THE SMUGGLERS.
The captain drew a long breath, shifted his knee a little on the chest
of the prostrate man and smiled.
That smile was a study of malignant triumph and conscious power.
"Soh!" he said, between his teeth, and weighing the revolver in his
hand with its barrel still pointed to the prostrate man, "soh, you are
the ghost, my fine fellow? You are the White Nun who terrifies honest
people out of their wits?"
Willie struggled for breath and grinned with daring audacity.
"I give in, captain. Give me a little more breathing room," and he
groaned.
The captain smiled, released his prisoner, and, seating himself
complacently, with the revolver still conveniently leveled, watched
keenly the huge Willie rise, shake himself and draw a long breath of
relief.
"Whew!" he breathed, "that's better! You are uncommon strong, captain,"
he remarked, coolly eying the lithe figure of his conqueror with looks
of admiration.
"I am," said the captain. "Stand there. No," he added, quickly, as
Willie was about to slip off the white robe and paraphernalia which
constituted his disguise. "No, don't take anything off. I may want
to shoot you yet, and your costume would explain everything. Stand
there--on second thoughts, you may sit down."
Willie Sanderson, with a shrug of his shoulders, threw himself down
beside the captain and eyed the ground sullenly and expectantly.
"Now," said the captain, "I must know the whole truth and nothing
but the truth. Answer my question straightforwardly and without
prevarication, or I----" and he finished up the sentence by glancing at
the revolver.
"Stop," said Willie, driven to desperation by the captain's consummate
coolness. "I'll tell ye; I suppose I must."
The captain nodded.
"I saw you the other night," he said; "I was walking in the garden and
saw your light. My man and I climbed to the window and were looking for
you. We should have caught you then, but were afraid of raising the
house."
Willie Sanderson grinned.
"Beggin' your pardon, captain, you didn't see me."
The captain scrutinized him.
"No," he said, "you are right; it was a smaller-made man."
Willie nodded.
"What was he--what were you doing in that room?" said the captain.
"Were you on the same errand?"
Willie nodded.
"We was, captain. But we didn't want anything in that room, and more
by token we wouldn't touch so much as a candle in it, for the sake o'
him as is dead. Maester Mildmay was a good friend to all o' us boys,
captain, and we'd guard anything o' 'is rather nor interfere wi' it.
The room and all as is in it will be all right for us."
"I understand," said the captain. "You pass through the room to some
other part of the house."
"Wrong again, captain," returned Willie, laughing grimly. "The house
and all in it be sacred for us. We don't touch aught as belongs to the
Mildmays; we'd go many a mile for the pretty miss."
"Then," said the captain, "there's a secret passage from that old room.
Where does it lead?"
"To the cliffs," answered Willie, reluctantly.
A light broke upon the captain.
"To the cliffs," he returned, quietly, though his heart beat fast. "To
the cliffs, and from the cliffs to the beach? What do you want there?"
Willie made a gesture of annoyance.
"What should we want there?" he asked, sulkily.
"I see," said the captain, composedly and slowly. "I see. You are a
party of smugglers, my fine friend, and you run your cargo from the
cliffs under Mildmay House. Soh! soh!"
Willie nodded sullenly.
"And now, you've got it, captain, what be you going to do?"
"That depends," said the captain. "I must know more. Turn so that I may
see you in the light. What is that on your arms and hands?"
Willie grinned.
"That's canvas," he said. "Job be clever at painting, so he rigged up a
skeleton suit. Painted it all black, ye see, and marked out the bones
in white paint. Clever, ain't it?"
"Very!" said the captain, sarcastically. "And how do you manage the
ghostly light?"
"So," said Willie, pointing to a small lamp. "That be filled with some
spirit as Job knows on, and when that be set light to, it sets a flame
all round."
"I see," said the captain, smiling against his will, as he thought how
easily the deception was worked.
"There be sulphur round my eyes and on my arms, and my feet wrapped in
list," said Willie, holding up one huge foot so inclosed.
The captain started suddenly.
"But," he said, "how do you manage with the footmarks on the floor in
the room? Do you leave them?"
Willie shook his head.
"No," he said; "not we. That wouldn't be safe, captain. We shake some
dust down from a saucepan wi' holes in the bottom."
"There are clever people as well as myself," thought the captain. "One
thing more," he added, rubbing his finger along the barrel of the
revolver to remind his captive that he was still on guard. "I watched
you come out of the ivy in the chapel, and descend from the roof. How
did you manage that?"
"That's the easiest part, captain," he said. "I can walk along the
ledge, as ain't very broad, 'tis true, but do look from down here
narrower than it be----"
"I see," said the captain. "But the descent--how is that arranged?"
"By a wire and a spring," said Willie. "There's a big spring hid up in
that ivy, and when I swings off that ledge the spring lets the wire
down; when I lets go, up goes the wire--not up to the roof, you know,
but just enough to keep it out of sight. Wire's a difficult thing to
distinguish in the light of this place, and it ain't thick, like rope."
"I have it all," said the captain. "Clever, very clever. There are
other heads behind yours, my friend," he muttered.
"And now what be you going to do, captain?" asked Willie, anxiously.
"I've behaved honorable and answered up true and straight, like an
honest man. What be you going to do?"
"I will think," said the captain.
"I should think you'd never be so hard as to interfere with an honest
man's living, captain?" pleaded Willie, gruffly. "It don't make no odds
to you if we do give the customs a slip now and then and run a small
cargo."
"A small cargo," said the captain, significantly. "You have been rather
busy lately, if I mistake not, my friend!"
"Well, we have so," admitted Willie, candidly, "we have so, and," he
added, desperately, "there be a cargo waiting for us now, captain."
"Now?" asked the captain.
"Ay, this very minute," assented Willie. "I've been down to see if it
be all clear, and was going down to fetch the boys when you caught
me--may the devil take ye!--and if it's there long we'll lose it and
get the ship owners into trouble most like."
"Give the signal," said the captain. "I have a proposal to make."
"Stand behind that pillar, then," said Willie. "If the boys was to come
up suddenly and see us like this they might think as I played them
false, and drop us both without so much as a 'did' or 'didn't ye'!"
The captain concealed himself behind the pillar and Willie gave forth
that screech which Jem and the captain had mistaken for the owls.
In three minutes dusky shadows came thronging from all parts of the
chapel, and in five minutes about a score of strong, stalwart men were
pressing round Willie, eagerly asking questions.
The captain knew that Willie was communicating his recent startling
experiences, and smiled to himself as he realized what consternation
the intelligence of their secret having been discovered would produce.
Presently Willie came up to where he was hidden and said:
"Come out, captain; but, I warn you, speak them fair, for they're
mighty desperate and ready for anything."
"I am not afraid," said the captain, but, nevertheless, as he stepped
forward he held his revolver tightly, and was quite prepared to act
manfully if his reception was too warm.
There was a buzz and murmur, threatening and emphatic, as his
well-known figure came within the gleam of light from the lantern.
But some one from their midst stopped the noise from growing more
distinct by a warning "Hush!"
Then this same one came forward and the captain recognized the dapper
figure of Job.
"Well, captain," he said, speaking in a low, clear tone, and without a
particle of fear, "you've spotted our little game, it seems, and for us
at a most orkard moment. What be you going to do?"
The captain looked hard at the man.
"I have seen you before," he said.
"Most like," said Job, calmly.
"I saw you the other night," said the captain, "and in this disguise."
"You did," said Job, "and I saw you."
It was an anxious moment for the captain.
How much had the man seen?
There was a queer twinkle in his light gray eyes. Had they seen the
whole of that secret drawer business?
The captain endeavored to discover by a question.
"If I had been a moment sooner I should have caught you," he said. "As
it was, you took me by surprise. However, I have you to-night, all of
you. Ay, you need not look so fierce, my boys; I have you all, and
you know it. I can name you one by one, from Job there to Tommy Lawn.
Keep back. There are six barrels here, and all loaded. If you think to
frighten me, you are much mistaken. You are also self-deceived if you
imagine that I shall consent to be catechised as to my intentions."
"Come, come," said Job, "don't be unreasonable, captain. We're twenty
and more to one. What's to prevent us from giving you an inch of lead
and sending you across the main in the ship that's at anchor yonder?
Many a man has been put away quietly and none the wiser."
"I'll tell you," he said; "because you all know the difference between
murder and smuggling, and because there's no necessity to kill a man
who means you no harm."
"No harm," said Job, coolly. "They're fine words, captain, but what do
they mean? Give us your word as a gentleman that you won't split."
"I will do more," said the captain, slowly and with quiet deliberation.
"I will join you."
The men looked at each other half incredulously.
Job alone remained, with his hand on his hip, calm and unmoved.
"You will join us?" he said. "On you honor?"
"As a gentleman," said Captain Howard Murpoint, with fine irony.
"If you want to feel secure, show me how I can be a gainer by the
enterprise, and you may feel perfectly certain that I shall remain
faithful. If you mean to test me, you can do so at once."
"How?" asked Job.
"You say," returned the captain, "that a cargo waits running home. I'll
help you to clear it. I shall have become an accomplice, a participator
in the offense, and what peril you run I shall share in."
"True," said Job. "You're right, captain. You've got brains."
Job, instantly changing his manner from a calm to a half-excited
eagerness, said:
"Get down, boys, to the beach; the boats and nets are ready. Captain,
you come with me. Willie, take charge of the boats."
The men were lost in the darkness almost instantaneously, Willie, as he
went, tossing the ghostly disguise to Job as he ran off.
"Where to?" asked the captain, quietly.
"By the secret way," said Job, "if you've pluck enough."
The captain smiled.
"Question that when you see cause, my man," he said. "Until then give
me credit for some courage, remembering that I have made my own terms
with you, twenty to one."
"Right," said Job. "I didn't mean to offend. Put one o' those white
cloaks on, and rub the sulphur over your face. There'll be two White
Nuns to-night in Mildmay Park!"
Job made his way, with the captain at his side, to the center of the
chapel, the sulphur on both their faces gleaming ghastly and horrible
in the darkness.
In the center stood a tomb with the half-moldered effigy of a knight
lying full length.
Job sprang upon that and motioned the captain to imitate his example.
"Now," said Job, in a whisper, "stand on tiptoe till you feel the wire."
The captain did so.
"Got it? Pull it down and climb."
The captain, without hesitation, did as he was commanded, and as his
feet left the tomb felt the wire drawn up.
Slowly and carefully, for it was a perilous undertaking, he ascended,
helped thereto by the knots and projections which had been made in the
slender rope.
When he had reached what seemed to him a terrific height, he heard
Job's voice below.
"Hold tight, and when your feet touch, give way."
Then the rope, moved by some agency over which Job had control below,
commenced to swing to and fro, and the captain, with one leg extended,
felt his feet touch the narrow ledge.
Presently he heard Job beside him, and the man's cool, audacious grin
in his ears.
"It bean't a lady's staircase, be it?" he said; "but it answers the
purpose, and cuts off the communication. Now follow me, steady, and
remember that a false step is death."
At last, by the glimmer of the lantern which Job had now unmasked, the
captain saw among the ivy a small door.
"Here we go in," said Job. "Stand back a bit; it opens outward."
"But," said the captain, now driven to desperation, "it is impossible.
A step back is death."
"Cling to the ivy, then, and don't look down," retorted Job, coolly.
The captain took the advice, and Job opened the door.
With a spring, the captain landed beyond the threshold beside Job, and
wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
Job grinned.
"A hard bit, bean't it? But it's nothing when you are used to it. I've
done it, off and on, three times a week, for the last three years. Now
see: In front of ye is the master's study. This old door, by a whim of
his, was left behind the bookcase; the bookcase opens out to it, and it
was through that, ye see, we came t'other night. Look'ee here."
He touched a spring as he spoke, and passed through the opening
bookcase into the study.
The change of scene from the dark horror of the narrow ledge and its
abyss below to the dust-covered room with its modern furniture was
striking and extraordinary.
"Now step carefully," said Job.
The captain, who had practiced that maneuver, obeyed, and the two men
cleared as narrow a strip of dust as possible.
"That will be all right when we come back," said Job.
As he spoke he diverted the captain's attention for a moment, and in
that moment touched the spring of the opposite bookcase.
The bookcase drew back, and a gust of air, damp and chilly, rose from
the aperture.
It was that chilly, moist atmosphere which the captain had noticed when
the ghost disappeared.
"Subterranean," he said.
"Ay," said Job.
He threw the light down the dark deep hole.
"A rope ladder," said the captain.
"Ay," said Job. "Get down."
Job closed the door carefully, and stepped on to the ladder, following
close upon the captain.
"Careful!" he warned. "Some of the steps be gone."
The warning was not unneeded, for as he spoke the captain's feet
slipped through one of the missing links, and the ladder swayed to and
fro.
After a silent descent for some moments he felt his feet touch the
ground once more. He waited until Job came with the light, and then saw
that he was standing in a small apartment cut out of the solid rock,
and with only two means of egress apparent--the one by the ladder down
which he had descended, and the other by a round hole just large enough
to admit the body of a full-grown man.
"We are now just under the house, captain," said Job, turning the
lantern. "Up above us they be comfortably asleep in their beds--rum,
bean't it?"
With the lantern suspended to his neck, he commenced crawling through
the hole, and the captain, whose courage was pretty severely tested,
followed.
Dark and dank, the way seemed interminable.
At last the roof gradually widened.
The men raised their heads and so eased their rigid necks, and
presently Job stood upright and threw the light upon a large cavern.
Their way lay now over the natural bed of a series of caverns, and as
they proceeded the boom of the sea came plainly to their ears.
At last a gust of exquisite fresh, briny air blew upon them, and Job,
as he masked the lantern, said:
"We're close upon the open sea. Give us your hand, captain."
So guided, the captain passed over the slippery rocks, and presently
heard Job's feet plash into the water.
He was himself the next moment in the sea up to his knees; but though
the shock was so sudden that it took away his breath it was grateful
and refreshing.
"Not a word! Don't move," said Job.
They walked in silence, and as they walked there came before the
captain's eye another scene.
Another high, dreary cliff, with two men hand-in-hand looking out upon
the mighty ocean and waiting!
Presently Job bent down his ear.
"Crouch," he said. "I can see the coast guard's lantern. It's old Bolt.
He's getting on in years and does his beat with a light. Ha! ha!
There's an advantage, captain. When he's passed, we've got a clear half
hour."
"He's gone," he added, "and now for the signal."
Instantly, and for scarcely more than an instant, he turned out upon
the sea that tiny beam of light. It was only for an instant, but eager,
anxious eyes had been watching for that signal, and eager hands acted
upon it.
Then the captain fancied that he heard some sound, but before he could
distinguish it there glided a dark object close by his side.
It was a boat.
The next instant there was another, followed by another.
Then in the darkness and deep and impressive silence, lusty figures
sprang into the water.
Round objects were handed from those in the boat to those wading to the
cavern.
One was handed, or, rather, flung into the captain's arms, and with an
excitement born of the scene, he fell to work with the others, William,
Job and twenty messmates, the work of unloading was soon done.
The men went back in their boats, and Job, the captain and Willie
remained behind.
With muffled oars the boats glided off.
In the secure silence the two men groped their way to a smaller cavern
farther from the sea, and out of sight of the cliffs.
Then Job turned on the light and glanced with flushed, sweat-beaded
face from Willie to the captain, who had thrown himself upon a rock and
stood watching keenly.
"Well," said Willie, with a grim smile upon his grimed and sunburned
face, "how do you like it, captain?"
"Very well," said the captain, "if it pays."
"Pays," chuckled the huge fisherman, drawing a small parcel from his
breast. "Look at that!" and he unfastened the bundle and displayed a
lightly-compressed heap of exquisite lace.
The captain's eyes glistened.
"Ah!" he said.
"Ah!" echoed Willie, while Job smiled with deep satisfaction. "Look at
that," he continued, pointing to the barrels ranged along the side of
the cavern.
"What is it?" asked the captain.
"Spirit," said Job, curtly. "Come, Will, no time for talking. Bear a
hand here, captain."
The captain arose with alacrity, and, with quiet admiration at their
sagacity, watched the two men scrape the sand away from the crevice of
a rock, which, from its weed-grown and sand-filled chinks, looked as if
it had stood unmoved or shaken since the time of its creation.
But Job and Willie applied their shoulders and rolled it away,
discovering the mouth of a small cavern.
Into that, the captain counting, the barrels were rolled.
When they were all concealed the stone was replaced.
Then Job, glancing at the tide, said:
"In half an hour the sea will fill this place. You wouldn't like to
wait, captain? Come along, then. Give me that bundle, Will."
And with the precious bundle in his breast Job led the return journey.
The three men, Job, Willie and the captain, traversed the subterranean
passage as far as the cave.
Here Job paused and said:
"I'll let you into another secret, captain. From here there is another
outlet, and a more comfortable one. We can't use it, not we rough men,
because it's too near the house; but you can, because if you're found
near the entrance, why, there'll be no questions asked."
"I see," said the captain. "I can say that I am taking a midnight
stroll and a cigar."
"Will you have one?" asked Job, taking a bundle of cigars from a hole
in the cave. "They're choice, they are; you can't buy 'em under five
pounds a pound," and he paused.
"My share of the booty at present," said the captain. "I will light it
when we get outside."
Job went to a corner and scraped some chalk from a small hole. He
then inserted his hand in the hole and pulled out an iron rod like a
bellpull.
This opened a small door a few feet farther along the chalk road, and
Job nodded to it.
"Here you are, captain. It's a better road than the other; not so
back-breaking: You'll want a light," and he held out the lantern.
"Thanks," said the captain.
He took the lantern, trimmed it, and passed into the passage.
"Good-night," he said; "you may shut the door."
The door slammed to swiftly, cutting off the sound of the men's voices,
and the captain proceeded on his weird and ghostly way.
The passage was wider and higher, and the road not so painfully
uncomfortable as that by which they had reached the cliffs.
He hurried on, and found himself more quickly than he had expected at
the end of the long passage, which was terminated by a small door.
A bar of iron extending crossways protected it outside, and the long
pin projecting inside fastened it.
The captain thrust the pin through and the door opened.
To his surprise, a gush of warm but pure air greeted him, and with a
feeling of extreme satisfaction he knew that he was once more above
ground.
Before the door was a large round bush, which effectually concealed it
from observation.
Pushing the bush aside with some difficulty the captain looked out and
saw that he was in a portion of the disused garden nearest the house.
With a thrill of delight he extinguished the flickering flame in the
lantern and pushed his way through the bush, taking care to replace the
disturbed branches.
Then he lit his cigar, and with his hands in his pockets, sauntered
on, preoccupied, and was somewhat startled by a footstep and a sudden
sensation of some one's hands at his throat.
Before he could realize the situation he was on his back.
With an exclamation deep and low, he threw up his arms and struggled
with his assailant.
In a moment he had regained his feet and there the advantage was lost
again, for the assailant pinned him to the wall of the house, and, in a
stern voice, inquired:
"Who are you, fellow?"
"What!" exclaimed the captain, as the familiar tones smote his ear,
"what! Leicester Dodson!"
"Captain Howard Murpoint!" exclaimed Leicester, for it was he,
dropping his grasp from the captain's arm and staring in the dim light.
The captain shook himself and glared with an evil hatred at the
stalwart figure.
"You are late, Mr. Dodson, and pugilistic."
"You are late," said Leicester, utterly ignoring the latter part of the
speech, and speaking in a stern and suspicious tone. "You are out late,
and if there is any excuse for my attack, that and the fact of a man's
figure prowling round the house at such an unwonted hour must supply
it."
"Prowling!" said the captain. "Prowling is a strong term to apply to
the stroll a gentleman may take at any hour in the grounds of the
house at which he is a guest. It is not so strange or unwarrantable a
term to apply to the uninvited and unwelcome presence of a comparative
stranger."
There was reason in the retort, but Leicester disregarded it or
willfully misunderstood it.
"I saw you come from behind that bush," he said, pointing to the bush
which concealed the door and in vain striving to get a clear idea of
the expression on the captain's face.
"Not that, but another," said the captain, readily. "I had been to
light a cigar, the wind preventing it here in the open. I cannot
recognize your right to put these questions, and I cannot understand
your ground for doing so. May I ask, and I ask as the friend of Mrs.
Mildmay, and as John Mildmay's friend, what business brought you here
so late; here in the private grounds of the Park, and so close to the
house?"
Leicester remained silent for a moment.
"It is a fair question," he said, at last, "and I will answer it. You
cannot be ignorant that an interest attaches to these premises," and he
glanced at the ruins. "There is something there to excite the curious.
I may have come to see the ghost."
The captain smiled grimly.
"Have you seen it?" he asked.
"I have," said Leicester.
The captain was almost guilty of a start.
"You are more fortunate than I," he said. "I have not seen it. It is
true that I have been walking on the wrong side of the house. I am
particularly the unfortunate party, for if I am not mistaken, your
fingers have left their marks on my arms and chest."
"I am very sorry," said Leicester. "I beg you will impute all you have
suffered to my excess of zeal for the protection of Mrs. Mildmay's
property. To be candid, I took you for a burglar----"
"Burglars do not go about their work with a cigar," said the captain,
quietly.
"Or worse," said Leicester. "Either a burglar or one of the villains
who for some purpose of their own are playing the ghost trick."
The captain smiled and eyed Leicester keenly.
"You think, then," he said, "that the ghost is a trick of some of the
village boys?"
"Or villains," said Leicester. "I am sure there is some trickery at
the bottom of it, and I cannot conceive a man playing it for so long
without an end in view. However, this is not the time for a ventilation
of the subject. I am sorry I made the mistake, and I apologize."
The captain bowed.
"I am not very much hurt," he said. "Another time, perhaps, when you
take your stroll of investigation round the Park you will please to
give me warning, and I will keep to my room."
Leicester bowed, as if the words were meant seriously and had no covert
sneer.
"By the way," he said, "are you aware that your window is wide open,
and that there is a light burning in the room?"
"Perfectly," said the captain, who had quite forgotten the fact,
"perfectly. I set it open to air the room, and the light was left to
frighten the ghost."
"I will find some more effectual way of doing that," said Leicester,
decisively. "Good-night."
"Good-night," said the captain, and Leicester, no nearer the truth as
regarded the true character of the man he suspected, strode away.
The captain waited until his firm footstep had died out on the hard
road, and then went softly to the back of the house.
With great care and circumspection, he drew his rope from the ivy and
climbed to his room.