Yes, the temple of Obi was untenanted, save by those dumb deities that
grinned grotesquely around its walls.
To ascertain this fact it was not necessary to enter within the shrine
of the Coromantee Pantheon. Nevertheless, Cubina and Herbert, as if
moved by a mechanical impulse, rushed inside the door.
They looked around with inquiring glances. There were signs of late
occupation. The lighted lamp was of itself sufficient evidence of this.
Who save Chakra could have lit it? It was a lamp of lard, burning in
the carapace of a tortoise. It could not have been loner alight: since
but little of the lard was consumed.
There was no doubt that Chakra had been there, with his captive. That
added nothing to the knowledge they possessed already: since Yola had
witnessed their descent into the Duppy's Hole.
But why had the robber so suddenly forsaken this apparently safe
retreat? That the lamp was left burning betokened a hasty departure.
And whither could he have gone?
"Oh, where?--oh, where?" distractedly interrogated Herbert.
Cubina could make no answer. He was equally astonished at not finding
the Coromantee within his hut.
Had he once more gone out from the Duppy's Hole? The position of the
canoe gave colour to this conjecture. But why should he have done so?
Had he caught sight of that agile girl gliding like a shadow after him?
and, becoming suspicious that his retreat might be discovered, had he
forsaken it for some other at a greater distance from the scene of his
crime?
In any case, why should he have left in such haste, not staying to put
out the light--much less to carry with him his peculiar Penates?
"After all," thought Cubina, "he may still be in the Duppy's Hole. The
canoe may have been used by some one else--some confederate. Chakra
might have seen his pursuers crossing the lagoon, or heard them
advancing through the thicket, and, taking his captive along with him,
may have hastily retreated into some dark recess among the trees."
His sudden abandonment of the hovel rendered this view of the case the
more probable.
Quick as came the thought, Cubina once more rushed out of the hut, and
summoning his men around him, directed them to procure torches and
search every corner of the wood. Quaco was despatched back to the
canoe, with orders to stay by it, and prevent any chance of escape in
that direction.
While the Maroons proceeded to procure the torchwood, their chief,
accompanied by Herbert, commenced quartering the open ground in search
of any trace which Chakra might have left. By the edge of the water,
where the trees stood thinly, the moon afforded ample light to favour
the investigation.
On advancing towards the cascade, an object came under the eyes of
Cubina that caused him to utter a quick ejaculation. It was something
white that lay by the side of the cauldron into which the stream was
precipitated. Within the pool itself were broad flakes of white foam
floating upon the water; but this was not in the water, but above it, on
one of the boulders; and all the more conspicuous from the black colour
of the rock.
Herbert had seen the white object at the same instant of time, and both
simultaneously ran forward to examine it.
A scarf!
It bore evidence of ill-usage. It was tossed and torn, as if it had
fallen from someone who had been struggling!
Neither could identify the scarf, but neither doubted to whom it had
belonged. Its quality declared it to have been the property of a lady.
Who else could have owned it but she for whom they were in search?
Cubina appeared to pay less attention to the scarf than to the place in
which it lay. It was close up to the cliff, on the very edge of the
pool into which the stream was projected.
Behind this pool, and under the curved sheets of the falling water, a
sort of ledge ran across, by which one could pass under the cascade.
Cubina knew this: for, while on his hunting excursions, he had gone
under it. He knew, moreover, that, half way across, there was a large
cave or grotto in the cliff, several feet above the water in the pool.
As the scarf was found lying upon the ledge that conducted to this
grotto, the circumstance caused the Maroon to remember it, at the same
time that it guided him to the conjecture that Chakra might be there.
Alarmed by their approach, there was nothing more likely than for the
Coromantee to have chosen the cave for his place of retreat--the last
place where anyone, not aware of its existence, would have thought of
looking for him.
These reflections cost Cubina scarce two seconds of time. Quick as the
conjecture had shaped itself, he ran back to the hut; and, seizing a
torch, which one of his men had prepared, he hurried back towards the
cascade.
Then, signing to Herbert, and one or two others to follow him, he glided
under the canopy of falling waters.
He proceeded not rashly, but with due caution. There might be others
within the cave besides Chakra! His robber confederates might be there;
and these the Maroon knew to be desperate characters--men of forfeit
lives, who would die before suffering themselves to be captured.
With his drawn _machete_ in one hand, and the torch in the other, Cubina
advanced silently and stealthily towards the entrance of the grotto.
Herbert was close behind, grasping his double-barrelled gun, in
readiness to fire, in case resistance should be offered from within.
Holding the torch in advance of him, Cubina entered first, though
Herbert, anxious and eager, was close upon his heels.
The glare of the torch was reflected back from a thousand sparkling
stalactites, and for a while the sight of both was bewildered.
Soon, however, their eyes became accustomed to the dazzling coruscation;
and then a white object, lying along the floor of the cave, seen by both
at the same instant, caused them to utter a simultaneous cry--as they
did so, turning to each other with looks of the most painful despair.
Between two large masses of stalagmite was the body of a woman, robed in
white. It was lying upon its back, stretched out to its full length--
motionless; apparently dead!
They needed not to pass the torch over that pale face to identify it.
It was not necessary to scrutinise those wan, silent features. On first
beholding the prostrate form, too easily had Herbert rushed to the sad
conclusion--that it was the corpse of his cousin!
Volume Three, Chapter XXXVIII.