The Toll-Gate

by Джорджетт Хейер

  “I’ll remember it,” promised John. “Are you able to walk as far as to the village, or shall I mount you, and go with you?”

  “No, no, I’ll beat it on the hoof!” Stogumber replied. “I’m feeling pretty stout now, and there’s no call for you to leave the gate.”

  “Would you like a pistol?”

  “Much obliged to you, no! Gabriel Stogumber ain’t caught napping twice in one night.”

  He then took his leave, and went off, leaning on his ash-plant. John watched him until he passed out of sight round the bend in the road, and then went back into the tollhouse to await Chirk’s return.

  This was not long delayed. In a very few minutes, the highwayman was tossing his hat and coat on to a chair, and saying: “I’m to tell you, Soldier, the Squire’s not so stout today, which is why Miss Nell ain’t left the house. Seems there was a bit of a kick-up this morning, which threw Squire into some kind of convulsion. Howsever, he’s been sleeping pretty well all day, and they say as he’s middling well now.”

  “What happened?” John demanded.

  “The butler-cove had back-words with Coate’s man,” replied Chirk, accepting a tankard, and blowing the froth from it expertly. “By all accounts, he mistook one of the wenches for a light-skirt, and acted according, and she, not having a fancy for a stub-faced cull—and wapper-eyed at that, so Rose tells me!—set up a screeching fit to burst anyone’s listeners. So this old cove tells Gunn that what with him being in the habit of prigging the drink, and never coming into the house but what he’s ale-blown and uncommon full o’ bounce, he won’t have him there no more, and if he sets his foot over the threshold again, he’ll have up Squire’s groom, and the stable-boy, which is a fine, lusty lad, to take and throw him out. Then in walks Mr. Henry Stornaway, and he flies into his high ropes in a brace o’ snaps, and tells the butler-cove he’s as good as master at Kellands, and things will be as he wants ’em to be. Which the butler-cove says they won’t, not while Squire’s above ground. So off goes this Henry in a twirk, and as soon as Squire’s own man is out o’ the way he goes in to see his granfer. What he said to him no one don’t know, but Squire’s man come back to find Squire fair foaming at the mouth, and trying to get out of his chair to give this Henry a leveller. Which his man was so obliging as to have done for him, which, so far as anyone could tell, Squire not being able to speak, pleased the old gager considerable. Then Miss Nell goes off and dresses Coate down like you never heard, and tells him if him or Henry goes next or nigh Squire, or Gunn sets foot in the house, she’ll have in the constable from Tideswell to heave ’em out, the whole scaff and raff of ’em. Rose had her ear to the door, misdoubting there might be a turn-up of some sort, but by what she tells me Coate did his best to come over Miss Nell with a lot o’ bamboozling talk, saying as Henry was a buzzard, and Gunn a worse ’un, and he’d see as she wasn’t troubled no more. Then she tells him to his teeth that the sooner he pikes the better pleased she’ll be, and he says as she’ll do well to take care, ’cos if she meddles with him it’ll be very much the worse for her, and Squire, and Henry too. Rose says he sounded as wicked as if he was the Black Spy himself, and gives a laugh which makes the blood curdle in her veins.—But I don’t set much store by that,” he added indulgently, “women’s blood being remarkable prone to curdle. So that’s how it is, Soldier—excepting that Henry’s took to his bed with a chill, which Rose says is true enough, him sneezing fit to bring the roof down.”

  John was silent for a moment, frowning over this intelligence. He looked up at last, and asked curtly: “Did you ask Rose if she knew of a cave near the Manor?”

  “I did, and in a manner o’ speaking she does, only it would queer her to tell us where it is, because she ain’t ever seen it. There’s a couple of small caves in the hills north o’ Squire’s place, and one big ’un, very like the one at the Peak, she says, but Squire closed up the entrance to that afore ever Rose went to the Manor, Henry’s pa having broke his leg in it. It’s on his land, you see, but there ain’t no road to it, and Squire never took a fancy to show it to folks, like they show the one at the Peak. Miss Nell’s pa, which was Squire’s eldest son, Mr. Frank, was with Henry’s pa when he broke his leg, the pair of ’em being no more than shavelings, and he run off to get help, which was just as well, seemingly cos there’s water in the cavern, and when it rises it don’t take more than five or six hours to flood it. So Squire wouldn’t let no one go in it no more, and Rose says she doubts the lads nowadays don’t even know where it is, nor nothing about it. She says she’ll take her oath Miss Nell and her brother never knew there was a big cave, ’cos Squire laid it on everyone they wasn’t to be told, them being the kind of young ’uns as ’ud think it rare sport to go getting drownded in a cavern.”

  “But Henry might have known!” John said. “No doubt his father told him of his adventure in it! I’m much obliged to you, Chirk!”

  Chirk eyed him shrewdly. “You’re welcome. What might you be meaning to do?”

  “Find the cavern, and discover what the secret of it is. If it’s being used to serve some purpose—why, that would explain what brought Coate to Kellands, and what made him ally himself with such a creature as Henry Stornaway!”

  “If it is,” agreed Chirk sceptically.

  “The more I think of it, the more convinced I am that nothing could be more likely,” declared John. “Jerry Chirk, I’ve a strong notion I am going to enjoy myself!”

  Mr. Chirk noticed that there was a sparkle in his eyes, and a queer little upward tilt to the corners of his mouth, but since his acquaintanceship with the Captain was of the slightest he set no particular store by signs which would have sunk any of John’s cronies into the deepest foreboding. He merely said in a disparaging tone: “Well, I don’t know why you should, Soldier. What would anyone want with a cave, except maybe to hide in, and they ain’t doing that?”

  The sparkle became more pronounced; the eyes were smiling now. “I don’t know. If it weren’t for Miss Nell and the Squire, I should call this a capital go! Something must be hidden in that cavern: all I have to do is to discover what!”

  “I don’t see that neither,” objected Chirk. “If they’ve slummed some ken, and prigged the lurries out of it—diamonds and pearls, and silver feeders and such—they wouldn’t go putting it into a cavern, not unless they was addle-brained, they wouldn’t! They’d take it to a fence, and mighty quick, too! Much good would it do ’em, shoved in a cavern! What’s more, Soldier, I’ll allow this Henry looks like he’s a ramshackle sort of a cove, but it ain’t likely as he’d go slumming kens, nor any such lay! That’s pitching it too rum!”

  “I wonder!” John said. “No, I should say it wasn’t that. Lord, I wish I knew what took him there last night, and what happened to scare him out of his wits! I’ll ride over there at first light, and see what I can find. There are at least two deep gorges in the hills, for I saw them this morning.”

  “Yes, I suspicioned you would,” said Chirk, with a sigh. “So did Rose, and what must she do but make me take my dying oath I’d go along with you, in case you was to tumble down, and break your leg! Which I’d take it kind in you if you wasn’t to do, Soldier, because I’ve got no fancy for hauling a man of your size out of any plaguey cavern!”

  “No, I won’t do that,” promised John. “But come, by all means! We may see some sport!”

  “We may see a cavern or two,” said Chirk. “I don’t say as we won’t; but as for seeing anything else, I’ll wager you an even coach-wheel we don’t!”

  “Done!” said John promptly. “You’d better sleep here tonight. There’s some spare bedding in the room Ben’s in. I’ll fetch it.”

  “Don’t you go waking him up! He’s a good lad, but there’s no sense in letting him know more than is good for him—or me!”

  “Wake him up! You don’t know him! I might be able to do it if I banged his head against the wall.”

  The light of the candle which the Captain carried made Ben stir, and open
drowsy eyes, but after muttering something inaudible, he slid back into slumber. The Captain carried a pillow and an armful of blankets into the kitchen, and made up the fire. Chirk, hauling off his cracked boots, said that he had slept on many worse beds.

  Turning down the lamp on the table, John bethought him of something, and said: “Chirk, where’s the Wansbeck ford? Do you know?”

  Chirk set his boots down carefully side by side. “No, I can’t say as I do. Which ford?”

  “The Wansbeck. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “Wansbeck,” repeated Chirk, a slight frown between his eyes. “Seems to me as though I know that name, but I can’t just think where I’ve heard it.” He scratched his chin reflectively. “Blessed if I can place it!” he said. “I’d say I’d never been there, but I got a feeling——” An irrepressible yawn broke off this utterance. He shook his head. “I can’t call it to mind, but I daresay it’ll come back to me.”

  “Tell me if it does!” John said.

  He then withdrew to his own bed, and, no one demanding his attendance on the gate, passed an untroubled night.

  He possessed the soldier’s faculty of waking at what hour he chose, and got up at dawn to discover that Chirk shared it. The fire was burning brightly, and the kettle was already singing. John at once made tea, and Chirk, finding some cold bacon in the cupboard, clapped a hunk on to a slice of bread, and consumed it, observing that there was no knowing when he would get his breakfast. He then went off to saddle the mare, while John roused Ben, and told him he was off to exercise Beau. Under his father’s rule, it had always been Ben’s duty to attend to any early wayfarers, and since the dawn-light was creeping in at the little window he raised no demur, merely yawning, and knuckling his eyes.

  A few minutes later, the Captain joined Chirk by the hedge skirting Farmer Huggate’s field, Beau snatching playfully at the bit, and dancing on his impatient hooves. He had strapped his great cloak to the saddle, but although he had pulled on his boots, he had not chosen to subject his only coat to whatever rigours might be in store, and he wore only his leather waistcoat over a flannel shirt.

  “No sense in going by the road,” said Chirk. “If that highbred ’un of yours can take a fence or two, we’ll edge round by way of the fields.”

  “As many as you like!” replied John. “Or a six foot wall, coped and dashed, for that matter!”

  “What, with you up, Soldier? Come, now, Mollie! We’d best give that big daisy-cutter a lead!”

  The mare nipped neatly over the hedge, and Chirk led the way through the spinney to the fields John had seen from the lane. The mist still lay heavily over them, but it was not thick enough to impede the riders’ progress. They made their way diagonally towards the lane, and came to it half a mile to the north of the farm on the further side of it. The mare went over the bank cat-fashion, but Beau took bank and hedge flying, which made Chirk say, “One of these neck-or-nothing coves! And lucky if the prad ain’t strained a tendon!”

  But Beau was sagacious and the Captain clever in the saddle, and the wheel to the left when he alighted was accomplished without any such mishap. The tumbled mass of the hills could now be seen quite clearly ahead, and, after another quarter of a mile, the lane took a sharp turn, beginning the steep ascent over the pass. The Captain reined in.

  “We’ll try to the east,” he said. “That’s where I noticed the clefts, and the limestone outcropping. The slope is milder to the west, not so likely, I fancy.”

  “Just as you say, Soldier,” responded Chirk amiably.

  The bank which had been built up round the farmlands had come to an end a few hundred yards to the south, and there was only a narrow ditch to be stepped over. Beyond it the land was uncultivated. Birch trees reared up out of a mass of tangled undergrowth, and even found a foothold on the precipitous slopes of the escarpment; and every now and then a boulder sticking up out of the ground showed how thinly the earth lay above the rock. At a walking pace, John led the way along the outskirts of the bushes, keenly scrutinizing the face of the hill. This was, in many places, very sheer, and there were several deep indentations where the rock showed as naked as though the covering earth had been scraped from it. John said over his shoulder: “There might be caverns in any of these clefts.”

  “Wery likely there are,” replied Chirk, “but it don’t look like anyone’s been near ’em for many a year. Of course, if you’re wishful to push your way through all these brambles, I’m agreeable.”

  “No, we’ll go on,” John said.

  They had not far to go before, rounding a spur, John saw something that caused him to pull Beau up so sharply that the mare, following him closely, nearly jostled him. “Look!” John said, pointing with his whip. “Someone has been here before us!”

  Chirk brought Mollie up alongside, and stared keenly at an unmistakable track, winding through the undergrowth towards the hill. They had reached the big gorge John had seen from the pass; it ran back into the hill, deeply undercutting it; and the rank grass and fading clumps of willow-herb had been trodden down on the rising ground which led into it.

  John touched Beau with his heel, saying briskly: “We will tether the horses round the next spur. Come on!”

  A few minutes later, as they dismounted, out of sight of the big gorge, Chirk drew his pistols out of their holsters, slipped one into the capacious pocket of his coat, and thrust the other into the top of his breeches. John, unfastening the lantern from his saddle, noticed this, and said instantly: “If you start a cannonade with those damned barking-irons, I’ll murder you! You’re too fond of pulling out a gun! I thought, moreover, that you were sure we should find nothing in the cavern?”

  “I daresay we won’t,” replied Chirk, setting the second lantern on the ground, and throwing his greatcoat over the mare. “But, if it’s all the same to you, Soldier, now I’ve seen that track I’ll be easier in my mind if I have my pops handy. If that pair from the Manor was to visit the cavern while we’re there, maybe they’ll save our groats for us!”

  He waited while John loosened Beau’s girths, and covered him with his cloak, and then led the way back to the gorge, steering wide of the bushes until he reached the path through them. He had not gone far along this before he stopped, drawing John’s attention to some confused but deep footprints in a patch of softer ground. His face had sharpened, and his quick, frowning eyes glanced about, at the beaten grass, and the bushes encroaching on the track. “Seems to me, Soldier, there’s been several coves here.”

  “Several coves,” agreed John, “and they were carrying something heavy, from the look of these marks. What’s more, one or two of these brambles have been lopped back. See?”

  Chirk nodded, but said nothing. They went on, the ground steadily rising as it approached the back of the gorge. The hill now towered above them, its rocky face seeming almost to overhang them; and the gorge narrowed rapidly. A tangle of dead gorse lay ahead, and when they drew nearer to it they saw that it had been arranged to hide a rude fence. As soon as the gorse had been pulled away, the fence was seen to cover an opening in the rock, perhaps six foot high, and almost as broad. Closer inspection revealed rusted iron staples driven into the rock on either side of the opening. To these the rude fence was secured with lengths of twine.

  “Fresh,” Chirk said, a little grimly, pulling the knot apart. “If you ain’t had the sense to bring your own pistols, Soldier, you’d better have one of mine!”

  “You can give it to me, if we’re followed,” replied John. “That there’s no one inside at least we know: you couldn’t tie the fence to the staples from inside that hole.” He dropped on his knee as he spoke, setting the lantern he carried down within the cave-mouth, and taking his tinderbox from his pocket.

  Both lanterns alight, and burning fairly, Chirk said: “One of us ought to stay and keep watch.”

  “Well, if you’ve a fancy for sentry-duty, you stay and do so!” recommended the Captain lightheartedly.

  “Danged if I will!�
�� said Chirk.

  “Then come on!” John said, and, stooping, entered the cavern.

  Chapter 12

  ALMOST immediately, he found himself able to stand upright, and holding the lantern high saw that he was standing in a roughly vaulted chamber of considerable size. Chirk, entering behind him, and looking around, said, with a certain amount of satisfaction: “Well, there ain’t nothing here, that’s certain! Queer sort of a place to find in a hill! Was it made natural?”

  “Quite natural. Have you never been inside a limestone cavern before?”

  “No, I can’t say as I have. I’ve heard tell of them, though. Big, ain’t it?”

  “Bigger than you think, I fancy.” John walked forward, still holding up the lantern. “Yes, I thought as much! This is only the antechamber, Jerry.” He walked to the back of the cave, where a narrow opening, like a rude Gothic doorway, led into a passage through the rock. This ran slightly downwards into dense darkness. The lantern-light showed the uneven rock-face gleaming damply; underfoot the ground was soft, mushy with moisture; and the air felt dank. John heard Chirk draw in his breath sharply, and said, amusement in his voice: “Have your nerves enough steel for this adventure?”

  “What you’ve got bottom for, I have!” Chirk answered through his teeth. “Go on!”

  John went forward, easily at first, but was soon obliged to duck his head, and, in a very few moments, to bend almost double. He could hear Chirk breathing hard behind him, and said: “Careful! The roof’s devilish low ahead: we may have to crawl!”