The gipsy had left him, gliding away in the moonlight like a
veritable shadow; and Cuthbert, left alone in the dim cave, buried
his face in his hands and sank into a deep reverie.
This, then, was the meaning of it all: the long-deferred vengeance
of the gipsy tribe; the avaricious greed of one amongst their
number, who had committed dastardly crimes so as to keep the secret
hiding place in his own power alone; the secret passed on (as it
seemed) to one who feigned to be what he was not, and was cunningly
awaiting time and opportunity to remove the gold, and amass to
himself this vast hoard; none beside himself of all the tribe
heeding or caring for it, all holding to the story told long ago of
the seven men who had disappeared bearing away to foreign lands the
stolen treasure. A generation had well-nigh passed since that
treasure had been filched from the grasp of the Trevlyns. The
stalwart fellows who had been bred up amongst the gipsies, or had
joined the bands of freebooters with whom they were so closely
connected, knew little of and cared nothing for the tradition of
the hidden hoard. They found gold enough in the pockets of the
travellers they waylaid to supply their daily needs; the free life
of the forest was dear to them, and left them no lingering longings
after wealth that might prove a burden instead of a joy to its
possessor.
Out of those who had been living when the treasure was stolen and
lost, only Miriam and Long Robin (if indeed it were he) and Esther
remained alive. Esther had retired to London, and was lost to her
people. Miriam had done everything to encourage the belief that the
treasure had been made away with by the seven helpers who had gone
forth, but had never returned to tell the tale. Esther, who had
thought very differently, had confined her suspicious for a time to
her own bosom, and later on had spoken of them only to Joanna. Upon
her had she laid the charge to strive to make restitution, now that
vengeance had been inflicted and the curse of the old witch
fulfilled. To Joanna it belonged to restore prosperity to the house
of Wyvern through the daughters' sons, and it was for her to strive
to learn where the treasure lay, and give notice of the spot to the
Trevlyns.
The queen had done all that she could. She had watched with close
attention the pair with whom Esther believed the secret to lie.
Miriam, her mother, knew not the spot, of that she was convinced;
but she did know that the treasure had been hidden somewhere in the
forest by her husband, and that the exact place was known to the
white-bearded man whom she and others called Long Robin.
About that weird old man, said to be well-nigh a hundred years old,
a flavour of romance existed. Men looked upon him as bearing a
charmed existence. He went his lonely way unheeded by all. He was
said to have dealings with the fairies and the pixies of the
forest. All regarded him with a species of awe. He had drawn, as it
were, a charmed circle about himself and his ways. None desired to
interfere with him; none questioned his coming or going. All
brought to him a share of the spoil taken on the roads as a matter
of right and due, but none looked to receive aught in return from
him. He and Miriam, from their great age, lived as it were apart.
They took the place of patriarchal heads of the tribe, and were
treated with reverence and filial respect by all.
The question Cuthbert had pressed home on Joanna was why, this
being so, the treasure had not been moved away before this, so that
Miriam should end her days in peace and luxury, instead of growing
old in the wilds of the forest.
Joanna's reply had been that she did not think Miriam had ever
really wished to leave the free forest life; that with her,
vengeance upon the Trevlyns had been the leading impulse of her
life; and that she had no covetous desires herself after the gold.
Old Robin had loved it with the miser's love; but doubtless the
younger Robin (if indeed the long-bearded man were he) was waiting
till such time as Miriam should be dead, and he alone in full
possession of the golden secret. Then he would without doubt bear
it away and live like a prince the rest of his days; but for the
present he made no move, and Joanna was very certain that he
suspected her of watching him, as indeed she did, and he had shown
himself as cunning as any fox in baffling her when she had sought
to discover any of his haunts. Her watching had been in vain,
because she was suspected of a too great knowledge, and was looked
upon as dangerous. But where she failed Cuthbert might succeed, for
he was absolutely unknown to Robin, and if the two were to meet
face to face in the forest, it would be impossible that the wily
old man (if old he were) should suspect him of any ulterior
purpose.
Robin had not been at the mill the night that Cuthbert had been
brought there by Tyrrel and his companions. Joanna had described
him so graphically that the lad was certain of knowing him were he
to come across him in the forest. She had also indicated to him the
region in which she suspected him most generally to lurk when he
spent days and sometimes weeks alone in the forest. She believed
that during the summer months, when the forest became the resort of
many wandering bands of gipsies or of robbers and outlaws, he kept
a pretty close and constant watch upon the spot where his treasure
lay hid. The dell, at the head of which the bones of the seven
murdered men had been found, was certainly a favourite spot of his;
and she believed it was owing to some trickery of his that men
still declared it haunted by evil or troubled spirits. Travellers
passing that way had been scared almost out of their senses by the
sight of a ghostly white figure gliding about, or by the sound of
hollow moans and the rattling of chains. None but the ignorant
stranger ever ventured within half-a-mile of that ill-omened spot.
Cuthbert, as he sat thinking over the gipsy's words and charge, saw
clearly that there was ample room for suspicion that here the
treasure might lie, since Robin took such pains to scare away all
men from the spot.
The light burned dim; but Cuthbert still sat on beside the rude
table where he had supped. Before him lay the scrap of parchment
with the doggerel lines of the wise woman inscribed upon them. It
had been something of a shock to his faith to find that the wise
woman knew all his story beforehand, and had had no need to dive
into the spirit world to ask the nature of his errand. He felt
slightly aggrieved, as though he had been tricked and imposed upon.
He was very nearly burning the parchment in despite; but Joanna had
bidden him keep it, and had added, with a slight significant smile:
"Keep it, boy; and think not too hardly of those who juggle with
men's fears and fancies, to obtain the greater sway upon them. It
is not always used amiss. As for those lines, there may be more in
them yet than thou or I can see at this moment. For there may be
words in them that have been spoken by Long Robin in his dreams.
Esther has told me such before now. She knew not their meaning, nor
do I; but that they have a meaning she is very sure. 'Three times
three'--that was what he was muttering ever. It was the burden of
his thought, even as she made it the burden of her song. Keep the
lines; they may serve thy turn yet. Esther is a wise woman. She did
not give thee that paper for naught."
The day had well-nigh dawned before Cuthbert flung himself upon one
of the pallet beds in the cave, and fell asleep from sheer
weariness of mind and body; but he was young, and sleep came
quickly and held him in a fast embrace. The silence and darkness of
this underground place were favourable to a long spell of repose.
The youth did not open his eyes till the sun had passed its
meridian many hours, though no ray of daylight glinted into that
dim abode.
It might have been the middle of the night for all he knew when he
opened his eyes once again; and when he did so he lay perfectly
still, for he was convinced that he was yet in the midst of some
strange dream. He was in the cave of red sandstone where he had
fallen asleep, lying in the darkest corner of all upon a straw
pallet, with his sad-coloured cloak over him; but the cave itself
was lighter than it had been when he had fallen asleep. Two torches
flamed upon the table, and by the bright flame they cast upon the
objects near to them, Cuthbert saw a strange and weird-looking
figure.
This figure was that of a man, who was seated at table, and had
evidently been partaking of some refreshment. He was dressed in
outlandish garb, and in a fashion which was only affected now by
very old men, who had worn such garments all their lives, and were
averse to change. Cuthbert had occasionally seen such a dress
amongst the aged folks about his home, but this was more fanciful
than any assumed by a mere rustic, and gave to the tall thin figure
a certain air of distinction. A soft felt hat with a high crown lay
upon the table; and the light shone full upon a face that was
seamed by tiny wrinkles, and upon a thick head of hair that was
either flaxen or white, Cuthbert could scarcely say which. The face
was almost entirely hidden by a tangled growth of beard as white as
snow, which beard descended almost to the man's waist, and was of
wonderful fineness and bushiness. At the first glance the
impression produced by this strange apparition was that he was a
man immensely old; but a closer examination might well raise
doubts. The air and bearing of the man were strangely alert for an
octogenarian, and the way in which he tackled the hard bread and
cheese which still stood before him was scarcely like the fashion
in which the aged generally eat.
Cuthbert held his breath as he gazed. Was this a dream--the outcome
of his talk with the gipsy? No, he was awake; he became more and
more sure of it. But lying perfectly still, and not betraying his
presence by so much as a deeply-drawn breath, he gazed and gazed as
if fascinated upon the face of this strange being, and in his heart
he said:
"Long Robin himself!"
He was certain of it; there could be no manner of mistake. Dress,
air, everything corresponded with Joanna's description. For a
moment a sick fear crossed his mind lest he should have left upon
the table the fragment of parchment with the mystic words upon it,
for he had had no idea that the cave would be invaded that night.
But no; the habit of caution had been strong within him, and he had
put the paper away before retiring to his corner. Plainly the man
before him had no suspicion that any living soul was near. The deep
shadows of the cave hid Cuthbert completely from view, and the
secret entrance to the inner cave was doubtless known to very few.
None would suspect the presence of a hidden stranger there.
As Cuthbert watched as if fascinated, Robin ceased eating, and
pushed back his stool, rising to his feet quickly, and showing the
grand proportions of his tall figure, which certainly deserved the
epithet of "long." He stretched his arms, and swung them backwards
and forwards with a gesture strangely unlike that of age; and
throwing back his broad shoulders, he began pacing to and fro in
the cave with a firm, elastic tread seldom seen after the meridian
of life is passed.
"Joanna is right," thought Cuthbert, crouching closer against the
wall and into the shadows; for he had no wish to be discovered by
this giant, who would probably have scant mercy upon an observer
who might have taken his measure and discovered his secret now that
he was off his guard. "In all truth this man is not old; he can
scarce be above forty years. It is by some clever artifice that he
whitens his beard to that snow-like hue. He himself is young and
strong. He shows it in every movement."
He certainly did, pacing to and fro with rapid strides; and
presently he began to mutter words and phrases to himself, Cuthbert
listening with all his ears.
"A curse upon the women!" he said more than once; "they are the
very plague of my life! Miriam's besotted love, Joanna's suspicions
and her accursed watch upon me, both hinder my plans. If the twain
were in league together, it could not be worse. Miriam implores me
with tears and lamentations to wait till she be laid in the tomb
for the fulfilment of my cherished dream. And if I thwart her too
far, there is no telling what she may not say or do. Love and hate
in jealous natures such as hers are terribly near akin, and the
love may change to burning hatred if once I provoke her too far.
She knows not all, but she knows too much. She could spoil my hand
full well if she did but tell all she knows. And that jade Joanna,
how I hate her! She has been well drilled by that witch Esther, who
ought long ere this to have been hanged or burned. I would I could
set the King's officers on her now, but if I did I should have the
whole tribe at my throat like bloodhounds, and not even my great
age would serve to save me from their fury.
"Ha, ha! ha, ha!" and a sardonic laugh rang through the cave.
"Would that I could wed Joanna to Tyrrel, who would give his soul
to call her his. Once the wife of a member of the band, and some of
her power would go. I misdoubt me if any would long call her queen;
and when she had babes to fill her mind and her thoughts, she would
soon cease to watch me with those suspicions eyes of hers, and to
make me fear continually for my secret. Would that they were both
dead! Would that I could kill them even as he killed the other
seven who had a share in the golden secret! I would strangle them
with my own hands if I did but dare. Once those two removed from my
path and my way would be plain. I could remove it all, bit by bit
and piece by piece, away from this accursed forest, of which I am
sick to the death. Then in some far-off foreign land of perpetual
sunshine, I could reign a prince and a king, and life would be one
long dream of ease and delight; no more toil, no more privation, no
more scorching summer heat or biting winter cold. I have seen what
the life of the East is like--the kneeling slaves, the harem of
beauteous dark-eyed women, the dream-like indolence and ease. That
is the life for me. That is whither I and my treasure will go. A
plague upon old Miriam, that she clings to these cold forests and
the sordid life we live here! But for her insane jealousy and love
I would defy Joanna and go. But the pair of them are too much for
me. I must find a way of ridding myself of one or both. I will not
be bound like this for ever!"
The man raised his right hand and shook it with a vehement,
threatening gesture; and then relapsing into sudden moody silence,
continued his pacing to and fro, wrapped in gloomy thought.
Cuthbert held his breath as this monologue proceeded, and a sense
of unlooked-for triumph made his heart swell within him. Here was
proof positive that the treasure lay still in the forest; that it
had not been taken thence and dissipated; that it still remained to
be found by his unremitting endeavours. The youth felt almost as
though the victory were already his. What might not a few weeks of
patient perseverance bring? He would dog Robin's' steps like a
bloodhound. He had not been brought up to hardship and forest life
for nothing. To sleep in the open, to live scantily on such fare as
might be picked up at the huts of the woodmen or in the camps of
the gipsies, was nothing to him. He would live on roots and wild
fruits sooner than abandon his quest. Nothing should come between
him and his overmastering resolve to win back for the house of
Trevlyn the long-lost treasure.
But as he mused and Robin impatiently paced the floor of the
cavern, the torches burned slowly down, till one flickered and went
out and the other showed signs of speedy extinction. Robin, with a
start and an oath, stopped in his walk and muttered that he must be
gone. He placed upon his head the slouched hat, that at once
concealed his features, and gave a different expression to his
face. As he donned his hat and took up a heavy oaken staff that lay
upon the table, his whole aspect changed. He seemed to don likewise
a new action, a new outward appearance altogether. His straight
back bent and assumed a stoop such as one sees in men who have long
grown old. There came a feebleness into his gait, a slight
uncertainty into his movements. And all this was done so naturally,
so cleverly, that Cuthbert, as he gazed fascinated at the figure
before him, could scarcely believe that his eyes had not played him
some strange trick--could scarcely credit that this could be the
same being as the upright, stalwart man, whose movements he had
been watching during the past half hour. But all this only went to
show how shrewd Joanna's surmise had been, and every corroborating
fact increased Cuthbert's confidence in all that she had told him.
Leaving the last torch to die into obscurity by itself, Long Robin
made for the opening in the wall which led to the outer cave, and
Cuthbert rose swiftly and silently and crept after him, gaining the
opening in time to see the tall figure slouching across the
moorland track in the direction of the westering sun.
Afraid of following too closely, and so of being seen, Cuthbert
retreated once more into the cave, and had the forethought to fill
his wallet with the remains of the meal of which both he and Long
Robin had partaken. He did not know exactly what was his best
course to pursue, but it seemed a pity to let Long Robin out of his
sight without tracking him to some one of his lairs or hiding
places.
Cuthbert now knew that he had slept during the greater part of the
day, and taking a draught of mead, and rapidly munching some bread
and cheese, he fortified himself for his evening stroll, and then,
before the torch actually expired, found his way to the opening
again, and so out upon the moor.
Far away, but still distinctly visible against the bright sky, was
the tall figure of the gipsy. Cuthbert was not afraid of being seen
at so great a distance, but he still took the precaution of keeping
all the tallest bushes and clumps of flowering gorse between him
and the quarry he was following; and when at length the trees of
the wooded tracts rose up before his eyes, he quickened his pace
slightly, and gained decidedly upon Robin before he glided into the
dark pine forest.
Before doing this, the gipsy turned back and looked carefully
round; but Cuthbert was already crouching behind a bush, and
escaped observation. As soon as Robin had fairly disappeared, the
youth rose and ran quickly after him, and soon caught glimpses of
the tall, stooping figure wending its way amongst the ruddy pine
stems, now dyed golden and crimson in the glow of the bright
sunset.
On and on he went in the fading light, and on and on went Cuthbert
in steady pursuit. This part of the forest was strange to the
youth, but it was familiar enough to the gipsy. From the mechanical
way in which he chose his track, and the direct certainty with
which he walked, it was plain that he knew every inch of the road,
and could have found the path by night as well as by day.
"Sure it must lead to the haunted dell," thought Cuthbert, as the
gloom deepened around him and the wood grew denser and denser. The
pines began to be mingled with other trees. The undergrowth was
thicker and more tangled. It was not always easy for Cuthbert to
force his way along. He paused sometimes in fear lest his steps and
the cracking of the boughs should be heard by the man in advance of
him.
On and on they went, and now the track became more distinct, and it
led downwards. An owl in a tree overhead hooted as Cuthbert passed
by, and something of a cold shiver ran through the young man's
frame; he stumbled over the outspread root of a gnarled old oak,
and fell, making more noise than he liked.
The owl flew away, hooting ominously as it seemed to his strained
nerves, and the hooting was answered as from the very heart of the
dell, if dell it was, mingled with many other strange and fierce
sounds. Cuthbert rose to his feet and crept forward with a beating
heart, and as he did so he heard a shout of demoniacal laughter
which chilled the very blood in his veins, and seemed to raise the
hair upon his head, so unearthly was the sound.
But making the sign of the cross upon his brow, and striving to
keep his presence of mind and his courage unimpaired by ghostly
terrors, Cuthbert still pursued his way downwards into this dim,
strange place. He felt more and more certain that this was the
pixies' dell of which the verses spoke--the dell wherein some deed
of darkness had been committed that caused it to be shunned of all;
and it needed all his native stoutness of heart to enable him to
conquer his fears and pursue his way, as he reflected on the foul
murders that had been committed not far off, and wondered if indeed
the restless souls of those to whom Christian burial had been
denied hovered by night about the ill-omened spot, to fright away
all travellers who strove to pass that way.
For a while the fearful sounds of hooting and laughter continued,
under cover of which he crept nearer and nearer to the centre of
the dell. Presently they ceased, and a death-like silence ensued.
Cuthbert dared not move, and scarcely dared to breathe. This was
the most trying experience he had yet had. He had felt far less
fear on the darkly-flowing river and in that strange underground
cellar, against both of which the wise woman had warned him.
But after a long pause of silence he heard another and a different
laugh--a laugh in which he recognized the sardonic intonation he
had recently heard from the lips of Long Robin.
"I trow that has been enow," spoke a voice nigh at hand, though the
speaker was invisible owing to the thick growth of bushes. "If that
sound were caused by aught but a rabbit or wildcat, I wager the
hardy traveller has taken to his heels and fled. But I misdoubt me
that it was anything human. There be sounds and to spare in the
forest at night. It is long since I have been troubled by visitors
to this lone spot. The pixies and I have the dell to ourselves. Ha,
ha!"
"Robin's voice again!" whispered Cuthbert to himself, creeping
forward with the cautious, snake-like movement that he had learned
when snaring birds or rabbits to furnish the scanty larder at the
Gate House. He advanced by slow degrees, and soon gained what he
desired--a view of his quarry and of the heart of the dell.
In the fading light he could see both plainly. Long Robin was
seated upon a low stone wall overgrown with moss, that seemed to be
built around a well; for it was of circular construction, and to
the listener was borne the faint sound of running water, though the
sound seemed to come from the very heart of the earth. Round this
well was a space of smooth greensward--sward that appeared to have
been untouched for centuries. All around, the sides of the dell
rose up, covered with a thick growth of wood and copse. It was a
lovely spot in all truth, but lonely to the verge of desolation.
Cuthbert dimly remembered having heard fragments of legends
respecting a pixies' dell in the heart of the forest--a dell
avoided by all, for that no man who ventured in came forth alive.
Most likely this was the place; most likely the legend of fear
surrounding it was due to some exaggerated version of old Robin's
ghastly crime in bygone years.
Cuthbert gazed and gazed with a sense of weird fascination. He
fully believed that in some spot not many yards from where he stood
lay hidden the lost treasure of Trevlyn, and that the secret of
that resting place remained known to one man only in the whole
world; and that was the man before him!
A wild impulse seized Cuthbert to spring upon that bowed figure,
and, holding a knife to the man's throat, to demand a full
revelation of that secret as the price of life. Perhaps had he not
seen but an hour before how upright, powerful, and stalwart that
bending figure could be, he would have done it then and there. But
with that memory clear in his mind, together with his knowledge of
the perfectly unscrupulous character of the gipsy, he felt that
such a step would be the sheerest madness; and after gazing his
fill at the motionless figure, he softly crept away once more.
He lay hidden in the bushes till he heard Long Robin leave the dell
and go crashing through the underwood with heavy steps, cursing as
he went the two women who stood between him and his desire. It was
plain from his muttered words that he was going back to the camp
now. Plainly he had paid his visit to the hoard and found all safe
and undisturbed. Cuthbert was more and more convinced that the
treasure lay here, as Esther had always believed; and it would be
strange indeed, being so near, if he could not find it in time.
But he would not search tonight; he had the whole summer before
him. Plainly Long Robin was not going to take any immediate step
for the removal of the treasure; and during the last hours a great
longing had come upon Cuthbert to see Petronella again. He was
within ten miles of his old home now, and the thoughts of his
sister had been mingling with these other thoughts of the lost
treasure. Surely he could find his way to the Gate House from this
lonely dell, and once there, by making a signal at his sister's
window, he could advise her of his presence and gain a stolen
interview.
So taking his bearings from the moon, he struck boldly across the
lonely waste of forest that lay between him and his former home,
and soon found himself tramping over the ling and moss of the high
ridge of common land with which the woody tracts of the forest were
frequently interspersed.
As he thus tramped the words of the verses began singing in his
head: "Three times three--o'er ling and moss." What was that three
times three? The question mingled with his dreams of his sister,
and suddenly the thought came to him, Could the three times three
be miles--miles from the giant oak from beneath which the treasure
had been taken? Three times three--it might well be so. The
distance was surely about nine miles. The spot where the Trevlyns
had hid their treasure lay directly in Cuthbert's way as he marched
steadily towards the Gate House. He saw the giant oak rise up
before him in the moonlight, and he hastened to the spot and stood
beneath the overhanging branches.
Standing beneath it with the oak behind him, he looked straight
along the way he had come across the bog and moss. Surely there
were nine miles, and little more or less, between the one spot and
the other. And again, with the oak behind there was a beech at his
right hand, and straight before him the road to the pixies' dell.
Well, it might not be much, yet it seemed like a link in the chain.
Esther had perchance heard Robin mutter these numbers in his
troubled sleep. Surely he had been thinking or dreaming of that
long nine miles' tramp, and the words he had used to direct the men
whom afterwards he had foully and treacherously murdered!
"I am on the track! I am on the track!" cried Cuthbert exultantly,
as he pursued his way. "The secret lies hid in the pixies' dell.
Surely if I have learned as much as that, I cannot be long in
finding out the whole!"
And with thoughts of his sister, of Cherry, of Kate, warm in his
heart, Cuthbert sped gaily along in the direction of his old home.
Midnight struck from the clock in the turret of Trevlyn Chase as
the youth approached the gray walls of the old Gate House. How grim
and hoary it looked in the white moonlight! Something of a faint
shiver of repulsion ran through Cuthbert's frame as he looked upon
the familiar outline of the building. Was it possible that all but
the few last months of his life had been spent there? It seemed to
him that the old life was already like a dim and distant dream, and
that the fuller life he had enjoyed since leaving was the only one
that had any reality about it.
But he well knew the habits and the sullen ferocity of the grim old
man his father, and it was with cautious steps that he approached
the walls. No light burned in any window. The inmates of the
building were doubtless wrapped in sleep. He well knew his sister's
window, and cutting himself a long hazel bough, he gently swept it
to and fro across the glass. This had always been a signal between
them in their childhood, and many had been their nocturnal rambles
taken together when Cuthbert had contrived to escape from the house
before it was locked up, and had then called Petronella and
assisted her down by the tangled ivy that clung to the gray old
walls. He knew she would recognize in a moment who was outside when
she heard the tapping of that hazel wand; and it seemed indeed as
if she did, for in a moment the window was opened, and a soft
tremulous voice asked eagerly:
"Cuthbert, can it be thou?"
"It is indeed I, sweet sister. Canst thou come to me? Hast thou
lost thy cunning or thy lightness of foot? I am here to help thee."
"I will come to thee anon; but the little postern door is seldom
locked since thou art gone, and I can get out thus. Linger not
beside the house, Cuthbert; speed to the chantry--I will meet thee
there. He might hear or see thee here. Do not linger; go. I will be
with thee anon; I will not keep thee but a few short minutes. But
do not tarry; go!"
There was such earnestness in her soft whispers that Cuthbert did
not attempt to reply save by a brief nod. He slid away in the
darkness and took the familiar but now tangled path to the chantry,
looking round the old ruin with loving eyes; for it was the one
spot connected with his home not fraught with memories of pain and
fear.
"Poor little timid Petronella!" he mused. "Was I right to leave her
thus alone with our harsh father? Yet I could do nothing for her;
and it seemed as though my presence in the house stirred him up to
continual fury. I would I had a home to bring her to. I would I
might carry her off with me now. But what could she do in the
forest, away from the haunts of men? Nay, she must tarry here but a
little while. Then will I come and claim her. Then will she have
dowry worthy her name and state. Oh that lost treasure, that lost
treasure! what happiness will there be in store for very many when
that lost treasure is found!"
And then he paused and held out his arms, for light steps were
speeding towards him through the dewy grass, and Petronella, with a
little sobbing cry, flung herself upon him, to be enfolded in a
strong embrace.