, Sally, and let’s see if it’s what I think it is!” He held up the candle.
Sally pulled away the paper, and there came out, long and flexible, link falling from link, a necklace. The links were dusty, but the diamonds dazzled in the candle-light. There was a row of them, one to each link, very large and shining, and then a tracery of smaller stones set in festoons, and from the three middle festoons three swinging tassels with a very great diamond at the head of each.
“It’s the Queen’s necklace!” said Sally in a frightened voice.
Jock laughed.
“So Giles pinched it. I always thought so—the dirty dog! What are you going to do about it Sally—throw it down the well?”
She looked at him with a sort of shocked reproach.
“Of course not! It isn’t ours. It belongs to the King.”
Jock burst out laughing.
“Oh, Sally—you treasure! Henrietta Maria started it off to the King getting on for three hundred years ago, and you propose to deliver it just as if nothing had happened in between. Is that the great idea?”
Sally said, “Of course.” She looked at the big diamonds, and thought about Giles Rere who had betrayed his trust, and about Ambrose Sylvester who had betrayed his. She felt James’s hand on her shoulder, and knew that he would never betray anyone. They would have their quarrels, and they would have their troubles, but it wasn’t in James to betray. The knowledge was warm at her heart, and the necklace cold in her hand. She was glad when James took it away from her and wrapped it up again.
“It’s as safe in my pocket as anywhere,” he said, and put it back there.
XXXIX
Some time later.
“We ought to be sitting in the dark, you know,” said James. “That candle won’t last for ever, and we may want it badly.”
Jock laughed cheerfully.
“Lots of candles,” he said, patting a pocket. “About half a pound of ’em, I should think. I don’t come down into cellars without the wherewithal to see ’em by.”
“How are we going to get out?” said Sally suddenly.
She hadn’t thought about it at all until this moment, because first she had been feeling all queer and detached, and then she had had her mind quite taken up with other things—with Giles Rere, and Ambrose, and the Queen’s necklace. But now, all at once, she really did wonder how they were going to get out, because she wanted passionately to get out, and go right away from Rere Place and never see it again. So she asked her question.
“We’ll have to wait for the fire to burn itself out,” said Jock on one side of her.
And then James on the other:
“Unless there’s another way out. Is there another way, Sally?”
Sally said “No” in a hesitating voice.
James’s hand pressed her shoulder.
“Think—think hard, Sally.”
She turned her troubled eyes upon him.
“I don’t know any.”
He shook her a little.
“Think! How did the coals come in? We had a house with cellars once, and there was a shoot for the coal, and steps that went up to a door at the side of the house. Isn’t there anything like that?”
Sally shook her head.
“Not any steps, and Aunt Clementa was always grumbling about the coal. There’s a shoot outside in the back court, but it takes two men to move the flagstone, so that’s no use.”
James got up.
“I think I’ll go and prospect. If you’re full of candles, J.J., you can give me one.… No, I don’t want you to come—I want you to look after Sally. I shan’t be long.”
When he was gone, Sally said, “How bad is it, Jocko?” And Jocko said, “A question of how much will go when the roof falls in, I fancy.” After which Sally said, “I see—” and they both sat listening and watching the dark passage.
Sound was deadened so far below the surface, but they could hear the dull roar of the fire. It was like the roar of traffic a long way off, the roar of breakers on a rocky coast heard through a fog. No, it was like the roar of fire and nothing else. It was Rere Place going up in a pillar of flame into the night, a blazing beacon over their heads—perhaps a blazing pyre. She thought the roar was louder than it had been when James opened the door, and she thought, “Suppose he doesn’t come back. Oh, why did I let him go?”
But James came back running, with his candle out. He came back running, and shut the door behind him with a heavy thud.
“I couldn’t get up the steps. The whole place is red-hot. We’ll have to stick it out here,” he said.
And each one of the three had the same thought—“How long will the air last?”
James came back to his place by Sally and put his arm round her. The well gaped at him. The door was shut. How long could they stick it out? How long would they have to stick it out? And even as the thought formed in his mind, the second shock came. Its violence was beyond expression, and the noise prodigious. Sally’s faint cry was lost in it. Everything rocked, and rocked again, and overhead the vaulting bulged and cracked.
“It’s coming down,” said James in an odd, light voice—“the whole damned house. That’s about the size of it.”
James pulled Sally to her feet.
“The bolts on the door!” he cried. “They were there to keep the back way in—they must have been! They don’t make sense any other way. The air’s quite fresh in here, and it’s coming up from the well. The well is the back way in, and it’s our way out. Hold up, Sally, while I have a look!”
Sally shut her eyes, because she heard the stone crack again above her, and she thought that was the end. Then James was speaking, his words hurrying and stumbling.
“There’s a ring—there! Look J.J.! And steps—notches—good enough for foothold anyhow. Rings, and notches! There’s our way, and we’d better get going!”
Sally stood against the wall, and thought she felt it move. She said,
“I can’t go down the well. It’s no use—I just can’t.”
And then she opened her eyes and saw only Jocko, there on the brink of the well—only Jocko, not James—whilst her heart nearly stopped with fear. She heard his voice coming up with a strange echoing sound.
“It’s all right, J.J. There’s a cross passage about ten feet down—quite dry. You’ll have to let the candle down to me.”
The rock above them cracked again, but Sally watched him set two lighted candle ends on the edge of the well some way apart and then quickly and deftly make a noose for the candle and candlestick and lower them down and out of sight.
James’s voice came back in a moment.
“Good work! Now for Sally!”
Sally turned faint. Her heart knocked against her side, and the blood drummed in her ears. She heard voices, but they were just a noise without words or sense. And then Jocko had her by the arm. He shook her a little, and his grip hurt. He said with harsh authority,
“You’re not to faint! Do you hear? Stop it at once! I’m ashamed of you!”
Sally gazed at him blankly. She couldn’t see the well, only his face—in a mist—coming and going. He shook her roughly.
“Pull yourself together! Oh, yes, you can! Now listen! I’m going to hold you and let you down to James. There’s plenty of foothold. He’ll guide your feet. It’s perfectly easy—you’ve only got to do what you’re told.” He put his lips against her ear and said in a hard whisper, “If you faint, you’ll fall, and if you fall you’ll kill James, and if you stay here you’ll be crushed to death, because the roof’s going to fall in. Now will you behave?”
Sally said “Yes” on a faint, piteous sob. She would much rather have been crushed to death than go down the well, but she couldn’t kill James. She bit deep into the corner of her lip as Jock took her by the arms and made her kneel on the brink.
James’s voice came up to her.
“It’s all right—you can’t possibly fall.”
And then Jock was swinging her over.
“Feel with your foot—a little more to the left—no, lower down. That’s it. Now catch that ring on your right. I’m going to shift you sideways so that you can reach it. It’s all right—I won’t let go.”
Above them the roof cracked again, ominously, heavily, and from somewhere far away there came a low, distant rumbling sound. The air was very hot.
Sally got hold of the ring. The rust on it made it rough and easy to hold.
Jock said, “Take your weight for a moment—I’ve got to lie down.” He let go.
It was the most dreadful moment in Sally’s whole life, but it was only a moment. Then he had her left wrist. He was lying face downwards now, leaning over the well.
“Now, Sally—one more step down and James will be able to help you. I won’t let go again. Put down your other foot and feel for the next hold.”
Sally thought, “I can’t—I must—”
She reached down with her foot. Jock’s arm was now at full stretch as he leaned over the well. Her right hand gripped the ring a yard below the brink. Her left foot clung to a small, slippery ledge. With her right foot she sought vainly for the next step. A hand closed round her ankle—. James’s hand. Her foot was guided to its hold. James spoke.
“It’s all right—I won’t let you fall. Jock’s got to let go of you now. All you’ve got to do is to hold on with your right hand and bring your left down to the next ring.”
Jock let go of her. Her arm felt numb from the upward strain. Her mind felt numb. Her hand went groping down the wall until it found and clutched the second ring. James said,
“Only one more step. Bring your left foot down and I’ll guide it.”
The numbness was increasing. And then, blessed relief, there was an arm about her waist.
“Bring your right foot down now. There’s quite a wide ledge. There! Now shuffle along a bit.”
Her feet were planted side by side, and she had let go of the ring. She was at the mouth of a dark passage which broke the side of the well, and James was pulling her in. The candle burned on the floor a yard away. Sally sat down beside it, and heard James call.
“All clear J.J. Hurry up!”
Sally crouched down and shut her eyes. The passage rocked—everything rocked. There was a grinding noise, and she was jerked to her feet and raced along, she didn’t know where, and hardly knew how. Her feet slipped and stumbled, but James’s arm kept her up. She thought, “Jocko must be safe because he’s got the candle.” And then she thought, “That’s nonsense.” And then thought went out in noise as roof and walls crashed in behind them.
XL
Sally heard voices. One of them said,
“She’s all right. I expect it’s partly the chloroform.”
She thought, “That’s years and years ago. I wonder if I’m dead.” She didn’t mind whether she was or not. She said this out loud.
“I don’t mind about it at all—I only just want to know.”
James put his cheek against hers and said, “Sally!”
She said in a vexed voice, “I do think someone might tell me.”
“What, darling?”
“Whether we’re dead,” said Sally. And the minute she had said it she began to laugh, because it sounded so silly.
She opened her eyes, and saw James’s face, and candlelight, and a dark roof, and a heap of straw. She was lying on the heap of straw. At least she was partly lying on it, but James had his arms round her and her head was on his shoulder. She thought he had been kissing her.
“Oh, we’re very much alive,” he said.
She held on to him and pulled herself up.
“Where are we? I thought everything crashed.”
“The passage caved in—behind us. We’re in the stables. Did you know that there was an old well in one of them?”
Sally nodded.
“Yes—I did. Aunt Clementa said it was as old as the oldest part of the house.”
“Well, she was quite right. That was the back way into Rere Place—down the stable well to the cross passage, and then up the other well to the place that we were in. That’s why there were all those bolts on the door—they didn’t want people sneaking in unbeknownst.”
Sally put her head down again.
“How did we get here?”
“We brought you up the stable well. J.J. went up first and got a rope. I expect it was a good thing you didn’t know anything about it. The top rings were gone this side.”
Sally shuddered.
“Don’t, darling!”
“Sorry,” said James. “You know, I couldn’t make out why they had those two lots of cellars one under the other. I mean I couldn’t see the point of the lower one, but of course they had to have it to get their connection between the wells—the stables are so much lower than the house. I remember your bringing me down a lot of steps the day we met in the fog, and the car had to come down quite a slope when I put it away just before they laid me out. So of course they had to keep that bottom cellar.”
Sally sat up. She wasn’t feeling any interest in secret passages, or cellars, or wells. James was here, but where was Jocko? She said this aloud very insistently,
“Where’s Jocko?”
“Gone to have a look at the house. There won’t be much left of it. The crash that nearly got us was the old part falling in. Jock went and had a look as soon as we got you up. He says he wouldn’t have believed that anything could burn so fast.”
“Old houses do,” said Sally. “There was a lot of old wood in it.”
She had a sudden picture of Rere Place burning, burning, burning, and Ambrose burning with it—Ambrose, and Hildegarde, and Henri. But it was the thought of Ambrose that knocked at her heart, and because of that she couldn’t get his name across her lips. She drew away from James. The thing was dreadfully, pressingly on her mind. She said what came to her to say.
“Where are they? They’re not in the house. Oh, James, they’re not in the house! Henri was hurt! You hurt him!”
James did feel justly annoyed. All Sally’s solicitude seemed to be for the people who had done their best to murder her. This concern for Henri seemed particularly uncalled for.
“And there was nothing to prevent any of them from walking out of the front door. I can’t see what you’re worrying about. Henri was
cursing very heartily when I went past him in the hall, and if he couldn’t walk without help, there were two of them to help him. Anyhow there’s no sign of their car, so I suppose they’ve made off. Hullo—that sounds like J.J. in a hurry.”
Jock West it was, and he was out of breath with running.
“Hullo, Sally—all right?”
Sally scrambled up.
“Oh, yes. What is it? What’s happened?”
“Fire Brigade just arriving. There isn’t much left for them to save. The question is, do we stay and chat with them, or do we do a bunk?”
“If we do a bunk,” said James, “and anyone sees us, you’ll be suspected of burning the house to get the insurance money.”
Jock laughed.
“Thank you, James, it’s not insured. But perhaps we’d better stay—only we must all tell the same story, and it’s got to be water-tight.”
“The truth is the only really water-tight story.”
“Good boy! Go to the top of the class! But how much truth do we tell? Are we going to prosecute our dear guardian and his wife, and her boy friend?”
“Oh, no!” said Sally. “Oh, no, no, no!”
“Quite immoral, but I agree. Very well then, we leave them out. We tell the truth, but we don’t tell too much of it. We came down to have a look at Rere Place—a nice piece about that, with a special mention of Beatrice. Then, to account for the fire, precipitous cellar stair with pile of rubbish below—Beatrice unfortunately capsized. If anyone wants to know why she was down there at all, I shall produce the simple fact that cellars are cold. I don’t think anyone will really bother very much. Come along and meet the parson. He’s a very good fellow, but fires are meat and drink to him, and as long as he’s got a good one he won’t care a hoot who started it.”
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