thaw out winter.
'I had an idea of building a squash court in the barn. It cost too much, but I found out that the outside length didn't match the inside one. I had a feeling that there might be a room here then–no one builds walls ten feet thick. But I couldn't even find an echo. I had to cheat in the end–I broke through the roof, and then through the ceiling.'
He pointed to an irregular patch of new plaster above her.
'So I learnt how the door worked from the inside: the catch turns a diagonal bolt on a ratchet. But you can lock the bolt from the inside–and there were dressed stones ready to pile up in the entrance hole so there wouldn't be any echo there if the priest-hunters started knocking around.
'And the whole wall there is wedge shaped–the false wall–and built on an iron plate. The old owners probably had servants to help swing it out, but I've fixed a little roller at the bottom, underneath.
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And the whole thing pivots on the newel post. It's–rather clever.'
She smiled at him in the candlelight. 'There was a good Catholic David Audley in Elizabethan times, obviously! Did you find any relics in here?'
'Relics?' He stared at her. It was hardly the moment to admit that he had actually hoped for long-lost treasure, and had been bitterly disappointed at finding only a few bits of worm-eaten wood and a candlestick. 'No, I'm sorry to say that the hole was very empty.'
'And this mattress? Is that a precaution against . . . visitors?'
'Good God, no! This sort of thing's never happened to me before. I simply slept in here one night, out of curiosity. I never thought I'd have to take refuge here.'
'Who are they, David–those men outside?'
'I haven't the faintest idea, Faith. This is out of my experience, I'm afraid. But after what happened this afternoon–after what may have happened, I mean–I didn't fancy staying to find out. I know that's not very heroic– but I'm just not heroic . . .'
She put a hand on his arm. 'But very sensible. And far too good-natured to remind me that you had me hanging round your neck anyway!'
She was certainly an understanding wench, thought Audley. And more than that!
'If I'm not heroic, then you make up for it,' he said.,'Not many young women I can think of would sit here as cool as you are with three Russ—' He stopped too late.
'Russians?' She completed the word for him. 'Is that really what dummy4
you think they are?'
He shook his head uneasily.
'It doesn't add up, Faith. It just doesn't add up. Morrison–and now this. And all for a heap of museum loot–I don't care how valuable you say it is.'
She sighed. 'You still don't understand, do you, David? If it was some silly plan for some silly rocket, or the details of a secret treaty, you'd believe it at once. But with something that is truly worthwhile you just can't believe your eyes. Well, perhaps your high-up Russian doesn't have such schoolboy values. Perhaps he thinks this is more important –and naturally he doesn't trust
'But we've been all through that, haven't we! And as for being cool
— I'm absolutely frozen! How long do we have to stay in this arctic hole? Your old priests must have been made of stern stuff.'
He stood up stiffly. Another hour might be enough, but in the meantime he ought to try to make her comfortable.
'Here–you stretch out on the mattress, and I'll wrap the blanket around you,' he said.
'What are you going to do?'
He wrapped the loose ends of the rug round her legs. 'You try and snatch some sleep. I'll be quite all right sitting against the wall.'
Actually he was not all right. The unevenness of the wall gouged into his back and the cold stones spread their chill through him. He hunched his shoulders and wrapped his arms tightly across his body.
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'David?'
He grunted.
'What's the pick for?'
The pick?' He tried to think. 'Just insurance. If the door jammed we'd have a job getting out.'
'Couldn't we shout through the air holes?'
'The air holes have got a double right angle in them. It might be days before anyone heard anything.'
She shivered, and he relapsed into unhappy silence. The door jamming had been his special nightmare in the past. That it had worked at all had always rather surprised him. If it failed now, forcing him to hack his way out– that would be the ultimate humiliation. Was it Murphy's Law or Finagle's Law that recognised the malevolence of inanimate objects towards human beings?
'David?'
He grunted again, miserably–what could the woman want?
