That the thieves were drawing no water delighted us all, for nothing could have shown us more plainly how much they were underrating the activity of the springs. Moreover, by their failure to bail, they were throwing away the precious fruit of our labour, and, of their ignorance, letting slip an invaluable advantage. When we had first taken possession, some fifty-five feet of water had covered the mouth of the shaft: at daybreak this morning it was hidden by, at the most, nineteen: but, if they did not begin bailing before dawn on the following day, the water would by then have regained almost the whole of the ground we had been at such pains to capture.
“Which shows,” said Hanbury, “that the innkeeper isn’t with them. If he were, he’d have put them wise.”
“Don’t be too sure,” said Mansel. “It’s a hundred to one they wouldn’t take his advice: but what is still more likely, is that he’ll hold his tongue. He doesn’t want to help Rose Noble to the treasure. What would be his reward? Why, as like as not, they’d leave him down in the well. He knows that perfectly. And that’s why I very much hope they have impressed him. It will keep him out of mischief, and the quality of help he’ll give them will do as much harm as good.”
It was then arranged that he and I and Carson should go out on patrol, while Rowley watched the courtyard, and Hanbury and Bell covered our advance from the other side of the house.
Carson was to start from the courtyard, pass through the great gateway and move towards the meadow, with the path on his left: Mansel and I were to start from the west of the mansion: and we were to meet, if we could, in a dip which lay between the meadow and the trees which sheltered the house.
Before we set out, we closed the mouth of the dungeon. Then we took a pistol apiece: and Mansel put in his pocket a compass and a measuring-tape.
“And please remember,” he said, “we’re not out to fight: we’re going to see what’s afoot and to mark the lie of the land: a fuss, therefore, means failure: if there’s anyone in our way we must wait till he moves: he’s sure to do that before sundown, and it’s only just two. And there’s the slogan for today: ‘Take your time.’ ”
Mansel and I could only emerge from a window upon the first floor, for all those below were barred: but we had a short rope-ladder, which we had not yet tried. This certainly served our purpose, but it was the most awkward appliance I ever have used, for its rungs were of rope and gave way beneath my weight in a most disconcerting manner.
When we were down, Hanbury drew up the ladder, leaving only a little grey cord to hang against the wall, some seven feet above ground. We had but to twitch this to bring down the ladder at once; so, though it was very improbable that an unfriendly eye would perceive anything suspicious, our means of ascent was continually assured.
The first thing we did was to gain the shelter of the trees and lie down in the long grass. There we lay for ten minutes as still as death. During all that time we heard not the faintest sound, except, very indistinctly, the stony chink and clatter which I had heard from the roof.
At length Mansel gave the signal, and we began to move.
Using the greatest caution, we crawled south, keeping as close to the castle as the covert allowed. So we came to the corner where the staircase-turret stood. Here, again, we lay still for ten minutes or more. Then Mansel rose to his knees, and from his knees to his feet. For a moment he stood like a statue: then he looked slowly around. The next instant he was at the base of the turret, measuring-tape in hand.
I do not think that anything I ever saw Mansel do impressed me so much as the little survey he made at the foot of the castle wall. He was full in the open, and against the white, sunlit stone he offered a perfect mark: the work he was doing, if seen, would as good as betray our plans: his nearest cover was twenty-five paces away. Yet, though he worked for six minutes, he never once looked about him or even raised his head. Swiftly and silently he used the compass and tape, going about his business with the deliberate precision of one to whom time is no object, and entering figures in a notebook, as though he had the world to himself.
When he had quite finished, he took a long nail from his pocket and, placing its point where he had made a slight mark, pressed it well into the ground: then he hooked the end of the tape upon the head of the nail, and stepped across to where I lay in the grass.
“Kneel for a minute,” he said. I knelt. “You see that fir to our left, with the broken bough like a spout? I’m going to measure exactly how far it stands from the nail. Follow me, with the tape in your hand. Hold it continually taut, so that whatever happens it doesn’t slip off the nail.”
With that, he lay down in the grass and began to steal forward, paying out the tape as he went.
We had crawled and lain still and crawled again for nearly half-an-hour, and, so much were my fingers aching, I was beginning to wish the treasure at the bottom of the sea, when Mansel turned his head and signed to me to come alongside.
I did so gingerly.
“I can smell tobacco,” he breathed.
We were still ten paces from the fir, to which, except for the bushes, we had had a clear run: in threading the tape through
