“Out of course it wouldn’t!” agreed Chirk, with deceptive cordiality. “Why, if Stogumber and me was to do the trick afore he got into the cavern, you wouldn’t be able to play at hide-and-seek in the dark with as nasty a pair o’ cutthroat culls as ever I see!”
“Exactly so!” said John gravely. “But, you see, I have very good reason for what I am doing. Don’t forget that I shall be expecting Coate, and so shall not be taken by surprise! Unless he can see me clearly, he won’t risk a shot at me, and you know how little light two lanterns afforded us in that place! If it comes to a struggle, why, I fancy I should be able to hold my own against the fellow! Come! Promise me that you’ll do precisely as you’re bid! If you don’t, you may well bring all to ruin!”
After a long pause, and with every sign of reluctance, Chirk gave him the required promise. John gripped his hand, and got up. “Excellent fellow! I’m off to snatch a few hours’ sleep now: I’ll rouse you at six o’clock.”
There were several points on which Mr. Chirk would have liked to have received some further information, but he had by this time reached a very fair estimate of Captain Staple’s character, and he wasted no time in asking questions which, he gloomily knew, would only be fobbed off. Stretching himself out on his improvised bed, he philosophically went to sleep.
In a very few hours’ time, he was on his way to the village, slipping out of the kitchen just as Ben emerged, yawning, and knuckling his eyes, from his room.
Upon learning that he must mind the gate during the morning, Ben said that Mr. Sopworthy had commanded his services at the Blue Boar. The Captain, knowing very well that he found his work at the inn far more agreeable than pike-keeping, said suspiciously: “You don’t go to Sopworthy on Sunday!”
“It’s on account o’ the company they got at the inn,” explained Ben virtuously. “So I tells Mr. Sopworthy as I’d go, gov’nor. Promised him!”
“Well, I’m sorry for that, but you can’t go: I need you.”
“Mr. Sopworthy will be in a rare tweak if I don’t!”
“No, he won’t. I’ll make all right with him.”
“But Jem-Ostler says as he’ll let me help him groom the swell cove’s prads!” cried Ben, much chagrined. “Coo, they are a bang-up pair!”
But although he laughed, the Captain refused to relent; so instead of beguiling the breakfast-table with artless chatter, Ben ate a hearty meal in cold silence: a form of punishment which suited John’s humour exactly.
Since there had been no reappearance of Chirk at the tollhouse, the Captain was satisfied that Stogumber must have consented to go with him to lie in wait outside the cavern. He had directed Chirk not to go by way of the road, but to ride across Huggate’s fields; and shortly before eight o’clock he himself set forth, walking up to the barn to saddle Beau. Remembering how cumbersome he had found his topboots in the cavern, he did not wear them; and as he swung himself into the saddle he grinned, thinking of Mr. Babbacombe’s shocked horror, could he have known that his friend was riding about the country in woollen stockings, much stained breeches, a flannel shirt, and a leather waistcoat.
He reached the lane some minutes before Stornaway put in an appearance, and began to walk Beau slowly up it. It was not long before the sound of a trotting horse made him turn his head. Stornaway came up with him, muffled in his caped coat, and with a thick scarf wound round his neck. That he was extremely nervous, John saw at a glance. He broke at once into speech, complaining of the autumnal chill in the air, and assuring John, who had asked for no assurance, that he had left Coate snoring. John saw him steal several of his furtive glances at him, and guessed from the direction of these that he was trying to ascertain whether or not he was carrying pistols. Rather maliciously, he said: “No, I am not armed, Mr. Stornaway. Why should I be?”
“Armed! I never thought of such a thing! Though, to be sure, for anything I know you may be meaning to murder me in that cavern!” said Stornaway, flustered into unwise speech.
“Why should I?” asked John.
Thrown into worse confusion, Stornaway tied himself up in a muddle of half-sentences, while John reflected that so loose a tongue must effectually have warned him that mischief was intended, had he not been already well aware of it. Stornaway seemed to be incapable of keeping anything to himself; and it was not long before he had presented John with one of the few pieces of information that could interest him. “You should not call me Mr. Stornaway,” he told him. “I am Sir Henry Stornaway now, you know!”
“I felicitate you,” said John dryly. “May I know when this happened?”
“Oh, about five o’clock, I fancy! My grandfather’s man—an insolent fellow!—did not fetch me, so I’ve no very precise knowledge. The thing is that I’m master at Kellands now, as several people will precious soon discover!”
It seemed to be so much in keeping with his character that he should be looking forward to an easy triumph over his grandfather’s servants that the Captain was scarcely angry. He returned an indifferent answer; and the rest of the way was beguiled by Henry’s rambling exposition of what he meant to do at the Manor, as soon as his grandfather was buried.
This diverted his mind from his present anxieties, but when he led John off the lane, towards the cavern, these returned to him, and he grew markedly silent, while the fretting behaviour of his horse betrayed unmistakeably how much his nerves were on the jump.
The fence was securely tied across the mouth of the cavern, and the withered gorse bushes almost wholly concealed it. While Stornaway lit his lantern, John stood with his head up, listening intently. He heard no sound of horse’s hooves, but he could not suppose that Coate was far behind, and reflected that once he left the lane the rough turf would muffle the noise of his approach.
“Have you no lantern?” demanded Stornaway, still on one knee before his own.
The Captain glanced down at him, slightly shaking his head, a glint in his eyes.
Stornaway looked a good deal taken aback, but said after a moment: “You should have brought one! It is devilish dark inside, and you might easily miss your footing, not being familiar with the place! You had best take mine, for I should not wish you to break your leg, as my father once did!”
“You shall lead the way,” replied the Captain amiably.
Stornaway hesitated, and then rose to his feet. The entrance to the cave laid bare, he stepped into it, the Captain following him. Except when he warned the Captain to stoop, or to take care where he was setting his feet, he hardly spoke during the descent to the main chamber. John said nothing at all, being fully occupied in listening for any sound of pursuing footsteps. As he climbed down the rough stairway, the rushing noise of the water again assailed his ears, and he realized that it was loud enough, in the confined space, to drown the mere sound of footsteps. This, while it would materially assist Stogumber, would certainly make his own position more perilous, since he would be obliged to rely for warning of Coate’s arrival on the chance of seeing the light of his lantern before he darkened it, as he undoubtedly would, on reaching the main chamber. It began to seem as though he might indeed find himself playing at hide—and-seek in the dark, as Chirk had prophesied. However, the imminence of danger had never yet exercised a depressive effect upon the Captain’s spirits; it merely sharpened his faculties; and not for a moment did he hesitate to go on.
When they came to the main chamber, Stornaway immediately led John up to the chests, saying jerkily: “There they are! You may see for yourself that only one has been opened. It was Brean who did that. He came here to steal from us. That’s why Nat stabbed him. Now I’ll show you where——”
“All in good time,” interrupted John. “I’ll take a look inside the opened chest first, if you please.”
“Nothing has been removed from it!”
“Nevertheless, I will see that for myself,” replied John, beginning to undo the knot he himself had tied.
Stornaway fidgeted, and protested querulously that this was waste of
time. It was plain that he was anxious to get John out of the main chamber before some reflection of the light from the lantern Coate would be forced to use on the stairway should be perceptible through the rugged opening on to the slope that led to the stair. When he thought John was not watching him, he kept glancing in the direction of the opening; but John, while pretending to be intent upon inspecting the contents of the chest, was watching him all the time, and watching also for any glimmer of light in the darkness beyond him. Suddenly, and after what seemed an aeon of time, the darkness was pierced by a flicker of light, as though someone beyond the opening had turned a lantern unwarily. In the same instant Stornaway swung round, interposing his great-coated figure between the Captain and that glimmer of light, and saying in an unnaturally loud voice: “There! You see that the chest is full! Do not let us be lingering here! I shall catch my death in this dreadful cold! You made me promise to show you Brean’s body, and I will do so. We can cord the chest again later: do, for God’s sake, make an end of this!”
“Very well,” said the Captain. “Where now do you mean to take me?”
“This way!” Stornaway said, going towards the shorter passage which led to the river. “I wish you had brought a lantern.”
His own lantern cast its light only through one unshuttered side, and the Captain had no hesitation in following him, since the beam of light was thrown ahead, and could not cast his own figure into relief. He trod heavily, allowing his nailed brogues to scrape and clatter on the slippery rock beneath them; and as he went he rapidly considered what had most probably been planned for him. From Stornaway’s urgent desire to lead him away from the large chamber, it seemed certain that his murder was not to take place there, but either in the passage beyond it, or where this curved abruptly, and widened into the broader and loftier passage through which the stream ran. Then, quite coolly, he rejected this theory. Stornaway had just taken care to warn his friend that their prospective victim was not carrying a lantern; and Coate would certainly realize that he must depend for his aim on the light Stornaway would cast on to the Captain from his own lantern. But the man who held the lantern would naturally be the leader, and little though Coate might relish having Stornaway as an accomplice he would certainly take care to keep him alive while he was so necessary to the final success of his schemes. He would risk no shot in the confined space of the corridor, John decided, for the slightest deviation of his aim might mean the death of the wrong man. A moment’s reflection convinced him that the river-passage would be almost as hazardous a place to choose, for although it was very much broader, the stream, running along one side under the slimy rock-face, took up quite half its width, so that only an uncomfortably small space could lie between two men standing beside it. Had he himself been carrying a lantern, no doubt Stornaway, at a prearranged signal, could have cast himself on the ground; but since Stornaway must hold his lantern with its beam fixed steadily upon him this would be an impossible manoeuvre. No one, thought John, would be quicker to realize this, and to provide against such a contingency, than the efficient Mr. Coate. Moreover, he doubted very much whether that cool gentleman would, whatever the circumstances, place the slightest reliance on Stornaway’s ability to keep his head if he thought himself in the smallest danger of being shot.
I wouldn’t myself, thought John, as he entered the narrow passage in Stornaway’s wake. So why didn’t he darken his lantern, and come down the slope to the main chamber while we were still in it, and he had the light of Stornaway’s lantern to guide him?
Then he recalled the rubble and the stones which lay scattered at the foot of the natural stair: Coate must have been afraid of betraying his presence by stumbling over a boulder in the darkness, or kicking some loose stone down the slope, and Coate did not know that his victim carried no pistols.
Very wise! thought the Captain approvingly. If he risked a shot at that range, and missed me, I might, if I were armed, put a bullet into him before he could fire his second pistol. In his shoes, I wouldn’t fire the second pistol, except pointblank. In fact, I should do precisely what I fancy he has planned to do: enter the big chamber when I am safely out of earshot and eyeshot, take up a strategic position near the entrance to this passage, and wait for Stornaway to lead me back to the chamber. Not immediately in front of it, for Stornaway’s lantern must then reveal him to me, but to the side, out of sight of anyone approaching down the passage. Once clear of the passage, Stornaway will turn, as though to speak to me, I shall step—into the main chamber, with the light shining full in my face, and Coate will have the easiest shot of his life, and will put a bullet through my temple.
By the time the Captain had reached this cheerful conclusion he and Stornaway had emerged into the river passage. He halted, exclaiming in well-simulated surprise that he had not known a stream ran through the cavern. But while he marvelled at it, and even bent down to test the temperature of the water, his thoughts raced on.
No rubble in the passage: the rock is slippery, but firm; very little in the main chamber. If I don’t make haste, I shall have Stogumber here before I want him.
“For God’s sake, never mind the stream!” exclaimed Stornaway, in fretting impatience. “Look there!”
“Well?” said the Captain, following the beam of the torch to the heap of debris at the end of the passage.
“That is where Brean lies buried! You’ll find him soon enough!”
“Not I!” said the Captain, with a strong shudder. “If that’s where he is, you’ve dragged those stones off him once, and you may do it again! Give me the lantern! I’ll hold it for you.”
“I tell you he’s there! I won’t uncover his body a second time—it’s horrible! If see him you must, do it for yourself!”
“No, I thank you!” said John emphatically. “What makes you so nice all at once?”
Stornaway thrust the lantern into his hand. “Damn you, take it, then! Do you think I’m lying? Oh, you fool, how can I see what I’m about, if you swing the light all round? Hold it steady!”
The Captain, affecting an awed interest in his surroundings, swept the beam along the wall. “Hold hard! I’ve never been in such a place as this!” he said, swiftly calculating the distance from a projecting ledge of rock to the opening into the passage. “Why are you in such a quirk? A dead man can’t hurt you.” He moved towards the ledge he had noticed, and sat down upon it, directing the lantern-light on to the mound of stones and rubble.
“Be quiet, be quiet!” Stornaway said hysterically. He looked over his shoulder, as he bent to lift a rock from the heap. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a stone out of my shoe,” replied the Captain, who was, in fact, removing his shoes. “What the devil should I be doing? Brr! How cold it is here! Make haste, and let’s get out of this tomb!”
“You’re holding the lantern so high I can’t see!”
“Is that better?” John asked, setting it softly down on the rock from which he had risen.
“Bring it nearer!” snapped Stornaway.
“Very well. Let me put my shoe on again first, however!” John said, both brogues gripped in his right hand, and his eyes watchful on Stornaway’s bent back.
“I wish you will hurry!”
But the Captain returned no answer to this, for he had found the opening into the narrower passage, and was stealing along it, his left hand feeling the wall for guidance, and his stockinged feet making no sound on the rock-floor. He went as swiftly as he dared, for Stornaway had only to look round again to discover his absence, and at all costs he must be clear of the passage before the inevitable alarm was shouted to Coate. The noise of the water, which was here very loud, made it unnecessary for him to worry much over the chances of a stumble, and he knew that there were no alcoves in the walls to mislead him. Ahead of him loomed dense darkness: Coate must have shuttered his lantern.
Well, thought John, if he is standing immediately before the opening, and I collide with him, so much the worse for him! I must be nea
rly at the end of the passage now.
Even as this thought came into his mind, the rough wall seemed to vanish from under his groping hand. He stood still for just long enough to feel the angle of it, as it turned sharply away, knew that he stood on the threshold of the main chamber, and slid straight ahead with long, swift strides. He encountered no obstacle, and the scrunch of a little patch of rubble when he trod on it barely reached his own straining ears above the noise of the water.
He had taken no more than five strides when a high-pitched shout sounded behind him. As though from a long way off, he heard Stornaway’s voice calling in panic: “Where are you? Where are you?”
The Captain’s immediate object was to reach the cover of the Treasury chests before Coate could unshutter his lantern, and sweep its light round the chamber. Throwing caution to the winds, he raced forward, knowing that Coate’s lantern would not pierce the darkness for a distance of more than a few yards. Again Stornaway’s voice shrilled above the rush of the river through the rock. “Nat! Nat!” Stornaway screamed. “He’s gone!”
The Captain stopped, and faced about, edging his way to his left. A yellow light appeared suddenly at the far end of the chamber, illuminating the entrance to the passage for an instant before it swept in a wide arc towards him. He saw that he was indeed beyond its radius, realized that he must be standing quite near to the opposite wall, and swiftly moved to where he judged the side wall must be. Once he had reached this he would very quickly find the chests, for they had been placed, he knew, close to it.
The Toll-Gate Page 27