Suddenly Bell had heard the unmistakable cry of a man in terror of death. This came from the shaft.
At once a spout of German had burst from the trap, and, since he could hear two voices, Bell knew that they must be those of the tanner’s allies. Their tones were plainly apprehensive, and again and again they repeated the name “Johann”: and at last Bell gathered that the cry must have come from the tanner and that the two at the trap were suspecting foul play.
Sure enough, when the thieves returned, as they presently did, and Rose Noble commanded the landlord to draw him up, the latter demanded “Johann”: and, when the thieves sought to bluff him, made it plain in pitiful English that he and the tanner’s brother would take no one of them up until they heard “Johann’s” voice.
Now what in the world we were doing Bell could not tell, but supposed we were holding the chamber, instead of the shaft: and, since, if they could not get up, the thieves were certain to try to force the postern, he decided to summon Carson to help him to hold the ramp.
He, therefore, whipped down to the gallery and, opening two of the windows, turned on our electric light, and then sped back to the postern to witness a turbulent scene, the thieves roaring orders and threats, and the innkeeper and his companion hurling down taunts and abuse. Then somebody fired at the trap, and at once, as though in answer, the rope came tumbling down on to the stile.
Then Rose Noble had turned upon Punter and rent him for leaving the trap, and Punter had cursed Rose Noble for taking the tanner’s life. But Rose Noble declared with an oath that the tanner had hoaxed them.
“He’s done in Ellis,” he said, “and the bags are down in the shaft. He was meaning to box us here and then go back with his fellows and pouch the lot. And, if we don’t get out of this hole, those other two black-blooded rats will have it yet.”
“But where’s the Willies?” cried Job.
The question confounded Bell, but appeared to sober the thieves: for at once they lowered their voices, clearly believing that we were all in the ramp and presumably fearing that we should leave by the shoot and make for the well.
Presently Job had approached and endeavoured to force the postern, and, while he was so engaged, Bell shot him dead.
At once the other three had retired to the shaft, from which Bell fully expected that we should soon drive them out. But when presently Carson arrived, yet there was no sign of our coming, he could not think what had happened and began to fear very much that some accident had occurred.
When Carson heard his story, he had at once decided that Bell must take some rest and that, if in three hours’ time, we had not appeared, they must force their way into the shaft, to see what the trouble might be. But, before, that time had expired, we had come to the shoot.
Four several times the thieves had approached the postern; but, I suppose, no one of them was minded to give his life for the other two; for a frontal attack alone could have been successful, and that they did not make.
In the hope of reducing their number, Carson had held his fire as long as he dared, but, though he had wounded Punter, they gave him no other chance.
So, in the end, Rose Noble’s astonishing instinct overleaped itself: for, had he not slain the tanner, finding the fellow guilty of something he had not done, he must, I think, have had the treasure and four of us into the bargain.
There is little more to be told.
On the way from Newhaven to London we stopped in a lonely place and put the treasure back into the canvas bags. And, when we reached Cleveland Row, we carried it up and laid it in Mansel’s flat. And there, for the first time, we saw what it was we had won.
The spoil was that of a robber of high estate.
There was nothing common, and, except for a small bag of gold, no coinage at all.
There were jewels of all descriptions and many loose precious stones. There were brooches and clasps and circlets: there were cups and the hilts of poniards, studded with gems: there were two crucifixes and a monstrance and the crook of a pastoral staff, the presence of which, had he been charged with sacrilege, Axel the Red might have found it hard to explain: there was a golden chessboard, with ruby and emerald chessmen, as fine as you please: there was a scourge, the seven cords of which were loaded with seven diamonds, the size of full-grown grapes. There were jewelled dice and bracelets and eighteen or twenty rings: there were images and girdles and a golden hunting-horn: but most lovely of all was a triptych, whose three little, sacred pictures were done like stained-glass windows, only with precious stones.
When we had examined it thoroughly, we packed it all into a plate-chest and lodged it at Mansel’s bank.
And there, I suppose, our adventure came to an end.
Most of the treasure we sold, but Mansel, Hanbury and I each kept some one of the gems. They made me take the triptych, because the secret of Wagensburg had been bequeathed to me. And I have lent it to a Museum, because, to be honest,
