“Trapped the swabs!” cried Job Seal, rubbing his big hands with undisguised delight, although he seemed disappointed that we had not allowed him to come face to face with Bennett. From the skipper’s determined attitude I knew that murder would be done if the two men met, therefore I took to myself some credit for having kept them apart, even though they had passed within a yard of one another.
“Trapped the whole four of ’em!” he exclaimed, his great face lit by a grin as he placed his hands to his sides. “Mr. Reilly,” he added, “I’ve respect for you, sir. You’ve checkmated ’em entirely.”
“I’d thought it all over,” was the younger man’s reply. “And if any of them fall down the well it isn’t our look-out. They had no right to intrude here.”
“But can they get across by any means?” I queried, knowing well the characters of the quartette.
“Impossible—absolutely impossible,” Reilly replied. “I can jump as far as most men, but I couldn’t jump that. They have no ropes, or any means by which to bridge the death-trap.”
I glanced at my watch. It was then a quarter past four. Morning broke, bright and sunny, with a slight mist rising from the river, but still we waited in that upstairs room for signs of the invaders returning.
Half an hour went by, and suddenly we heard noises below.
They were trying to raise the trap-door down which they had passed, but we knew that all efforts to do so were useless, for, besides the stones upon it, we had so wedged the crowbars across and into holes in the wall that to push up the flap was utterly impossible.
From where we stood we could hear their voices mingled with the groans of their united efforts.
“Stay there, you unutterable sons of dogs!” growled Job Seal, and although those were not exactly the words he used, they were synonymous.
I stood listening, and could hear the low curses of the men whom we had captured like rats in a run.
Together we went downstairs and out into the early sunshine. The bright air refreshed us, although our thoughts were with those four men consigned to a living tomb.
Presently we re-entered the house and descended to the cellar where they had been at work. By the light of a candle which the skipper carried we were surprised to see what an enormous hole they had made through the foundations into the earth beyond. Indeed, they had taken out a great piece of the wall, and through the rough arch had driven a tunnel two yards high and some three yards long. It was there they had evidently expected to discover the treasure, but, like ourselves, they had worked in vain.
The strong-smelling earth excavated lay piled in the cellar up to the roof, and the manner in which the work had been performed showed that at least one of the party was used to such operations. But there was nothing else there, save a few candle-ends.
It struck us all three as very remarkable why the intruders should have gone straight to that spot and commenced their investigation there. Evidently they were in possession of certain precise information of which we were in utter ignorance, yet, holding them entrapped in that long, subterranean passage without exit, we should now be enabled to pursue further investigations in the direction they themselves had indicated.
Seal, without coat or vest, spent an hour in tapping every part of the wall, but was compelled to admit that he discovered no hollow place. Therefore, recollecting the mention of the paces from the bottom of the steps, we measured them in an opposite direction and began to attack the wall.
Through the whole morning we all three worked in the semi-darkness, but having cut out a great circular piece from the huge wall we only found the soft, chalky earth beyond, and no sign whatever of the presence of gold.
All was disappointing—utterly disheartening.
At noon we made ourselves presentable, and went over to the Plough for lunch. While we were still seated at table the inn-keeper’s sister entered and told me that Ben Knutton wished to speak with me, a request to which I responded with alacrity.
Outside I found the bent old fellow awaiting me. The very fact that he would not enter the inn told me that what he wished to say was in secrecy.
“Mornin’, sir,” he exclaimed, in a low voice, touching his battered hat respectfully. “Dolly’s sent me, sir, with a message to you.” And fumbling in his trousers pocket he placed in my hand a crumpled letter.
We were standing behind a blank wall, with none to watch our movements; therefore I tore open the missive eagerly and read the few hastily-scribbled lines therein.
“Dear Paul,” she wrote, “I am returning to London at once. If you write, do not address the letter to the library at Kensington, but to me at 120, Cornwall Road, Bayswater. Recollect the warning I gave you yesterday. Mr. P. went out last night, but he has not returned.—Yours, D. D.”
“Has Miss Drummond left Bringhurst?” I asked the old labourer.
“Yes, sir. I saw her off by the train for London. She’s not coming back, she said.”
This surprised me. What, I wondered, could have occurred to take her away so suddenly, especially after our exchange of vows on the previous night? Re-reading the letter I found it cold and rather reserved, scarcely the communication of a woman filled with passionate love, as I believed her to be. She gave no reason for her sudden flight, although she warned me again of impending danger. Evidently she did not know that the four malefactors were entombed.
I returned to my companions, and became filled with a longing to go up to London.
I think Job Seal had had almost enough of the Manor House. That skeleton troubled his superstitious mind, therefore he was the first to hail my suggestion with approval. He had to see his owners, he said, and wanted to run down and see how the Thrush was progressing in dry dock. Reilly, however, seemed rather loth to leave the place before he had ascertained the fate of the invaders. He prided himself upon his ingenuity, and he certainly was a smart fellow, and never at a loss to wriggle out of a difficulty.
We locked up the place carefully, and although neither Reilly nor my............