on the previous night we had trimmed the hurricane lamp that i had purchased in london as part of our equipment, therefore we soon had it alight and eagerly entered the doorway to explore.
reilly went first, bending low, lamp in one hand and a short crowbar in the other, while i followed with an axe as one of the most useful of implements.
the door had been forced from its fastenings and had gone far back upon its hinges, almost uninjured, save that it was split in places and badly twisted. within we found a rough-walled, close-smelling chamber, about 4 ft. across and about 9 ft. long, low, dark as pitch, and, to our abject disappointment, absolutely empty.
one object alone we found within—an old leather drinking mug, hard, dry and cracked, that lay in one corner long forgotten.
reilly’s idea was that the place was a “priests’ hole,” one of the secret hiding-places of the roman catholic priests after the reformation, so often found in old houses, and in this i was inclined to agree with him. still, after a whole day’s work, and a hard one, too, our raised hopes had only been dashed by a negative discovery. the wreck we had made of the wall was appalling, and if we proceeded for long in that manner i dreaded to think what might be the amount claimed for dilapidations.
my young friend was, however, enthusiastic and nothing daunted. he lit a cigarette and, puffing at it vigorously, silently regarded the yawning hole in the wall.
“no doubt it was a place of concealment for those unfortunate johnnies who were so badly badgered after henry viii’s decree,” he remarked. “old bartholomew was a staunch catholic and, of course, in his house any priest found shelter and concealment who asked for it. that accounts for the mug being there. the last man who occupied the place before it was closed up and plastered over probably drank his ale out of it.”
“well,” i said, disappointedly, “we’ve made a pretty mess, and we’d best start to clear it up tidily before we do anything more. method is everything in a complete search like this.”
“of course,” was my young friend’s remark; “only i wish we could get a sight of that parchment which that drunken sot sold for half a sovereign. if we could, we shouldn’t go on working in the dark like this.”
“ah, philip,” i said, with a sigh, “we shall never get sight of that, i fear. purvis and his friends keep it too safely guarded.”
“i wonder if they know that we are tenants of this place?”
“probably. kenway wrote to him two days ago.”
“then, knowing the kind of men they are, i feel rather apprehensive that they may endeavour to turn us out, or do something desperate.”
“let them try!” i laughed. “we’ve both got revolvers, and neither of us would be afraid to use them if the worst came.”
“we must mind they don’t take us unawares. men like that never fight square. bennett has the ingenuity of the evil one himself.”
i reflected for a moment, then said:—
“if we only knew the identity of the victim of the tragedy and could establish his death we might have the whole crowd under arrest.”
“yes. but how can we establish his identity?” reilly queried. “they were smart enough to dispose of the body successfully.”
“but if the police made inquiries they might discover the cabman who was called, and by that means find out what had been done with the trunk.”
“no,” replied the young bank clerk. “that girl bristowe could tell us a lot if she wished. you know her—why not try to pump her? i don’t think it would be difficult to discover something from her, for she was horror-struck when they revealed to her the poor fellow’s fate.”
his suggestion seemed an excellent one, but not at present practicable. we were at that moment in possession of a house which our enemies were straining every nerve to search, like ourselves. surely it was not policy to leave it at that juncture, empty and at their mercy. reilly did not care to remain alone in charge, and certainly i was by no means anxious to live in that awful, depressing place without a companion.
a careful review of the position impressed upon us the necessity of continuing our search. we possessed certain documentary evidence which showed, first, that a treasure had been stored away; secondly, that it had been stored in a place of safety, with the knuttons as guardians; thirdly, that the knuttons had been installed by bartholomew himself in the manor farm, the old house in close proximity. therefore we could arrive at but one conclusion, namely, that the treasure was stored upon the premises now in our possession. if not, why had the knuttons been established there? richard knutton, of the port of sandwich, who was bartholomew’s trusted lieutenant, would surely be placed on guard in the vicinity of the secret hiding-place. sea-dogs they all were, and clever ones too. probably few had seen more hand-to-hand fighting and more fierce bloodshed than the seven signatories, and their prize money had undoubtedly amounted to a handsome sum.
reilly was impatient and rather headstrong. he made lots of wild suggestions. if purvis and his friends had hired burglars to search his uncle’s study, why should we not, by similar means, try and possess ourselves of that all-important document which the drunken knutton had sold to our enemies? which argument was, of course, logical, but it did not appeal to me. my own opinion was that if we acted firmly, with caution and patience, we should one day satisfactorily clear up the mystery. still, our position was irksome, for we dared not to leave the place for long together, fearing that our enemies might be working against us in secret.
through several days we continued our search, taking up the worm-eaten floor boards, but exposing nothing more interesting than rat runs; wrenching out the old oak panelling, and searching for any hollow-sounding places in the walls. our investigation was certainly thorough, for we took room by room, methodically measuring, sounding, and making openings everywhere.
one morning the rural postman brought me a letter from seal, explaining that the thrush had at last gone into dry dock, where she would remain for three weeks at least to be scraped and patched, therefore he was coming down next day to help us. this was good news, for with three of us on guard we could each be allowed more liberty. so i went over to uppingham again and purchased another camp bed and some cheap furniture, sufficient to make us up a sitting-room. that same night it arrived, and we then turned one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor into a smoking-room, with three cane chairs, a table, and a window-blind.
i met seal at rockingham station on the following day.
“what ho, sonny!” the burly skipper cried, rolling his huge carcass from the train and slapping his great hand into mine. “my kit’s in the van there. thought you hadn’t got a bed for me, so i brought my own and a few other things,” and at the same moment i saw, pitched out upon the platform, a sailor’s hold-all lashed with rope.
“well, captain,” i said, after giving instructions to the railway porter to wheel the skipper’s luggage up to the manor house, “and how are you?”
“fit as a fiddle, doctor,” and his bronzed face broadened and beamed; “you cured that rheumatism of mine.” then he halted and inhaled the air deeply. “christmas!” he exclaimed; “this does a chap good, after too much sea. i can smell them flowers,” and he glanced at some growing in the station-master’s garden. “i never see flowers, you know, doctor.”
together we crossed the bridge and entered the village. the bluff old fellow was dressed, as usual, in blue serge, with a big silver watch-chain, of cable pattern, across his waistcoat, and his nautical cap stuck slightly askew, ridiculously small for his enormous head.
“seen anything more of them other swabs?” he asked, as he rolled along at my side.
“we’ve heard plenty about them,” i answered, “but have seen nothing.”
“they’d better not show their ugly mugs while i’m here,” he retorted, meaningly.
i laughed. seal’s roar of anger would in itself be sufficient to frighten away the whole of purvis and company.
when i took him into the grass-grown yard of the old house he looked the place up and down, and remarked:?—
“a bit dilapidated, ain’t it? i should reckon we might overhaul a ghost or two inside if we had a mind to.”
“ah, you’re superstitious, captain,” i said. “mr. reilly doesn’t believe in ghosts any more than i do. come along and be introduced to him.”
we found philip smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper under a tree in the tangled old garden. then, when i had made the introduction, seal said:?—
“glad to make your acquaintance, sir. toughish job this, ain’t it? you don’t seem to have much luck up to the present. at every port i touched i expected to hear that you had found the stuff and bagged it.”
“you are best off, i think, captain,” i remarked.
“up to now, yes. i sold my lot the day before yesterday to a dealer in piccadilly for eight hundred and forty-six quid, and i’ve put that money safe in the bank,” he said, with evident satisfaction. “i’d rather have modern money than a collection of old coins. but i’d like to see you get your whack out of it, doctor. you deserve it—you do.”
“well,” i said, “we’re having a good try to find where it is hidden.” and then we took him inside and showed him how we were pulling the old place to pieces.
“jehoshaphat!” he ejaculated, with a whistle. “you’re making a pretty fine mess, and no gammon! the landlord’s hair will stand on end when he sees it.”
“i expect so,” i laughed. “but now we’ve started we must go through with it—and you must help us.”
“help yer? why, of course. shiver me, we’ll pull the whole crazy house down, if you like.”
the porter had delivered the skipper’s sack, so we carried it up to the room we had prepared for him adjoining ours.
“wait, you chaps, till i’ve unlashed my kit,” he said, addressing us, and bending over the white canvas sack he quickly uncorded it and began to unpack.
it was filled with a collection of articles that surprised us. not only had he brought his bed, but also his big yellow oilskin, “in case the weather was dirty,” he informed us. three fine melons, from algiers, rolled across the floor; a box of cigars was handed to each of us, as a present, and then, from careful wrappings, he produced two wicker-covered bottles of black head rum.
“now, mates!” he cried, “get three glasses, and we’ll drink success to this outcome o’ noah’s ark.”
rum was not our habitual beverage before one o’clock in the day, but in order to show our appreciation of his goodwill we each tossed down a little of the neat spirit after he had chinked his glass with ours, saying:?—
“?’ere’s luck to all three of us, and a thousand of old nick’s best brand o’ curses on them swabs.”
having locked up the place securely, as we always did during our temporary absences, we took seal round to the plough, where we sat together in the little back parlour and, amid boisterous laughter, lunched off cold roast beef and mashed potatoes, our usual fare, for the menu of that rural hostelry was not very extensive.
the skipper, whose normal state was one of hunger, ate with an enormous appetite, smacking his lips and declaring that after food afloat a bit of real english beef was very toothsome. and so it was. i recollected well the culinary arrangements of the thrush, and the greasy, gritty, unappetizing dishes that sometimes came from the galley for our approval.
the home-brewed ale was a change, too, after his eternal “noggins,” and a thirst being upon him he swallowed several glasses with great gusto.
then, when we smoked and his big bronzed face beamed through the suffocating cloud, he told us that we were certainly giving him a good time.
we had been laughing at some quaint remark of the skipper’s, and as the peal of merriment had subsided the innkeeper’s sister who waited upon us entered to clear off the plates. as she did so the sound of a man’s gruff voice, in conversation, reached us from the bar outside.
seal’s jaw dropped in an instant. the merriment died out of his face. he listened for a moment as though to make certain, then springing from his chair he passed through the doorway, in order, i suppose, to get sight of the stranger.
i had watched the skipper’s countenance and had noticed the puzzled expression on it.
next instant he was back with us, returning on tiptoe. the young woman had gone out, and he closed the door quietly behind her. then, turning to us, he said, in a low, hoarse voice of alarm, his countenance entirely changed:?—
“look here, lads! this is a blessed sight more than i bargained for when i offered to come down and give yer a hand. why, black bennett’s here! black bennett!” he added, looking at our puzzled faces. “black bennett! don’t you understand?”
