WE RECEIVE MIDNIGHT VISITORS
I TOOK leave of my love reluctantly at ten o’clock, just outside
Bringhurst village. She was anxious to be back at the farm before the
return of Purvis, who had gone that morning to London on some secret
errand, and was returning by the last train.
She had entirely enchanted me. The more I saw of her, the more graceful,
the more charming, she seemed. There was nothing loud or masculine about
her; she was a sweet, modest woman, yearning for love, sympathy, and
protection.
The manner in which she was bound to this clever gang of rogues was
still a mystery. In me she had confided many things during those two
calm hours of our new-born love, but from me she still concealed the
real reason why her interests were bound up in those of Purvis, Bennett,
and their two accomplices. I guessed, and believed that I guessed
aright. The tragedy at Kilburn held her to them irrevocably. She was
entirely and helplessly in their hands, to fetch and carry, to do their
bidding; indeed, to act unlawfully at their command.
If that were so, surely no woman could be in a more horrible
position—compelled to be the accomplice of assassins.
I thought it all over as, in the darkness, I walked back to Caldecott.
True, I had gained her affection that night. Yet, together with the
perfect bliss that comes in the first hour of true love, there had also
come to me the hideous truth of her bondage.
The last train from Rugby having rushed past, sparks flying from the
engine and awakening the echoes of the night, stopped for a moment at
Rockingham Station and then continued its journey eastward. And
presently, as I walked onward in the darkness, I encountered a man whose
face I could not see, for we passed each other beneath the shadow of
some trees. I saw he was tall and thin, and wore a long light overcoat.
He was whistling to himself, as a lonely man sometimes whistles to keep
himself company.
His silhouette stood out distinctly in the gloom, and although I saw not
his countenance I knew well that it was my enemy Purvis—the man who
held my love in bondage.
Back at the Manor I found everything prepared for siege. Seal was not a
man to stand idle if there was any chance of a scrimmage. Like all
giants in strength, he loved fighting. His hesitation to face Black
Bennett had now entirely disappeared, and over his rum that night he
expressed a most fervent hope that the “white-livered swabs,” as he
termed them, would appear in the secret passage.
On the table between us lay three revolvers, and as we took counsel
together each of us smoked furiously. I told them something of what
Dorothy Drummond had related to me, how our enemies meant to raid us,
and of their firm belief that the treasure was concealed there. But I
said nothing of my tender passion, nor did I allow them to suspect the
real object of our clandestine meeting.
“Ah!” remarked Reilly. “If you could only get Miss Drummond, or
Bristowe, or whatever is her real name, to secure that parchment of old
Knutton’s, then the game would be entirely in our own hands.”
“That’s unfortunately impossible,” I answered. “The man Purvis has it
securely put away. I have already mentioned it to her, and she tells me
that she has no idea where it is.”
“Well,” remarked the skipper, “Black Bennett and his men are just as
much in the dark as we are. Let ’em come. They’ll get a warm reception.
How many of ’em are there?”
“Four. Bennett and the other two are lodging in Kettering.”
“The only reason of the secret attack upon us, as far as I can see, is
in order to gag and secure us while they make a thorough search of the
premises. They surely wouldn’t dare to kill the whole three of us in our
beds!” said Reilly.
“They won’t kill Job Seal, you can bet your sea-boots on that,” remarked
the skipper with a grin upon his great furrowed face.
But my mind was running upon the tragedy at Kilburn, and I was trying to
devise some means by which we might denounce the whole gang, and hand
them over to the police.
There was, alas! one fact which would ever prevent us taking such an
action. If we boldly charged them with murder, Dorothy must be
implicated. To arrest them would mean arrest for her. She had acted as
decoy, and could not deny it!
So I was compelled to abandon all hope in that direction. By sheer force
we would be compelled to combat this quartette of unscrupulous
adventurers, and to that end we awaited their coming.
So thoroughly and carefully had we examined every hole and corner of the
house that all three of us were beginning to despair of ever discovering
the hidden hoard. In an old-fashioned mansion of that character there
were a thousand and one places where gold might be stored. In chimneys,
under stairs, beneath the flags of the big, vaulted cellars, behind the
large, open fireplaces—some of which still had their quaint iron dogs
of ancient days—all these places we had investigated in vain. Not a
single room was there but bore traces of our chisels, picks and
crowbars. The result of our search consisted in two or three copper
coins, an old letter dated in 1796, a skeleton with rings upon the
fingers, an old leathern mug, and two or three articles not worth
enumeration.
We were sorely disappointed. We could not conceal from ourselves the
bare fact that at any rate in the Manor House the treasure of
Bartholomew da Schorno was non-existent, and, furthermore, we feared
that some one in generations past had been before us and secured it in
secret.
Nevertheless, the careful and ingenious actions of our enemies in order
to gain entry into the place puzzled us. From what my love had told me,
they were evidently in possession of some information of which we were
in ignorance—information which made it plain that, after all, the
treasure was actually there.
They meant mischief; we had no doubt about that. But, being forewarned,
we calmly awaited their coming, Seal chuckling to himself at the
reception they would receive.
The church clock struck midnight. We had moved into the room from which
the secret way opened, and, Reilly having produced a pack of cards, we
played nap in under-tones, our weapons lying at hand in case of need.
Now and then—indeed, after every game—one or other of us rose and
listened within the secret chamber for the approach of the invaders. One
o’clock passed, two o’clock, yet no sound save the familiar thumping and
squealing of the rats and the dismal howling of the wind in the wide,
old-fashioned chimney.
Seal had lost five shillings, and had therefore become engrossed in the
game, when of a sudden we heard a low grating noise. In an instant we
were on our feet, revolver in hand, and according to our pre-arranged
plan our light was at once extinguished.
It was our object to watch and take the intruders by surprise.
Without a sound we all three moved across the room and out into the
corridor, concealing ourselves in a big cupboard upon which Reilly had
placed an inside fastening. Our bedrooms we had locked and had the keys
in our pockets, intending that our enemies should believe us to be
asleep. In the cupboard door Reilly had bored holes that enabled us to
see without being seen, while beside us were lamps ready to be lit in
case of emergency.
Boxed up there, we waited, scarce daring to breathe lest we should
betray our presence. We could hear low, gruff whispers and expressions
of surprise as the invaders crept out of the secret chamber into the
room. From their muffled tread we knew they had stockings pulled over
their boots, and from our spy-holes we saw Bennett, lantern in hand,
emerge into the corridor and look up and down to see that all was clear.
Then he crept out, followed by three others, one of whom, I saw, was
tall and gaunt, with fair moustache—the man who held my love beneath
his thrall.
Creeping along quietly, they passed us in procession, carrying chisels
and picks, and taking every precaution against surprise. Having
traversed the corridor, they descended the wide oaken stairs to the
ground floor, where the uncertain light of the lanterns was quickly lost
to view.
As soon as they had passed out of hearing, Reilly took up the hurricane
lamp and opening the cupboard let us out, whispering:—
“Watch them, doctor. See where they try, but don’t give the alarm until
I return.” Then he left us, and we heard nothing more of him. His quick
disappearance was a surprise to both of us, for he had previously told
us nothing of his intentions, and had apparently acted on the spur of
the moment.
At first Seal had been inclined to meet them at their entrance and drive
them back, but to me such a proceeding seemed useless. My idea was to
watch and ascertain where they went. Their own actions would betray the
spot where they believed the gold was concealed. Our council had been a
long one, but my suggestion had been adopted. Hence our retirement into
the cupboard.
Job Seal had no love for Black Bennett, and as we crept along the
corridor after them he gave vent to a strong nautical imprecation
between his teeth. At the top of the staircase we listened, but could
hear no sound. Therefore we crept down, fearing every moment the
creaking oak might betray us, for the thin-worn old stairs were loose in
places and gave forth sounds that in the night awakened the echoes of
the empty place.
We arrived safely in the stone hall and halted, our ears strained to
catch the slightest sound. We, however, heard nothing. All was silent as
the grave. Indeed, the invaders with their swinging lanterns had passed
by us silently in single file and seemed to have disappeared.
“They must have gone down to the cellars,” I whispered to Seal.
Therefore we passed through the big stone kitchen into a small scullery
beyond, from which a flight of stone steps led into the deep vaulted
basement. The stout door was closed, but listening at it we heard voices
quite distinctly. Our enemies were below, apparently divided in opinion
as to the exact spot to open.
We heard one authoritative voice, which the skipper at once recognized
as Bennett’s, saying:—
“I tell you that it’s here, in this side wall. Don’t you remember that
the old fortune-teller said three times three from the bottom of the
steps. Look!” and we heard him count one, two, three—to nine, as he
measured the paces. “It’s in this wall, here. Come, let’s get to work,
and don’t make any noise, either. Is the door above closed?”
Somebody gave an affirmative response, and soon afterwards we heard the
sound of chisels upon the stones. They worked with very little noise, so
little, indeed, that had we been asleep the sound would not have reached
us.
With Seal standing beside me, his fingers itching to come in contact
with Bennett, I think I must have stood there nearly half an hour. The
work went on unceasingly, silently, hardly a word being spoken. Reilly’s
absence surprised me, but soon we heard a low whisper inquiring where
the intruders were, and our companion stood beside us listening.
“They evidently know something of the right spot,” I whispered to him.
“They’re taking down part of the foundations. Hark!”
A man was speaking—probably Purvis.
“Now we’re here, we ought to see whether they’ve made any
investigations. Come, Harding, let’s go up and have a look round while
they’re getting those stones out. We’ll only be ten minutes or so. Have
you got the torch?”
“All right,” responded the other, and I knew by the name and the voice
that it was the seaman of the _Thrush_ who had read those documents and
who had been insolent at my remonstrance.
The instant, however, we heard their intention we sprang out of the
kitchen and upstairs to our previous hiding-place. The cupboard was not
in the least suspicious—one of those generally built in old houses for
the storage of linen. If they found it locked they would not risk
awakening us by forcing the door.
Up came the two men a few minutes later, passing from one open room to
the other, taking a general look at the place with an electric torch,
and expressing whispered surprise at the havoc we had played with the
walls. Finding the doors of our two bedrooms locked, they did not touch
them for fear of disturbing us.
Seal was impatient to make an attack upon them, but I considered that
discretion was best, and that to watch was more politic than to show
fight. So we waited in silence, until the grey dawn shone through the
long corridor. Then at last we heard a slight movement, and the men
re-passed in procession as noiselessly as they had come, and disappeared
into the room.
Reilly opened the cupboard and listened. We heard a bang as the door in
the flooring was shut down after they had descended to the underground
burrow; then in a moment he was all excitement.
“Come, help me quickly!” he cried, rushing forward into the secret
chamber. “Quick! pile up these stones so that they cannot re-open the
flap! They will return very soon. Quick!” And he began frantically
heaping upon the trap-door the stones that we had taken from the wall, a
work in which Seal and I assisted with a will.
When at last we had secured it by wedging two crowbars across the heap
of stones so that it could not possibly be opened from below, Reilly
burst into loud laughter and danced with delight, saying:—
“We’ve trapped them, doctor! Trapped them all like vermin! When I left
you I rushed down the passage to the well and found it bridged. I drew
the boards away and tossed them down into the water. They can’t get
across by any means. Come! Let’s close the door!” And he pulled back
into its place the stout, iron-studded oak with the supreme satisfaction
of knowing that he had entombed the invaders in that damp, dismal burrow
which they themselves had discovered.