IT was three o’clock when the Captain reached the tollhouse again. He entered it through the office, and went into the kitchen so quietly that Chirk, who was seated at the table inspecting a collection of small objects laid upon it, was startled, and half leaped from his chair. When he saw who had entered, he sank down again, exclaiming: “Dang you, Soldier! What call have you to go like a cat?”
“I thought you might be asleep.”
“I had a nimwinks a while ago. What’s now?”
The Captain was looking at the oddments on the table. He raised an eyebrow at Chirk. “Tonight’s haul? Didn’t you tell me you were turning to pound dealing?”
“So I will,” asserted Chirk, scooping up a handful of coins, and bestowing them in his pocket. “Just as soon as I get my fambles on this reward you tell me about, that is! In the meantime, Soldier, my windmill’s dwindled into a nutcracker, so I was bound to make a recover, else I’d have starved.”
John could not help laughing. “I wish you will not! I could lend you some blunt.”
“Thank ’ee, Soldier, breaking shins is what I don’t hold with!” said Chirk, whose morality, though eccentric, was rigid.
John smiled, but said nothing. A handsome gold watch lay on the table, and he picked it up. “You were fortunate, weren’t you? A well-breeched swell!”
“Getting winged ain’t my idea of good fortune!” said Chirk tartly. “If he’d had more than one barker, likely I’d be as dead as a herring by now, for he was a good shot: hit me while his prad was trying to bolt with him!”
“Jerry, was there an exchange of shots?” John asked, a little sternly.
“Ay, but I fired over his head, so you’ve no call to look at me like that, Soldier! I ain’t a man o’ violence!”
“You’re a very foolish fellow. Don’t rob any more travellers! If all goes as I believe it will, we shall finish our business tomorrow.”
“I’d as lief we did,” commented Chirk.
“And I! I am going to tell you just what I have arranged to do, and what your part must be. Everything depends on Stornaway, but I think he will do exactly what I want him to do.”
“I daresay you know what you’re about,” said Chirk.
But by the time the Captain had come to the end of a brief account of what had passed between himself and Stornaway, the faintly sceptical expression on the highwayman’s face had changed to one of blank dismay. “And I thought you was a downy one!” he ejaculated. “Lord, Soldier, you’ve got more hair than wit, seemingly!”
“Have I?” said the Captain, smiling.
“If you don’t see that you’ll be queered on that suit, you’re wood-headed!” said Chirk bluntly. “I never clapped my ogles on young Stornaway, but by what Rose has told me—let alone what you’ve just told me—any cove as ’ud trust him an inch beyond the reach of his barker is no better than a bleater! God love you, Soldier, he’ll turn cat in pan on you! A cull as’ll whiddle on his friends, like he done tonight to you, won’t think twice afore he tips you the double! P’raps you’ll tell me why he was so anxious you shouldn’t force him to show you the cavern till it was morning—if them windmills you’ve got in your head don’t stop you thinking?”
The smile lingered in John’s eyes. “Oh, no! Not a bit! He wanted time to take counsel of Coate, of course.”
Chirk’s jaw dropped. “He——And you’re being so very obliging as to let him?”
“It is precisely what I wish him to do. By hedge or by stile, I must get Coate into that cavern. I’ve been in the deuce of a puzzle to know how to do it—till I hit upon this notion. I believe it will answer: if it doesn’t, the lord only knows what’s to be done next!”
“Just what do you think will happen?” enquired Chirk, regarding him with a fascinated eye.
“Well, setting myself in Coate’s place, it’s as plain as a pikestaff I must be disposed of. I’m working with the Redbreast; I know too much. It may be dangerous to kill me, but it would be far more dangerous to let me live to tell Stogumber the gold is hidden in a cavern here. Furthermore, Coate knows I came here unexpectedly, and that I’m a stranger to everyone in Crowford, and he might well think that no one would feel any particular degree of surprise if I were to vanish as suddenly as I appeared. I think, then, that Henry will keep his tryst with me, and will lead me to the cavern.”
“So that Coate can murder you there?”
“So that Coate can murder me there,” nodded the Captain cheerfully. “I do him the justice to believe that he would prefer to have no hand in my murder, but between greed of gold and fear of Coate he will obey his orders—and weep over the harsh necessity later!”
“Yes, I remember as how you said you was going to enjoy yourself!” said Chirk acidly. “Rare fun and gig it’ll be, down in that tomb! Well, I knew when I first saw you that you’d broken loose from Bedlam! You’ll find Coate waiting for you, and a nice, easy shot it’ll be for him, with you carrying a lantern so as he’ll know just where to aim his pop!”
The Captain grinned. “If Coate is already in the cavern I shall know it, for he cannot fasten the fence from within. But I think he won’t be: he leaves little to chance, and even if he took the fence down, and concealed it in the undergrowth, anyone must see that a fence or a gate has stood there. He won’t wish to make me even a little suspicious. If I am wrong, and find the cavern open, be sure I’ll be content to enter with only Stornaway’s lantern to light me—and will stay beyond its beam!”
“The only thing as I’m sure of is that you’ll be put to bed with a shovel!”
“Oh, not if you play your part, and Stogumber his, I hope!”
“What are you wishful I should do?” asked Chirk uneasily. “I’ll tell you to your head, Soldier, I ain’t a-going to help you to make a pea-goose of yourself! I daresay you think it ’ud be a capital go if you was to get your noddle blown off in that cavern, but precious queer stirrups I’d find myself in, if that was to happen!”
“I shouldn’t think it a capital go at all,” replied John. “And whatever may happen to me, you will be protected by Stogumber. You have only to do precisely as I bid you, and we shall come about famously.”
“Yes, well, maybe we got different notions about that!” retorted Chirk. “Seems to me your notion o’ what’s famous ain’t by any means mine!”
“Be quiet! A fine rank-rider you are, to turn as melancholy as a gibed cat at the hint of a risk!”
“Hint? Hint of a risk?” interpolated Chirk indignantly.
“That’s all. Now, you listen carefully to what you must do, and see you don’t forget anything!”
“I thought it wouldn’t be long before you took it into your head I was one of them troopers of yours,” commented Chirk rebelliously.
“If any trooper of mine ever argued with me as you do, I’d have him under guard before the cat could lick her ear! Stubble it! I’ve told Stogumber that you have found the gold, but that I would not let you divulge the hiding-place to him until my plans were completed. I told him also that Stornaway is nothing but a sapskull, and knows nothing of the robbery. Whether he believes that or not is no matter: he will believe it. You will tell him that Stornaway, when it was shown to him that Coate had been using him as a mask, readily agreed to use his best endeavours to discover where the treasure had been hidden, and—like you!—suspected the cavern might be the place. You will then tell him that I have baited my trap, and you will take him to the cavern. He can borrow the landlord’s cob, and you must both be there a full hour before eight o’clock. You will see fast enough if Coate has entered the cavern. If he has not, take the horses well beyond it, and tether them, and yourselves find cover within sight of the cave-mouth. And then wait! When Coate enters the cavern, which I am persuaded he will do as soon as I am safely inside it, follow him, but not so close that he will see or hear you until he has reached the main chamber. Do you perfectly understand? It will not suit me at all for Stogumber to arrest him before that moment.”
“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 nearly 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.
All at once he was startled by the disappearance of the light, and could not for a moment think what had happened. Then he remembered that only Stornaway knew that he was unarmed, and realized that Coate, ignorant of his exact whereabouts, must be afraid to betray his own position. At that moment, he collided with the wall, stubbing one foot, and grazing one out-thrust hand. He turned again, feeling his way along it, his other hand, still gripping his shoes, stretched out to encounter the chest which had been set up on its end.
A light appeared again, wobbling and wavering. He knew it must be cast from Stornaway’s lantern, and was not surprised when he heard Coate say furiously: “Cover your lantern, fool! Do you want to make a target of yourself?”
“He has no pistols with him!” Stornaway’s voice, raised in extreme agitation, seemed to echo all round the roof.
Now for it! thought John, and in that instant found the chests, and dropped to the ground behind them. Beside the first of these, which his hand had brushed, and which he knew to be up-ended, stood two more, one on top of the other; beyond them the other three had been set down side by side, and were not deep enough to afford him any cover. Crouching behind the first chests, he at last abandoned his shoes, and waited for Coate to come within his reach. He heard the hasty tread of shod feet, saw the light approaching, and gathered himself together in readiness. The light swept the wall at the end of the chamber, found the entrance to the slope, and stayed there for a moment: the possibility that he was escaping from the cavern had obviously occurred to Coate. One swift glance over his shoulder showed the Captain that Stornaway was still standing at the far end of the chamber, aimlessly turning his lantern this way and that. While Coate’s attention was still fixed on the way of escape, the Captain rose silently to his feet, stepped sideways, clear of the first chest, and, as the beam of light swung towards him, launched himself straight at it. He reached Coate, before the light was focused fully upon him, colliding with him, chest to chest, and flinging one arm round him, pinioning his left arm, holding the lantern, to his side, and grabbing his right just below the elbow.
The lantern fell to the ground with the tinkle of breaking glass; a little flicker of flame ran over the rock, and died; in darkness the two men swayed and struggled desperately, John trying to hold Coate powerless while he shifted his grip on his right arm to the wrist, all the time keeping this pistol hand pointing harmlessly upwards, and Coate striving with all his might to wrench free from an encircling arm that was holding him in a bear’s hug.
He was a shorter man than John, but thickset, and very powerful, as John soon discovered. Hampered as he was by the necessity of maintaining his cramping hold on that dangerous right arm, he had to put forth every ounce of his great strength to continue holding Coate so closely pressed against himself that he could neither get his left hand to the second pistol John could feel digging into his ribs, nor find the knife which John guessed he carried somewhere about his person. Fractionally, as they struggled together, shifting this way and that over the damp, uneven rock-floor, John was moving his grip nearer and nearer to Coate’s wrist. His stockinged feet, holding the slippery ground more securely than Coate’s boots, gave him a slight advantage. His toes suffered, but they were by this time so numbed by the cold that he was scarcely aware of being trodden on.
For a minute they battled in complete darkness, but Stornaway came hurrying and stumbling up the length of the cavern, wildly waving his lantern about in an attempt to discover their whereabouts. Its light, vacillating in a way that betrayed how Stornaway’s hand must be trembling, fell on Coate’s face, and showed it livid, sweat starting on it, the lips drawn back in a grimace like a dog’s snarl from clenched teeth. It showed his right arm, uplifted and held by John’s grip round it, and his left still trying to work free from the hug which clamped it to his body. In an agony of indecision, Stornaway teetered about the swaying couple, his own pistol in his hand. Once he raised it, and as he did so, the position of the struggling pair altered, and it was Coate’s back which was turned towards him instead of John’s. His eyes fixed on them, he ventured closer; the Captain saw him, and with a superhuman effort which made his muscles crack swung Coate round, interposing his body between himself and Stornaway. Stornaway, who seemed scarcely to know what to do, retreated a step, and ran round the group. So riveted was his attention that he failed to perceive that another light than the one he carried now illuminated the scene. His change of position had brought him between the combatants and the entrance to the chamber, his back turned to this, and he never saw Jeremy Chirk’s arrival. The highwayman, hearing the stamp and scrape of shod feet ahead when he was halfway down the perilous stair, and the unconscious cries Stornaway kept on uttering, abandoned caution, and came down the rest of the steep descent with a reckless speed which left his more ponderous companion far in the rear, and raced down the slope to the opening into the main chamber. There he paused, coolly surveying the three men before him, keeping the beam of his lantern steadily upon them.
The Captain’s hand had reached Coate’s wrist; Stornaway, standing behind him, lifted his pistol, and tried to aim it. His hand was shaking like a leaf, so that the muzzle wobbled lamentably. A deafening report as Coate’s gun exploded was succeeded so immediately by a second that this sounded like a sharp echo, reverberating round the vaulted roof of the chamber. A couple of stalactites dropped on to the floor, and Coate’s empty pistol fell with a crash, just as Stornaway, who had uttered a queer groan, crumpled where he stood, and collapsed in an inert heap.
The Captain, suddenly releasing Coate, sprang back, his great chest heaving, and his fists up. He met a rushing attack with a left and a murderous right that brought Coate down. He was up again in an instant, a hand fumbling at his waist. The Captain saw the flash of steel in the lantern-light, and hurled himself with such force at him that both men went down together. But the Captain was uppermost, and his hands were at Coate’s throat. Mr. Chirk, perceiving this, and aware that the panting Runner had reached the entrance, and was standing at his elbow, shifted his lantern, and directed its beam on to Stornaway’s still figure.
Mr. Stogumber, out of breath, first amazed by the extent of the cavern, and then shaken by a fall on the stair, was feeling a little dazed, and was unable for a few moments to marshal his wits into order. He had heard what sounded like two shots, he had seen Coate’s attempt to stab the Captain, and he had seen the two men go down in a wildly struggling tangle of arms and legs. Then they were lost in darkness, and he found himself staring at a dead man on the ground before him. “Here!” he ejaculated. “What——How——?”
Chirk slid a long-nosed pistol unobtrusively into the wide pocket of his coat. “The poor fellow was shot, trying to help the Soldier,” he said sadly. “Dropped him like a pigeon, Coate did! Ah, well, it ain’t no use crying over spilt milk!”
“Get out o’ my way!” Stogumber said fiercely, thrusting him aside, and swinging his lantern to pick up the forms of Coate and the Captain.
Chirk, whose quick, listening ears, had already caught the sound for which he had been waiting, made no effort to stop him, but directed his own lantern towards the spot where he had seen the two men struggling on the ground. The struggle was over. Coate lay spread-eagled, and beside him, on his knee, labouring to recover his breath, his head sunk forward, was the Captain.
“By God, the cull did stick that chive into him!” Stogumber exclaimed, hurrying forward. “Capting Staple, sir! Here, big ’un, let me see how bad you’re hurt! Bring that light closer, you! Catch hold of this lantern o’ mine, too, so as I’ll have my hands free! Shake your shambles, now!”
The Captain lifted his head, and passed one shaking hand across his dripping brow. “I’m not hurt,” he said thickly. “Only winded. Leather waistcoat saved me. Thought it might.”
“Lordy, I thought you was a goner!” said Stogumber, mopping his own brow. He looked down at Coate, and bent, staring. He raised his shoulders from the ground, and let them fall again. “Capting Staple,” he said, in an odd voice, fixing his eyes on the Captain’s face. “His neck’s broke!”
“Yes,” agreed the Captain. “I’m afraid it is.”