Blind Corner

shaft was very difficult to dig. The Count had an evil name and was very much feared. He would go down into the well to see the work. The rain came before the work was done, and the Count was beside himself for fear that they would not be able to finish it before the water came in. At the end they were working day and night. This was because the Count would let no one else go down the well. When the shaft and the chamber were done, the four of them went down one night when everyone else was asleep. The Count had two leather bags. These were very heavy. They got them down and up the shaft and into the chamber. It was raining hard, and the water was up to the shaft, and the next day it was above it. The three finished the masonry of the well, but the Count now allowed them helpers to keep the water down. On their last night at the Castle the Count killed two of the three with his own hands. My great-grandfather escaped, and though a long search was made for him he was never found. He escaped into Italy and returned two years later, when the Count was dead. He always meant to go down and get the bags, but there was never another drought severe enough to empty the well. When he was dying he told my grandfather this, and my grandfather told my father and he told me. I don’t know which way the shaft runs. There are steps in the shaft. The Count cannot have recovered the bags because the great drought was followed by three very rainy years, and, as the springs are normally abundant, he could not have emptied the well without employing a lot of labour. I am unmarried and I have never told this to anyone else.

“Note. The Count was clearly the notorious Axel the Red, who was nothing more or less than a common robber, and was reputed to have amassed a vast fortune. In 1760 Wagensburg was burnt and he perished in the flames. The castle passed to the Crown, and was sold twenty years later. It was then restored.

“Wagensburg lies in Carinthia twenty-nine miles from Villach and four from Lerai.

“September, 1904.

“Note. W. came into the market in 1910.

“Failed. Ellis knows.

“June, 1910.”

I stood up and looked at George.

“Well,” I said, “when do we start?”

George Hanbury shrugged his shoulders.

“Your time’s my time,” he said.

“And my time’s Mansel’s,” said I.

I have often wondered how I came to say such a thing to a man upon whom, three hours before, I had never set eyes. Yet I meant what I said: and I think the truth is that the royalty of Mansel’s nature had already subjected me, for I know that, if he had said at once that he could not join us, I should have been unreasonably dismayed.

Mansel rose from his chair and knocked out his pipe at the grate. Then he stood up quite straight and folded his hands.

“This may be a school-treat,” he said, “and it may not. Treasure and trouble frequently go together. I haven’t been Villach way since the year before the War, but unless things are very different to what they were⁠—well, if you fought a duel with a couple of Lewis guns, nobody’d take the trouble to come and see what it was. As likely as not they wouldn’t hear you. It’s not at all crowded. Well, that’s all right for a school-treat.” He stopped there for a moment. Then he proceeded thoughtfully. “Life’s full of twists and turns, but to take on a job like this is to tackle Blind Corner itself: and that’s a turning where danger signs and warnings are little worth, for all the care in the world won’t help you to see ahead, and it’s never policed. Whether you two are free to go is your affair. I will go⁠—upon one condition, which I see slight reason why you should accept. The condition is that from first to last in this venture you two will do what I say. You see, I’m older.”

I thought the condition a very mild one and said as much: so did Hanbury. But it has occurred to me since that I should have found it presumptuous in anyone else.

Be that as it may, we gave our word to obey him in every particular, and then we sat down at his feet while he rough-hewed our campaign.

Of this, he showed that there would be three phases. First, the acquisition of Wagensburg: then, the lifting of the treasure: and, lastly, the disposal of it. And, since all he said was very much to the point, I will use, so far as I can recall them, his very words.

“The first thing to do is to buy the property. Until we’re the landlords, the treasure is not ours to lift. To rent the place may be simpler and, so, tempting: but I don’t see the force of finding a King’s ransom for somebody else. If Wagensburg’s in the market, well and good. I’ll find the money: I don’t think the price will be high. If it’s not in the market, we shall have to pay more than it’s worth: but in these days you can usually buy a place even if it isn’t for sale.

“To get to the treasure shouldn’t be difficult, but, unless the well’s dry, I’m sure we can’t do it alone. To keep pace with springs that give freely is very hard work: it’s a very deep well: all wells are dangerous. We may even find that we can’t use the well at all, but must drive a new shaft from above. Above all, it’s most important that we should not be disturbed. We should only have to be seen at work to be suspected. To my way of thinking, it’s at least a six-men job. If we each take a servant