Rose, said Punter, “they’re waitin’. What else can they do? They didn’t half like that bomb. So they gave us the well. But they’re watchin’ an’ prayin’ all right, and, as soon as the pump starts suckin’, they’ll show a leg.”
“Maybe they will,” said Rose Noble. “But don’t tell me they’re sitting still. I’ve seen these Willies before, and they’re not that shape. I’d swear they were digging, but where’s their ⸻ shaft?”
“ ‘Diggin’,’ ” said Job. “My Gawd.”
“Where’s the use?” said Punter. “Say they’ve drove a tunnel as far as the well: you’d want half Lancashire to do it, but say they have. Well, who’s going to pull out a brick? There’s nothin’ the matter with the treasure, but there’s fifty tons of water waitin’ the other side. Talk about a dam burstin’. You don’t have to be an engineer to—”
“There’s a snag somewhere,” said Rose Noble. “I can feel it in my bones. They’re moving: I’ll swear they’re moving: and I think they’re underground. What did they want with the well that afternoon?”
“They wanted the buckets,” said Punter.
“No they didn’t,” said Rose Noble. “If that was all they were after, why wouldn’t young Willie speak? If you want my opinion, those buckets are down in the well. When Mansel had got what he wanted, he just looked around to see what mess he could make: and the buckets came first.”
“You don’t say?” said Punter. And then, “The dirty dog.”
I was aghast at the man’s perspicacity, but Mansel, beside me, began to shake with laughter.
“The point is,” said Rose Noble, “what did Big Willie want?”
No one vouchsafed any answer, and, after a pause, he continued, weighing his words.
“That pup was too blasted glib with his answers about the well. He wasn’t lying, but he talked like a ⸻ guide. Why? I’ll give you two answers, and you can take your choice. Either he was giving us a line which they had found N.B.G.: or else he left out of his budget some one essential fact.” He hesitated there for a moment. Then he went slowly on, speaking as though to himself. “ ‘A chamber,’ he called it: and then, ‘a recess in the wall.’ ”
“That’s right,” said Punter. “You bet it’s a sort of a cell, with a gratin’ to keep the bags from washin’ away.”
“Much more likely walled up,” the other replied. “No point in wet gold, if you can have it dry. And there’s where I’m bogged,” he added violently, “There’s something below they know of that we can’t guess. By ⸻ if I knew where they were.”
“Might help, might not,” said Punter.
“ ‘Might’?” sneered Rose Noble. “ ‘Might’?” I could hear him suck in his breath. “Any one of the six would do: Little Willie, for choice. I shouldn’t lose him twice. And I guess he’d see the point of putting us wise. A man mayn’t value his life, but he’s always devilish sticky about parting with one of his skins.”
With his words came the chink of glass, and some liquid was poured.
“Seein’ ’s better than believin’,” said Punter. “Here’s to the ⸻ pump.”
I suppose the toast was honoured, and, after a moment, somebody rose to his feet.
“You two stay here,” said Rose Noble. “I’m going out for a stroll.”
Had I been alone, I should have run for cover, and, as like as not, had a bullet in my back for my pains. But Mansel stood fast. By his instant direction, Carson and I lay down while he set his back to the wall, sank his chin on his chest—to hide, as he afterwards told me, the white of his face—and folded his arms.
It seemed an age before Rose Noble passed by, for he went very slowly, as a man in his enemy’s camp, and every four or five paces he stood where he was, still as a graven image, using his eyes and ears. Indeed, I shall always believe that the fellow’s instinct had told him that we were at hand, for I never saw demeanour so suspicious, and I think that, but for the light of the lamp with which he had just been sitting, which had taken the edge from his vision, he must have perceived Mansel, for he certainly looked straight at him for two or three seconds at a time.
At last, however, the darkness swallowed him up, and Mansel lifted his head. For a moment he stood peering: then he signed to me to lie still and began to steal, like a shadow, the way the other had gone. I was taken aback at his movement, for, armed though he was, to go after the monster alone seemed out of reason. And, when I remembered the humour Rose Noble was in, I broke into a sweat.
It was not Mansel’s way to shoot a man in the back, and, since I made sure he was gone to kill Rose Noble, I lay awaiting his challenge with my heart in my mouth. But, after four or five minutes, to my surprise and relief, Mansel emerged from the shadows, as silently as he had gone, and whispered to Carson and me to get to our feet. Then he drew our heads together and spoke in our ears.
“Rose Noble has gone to the castle: while he’s out of the way, I’m going to satisfy Punter that we’re playing a waiting game. Carson will stay here and watch. If Rose Noble returns, shoot him. If he doesn’t, the moment I say ‘Good night,’ make straight for the sentinel peak. Chandos, you come with me, and do as I say.”
With that, he walked round the redoubt, with me at his heels. A gap in the wall to the south served as a narrow doorway and suffered the gutter to pass, and, after a careful survey, Mansel stepped lightly within.
“Good evening,” he said. “Put up your hands, please. And, above all, make no sound.”
The prohibition was needless, for Punter and Job were so much
