A pause, and then:
“Yes, Father.”
Olga Crewe’s voice was a little dispirited, but apparently the old man did not notice this.
“You are to have the finest husband in the land, my dear. You shall have a house that any princess would envy. It shall be of white marble with golden cupolas—you shall be the richest woman in the land, Olga. I have planned this for you. Night after night as I lay in bed in that dreadful place I said to myself: ‘I must go out and settle Olga’s future.’ That is why I came out—only for that reason. All my life I have worked for you.”
“Mother says—” began the girl.
“Pah!” Old John Flack almost spat the word. “An unimaginative commoner with the soul of a housekeeper! She has looked after you well? Good. All the better for her. I would never have forgiven her if she had neglected you. And Daver? He has been respectful? He has given you all the money you wanted?”
“Yes, Father.”
Margaret thought she detected a catch in the girl’s voice.
“Daver is a good servant. I will make his fortune. The scum of the gutter—but faithful. I told him to be your watchdog. I am pleased with him. Be patient a little while longer. I am going to see all my dreams come true.”
The voice of the madman was tender, so transfigured by love and pride that it seemed to be a different man who was speaking. Then his voice changed again.
“The Colonel will be back tonight. He is a trustworthy man—Gregory also. They shall be paid like ambassadors. You must bear with me a little while longer, Olga. All these unpleasant matters will be cleared up. Reeder we shall dispose of. Tomorrow at high tide we leave …”
The sound of the voices receded until they became an indistinguishable murmur. Brill looked round at the girl and smiled again.
“Can you beat him?” he whispered admiringly. “Crazy as a barn coot! But he has the cleverest brain in London—even Reeder says that. God! I’d give ten years’ salary and all my chance of promotion for a gun!”
“What shall we do?” she asked after a long silence.
“Stay here till the tide turns, then we’ll have to take our chance in the cave. We’d be smashed to pieces if we waited on the beach.”
“There’s no way up the cliff?”
He shook his head.
“There’s a way out through the cave if we can only find it,” he said. “One way? A dozen! I tell you that this cliff is like a honeycomb. One of these days it will collapse like froth on a glass of beer! I heard Daver say so, and the mad fellow agreed. Mad? I wish I had his brain! He’s going to dispose of Reeder, is he? The cemeteries are full of people who’ve tried to dispose of Reeder!”
XVII
It seemed an eternity before the tide turned and began slowly to make its noisy way up the beach. Most of the time Margaret was alone in the little recess, for Brill made periodical reconnaissances into the mouth of the cave. She would have accompanied him, but he explained the difficulties she would find.
“It is quite dark until the tide comes in, and then we get the reflected light from the water and you can see your way about quite easily.”
“Is there anybody there?”
He nodded.
“Two chaps who are tinkering about with a boat. She’s high and dry at present on the bed of the channel, but she floats out quite easily.”
The first whirl of water was around them when he came out from the cave and beckoned her.
“Keep close to the wall,” he whispered, “and hold fast to my sleeve.”
She obeyed and followed him, and they slipped round to the left, following a fairly level path. Before they had come into the cave, he had warned her that under no circumstances must she speak, not even whisper, except through hollowed hands placed against his ear. The acoustics of the cave were such that the slightest sound was magnified.
They went a long way to the left, and she thought that they were following a passage; it was not until later that she discovered the huge dimensions of this water-hollowed cavern. After a while, he reached back and touched her right hand, as a signal that he was turning to the right.
Whilst they were waiting on the beach, he had drawn a rough plan in the sand, and assured her that the ledge on which they now walked offered no obstacle. He pressed her hand to warn her he was stopping, and, bending down, he groped at the rocky wall where he had left his shoes. Up and up they went; she began to see dimly now, though the cave remained in darkness and she was unable with any accuracy to pick out distant objects. His arm came back and she found herself guided into a deep niche, and he patted her shoulder to tell her she could sit down.
They had to wait another hour before a thin sheet of water showed at the mouth of the cave, and then, as if by magic, the interior was illuminated by a ghostly green light. The height of it was impossible to tell from where she sat, because just above them was a low and jagged roof. The farther side of the cave was distant some fifty yards, and here the rocky wall seemed to run straight down from the roof to the sandy bottom. It was under this that she saw the motor boat, a long gray craft, entirely devoid of any superstructure. It lay heeled over on its side, and she saw a figure walk along the canted deck and disappear down a hatchway. The farther the water came into the cave, the brighter grew the light. He circled his two hands about her
