We discovered later that the shoot in fact discharged into a deep pool: and I think there is little doubt that the bodies of those who had died upon the stile in the oubliette were afterwards disposed of in this way: for a corpse had but to be loaded, head and foot, and then shot into the pool, to sink into well-nigh impregnable oblivion.
That the passage by which we had come was little more than a ramp, down which to drag a body was child’s play, I think supports this view: but we never could make up our minds upon the purpose which the gallery or second chamber had been constructed to serve. It may have been a dungeon: it may have been merely the dreadful “robing-room” in which the dead were “attired” for their last journey: it may have been a retreat to which the Count could withdraw, if the castle fell, where he could rest for a while before he made his escape. Be that as it may, so far as we were concerned, it was a perfect withdrawing-room, airy, secluded, safe, and actually adjoining the dungeon from which we must drive our shaft.
And that was as far as I could see.
Then we returned to the dungeon, and Hanbury ascended, and Mansel came down in his stead. I showed him all we had found. When we came to the shoot, he laughed.
“We’re doomed to get wet,” he said.
I did not understand, and said so.
Mansel fingered his chin.
“William,” he said, “that bomb put the wind up us properly. So much so that this very night we leave Wagensburg—bag, baggage and cars—never to return. At least, that, I trust, is what Rose Noble will think. Of course, he’s no fool, Rose Noble. But, if we leave the stable doors open, he’ll have something to go on, won’t he? And I think we might call at the inn, to say ‘Goodbye’ to the landlord. That would be almost artistic.”
I could only stare.
Mansel laughed. Then he waved a hand at the chamber.
“Dormitory and parlour,” he said, “until the treasure is won. The cars stabled at Villach: supplies delivered by night, by means of the shoot. And, when we’re through, what an exit! Simple, unobtrusive and swift. All we need is a boat. Of course, George Hanbury should receive the D.S.O. And I think perhaps Axel the Red deserves a mention.”
By noon we had lowered into the oubliette everything loose that we had, except, of course, some arms and the furniture of the cars. Then Mansel and Carson descended, to arrange the electric light and install a muffled bell which should ring from the mouth of the shoot.
By lunchtime all was in order, and we had but to lay our plans.
These were easy to make.
We soon decided to leave Rowley and Bell behind in the oubliette, while the rest of us took the cars and left for Villach. To procure a good base should be easy; but we might have to go to Salzburg to find a collapsible boat. It seemed likely that we should be back by the following night. But, before we left the castle, there remained to be done two things of some importance. The first was to see, if we could, what action the enemy was taking: and the second, to determine, once for all, the direction in which to dig our shaft.
Now, when I perceived the gravity of this decision, the extreme difficulty of taking it and the impossibility of verifying its accuracy, I must honestly confess that my heart failed me. Had we had the estate to ourselves, to drive a tunnel near two hundred yards in length and twenty-five feet below ground, so as to hit a chamber some six feet square, would to my mind, have been a very difficult feat: but to accomplish this without being able so much as to survey, with this idea, the surface beneath which we were to burrow, without one definite measurement upon which to found our endeavour, would be, I felt, to perform a miracle.
Indeed, I said as much; to find, to my relief, that we were not so ill-equipped as I had imagined: for it appeared that, the evening before, whilst I was in the well, Mansel had pulled out a compass and taken a bearing by which he had determined the angle at which the shaft left the well. “And that,” said he, “is the kernel of the knowledge we need. The rest I will get, if not today, tomorrow: and, if not tomorrow, the next day. There’s, therefore, no cause for concern. Finally, we have yet to reconnoitre: and if we can wring a survey out of a reconnaissance, so much the better.”
Such comfortable words, coming from Mansel, went far to rout my misgivings, but I could not help hoping very hard that some sort of survey would be made possible by the enemy’s absence from the well, and at once proposed that I should go up to the roof, and, taking care to keep out of sight, see if I could perceive any sign of activity. To this suggestion Mansel agreed, and within five minutes I was upon the slates, looking towards the great well.
I could not see the meadow for the bushes and trees, but work of some sort was proceeding about the well, for, though there was no sound of the windlass, I heard repeatedly the smack of stone upon stone, and once the loose clatter of stones being shot on to the ground. These sounds I could not interpret, and, since I could hear nothing else and could see
