Blind Corner

orders which stayed pinned up in the hall, and, so far as I can remember, this was how they ran.

1. Reveille at 4 a.m.

   Breakfast at 7 a.m.

   Supper one hour after sundown.

2. No light of any kind which can be seen from the courtyard will be shown even for an instant.

3. Accumulators will be charged, if necessary, from 4:15 a.m. and, in any event, each engine will be started and run for five minutes from that hour.

4. So long as any sign of occupation can be seen from the courtyard, the road of approach will be watched.

5. The alarm tape, wires and bells will be tested at reveille, dinnertime and sundown.

6. In addition to their other duties: Carson will take sole charge of the cars and the electrical apparatus. Rowley will act as quartermaster and cook. Bell will clean the quarters and maintain the water supply.

7. No one will leave the castle without acquainting me.

8. The first sign of any approach will be immediately signalled.

9. There will always be someone in the kitchen if there is no one on guard.

I can remember no more, but these rules show that Mansel did all that he could to guard against surprise and to insure that our work should go forward with the least embarrassment.

For all that, we were none too well placed. To gain the curtilage of the castle, without being observed, was singularly easy, and the well was two hundred yards from the garden door, so that anyone at all curious and prudent could watch our labour by the hour, and any sudden, determined aggression by three or four armed men would be difficult to counter.

We sat on the terrace for a while before going to bed, and heard some music from London, and at length the news, and, but for Mansel, Hanbury and I, I think, would have sat there most of the night, for a full moon was shining out of an empty sky and the prospect which the terrace commanded seemed more lovely than ever.

We were up and abroad the next morning before it was light, and, as soon as the alarums had been tested, repaired to the well.

Mansel had all ready a measuring-line. This was a very fine cord knotted at every inch and tagged at each foot, and at each end was fastened a lump of lead. The use of this proved that what the well-digger had said of its capacity was substantially correct, for the well was two-thirds full of water, and its depth was ninety-six feet. Allowing for the facts that the man would have spoken of metres, and not of feet, and that in so many years a deposit had surely been formed at the bottom of the well, we had no reason to suppose that his actual figures were not as good as ours. Sixty-two feet of water lay in the well.

I have already said that the well was twelve feet across, and, after a moment’s calculation, Hanbury drew in his breath.

“That chamber is sealed,” he said, “faster, I fancy, than even the well-digger dreamed. If we had a pump⁠—”

“We should be no better off,” said Mansel. “A pump can push water, but to pull it up from a depth is beyond its power. If we installed a plant to supply the house, to make sure of water we should have to sink the pump; and no pump that ever was made could empty this well. Whether we can do it by bucket I can’t possibly tell, but I’m told that the last six months have been unusually dry, and so, if we go all out, I think we may be able to beat the springs.”

Hanbury examined the cupola which sheltered the well.

“We have two pulleys,” he said. “If we put a beam across and above the windlass, we can use two buckets together and, with the windlass, three.”

“That’s right,” said Mansel. “And now here’s another point. We must make a gutter to take the water away. If we don’t do that it’ll find its way back to the well.”

Then he picked up a stirrup and, looping the leather on to the hook which was dangling over the well, asked me if I would go down and see what I could.

I was only too ready to comply, but before I descended he made me put on a warm coat against the chill, and fastened about me a length of fine wire rope. I then set my foot in the stirrup and gripped the chain, and, Hanbury working the windlass and Mansel paying out the rope, I passed down into the well.

When I was close to the water, I bade them stop, and, when they had made all fast, they let down the searchlight.

The well was beautifully built, and I do not believe such masonry is often rendered today. The stones had been finely cut, and, though no doubt they were cemented together, they were fitted so closely that the cement did not appear. There were no bars at all, nor any foot or handhold that I could see, but presently I discovered a series of niches regularly cut in the wall, one above the other and about two feet apart. They were scarce an inch deep, and I could not believe that there was any man, living or dead, daring or skilful enough to rise or descend by this means. Happening, however, to look round, I perceived another series, exactly corresponding, a quarter of the way round the well. These were more deeply cut; and it immediately occurred to me that these niches had supported one beam of a wooden stage on which the men had stood whilst building the wall. Sure enough, on the opposite side were the niches for the other beam, one twice as deep as the other: so that, given four clean-cut beams, the men who were working could have raised their stage as they pleased, without any help, two feet at a time. One or two pieces of wood were rotting on the surface of the water, and,