Blind Corner

of the well. To break out of the chamber, therefore, would have been ten times as simple as to break in; for the stones were undoubtedly wedge-shaped, and, that being so, if they were truly laid, a battering-ram itself would not avail us. The joints moreover, were as fine as those of the walls of the well, and to cut out one stone with a chisel would have taken an hour or more.

“What of the roof?” whispered Mansel.

At once I stretched up an arm, to find the roof just out of sight; but two minutes’ work with the pickaxe had laid the edge of it bare.

Now how the roof was constructed I do not know; but between the slab we could see and the stones upon which it was resting, there was a layer of mortar as thick as a Camembert cheese. And this was so loose that I picked out a piece with my thumb.

Here, then, was the way to break in: for we had but to drive a chisel, and, when it was fairly in, to lever against the slab, to prize a stone out of the wall: and, once one stone was out, we could make our breach.

“And, when we do,” breathed Mansel, “look out for squalls: you can bet your life they’re not going to give us this trick.”

We had to make way for the lever: so once more I handled the pickaxe, whilst the others marshalled the tools for the final assault.

All this time the filing continued, and, to judge from the ring of the metal, some bar was nearly in two. Indeed, as I threw down the pickaxe, again the noise stopped, and we heard some blows administered, as though the workman believed he could burst asunder the filament that remained.

We waited to hear no more.

I fitted the edge of the chisel into the chink; and, whilst I held it, Mansel hammered it home.

The stone below must have been loose, for, the moment we levered, it yielded, and a second later I pulled it out with my hands. The two below came away, and, as Hanbury gave me the searchlight, I heard a strangled cry.

On the tiny floor was a bag, thick covered with dust, of the shape of a sack of corn. Its mouth was shut, but one of its sides was gaping and spilling the stuff it held. By its side was another: but this was all gone to ruin, and its contents lay in a heap. The dust lay so deep over all that it might have been trash, but I saw the shape of a crucifix standing up out of the ruck.

Immediately opposite was the entrance, barred by the four iron bars. Behind these I saw two faces, unshaven, like those of beasts. The one I had never seen, but the other was that of Ellis: and that I believe I shall see so long as I live, for if ever the devil possessed the soul of a man he possessed it then.

The other seemed blinded by the searchlight: but Ellis glared full at the lamp, as though it were no more than a taper, with his face working with passion and his eyes starting out of his head.

Suddenly he laid hold of the bars and wrenched them this way and that, screaming, like some animal with rage; and, when they would not yield to his frenzy, he clapped his face up against them and spat like any demoniac, lending the whole force of his body to this disgusting act. Then he started, as one who recovers his presence of mind, and I saw a hand fly to his hip.

At that moment Mansel fired, and the fellow fell suddenly forward against the bars. As he did so, the other man turned, and Mansel fired again. But, when the noise had subsided, we could hear him descending the shaft.

Then Ellis’ body slipped sideways, till the head was against the wall, which held it up at an angle which was different to that of the trunk.

“God forgive me,” said Mansel, “but I’d do it again.”

With that, I climbed into the chamber, and Mansel followed me in.

With the hammer and crowbar, we soon had three more stones out, and Hanbury made his way in.

Then Mansel told Rowley to give him the canvas bags.

“And ‘Quick’ ’s the motto,” said he. “I missed the tanner, and now he’ll give the alarm. But, once we’re beyond the postern, they can have the oubliette.”

Rowley had brought the bags and was standing without the chamber, looking in, with his hands on the wall, when I heard a rustle behind him and saw him drop suddenly forward across the breach we had made.

A mass of soil had broken away from the “window” and had fallen on the back of his legs.

He was not hurt, but was pinned; and, whilst I supported his body, Mansel and Hanbury climbed back into the tunnel and shifted the fallen earth.

They worked feverishly; but two or three minutes went by before he was free and I was able to help him into the chamber.

“And that,” breathed Mansel, brushing the dirt from his hands, “is about as clear a time-signal as ever there was.”

I held one canvas bag open and Rowley the other, while Mansel and Hanbury shovelled the stuff within. There were gold and stones and jewels and all manner of lovely things, but I think we were thinking of safety and the way to the oubliette.

Then Mansel lifted his head and touched Hanbury on the arm.

For a moment we knelt there, listening.

Then, something faint, but clear, came Tester’s vigorous bark.

And that was the only time we heard him give tongue that night, for the next instant came a shuffling and then a rumbling sound; and, when we had brought the searchlight up to the breach in the wall, had we not known its angle, we could not have told where the shaft we had driven had been.

“Where’s the pickaxe?” said Mansel quietly.

I told him