"Then, with the face turned straight towards Bengairn, walk fifty-six
paces," I said, reading from the record.
Sammy took his bearings, and was starting off when I heard a footstep on
the grass behind me, and, turning suddenly, found myself face to face
with the man Selby, who, until that moment, had evidently been hiding in
the ruins, watching us.
"By what right are you here?" he demanded.
"By the same right as yourself?" was my response. "What right have you
to challenge us?"
By the man's dark, smooth face I saw he meant mischief.
"I have been left in charge of this property by its owner," the man
declared. "You have no right to land here without his permission,
therefore I order you to return to the shore."
"Ho! ho!" cried Sammy, in quick defiance, "those are fine words, to be
sure. I fancy you'd better remain quiet, or we shall have to be very
unkind to you."
"What do you mean?" the big fellow cried in a bullying tone.
"I mean that we aren't going to be interrupted by you," was Sammy's cool
rejoinder. "If your friends have gone away and left you alone, like
Robinson Crusoe, on this island, it isn't our concern. The laird of
this place is still Colonel Maitland, and you have no authority here
whatever."
"I forbid you to take any observations," Selby shouted, his fists
clenched as though he would attack us. "And as for that man there," he
cried, pointing to me, "he'd best get away before my friends return."
"Now that's enough," cried Sammy. "We don't want any threats;" and,
before Selby was aware of his intention, the other had seized him by the
wrists and was calling to us to secure him with the cord I had carried
from the boat. He cursed and struggled violently, but in the hands of
the four of us he was quickly bound and rendered powerless, much to his
chagrin. He commenced shouting, whereupon I took out my handkerchief
and gagged him tightly with it. Then, on his refusal to walk, we all
four carried him into the roofless castle and there bound him to a big
iron ring that we found in one of the walls, and thus made him our
prisoner.
It was the only way. The fellow intended mischief, for we found in his
pocket a loaded revolver. Having relieved him of that, we left him
there, secured in a spot where he could not observe our movements.
Without loss of time we returned to the place we had marked, and the
athletic Sammy, laughing over Selby's utter defeat, set his face towards
the distant mountain of Bengairn and walked fifty-six paces, all three
of us walking beside him to check is measurements.
"Seek there," I read from my notes, "for my lady Lucrezia's treasure is
hidden at a place no man knoweth." Then, omitting several sentences, I
came to the words: "Item: How to discover the place at Threave: First
find a piece of ruined wall of great stones, one bearing a circle cut
upon it as large as a man's hand. Then, measuring five paces towards
the barbican, find--" And there the record broke off.
"Look?" cried Fred, pointing to a small piece of ruined wall about a
foot high cropping up out of the tangled weeds and nettles. "Those are
evidently the stones, and yet you'd never notice it unless it were
pointed out."
We all four rushed to the spot he indicated, and, on tearing the weeds
away, there, sure enough, we discovered that one of the large moss-grown
moor-stones bore a circle cut upon it about the size of one's palm.
"Five paces towards the barbican!" cried Walter. "One--two--three--
four--five! Here you are?" and he stamped heavily upon the grass.
"Why," he exclaimed, "it's hollow!"
We all stamped, and sure enough there was a cavity beneath.
With Fred, I rushed off to the hole dug by our enemies, and, obtaining
their tools, brought them back. Although the record in The Closed Book
was carried no farther, it was evident that some opening lay underneath
where we stood.
As the excavation made by our enemies was three hundred yards away, in
an opposite direction, we concluded that they had only deciphered the
first portion of the directions and not that final or unfinished
sentence in the record, a page of which was missing.
Without further ado, however, we seized pick and spade, and commenced to
open the ground at the spot where it sounded hollow. At a depth of
about two and a half feet, through stone and rubbish, we came upon a big
flat slab, like a paving-stone.
Was it possible that the historic emeralds of Lucrezia Borgia were
actually hidden beneath? Our excitement knew no bounds, especially so
as Selby had loosened his gag, and we could hear him shouting and
cursing in the distance. We had, however, no fear of his shouts
attracting attention, for the spot was far too lonely, and his voice
would not reach the river bank, so broad was the stream.
With a keen will we all worked, digging out the earth from around the
slab until at last I drove the end of a pick beneath it, and, using it
as a lever, succeeded in raising the huge flat stone sufficiently to
allow the insertion of a crowbar. Then, all bending together, we raised
it up, disclosing a deep, dark, cavernous hole which emitted the damp,
earthy smell of the grave.
"Who'll go down with me?" asked Fred.
"I'll go presently," volunteered Sammy, "when the place has had a bit of
airing. There's foul air there, I expect. Perhaps it's a well."
Fortunately we had provided ourselves with two hurricane lanterns, and
one of these I lit and lowered into the hole by a string. It remained
alight, showing us, first, that the air was not foul; and, secondly,
that the place was not a well, but a small stone chamber, the floor of
which was covered with broken rubbish, and that the walls were black
with damp and slime--not at all an inviting place in which to descend.
Fred was the first to let himself down, and, taking the lantern, he
disappeared.
"I say," he cried a minute later, "it isn't a chamber. It's a kind of
low tunnel--a subterranean passage!"
The announcement caused us even increased excitement; and, while Sammy
and I let ourselves down to join Fred, we arranged that Walter, armed
with Selby's revolver, should remain on the surface and so guard against
any trickery on the part of the man who was our prisoner. It would, we
knew, be easy enough to trap us like rats while we were down there.
"Wait till we come back, Walter!" I cried, and then, with my lamp,
followed my two companions into the narrow burrow which ran down a steep
incline in a southerly direction. Fred went first; but so dark was the
way and so blocked in parts by fallen stones that our progress was very
slow. We remembered that in such places of secret communication there
were often pitfalls for the unwary; hence the caution we exercised.
We had pursued our way for, as far as we could judge, nearly a quarter
of a mile, Sammy and Fred joking all the while, when the passage gave a
sudden turn and commenced to ascend. This alteration in its direction
struck me as curious, because, up to that moment we had walked in an
absolutely straight line. But as I turned aside to follow my friends a
small touch of colour on the wall attracted my attention; and, halting,
I held up my lamp to examine it.
It was a crude drawing of a bull, outlined roughly in paint that had
once been scarlet, but was now nearly brown, owing to the action of time
and damp.
"Look?" I cried, almost beside myself with excitement. "Look! The red
bull of the Borgias! The casket is concealed here!"