It was a chill, dreary afternoon. The sky weighed upon earth and sea
like a canopy of lead. The wind moaned and sighed about the roof; the
trees seemed to shiver in their nakedness. From over the cliff came the
hollow murmur of the breakers. Northward Penwarden's cottage stood
lonely and forlorn; eastward stretched the dark gloomy waste of
moorland; southward the village huddled in its cleft as if for warmth, a
few thin streamers of smoke flying inland on the wind. Nearer the Dower
House a score of men were engaged in erecting sheds and machinery for
Trevanion's miners, and the sound of their voices came in mournful
cadence to Dick's ears.
For some time there was scarcely a movement on the face of the country.
Presently a carrier's cart rumbled down the road, stopping at the Dower
House. Through his spy-glass Dick saw Susan's bright face smiling as
she spoke to the carrier, who conveyed into the house boxes, baskets,
and packets of various shapes and sizes. Dick remembered that on the
morrow Trevanion was entertaining a party of friends to celebrate the
reopening of the mines. He was miserably conscious of the contrast
between his cousin's lot and his own. Why, he asked himself, had Fate
dealt so hardly with the Trevanions of the Towers? The cart moved on,
no doubt to the Five Pilchards, where the carrier would refresh himself
before starting on his return journey to Truro. The workmen shouldered
their tools and tramped after it, and when they had disappeared the land
was left in its former immobility.
At length, as the gloom was deepening with the dusk, Dick descried, some
distance to his left, two figures moving slowly along, one towards him
on the high road, the other away from him, crossing a ploughed field
towards a footpath that led from the road, some distance behind, across
the moor. The sky was so lowering that Dick could not at first, even
through his glass, identify the men. The receding figure dwindled, and
was by-and-by lost to sight; the advancing one increased, and became
recognisable by its crookedness as that of Pennycomequick, the cobbler.
But he bore no bundle of leather. He passed the Towers in the direction
of the village, and soon he too had vanished.
Dick could not doubt that the other man was the farmer, Jimmy Nancarrow.
The path into which he had struck led to his farm. Where had they come
from? Not far along the high road, otherwise the farmer would have left
it when he reached the path, and have gone the easiest and shortest way
home; unless, indeed, he had remained with the cobbler for company's
sake. Dick smiled at this thought. Pennycomequick was the most crabbed
and crossgrained man in the village; whereas Nancarrow was a hearty,
jovial fellow, not the kind of man to walk an extra half-mile and tramp
over a ploughed field for the pleasure of the cobbler's society. It
seemed more probable that the men had come to the road together from
some adjacent spot, and that the farmer had left it at once.
Cold and hungry after his hour of watching, Dick was about to descend
into the house when he caught sight of Tonkin's lugger beating up from
northward against the south-west wind, and evidently making for the
harbour. He gazed at her through his glass. Tonkin and three other men
were aboard her. A large fishing-net was heaped on the deck. It was a
strange coincidence that these movements on sea and land should have
been contemporaneous. Dick went down the stairs to the living-room,
then vacant, lay down in front of the fire, and ruminated on what he had
seen, until the warmth sent him to sleep.
When he awoke, his father was in the room. Dick considered whether he
should speak about the clues which he believed he had discovered, and
decided that, since nothing was as yet certain, he would keep silence
until he had carried his investigation further. To search for the
tracks of the two men, or to follow them up if found, would be
impossible that evening; but this was to be his task as soon as there
was clear daylight on the morrow.
"Mr. Mildmay is going to the randy at the Dower House to-morrow, I
hear," said the Squire.
"Is he, sir?" replied Dick, surprised.
"Yes; I heard it from Mr. Polwhele, who is going too."
"Mr. Mildmay is almost a stranger, and 'tis rather a dull life for him
between whiles; but Mr. Polwhele knew John Trevanion years ago, did he
not, sir?"
"Oh! he is going as watch-dog. He suspects that the invitation may be a
trick to get them out of the way while the smugglers run a cargo, and
got Mr. Mildmay to promise to leave promptly at nine. He accompanies him
to see that he is not detained."
"Nothing has been heard of old Joe, Father?"
"Nothing at all. I incline to think that we shall soon see him again.
With Mr. Polwhele on the alert, and Mr. Mildmay also, let us hope, there
can be neither run nor shipment, and the rascals will tire of keeping
guard on the old man."
Again Dick was on the point of disclosing what he knew, but was
restrained by the same feeling that suspicion must become certainty
before any steps were taken.
Next morning, waking before it was light, he rose and dressed, roused
Sam, and set off with him to investigate the neighbourhood of the spot
where he had first seen Nancarrow and Pennycomequick. The air was crisp
and clear, with the first nip of frost, giving promise of a fine
morning. There had been rain in the night, but a thin film of ice
covered the ruts and pools, and the boys might have been tracked in the
darkness by the slight crackling under their feet as the icy layer gave
way.
The night was yielding by the time they reached the high-road near the
point where Nancarrow had left it. The farmer's tracks were easily
discoverable in the ploughed field, for, having been filled up by rain,
the prints of his large boots formed a series of white and regular
patches in the frost-besprinkled ground. A covey of snipe rose into the
air from the sedgy border of a pool at the side of the field, and Sam
pointed out a fox with lowered brush slinking along after them beside a
hedge of brambles.
"We have other foxes to run to earth--two-legged foxes," said Dick, who
had told Sam on the way the occasion and the object of their expedition.
Sam had a quick eye for the tracks of birds and beasts, but when they
had traced the farmer's footprints back to the road, even he was at a
loss. The rain had washed the hard surface of the highway, and
obliterated the tracks of footfarers.
Finding their examination of the road likely to prove fruitless, they
scrambled through the hedge on the left, and crossed into the rugged and
uneven ground that lay between the road and Penwarden's cottage. There
were no footprints on the path that ran past the cottage, nor on the
coarse grass with which the earth was covered. Returning to the road,
they walked for a quarter of a mile further, until they reached the
footpath which, in the ordinary course of things, the farmer would have
taken. They failed to light upon any more traces.
"I'll work backwards along the other side under the hedge," said Dick.
"Nancarrow must have crossed the road. You go back to where we saw his
footprints, and I'll keep pace with you. No; we'll change parts; I can
easily find the prints; your eyes are quicker than mine to discover new
ones."
"That's true," said Sam, gratified by this testimony to his powers.
"Wend along, then, Maister Dick, and holla when you come to 'em."
In a few minutes Dick called to Sam to halt. The latter bent towards the
road, and scrutinised its hard surface minutely, for several yards in
each direction beyond the point opposite to that where Dick stood.
"Neither heel nor toe mark do I see," he said at length. "The road be
washed clean."
He stood erect and gazed about him in a puzzled way. All at once his
eyes became fixed on one portion of the hedge. Stepping towards it, he
stooped and peered among the stiff rime-encrusted leaves.
"Hoy!" he called.
"Hush!" said Dick, hastening towards him. "Speak low; there may be some
one about. What have you found?"
"Look' ee see," replied Sam in a mysterious whisper.
Dick stooped; there was a patch of foliage less thick than the hedge
around it; some of the leaves had apparently been shaken off, and here
and there twigs were broken.
"Some man, fox, or other creeping thing hev squeezed hisself through
theer," said Sam. "We'll do the same."
He thrust his body against the hedge, which yielded to his pressure, and
without much effort he passed through to the other side.
"Dear life!" he whispered, "here be the line o' fortune. Come through,
Maister."
Dick followed him. The softer earth on the seaward side of the hedge,
more receptive than the highway, showed distinct traces of the passage
of clumping boots. Some were recent; some appeared to be of slightly
older date. Looking along the ground towards the sea, they saw that the
grass was crushed over a width of two or three feet, though many more
goings and comings were needed to make it a beaten path.
This was a discovery indeed.
"We will follow it up," said Dick.
They set off side by side. Dick was surprised to find how frequently,
and to all appearance erratically, the track wound to right and left.
But after a few moments it became clear that the deviations were not
accidental, but purposeful. The general surface of the ground was very
uneven, here a bump, there a hollow; now a patch of gorse, then a
stretch bare of all but grass. Of these features advantage had been
taken by those whose passing had made the track. They had chosen, not
the easiest route, but that on which they would be least visible from
the direction of the village. Dick noticed that nowhere along the path
were the towers of his home in sight, although a few yards to right or
left they were completely in view. This explained how it was that
Pennycomequick and Nancarrow, if they had come this way from the cliff
to the road, had escaped his observation from the parapet.
They had followed the track for perhaps half a mile when the ivy-clad
ruins of the chapel above St. Cuby's Well came into view. Instantly
recollections, suspicions, deductions linked themselves in Dick's mind.
Penwarden had mentioned a hiding-place which the smugglers were believed
to have on the shore, but which was seldom used, and had never been
discovered. The old mine, with its abandoned workings, would form an
ideal temporary store for contraband goods. But how was access to it
obtained from the sea? Not by the entrance to the seal cave, for this
was unsuitable in itself for a storehouse, and the work of hoisting the
tubs up the wall and over the ledge would be very laborious. Dick
remembered the transverse gallery which he had passed on his way through
the adit to the well; probably the hiding-place would be found at the
shoreward end of that, though it was strange that the pertinacity of the
revenue officers had never discovered it. Another surprising
circumstance was the choice of the well as the channel for the
conveyance of goods between the shore and the country. The horror and
dread in which it was held by the villagers had seemed genuine; yet, if
his reasoning was correct, the fear of ghosts had not been so potent as
to prevent the smugglers from entering it. Possibly there was another
shaft connecting the hiding-place with the upper ground; but remembering
the strutted adit he had traversed, Dick felt sure that the goods were
brought to the surface by way of the well. The explanation of this
puzzling fact did not occur to him till later.
As they approached the well the boys proceeded with great caution.
"I believe they have got Penwarden down there," said Dick. "Somebody is
guarding him; somebody may be watching in the chapel. If we are seen it
will be awkward for us, and perhaps still more for old Joe."
"Daze it all, we could run to the Towers and tell of all their wicked
doings. But do 'ee think they bean't afeard o' the ghosteses?"
"They don't appear to be."
"Dash my simple soul, I see their manin', I do b'lieve. 'Afeard o'
their own bogeys,' says Maister John. They do be the ghosteses their
own selves. To think o' their deceivin' ways, tarrifyin' poor simple
folks like you and me wi' their feignin'!"
They spoke in whispers, peering ahead, listening for sounds. But there
was nothing to alarm eyes or ears, and they came at length beneath the
shade of the masonry, and stood on the brink of the well. Here there
were clear traces of recent movements--traces which might have escaped
them had they come unsuspectingly, but which were evident to their
prepared perception. The herbage was slightly trodden; the topmost
staple was not so thickly cased with rust as it had been at their last
visit; and the mossy coating of the stonework at the edge was darkened
at two places, about two feet apart, where the hands of men ascending
would have rested for support.
"We must go down and explore the adits," said Dick.
"But we couldn't see a hand's length ahead of us," replied Sam, fumbling
in his pocket. "No; there's no candle; have you got one?"
"No. 'Tis a pity. We had better go back for breakfast and come again
by-and-by. Just take a look round and see that nobody is about."
Sam left the slight hollow in which the ruins were situated, and mounted
to a spot whence the ground sloping up to Penwarden's cottage, and the
whole expanse southward to the Towers, could be scanned. No one was in
sight, but the boys considered it prudent to return by the road, as they
had come, and made the best of their way back. The hour was still
early; there were neither vehicles nor pedestrians visible; and they
arrived at the Towers considerably excited by their discovery, and with
a healthy appetite for breakfast.
While they were still engaged in that meal, John Trevanion issued from
the front door of the Dower House. He wore an old shooting-coat and
leggings, and carried a fowling-piece slung over his shoulder. Leaving
his own grounds, he skirted those of the Towers, gained the road, walked
along it for some distance, then struck into the path leading past
Penwarden's cottage in the direction of St. Cuby's Well. He sauntered
easily along, and although he had apparently come out to shoot, he was
not accompanied by a dog, nor did he proceed with that intent
watchfulness which a sportsman usually displays.
When he arrived on the crest of rising ground beyond which lay the well
at the distance of a quarter-mile, he paused, and looked round in all
directions, as a man might look who is either seeking game or admiring a
landscape. Then he resumed his walk, but at a much brisker pace than
before. On coming within a hundred yards of the ruins, he began with
apparent carelessness to whistle a tune. In a few moments the mass of
ivy hanging before a doorway parted, and a man appeared. Trevanion
threw a swift glance behind him, then advanced, joined the man who was
awaiting him, and vanished with him behind the ivy.
"All well, Doubledick?" he asked.
"Iss, well enough, though I shall say 'praise be' with a feelin' heart
when 'tis all over."
"_You_'re not afraid of bogeys, Doubledick?"
"Not I. But 'tis lonesome, and never a soul to change a word with."
"Jake Tonkin did not stay with you, then?"
"No. 'A would hev if so be I'd axed un; but when his feyther landed me
I seed they two chuckleheads afeard o' their own bogeys--hee! hee! 'tis
your sayin', Maister John. I wouldn't lose my fame wi' the likes o'
they, so when Jake axed should he bide, I answered un bold as brass, I
assure 'ee. Not that I wouldn' ha' been glad o' company, for 'tis a
'nation long time from four o'clock yesterday till midnight to-day."
"It is, but 'twas right not to change guard too often. The less coming
and going the better, even by sea. Pennycomequick and Nancarrow
returned on the lugger, of course?"
"Well, no. The sea was choppy, and the wind stiff agen 'em, so they
come this way to save time and squeamishness."
"Chuckleheads, as you say. I hope they were careful not to be seen."
"Trust 'em for that. Nanky 'ud go straight to farm, and Penny's crooked
frame 'ud make nobody mispicious."
"Well, twelve hours will see the end of it. All is planned, and will go
like clockwork. The officers are coming at six; they talk of leaving at
nine, and I shall not hinder them."
"Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick.
"Tonkin and his crew will do their part. They won't be back in time to
lend a hand here, but we have enough without them. The wind holds; the
cutter will not trouble us; and we can go to church to-morrow and sing
'Te Deum' with some satisfaction."
"Ay, true, 'twill be summat noble to talk about to-morrer in churchyard
among the tombs."
"Well, I'll go and bag a brace of woodcock on the moor. I'll look in on
Nancarrow, too; 'tis just as well to be sure he met nobody."
Trevanion moved to the ancient doorway and pulled aside the screen of
ivy. But he let it fall quickly and stepped back.
"Look here, Doubledick," he said in a whisper.
Doubledick went to his side, and peered out through the foliage. Two
figures were approaching the spot, not by the track from the road, but
across the higher ground. Each carried a fowling-piece.
"Come out shooting, like me," whispered Trevanion.
"They didn' see 'ee?" said Doubledick anxiously.
"Not they. If they had seen me they wouldn't have followed. The last
person young Dick would wish to meet would be his cousin."
Themselves concealed behind the ivy, the two men could watch the
new-comers without the risk of being seen. They expected the boys to
pass by, as nine villagers out of ten would have done, and the
expression on their faces changed when Dick and Sam came directly
towards the ruins, and, what was still more surprising, straight towards
the well. Anger was written on Trevanion's countenance, and alarm on
Doubledick's. The boys stood for a moment at the brink of the well.
Then Dick, telling Sam to follow him immediately, kindled the candle in
his hatband, lowered himself over the edge, and began to descend.
A muffled curse broke from Doubledick's lips. He reached for Trevanion's
gun, but Trevanion, now smiling, withdrew it, and signed to the
inn-keeper to be silent. They remained where they stood for a minute or
two after Sam had disappeared, then went forward to the well and peered
down into the depths. The shaft was in darkness. It was clear that the
boys had entered the adit.
There was no one to hear the short dialogue that ensued between the two
men standing close together at the head of the well. Apparently it was
of agreeable tenor, for both smiled, though hardly with amusement.
Doubledick took from his pocket a strip of something soft and black,
removed his hat, and tied to his face a mask of crape. Then, with no
light to guide his footsteps, he made his way downward into the shaft as
the boys had done. When he had entirely disappeared, Trevanion
shouldered his gun, and sauntered towards the road. Crossing this, he
tramped over the moor towards Nancarrow's farm. Rather more than an
hour later he was overtaken on the Truro road by Mr. Carlyon, who was
riding his cob towards the village.
[Illustration: "THERE WAS NO ONE TO HEAR THE SHORT DIALOGUE THAT ENSUED
AT THE HEAD OF THE WELL."]
"Fine birds, vicar," said Trevanion, holding up a brace of woodcock and
a moor-hen. "They'll look smaller on my table a few hours hence."
"Good morning, Mr. Trevanion," said the parson, and rode by.