‘Killed?’ said Denis. ‘You don’t mean…?’
‘Murdered? No. The Druids danced, I think, and trampled him underfoot. Come over here, and you shall know as much as we do.’
All three went with her, for Laura disliked the idea of being alone. Mrs. Bradley shone her torch on the body, and then showed her followers the metal receptacle which the fall of the stone had disclosed.
‘I think we might raise that up, Madam,’ George observed, ‘if those men have left any rope. What do you think, sir?’ he added, turning to Denis.
‘With a rope I could help,’ said Laura.
A portion of the rope which the stone had chafed through was found, and, whilst Mrs. Bradley kept guard, the others, by mighty exertions, drew a long, wide metal container from the hole, and, quite exhausted, lay on the grass beside it.
‘Now what,’ said the wiry Denis, recovering first.
‘Laura and George could take it away in the car, if we could possibly get it to the car,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘I myself would prefer to stay. I want to know what will happen here when those men return.’
‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t get it into the car, if I give George a hand,’ suggested Denis, ‘and then he and Laura can go back to Welsea with it.’
‘I could bring the car a lot closer, I think, sir,’ said George, ‘but I would respectfully suggest that we carry the receptacle to the shelter of the hedge at once, in case those fellows return and find us with it.’
‘A good idea, George,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘Up with it at once, if you can.’
Although the metal container was bulky and very heavy, the two men, with Laura to take one of the handles occasionally, contrived to get it over to the hedge.
‘And now you can take your time about getting the car a little nearer, and getting the box in,’ Mrs. Bradley observed. ‘And then Denis may rejoin me if he thinks fit to do so.’
‘Look, I know you employ me and so forth, but couldn’t I stay? It was me you brought, not Denis,’ objected Laura. ‘And he and George will be far more use to lug that thing about than George and I will,’ she cunningly added.
‘True, child,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘Off you go, Denis, with George and our treasured although ill-gotten gains, and you will not need to return. I have my revolver.’
‘Oh, but…’ Denis began. His aunt gave him a slight, authoritative push.
‘Laura will be quite safe with me,’ she promised. ‘Otherwise I should not keep her. Besides, there is man’s work to do at Slepe Rock to-night. Go there as soon as you have left this cylinder in some place of safety. You might find out whether Gerald and Michael need help. It is likely they do.’
‘Oh!’ said Laura. ‘Well, I’m…’
‘Not yet, child,’ said Mrs. Bradley, thinking of Robert de Baudricourt and Saint Joan. So George went off, and very soon the almost unmistakable sounds of a car being started up came faintly upon the air.
‘Now, sir,’ said George, returning, ‘I’ve brought her as near as I can. We must tote it the rest.’
Laura assisted them again, and returned, rather breathless, to report the trove safely on board.
‘Thank goodness!’ she added. ‘I should think it weighs even more than Mike O’Hara’s fat man.’
‘The weight of the iron box more,’ said Mrs. Bradley; but Laura, who was massaging weary muscles, apparently did not hear her. ’
Mrs. Bradley waited, and then she looked at her watch. She and Laura prepared for a long and tiresome vigil, and this mood proved to be of service, for a long and tiresome watch indeed it was, once they had returned to the Stones.
It became rather chilly towards morning, and Mrs. Bradley and her secretary, both by this time cold and stiff, took turns in coming out from cover, and walked about flapping their arms. At about half-past four, Mrs. Bradley saw, against the grey-black light of the sky, a horseman ride over the hill. She watched him for more than a minute as he headed towards the Stones, and then, with a word to Laura, she scuttled into cover like a rabbit making for its burrow.
Chapter Seventeen
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Laura had seen the man, too. ‘Oh, lor!’ she said. ‘Here we come!’ The horseman gained the summit and reined in his mount. He seemed to be trying to make out the lie of the land in the greyish deception of the half-light, and took some time to satisfy himself. He then turned his horse and thundered off.
‘I suppose he will bring his friends to finish the task,’ said Mrs. Bradley grimly. ‘I wonder how soon we may expect them?’
She took out her revolver, and she and Laura stood behind their respective stones and waited for what might be coming. They had not long to wait. There was the sound of hoofs over the hill, and the horseman reappeared, the darkish shadow of a centaur against the grey of the sky. He turned in his saddle to look behind him. After a short pause, three men came after him on foot, lumbering up the slope at a half-trot. He spurred forward, followed by these companions, and rode straight towards the stone beneath which the dead man was pinned. Here he dismounted, and waited for the others to come up. It was the biggish man whom O’Hara had recognized as the one whom he had assisted on the Saturday evening of the hare and hounds.
‘Quiet enough,’ he remarked. ‘Now we’ve got to get him away, and we haven’t much time. Get busy. Free him first, and then for the box. All set? Now get a move on. Con’s expecting us.’
He received no answer, so he remounted, and remained on watch. Paying no attention to him, the other three knelt beside the hole from which the stone had come, and one of them reached down into it. He found nothing, so, changing his position to that of lying flat on his face, he thrust his arm further into the hole. The others watched him. He got up, shrugged, and the three of them glanced towards the horseman, whose back was towards them, and then went over to where the dead man lay with his face in the turf, and looked attentively at the respective positions of the man and the fallen stone.
Meanwhile Mrs. Bradley and her secretary, behind their respective stones, were playing a grim game of hide and seek with the horseman, moving stealthily round the stones as he kept his watch so as to remain out of sight whichever way he manoeuvred his horse. As the last place from which he was expecting scrutiny was from behind the stones, their task was fairly simple.
He soon seemed satisfied that there was nothing to be feared, and rode quietly back to where the men were working. The one who had groped in the hole had unwound a grappling chain which ended in a hook, and this he passed round the end of the stone and secured it. When he had tested it, he passed the end of the chain to one of the others. This man carried it to the horseman, who turned his mount so that the chain could be fastened at the back of his saddle.
‘All set?’ he called, when this was done. He obtained a growling assent from his obviously unwilling helpers, and turned in the saddle to say angrily:
‘Well, you take your cut, don’t you? And you’ve got to do what’s to be done!’
‘Us didn’t reckon on deaders,’ said one of the men very sullenly.
‘Oh, go to hell, and do as you’re told, or we’re all in the cart,’ said the horsemen. ‘Once let anybody find poor Bud like this, and they’ve got us all in the bag.’
At this, the men, one at the mouth of the hole and astride the stone, the others between him and the horseman, took the chain in hands on to which they had pulled stout gauntlets, and, at a word from the first man, took the strain and began to haul and tug with the greatest determination with the object of lifting the stone from the body of their dead companion.
The man at the hole was the biggest and presumably the strongest. He gave the orders, panting them out as though the strain of the lifting was almost too much for his strength. The others, too, strained and sweated, and the rider, urging his horse, was swearing softly and continuously as, for half an hour by Mrs. Bradley’s watch, they
