image: Seal_Island5.jpg
image: Seal_Island5.jpg
[Illustration: "Quite exhausted, the first survivor was assisted to the most sheltered position on the ledge."—Page114.]
[Illustration: "Quite exhausted, the first survivor was assisted to the most sheltered position on the ledge."—Page114.]
The Scouts felt the strain suddenly relax. When the breaker had passed, their worst fears were realised. The life-line had parted, the man in the buoy was at the mercy of the waves, and the retreat of the remaining three was cut off:
Steadyinghimself on the rope, Atherton stood on the brink of the ledge and watched for the reappearance of the submerged man. The buoy was floating, but for quite a quarter of a minute its late occupant was nowhere to be seen. When at length he rose to the surface, the buoy had drifted ten yards to leeward of him.
Fortunately the seaman was a swimmer, and without hesitation he struck out for the buoy.
"Haul in!" ordered Atherton, as the man grasped the life-saving object, and passed it over his head and shoulders.
Promptly the "Otters" obeyed, till the Leader ordered them to stop. Another wave was breaking, and should the man be caught close to the cliffs he would assuredly be dashed to death against the rocks.
Down came the mountain of water, but instead of carrying the seaman with it, it passed harmlessly by, expending its energy in a blow that raised a column of spray forty feet in the air.
"Now, haul!" bawled Atherton, and to his relief he saw the man drawn clear of the turmoil of foam and unceremoniously dragged upon the ledge.
"Signal to them to send another line ashore," ordered the Leader; but in reply the despairing message came from the wreck, "We have no more rope."
"Could I swim off to the ship?" asked Green. "I'll risk it."
"Impossible," replied Atherton. "It is hopeless to attempt to swim against such a sea."
"What is to be done?" asked Phillips. "We cannot stand here and let those fellows drown before our eyes."
Atherton shook his head. All that was humanly possible for them to do had been done. He knew that it was not the first time by any means that men had been drowned in full view of their would-be rescuers.
"Forepeak's full o' water," announced the last of the saved crew. "That's where there's many a coil o' rope."
"Couldn't they dive for it or fish it up with a boathook?" asked Atherton.
"Maybe they haven't thought o' that, sir," was the reply.
"Tell them to make another attempt to find a rope," ordered Atherton. "Failing that, their only chance is to jump overboard and trust that they lay hold of the ropes we lower to them."
But before Phillips could send the signal, Tom Mayne gave vent to a loud shout.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing seaward. "The lifeboat!"
The Scout was right. Riding lightly over the mountainous seas was the red-white-and-blue painted lifeboat from Gwyll Cove. Under sail she stood down till within a cable's length of the wreck. To approach closer under sail or oars would be fatal, for the heavy seas would carry the craft upon the jagged rocks.
Breathlessly the Scouts watched the completion of their work of rescue. Anchoring well to windward of the wreck the lifeboat men veered out fathom after fathom of stout cable, till the craft drifted to within twenty yards of the fast-disappearing wreck.
From this distance it was a fairly easy matter to heave a loaded cane, to which was attached a line, across the steamer's deck, and in a very short time means of communication were established between the lifeboat and the doomed vessel.
One by one the three remaining seamen were dragged into safety; the lifeboat hauled out, buoyed and slipped her cable, and hoisted sail. Washed again and again as she pounded against the heavy seas, she beat up for Gwyll Cove, her errand of mercy completed.
"Come on, lads," said Atherton. "We must be getting back to camp."
Two by two the "Otters" were hoisted to the top of the cliffs, whither the last of the men rescued by the Scouts had preceded them. Breaking into a run, for their work and subsequent wait in the salt-laden atmosphere had chilled them to the bone, the lads made their way towards their temporary home.
Presently Phillips overtook his Leader.
"Don't stop," he panted. "Wait till I fall back a bit and then look at the left side of the ruins. There's some one watching us."
Atherton followed this advice. Standing close to the ruined chapelry, and clearly defined against the skyline, was a figure that the lad recognised as Paul Tassh, the butler at Polkerwyck House.
"How on earth did the fellow get to the Island?" thought the Leader. "It has been much too rough since yesterday evening for a boat to put across."
When he again glanced in the direction of the ruins, Tassh was no longer to be seen.
On first thoughts Atherton felt inclined to get both patrols to surround the man, for the Scout felt now perfectly convinced that he was the mysterious visitor to the Tea Caves. But, after all, Sir Silas Gwinnear's butler had as much, if not more, right to be on Seal Island than they had. The man's presence was certainly suspicious, but until he was actually detected in an act that would justify the Scouts taking strong measures, Atherton felt it advisable to lie low but at the same time keep his eyes and ears open.
The Tenderfoots had done their task right well, for upon arriving at the camp the other Scouts found that not only had the rescued men been provided with hot coffee and food but there was a liberal supply for the lads who had toiled so hard in their act of rescue.
The shipwrecked mariners were almost too overjoyed to thank their youthful rescuers. For a long time they could only pat the Scouts on the back and utter short, disjointed sentences of mingled admiration and thanks.
At last Atherton managed to learn the details of the disaster.
The wrecked vessel was the ss.Polybus, of Cardiff, homeward bound from Bilboa with a cargo of copper ore. In the fog she lost her bearings, and when the storm piped up and dispersed the mist she mistook the lighthouse on Beware Head for one farther down the coast. A blinding rain-squall shut out the loom of the shore, and ere it passed away thePolybusran hard and fast aground on the ledges to the south-west of Seal Island.
"Who is the owner of the ship!" asked Atherton, who was jotting down the particulars in his note-book.
"Blest if I can tell you, sir," replied the seaman, who acted as spokesman. "Can any of you, mates?"
"Not I. S'long as I gets my dibs paid every month 'taint no business o' mine to know who the owners be."
The others replied in a similar strain, and for the time being Atherton was compelled to leave the answer to this question a blank.
"There's no getting across to the mainland to-day," said Atherton. "It has left off raining and we may have a chance of drying some of our clothes. You men will have to stay with us till the sea moderates sufficiently for us to put you ashore at Polkerwyck. We can let you have the use of a tent, and there's food enough to last us all for some days."
Although it was now fine, and there were occasional bursts of sunshine between the masses of swiftly driving clouds, the wind howled as loudly as ever. Nevertheless the Scouts were able to start a large fire, in front of which they and their involuntary guests dried their clothes.
Atherton's mind was fairly centred on the appearance of Tassh on the Island, and while the others were occupied he crossed over to where Phillips was standing with a pile of dried clothing under his arm.
"I say," he remarked. "Did you notice where the man went to? Did he go into the ruins?"
"No, he walked towards the shaft leading to Dollar Cove," replied the Second of the "Otters." "Baker spotted him and waved his staff and that made the man disappear sharp enough."
"Baker was a bit of a donkey to attract attention like that," said Atherton. "But I mean to find out——"
"Atherton, there's a man coming this way," announced Tenderfoot Sayers.
The Leader looked up. Approaching the camp was Paul Tassh.
The butler walked with short, jerky steps. His right shoulder was slightly higher than the other. His face showed that he was badly in need of a shave, for the lower part beneath his side whiskers was covered with a thick stubble.
"Good-morning, young gentlemen," he exclaimed, with a forced air of jauntiness.
"Good-morning," replied Atherton politely, as was his wont, although he distrusted the man.
"If I may be so bold as to ask, sir," continued the butler, "I should like a snack of something to eat. I've had nothing since yesterday morning."
"I think we can manage that all right," said Atherton. "What has happened to you, then?"
"Oh, I might just as well explain," said the man between the mouthfuls of bread and cold meat that the Scouts gave him. "My name is Todd—John Brazenose Todd. I am a stranger in these parts, having been staying in a cottage just outside Polkerwyck. Yesterday morning I thought I would like to visit the Island, so I hired a boat and landed. Before I could return the fog came on, and afterwards the terrible storm. Being of a retiring disposition I did not like to intrude, so I kept away from your camp and took refuge in yon ruins. But a man cannot fail to be hungry on two or three biscuits in twenty-four hours."
Atherton nodded. He knew, as did his fellow Scouts, that the fellow's story was a tissue of lies from beginning to end, and he wondered at his audacity when he could not have failed to notice the Scouts passing the post-office at noon on the preceding day. Atherton's only fear was that some of the Scouts might feel inclined to "chip in and give the show away"; but to his relief the lads left all the talking on their side to their Leader.
"There's not much to see on the Island," he remarked. "I suppose you know there was a wreck, and those men over there are some of the crew?"
"A wreck? 'Pon my word I didn't," replied Tassh. "Truth to tell I must have been sound asleep in the ruin. Never heard a sound. When was it?"
"At daybreak this morning," announced Atherton. "You must have been sound asleep if you failed to hear guns."
Paul Tassh finished his meal in silence, furtively eyeing the Scouts with a supercilious smile on his thin, bloodless lips.
"They're too jolly well taken up with fooling about to trouble me," he soliloquised. "All the same they are a confounded nuisance on the Island. Still, since my retreat is cut off, the only thing to be done is to put up with them. A fine yarn I'll have to pitch up when I get back to the House."
Meanwhile Phillips and Simpson had been busily engaged in signalling the names of the rescued men to the coastguard station at Refuge Point, and a request that a boat should be sent, if possible, to take the men off the Island.
To this the chief officer of coastguards replied:
"Well done, Scouts. We will put off as soon as the weather moderates. There is still too much sea running in Seal Bay."
It was not until five o'clock that afternoon that a temporary lull occurred, and with the utmost promptitude boats were launched from Polkerwyck besides one from the coastguard station.
"There be a telegraf for you, sir," announced Peter Varco, who was the first to land on the Island.
Atherton took the envelope. The message was brief and to the point: "Scoutmaster Buckley arrives Wadebridge Station 8.15 P.M. Send Scouts to meet him. Hope all well, Trematon."
"Everest and Baker," explained their Leader, "our temporary Scoutmaster, Mr Buckley, is coming by the 8.15 train. Mr Trematon has wired the information, and has asked me to send some Scouts to meet Mr Buckley. So get some one to put you across, proceed to Wadebridge as quickly as you can, and wait there till the Scoutmaster arrives. Hulloa! Where's that fellow, Tassh?"
Mr Tassh,aliasTodd, was nowhere to be seen. Unnoticed in the excitement of the arrival of the boats, he had slipped off to the landing-place. There he told a portion of his plausible tale to old Roger Tregaskis. He knew that it would be hopeless to stick to the name of Todd, since he was well known to the inhabitants of Polkerwyck, but the yarn of how he had been cut of by the fog went down well enough, and old Tregaskis was profuse in his sympathetic expressions, and promptly offered to row Mr Tassh across to the mainland in order that he might keep an important engagement at Polkerwyck House.
"Good on you, lads!" exclaimed the chief officer of coastguards. "And without a rocket apparatus, too. Well, you did the lifeboat men nearly in the eye, this time."
"I don't know about that, sir," replied Atherton. "You see, we couldn't get the last three men off the wreck, and if the lifeboat hadn't turned up in the nick of time they would have been lost."
"All the same you were jolly plucky. I am proud to meet you, lads. Don't forget, if you've time to give us a look up at the station, we'll do our best to let you have a right good time."
"Thank you, sir," replied Atherton. "We will be very pleased to visit your station. We went to the lighthouse yesterday, and fully intended to ask whether we might visit the coastguard at Refuge Point some time next week."
"And by the by," said the coastguard officer at parting, "I suppose you know that any cargo or gear that comes ashore is to be handed over to the custody of the Receiver of Wrecks? I was going to leave a couple of hands to keep a look-out, but I guess you're quite capable and willing to do that part of the business. If you should see anyone tampering with the wreck after the gale moderates, just signal to us, and we'll stop their little game."
"Very good, sir," replied Atherton then, as the weird noises that had so puzzled the Scouts during their all-night vigil commenced again, he asked, "What is that sound, sir?"
"A bit of a startler when you're not used to it, eh? That is the noise made by the blowing-holes on the south-west side of the Island. In rough weather, and at certain states of the tide, the waves force confined air through several small fissures in the hollows of the rocks. It's well worth seeing."
The various boats returned to the mainland with the rescued men, Everest and Baker having been given a passage in Peter Varco's craft, and once more Seal Island was untenanted save by the Scouts, the rabbits, and the countless seabirds.
"Thank goodness we've a chance to have a good sleep," ejaculated Simpson, with a sigh of utter weariness. "All the same I should like to know how came Paul Tassh on Seal Island."
"Green,"said Atherton, "I hope you are not so dead tired as I am: will you do me a good turn?"
"Rather, old chap," replied Green, without hesitation.
"Well, the four of us who stuck up on watch all last night are going to turn in at once. The other fellows won't be long after us, I fancy. What I want you to do is this—to take charge, maintain order, and keep watch for the arrival of Mr Buckley. Directly you hear the boat approaching the landing wake us up. We must give him a rousing welcome, you know."
"Right-o! I'll see to all that," assented Green. "My word, you do look tired."
"And I jolly well feel it," agreed Atherton, with an irrepressible yawn. "Now, you fellows, who's going to have a snooze?"
When Atherton awoke he could hardly believe his senses. It was broad daylight. The other occupants of the tent, thoroughly tired out with their exertions, were sleeping soundly.
The Leader sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Surely young Green never let me sleep like this on purpose," he muttered. "And the new Scoutmaster has arrived and I wasn't there to receive him and hand over the care of the two patrols. A pretty fine Scout I am; and a nice mess I've made of things."
In anticipation of being called at ten o'clock Atherton had "turned in all standing." He pulled out his watch. It was seven o'clock.
Unlacing the door of the tent, the Leader stepped out. The sun was shining brightly. The storm had passed, but the wind still remained fairly high.
Atherton gazed at the ashes of the camp fire. They were still red hot. An iron pot, suspended by a chain from a tripod, was hanging over the embers. The fire had evidently been kept up for long past midnight.
"I'll wake Green and ask him all about this," said Atherton to himself; but a comprehensive examination of the blanket-enshrouded fellows in the "Otters'" tent revealed the fact that Green was not one of them.
The Leader made his way to the ridge tent that had been appropriated to the Scoutmaster's use. It was closed: the knot securing the flap was on the outside, and since it was quite evident that it was a matter of impossibility for the occupant of a tent to lace the flap on the outside, Atherton rightly concluded that Mr Buckley had not arrived.
He gave a sigh of relief; then, seized by an inspiration, he set off at a run towards the landing-place.
There, muffled in his greatcoat, and leaning heavily on his staff, was Phil Green. Hearing the approaching footfalls the Scout turned.
"What's the meaning of this, Green?" demanded Atherton.
"You told me to wait till Mr Buckley arrived," replied the Scout, without the faintest sign of reproach. "I am a bit tired, but really I've enjoyed myself. It was a beautiful sunrise. You missed something by not seeing it, Atherton."
Leader Atherton looked at the Scout to see if he could detect any signs of "pulling his leg" on Green's part.
"I'm sorry," he said at length. "It was my fault. I ought to have given more definite orders. Cut off now, and get something to eat and then turn in."
"Nothing to be sorry for, Atherton. It was like a bit of the real thing. But how about Everest and Baker?"
"Goodness only knows why they haven't turned up. I'll rout out the rest of the 'Otters,' and we'll tramp into Wadebridge directly after breakfast."
"Now, 'Otters!'" exclaimed Atherton, after the meal was over, "we are off to Wadebridge to bring in Everest and Baker, and find out why our temporary Scoutmaster hasn't arrived. The 'Wolves' can do camp duty till we return. By the by, Phillips, since Mr Trematon got you a gun licence you might just as well make yourself useful. There's his gun: you know how it works, and here are a couple dozen cartridges. See if you can't knock over enough rabbits to make a jolly good stew for supper to-night."
Accordingly Atherton, Mayne, Sayers and Scott manned one of the boats and rowed over to Polkerwyck. It was a fairly lively experience crossing Seal Bay, for there was still a heavy swell running in from the open sea; but at the expense of another drenching with spray—a circumstance that the Scouts were quite used to by this time—they landed safely on the lee side of the stone pier.
"Good morning, Mr Varco," said Atherton, as he formed up his diminished patrol on the quay.
"Good marnin', young gents. That be a fine piece o' work o' yours yestermorn."
"I'm glad we did what we were able to," replied the Leader. "By the by, did you see Mr Tassh come ashore yesterday?"
"Sure I did. He left t'Island in old Tregaskis' boat. What wur 'e a-doin' on t'Island I should like to know?"
"Wasn't it too rough last night for a boat to put off?" asked the Leader, since he could not satisfactorily reply to the old fisherman's question. "Two of our Scouts went to Wadebridge to meet the 8.15 train. I thought perhaps they couldn't get back, and had slept in the village."
"No, 'tweren't rough, in a manner o' speakin'. An no Scouts came this way up till eleven o'clock, that I du declare."
"Then they must have found a place to put up at in Wadebridge. Well, good-bye for the present, Mr Varco. We must be on the move."
As the patrol was passing the post-office the old lady came hobbling out with a small bundle of telegrams.
"These came in from Wadebridge this marnin'," she explained. "They were too late to be sent on from there last night. I was just a-going to ask Peter Varco if he'd mind a-taking them across to 'e."
"What's up now, I wonder?" asked Atherton, looking at the six envelopes.
The first one was from Mr Trematon: "Just heard of rescue. I am proud of my Scouts."
The second was from Mr Buckley: "Missed connection at Exeter. Arriving to-morrow morning 11.45."
The third completely mystified the Scout.
"Again I am indebted to Scouts for a good turn to me and mine. Am coming to Polkerwyck to personally thank you—Silas Gwinnear."
"What ever does Sir Silas mean?" asked Atherton. "How have we done him a good turn? I vote we reply to say that we do not know that we have done anything for him, unless he means that by helping Farmer Trebarwith complete his haymaking we have rendered Sir Silas a service in a roundabout way."
"Better wait a bit," suggested Sayers. "I am as much in the dark as you; but evidently Sir Silas knows more than we do. What's in the other telegrams, Atherton?"
Number four was from headquarters: "Well done, Scouts. Glad you know how to 'Be prepared.'"
Numbers five and six, couched in similar terms, came from two North London troops who had often co-operated with the 201st, and were well acquainted with the "Otters" and the "Wolves."
"My eye, they are making a song about it," remarked little Reggie Scott. "I wish you had let me bear a hand instead of sending me away to make coffee, Atherton."
"Yours was not the least part of the business, Scott," replied the Leader. "We were all jolly glad you did your part so well, I can assure you. But I agree with you, they are making a song about it. It reminds me of Shakespeare's words: 'Seeking a bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth.' That's what the bard said, eh, Phillips?"
"I don't know," replied that worthy. "I only hope we won't be bothered too much, or our holiday will be somewhat spoiled."
Maintaining a steady pace, the Scouts made light work of their march to Wadebridge. Arriving there they were greeted by Everest and Baker, who, looking as "chirpy as crickets," were patrolling the station platform.
"No luck yet," said the former, nonchalantly. "The Scoutmaster hasn't turned up yet."
"Why didn't you return last night, then?" asked Atherton.
"Return? You said we were to wait for Mr Buckley. We've had a ripping time. One of the porters made us a jolly bed in the waiting-room, and the stationmaster gave us supper and breakfast. And we know an awful lot how railways are run now, Atherton. You've missed something."
After being told this on two occasions that morning, Atherton began to think he really had missed a novel experience.
"We've had a wire," he remarked. "Mr Buckley is arriving by the 11.15. Only another ten minutes to wait."
"Here she comes," announced Atherton, when at length the train was observed in the distance. "Form up, lads, and let's give our new Scoutmaster a proper Scouts' welcome."
So intent was Atherton upon looking out for the familiar Scoutmaster's uniform that he was startled to hear a hearty voice exclaim:
"Bless my soul, Atherton! You here to meet me! And these are your chums, eh?"
Turning, Atherton saw that the speaker was Sir Silas Gwinnear.
"No, sir, we are not here to meet you. We did not know you were coming by this train," explained Atherton. "All the same we are awfully pleased to see you. It is our new Scoutmaster we are waiting for. Mr Trematon had to go home on important business."
"Oh," exclaimed the Baronet with a slight tinge of disappointment. "No matter; we'll all run down to Polkerwyck House in my motor. Squeeze you all in at a pinch. Ha there is your Scoutmaster, I see."
Mr Buckley, having seized the opportunity of doing a good turn by assisting out of the carriage a very timid and fussy old lady with a heap of small parcels, had not been able to make a prompt appearance.
He was a heavily built man of about thirty-five, slightly above middle height, clean shaven; his full face and fairly heavy jaw denoting firmness and good temper. He had been a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, but owing to a gunnery accident that greatly impaired the use of his right arm, he was invalided on a modest pension. It was galling to him to be compelled to give up his prospects in the service, but he made the best of a bad job. In spite of his disability he took up a Scoutmastership, and soon worked his troop into a state of efficiency. Always ready to oblige his friends, Mr Buckley had willingly agreed to take over temporary charge of the Scouts of Seal Island, and now he was in touch with one of his future patrols.
Returning the Scouts' salute, Mr Buckley looked enquiringly at the gentleman who was waxing so enthusiastic over the lads.
"This is Sir Silas Gwinnear who is letting us have the use of Seal Island, sir," explained Atherton.
"And who is indebted to young Atherton for saving my life, and to him and his fellow Scouts for saving the lives of several of the crew of one of my ships," added the baronet.
"One of your ships, sir?" asked Atherton, in astonishment.
"Yes, thePolybus: you saw the account in this morning's papers, Mr——?"
"Buckley," said the Scoutmaster. "Yes, I saw the account in the papers, but I did not notice to whom the vessel belonged."
"Haven't you seen the papers, lads?" asked Sir Silas.
"No, sir," was the reply.
"H'm; when you do I hope you won't suffer with swollen heads, lads. All the same it was a gallant deed. Do you know, Mr Buckley, up to only a few days ago I held strong unfavourable views on the Scout movement. It will be unnecessary for me to state what they were as I am now convinced of my error. If all Scouts are like these—and I have been assured that they are no better and no worse than their fellows in all parts of the world—mankind owes a debt of gratitude to the founder of the movement. To show my practical appreciation of what these lads have done, I have come down to Polkerwyck House for the rest of the time they remain at Seal Island. Mr Buckley, I trust you will avail yourself of my offer and ride down to Polkerwyck in my car?"
"But these lads?" asked the Scoutmaster.
"They, of course, are included: the more the merrier. My car is a fairly large one, and I have no doubt that the Scouts can exercise their ingenuity in stowing themselves somewhere."
So saying, Sir Silas led the way out of the station to where a powerful six-seater was drawn up.
Sir Silas and the Scoutmaster occupied a seat each, one of the Scouts perched himself beside the chauffeur, and the remaining five contrived to squeeze in without regard to their cramped quarters. All the lads agreed that it was infinitely better than tramping up and down dale upon the hard granite roads, for the car, under the guidance of the skilled chauffeur, simply flew. Eleven minutes from the time of leaving the station the car drew up at the gates of Polkerwyck House.
The lodge keeper hastened to throw open the massive iron gates embellished with Sir Silas Gwinnear's arms, but before the chauffeur could restart, a sergeant of the Cornish constabulary, accompanied by a policeman and a plain-clothes officer, stepped up and saluted the baronet.
"Sorry to have to inform you, Sir Silas, that up to the present we haven't any clue," said the sergeant.
"Clue? What on earth do you mean, Coombes?" asked the baronet in astonishment.
"About the burglary, sir; haven't——"
"Burglary—where?"
"Didn't Mr Tassh wire to you, sir?"
"Certainly not. What's wrong now?"
"Mr Tassh reported to us early this morning that Polkerwyck House had been broken into during the night and a large quantity of silver had been taken away."
"My silver? Surely none of the presentation plate I had given me by Lloyds'?"
"Unfortunately, sir, that is missing."
"Come back to the house, Coombes. Drive on, Rogers."
"We had better get down, Sir Silas," suggested Mr Buckley. "I am sure that in this unfortunate trouble we do not want to thrust our company upon you."
"There's no thrust about it. Stay where you are, Mr Buckley, and you, too, lads. Now, Atherton, you're a sharp lad. You've been jolly useful to me twice, and there's nothing like three for luck. Use your wits, and put your scouting abilities to the test."
There was a constrained silence amongst the numerous servants as Sir Silas entered the hall of Polkerwyck House and led his youthful guests into the study.
"The police will be here directly," he observed. "Meanwhile I'll have the butler in and see what he has to say."
In a few minutes Tassh, dressed in his black suit, obsequiously entered the room.
"What's all this I hear, Tassh?" asked the baronet. "Some of my silver gone, eh? Tell me about it."
"I locked up last night, sir, as I always do. This morning when I came down at 7.30 the safe was open, and the silver, which you gave orders was to be placed there for safety, was missing. There were marks of a jemmy on the window-sash, and footprints on the flower-beds outside. I immediately told the housekeeper, and sent Williams on horseback to fetch the police."
"H'm; have you made a list of what is missing?"
"Not yet, sir; truth to tell I was so upset that I haven't recovered my normal self."
"It would have been better if you had recovered my silver," remarked the baronet, grimly. "Or better still if you had taken steps to prevent the burglars from making their haul. How about the electric alarm?"
Tassh hesitated before replying.
"It must have been out of order, sir."
"Then it was your place to see that it was in order, Tassh. You are quite sure you slept in the house last night? I remember I had to speak to you on one occasion for stopping at Padstow one night last winter."
"I've never slept out of the house since you left, sir," said the butler, with conviction.
Atherton and his companions exchanged glances. The cool, bold-faced audacity of the man to make a declaration like that when he had been the involuntary guest of the Scouts only the day before seemed too stupendous for words.
"Very good, Tassh, you may go," said Sir Silas. "Ah, here is Coombes! Now, Coombes, let us hear what you know of the matter."
"Precious little, sir, unfortunately. The front of the safe has been cut through with an electric drill. Here is the lock, sir. The window was forced, showing that the burglars entered that way, but the strange thing about it, sir, is that they must have left by some other way, since none of the footsteps lead away from the house."
"There were two or more burglars?"
"Undoubtedly, sir. The weight of the stolen stuff is too great for one man to carry."
"Well, do your best, Coombes. Tell your inspector that I am offering two hundred pounds reward for the capture and conviction of the burglar or burglars. Let me know at once if there is any information."
"Very good, sir," said the sergeant, and, saluting, he withdrew.
"Now, Atherton, have you any suggestions to make?" asked Sir Silas. "You are the—er—Leader, don't you call it?—of the patrol. But perhaps you haven't had time to consider the case properly?"
"Can I examine the window by which the burglars are supposed to have entered, sir?"
"Certainly, you have a free hand."
"I wonder if Sir Silas is trying to pull Atherton's leg?" whispered Baker to his chum Everest.
"Shut up!" replied Everest. "If he is, he doesn't know Atherton as I do. Atherton's on to something, I'll stake my word."
The Leader of the "Otters" carefully examined the marks of the jemmy, tried the window fastenings and the sash frames.
"Now, sir, may I see the lock of the safe?"
Sir Silas pointed to the cut-out portion of metal containing the complicated lock.
"The story of the burglars is a make-up, sir," announced Atherton.
"What!"exclaimed Sir Silas and Mr Buckley, simultaneously. "A make-up? Explain yourself, Atherton."
"That I think is fairly simple, sir," said the Scout. "The marks on the window-frame show that a jemmy has been used, but unless the sash-frame on that side were prised out the window could not be opened by those means. No professional burglar would attempt to use a jemmy on a window; he would stick a piece of putty to the glass close to the fastening, and cut round it with a diamond. That would be a noiseless operation, while the force that caused those dents would make quite a racket. Then, sir, there is the lock. The front of the safe has been electrically drilled. Upon examining it I find that the drill was applied from the inside."
"From the inside?" repeated the baronet.
"Yes, Sir Silas. The door was first opened with the proper key, swung back, and cut whilst in that position."
"By Jove, Atherton, I believe you are right," exclaimed the Scoutmaster, holding a pocket microscope to the portion of the metal door. "Do you suspect anyone in your house, sir?" he added, addressing Sir Silas.
"It looks a serious matter for my butler to explain. I'll send for him."
"One minute, sir," said Atherton. "Mr Tassh spent the night before last on Seal Island."
"But he declared just now that he never slept out of the house during the whole time I was away. Are you sure of this?"
"Well, sir, he pitched a yarn into us that his name was Todd, and that he was a stranger to the place. He couldn't get back to Polkerwyck because it was too rough, and in the morning we gave him some food."
"I won't say anything about your discovery to him at present, Atherton. I'll ask him to bring in some refreshment. In my concern about this robbery I quite overlooked my duties as a host, Mr Buckley."
"Tassh, bring in some sandwiches, cake, lemonade and anything else you think these young gentlemen may fancy," ordered the baronet.
"Yes, sir," replied the butler; and in a few minutes he returned with a loaded tray.
"By the by, Tassh," said Sir Silas in a well-assumed casual tone, "I suppose you have seen these young gentlemen before to-day?"
"Yes, sir. Saw them when they arrived, and again the other day when I called in at the post-office."
"But the night before last?"
"The night before last, sir?" repeated the butler, in a mechanical voice. "I don't understand, sir."
"But I hear that you were on Seal Island."
"Quite a mistake, sir. I haven't set foot on Seal Island for more than a twelvemonth, and that was when I went with Farmer Trebarwith."
"It is sometimes awkward for a man to have a double, Tassh," said Sir Silas grimly, "especially in a small place like Polkerwyck. All the same, Tassh, I have a few questions to put to you later on. Go to your room and remain there till I send for you."
"Very good, sir."
Without the faintest trace of emotion the butler withdrew. The baronet waited till the latch of the door clicked and turned to Atherton.
"You are quite sure of what you said about Tassh?"
"Yes, sir; and the rest of us saw him too."
"But there is such a thing as mistaken identity?"
"Well, then, sir, in that case both Peter Varco and Tregaskis saw him. Tregaskis took him off the Island in his boat."
"Strange," commented Sir Silas.
"And, sir," continued Atherton, "since Tassh is so keen on concealing his movements, I must say that his downright bluff in denying his identity confirms our suspicions. More than once some one has visited the Tea Caves by night. One man only, and one wearing large boots and taking very small footsteps. On one occasion he came by boat and took some of our thole-pins. How he managed on other occasions we cannot yet make out."
"I think there is enough circumstantial evidence to warrant his arrest," declared the baronet. "You know the local police station, I suppose, lads? Ah, that's good. Will one of you slip out quietly and see if Sergeant Coombes is still there. If not, bring Gregory, the policeman."
"I say, Atherton, you are making a most grave statement against the man," cautioned Mr Buckley. "If there is a mistake the result will be serious, you know."
"There is quite enough cause, since Tassh has deliberately told me falsehoods concerning his visit to Seal Island," said the baronet. "I'll take all responsibility should there be any question of illegal arrest, Mr Buckley."
A quarter of an hour later Polglaze, the plain-clothes officer, cycled up to the house.
"Sergeant Coombes is following, sir," he announced. "Have you discovered any clue, Sir Silas?"
"Yes," replied the baronet, grimly. "Thanks to these Scouts. I want you to arrest Paul Tassh on a charge of theft."
In a few words Sir Silas explained the situation, and in spite of professional jealousy the detective was bound to admit that Atherton's deductions were quite sufficient to justify the step the baronet was about to take.
Sir Silas touched the bell communicating with the butler's private room. He waited a full minute and rang again. There was no reply.
"Strikes me very forcibly that I've given the fellow a chance and he's taken it, by Jove!" remarked Sir Silas, as he touched an electric push that rang a bell in the servants' hall.
"Jones, go to Tassh's room and tell him to come instantly," ordered the baronet, as a young under-footman entered. "Stay: perhaps, Mr Polglaze, you would like to accompany Jones?"
Two minutes later the detective returned.
"He's in his room, sir, but he's locked himself in," announced Polglaze. "I demanded admittance three times, but before I burst open the door I thought I would tell you, Sir Silas."
"Do you think Tassh has done himself an injury?" asked the baronet, anxiously.
"Judging by the man's appearance I should say not. He may have slipped off. Station two of your Scouts outside his window, Mr Buckley, if you don't mind."
The under-footman pointed out the window to Baker and Mayne, and returned with the intelligence that it was closed. Since the window was fifteen feet from the ground, and had a very narrow sill, it was most unlikely that Tassh could have made good his escape and at the same time closed the window after him.
Outside, in the corridor, Sir Silas, the detective, the Scoutmaster and the remaining Scouts halted. Polglaze knelt down and attempted to peep through the keyhole. The key was in the lock and effectually thwarted the detective's action.
"Does Tassh carry firearms, sir?" he asked.
"Not to my knowledge."
"Then it is possible that he is armed. If he is desperate we may have a lively reception. Suppose, Sir Silas, we tell these lads to go downstairs out of danger? We will then wait till Coombes and Gregory arrive, force the door and rush our man."
Somewhat reluctantly in spirit, yet with alacrity, the Scouts obeyed their Scoutmaster's order to get out of harm's way. As they were descending the stairs the sergeant and the village policeman, both very red in the face with exertion, came hurrying up.
"Open the door instantly, Tassh," ordered Sir Silas in a loud voice.
There was no reply. Only the ticking of a grandfather's clock at the head of the stairs and the laboured breathing of the two policemen broke the silence.
"Force it," said the baronet, laconically.
Polglaze put his shoulder to the door. The good, old-fashioned oak resisted his efforts.
"Bear a hand here, Coombes," he said. "Now, together."
The sixteen-stone Cornish sergeant's weight added to the detective's modest eleven did the trick. The door, forced from its hinges, flew inwards, Coombes following it and sprawling heavily upon the floor.
The room was empty.
"He must be somewhere about," said the detective. "We know the door is locked on the inside. A man cannot go out of a room, shut a door, and lock it on the inside, can he?"
The room was in a fairly tidy state. A white table-cloth covered the table. On it were the remains of a meal, and a box of cigars that Sir Silas recognised as containing his special brand. A sporting paper and a copy of one of the county journals with an account of the supposed burglary lay on one of the chairs, the former apparently having been dropped there when the butler received his orders to attend upon Sir Silas. His watch was hanging from a hook by the side of the large mantelpiece. All pointed to the fact that Tassh's departure had been hurriedly performed; at the same time the question arose, how did he manage it?
"Well, Polglaze?"
"This knocks me, Sir Silas," replied the detective, rubbing his shoulder that was beginning to forcibly remind him that oaken doors cannot be charged with impunity.
"Shall I see what those Scouts make of it?" asked the baronet, with a grim sense of humour.
"Let 'em have a shot at it, by all means, Sir Silas," said Polglaze. "This beats cockfighting."
But the Scouts had to own themselves beaten for the time being at least. They tried the walls, floor, chimney, and everything they could think of, but without success.
"I believe he got out by the chimney," suggested Sergeant Coombes, who, since his tumble, had judiciously kept silent in order to regain his breath.
"The soot hasn't been disturbed," said Atherton. "That's what I particularly noticed."
"All the same I say it's the chimney, young man," said the sergeant, with a brave show of dignity. "And until you prove to my satisfaction that 'tain't, well then, 'tis the chimney, I say."
"Don't stand there laying down the law, Coombes," said the detective. "Every minute Tassh is no doubt getting farther and farther away. Gregory, hurry back to the village and telephone through to all the stations nearabouts. Give the full details, although I'll stake my life there's hardly a policeman within twenty miles who doesn't know Paul Tassh."
At Mr Buckley's suggestion the Scouts made a complete circuit of the house, examining the ground for possible trails; but all to no purpose.
At three o'clock the lads bade farewell to their host, at the same time expressing their sympathy at the loss, and their regret at their inability to do anything of service in the matter.
As the patrol descended the hill leading to the village, Baker pointed to Seal Island.
"Look," he exclaimed. "There's something wrong with the 'Wolves,' I do declare."