Assoon as his comrades of the "Otters" had embarked on the first stage of their journey to Wadebridge Station to meet their temporary Scoutmaster, Jack Phillips sallied forth on his shooting expedition.
He was a crack miniature-rifle shot, but although he understood the principle of a twelve-bore gun, he was an absolute novice at the task that had been deputed to him.
A few hundred yards brought him to the fringe of the rabbit warren—an extensive undulating tract of gorse-covered heath liberally honeycombed with holes. Pulling a couple of cartridges from his pocket, Phillips loaded; then, every sense on the alert, he moved cautiously forward.
Yard after yard he walked at a slow pace, but, although he saw hundreds of the swiftly moving little animals far beyond range, not one accommodatingly showed itself to be shot at.
"That's jolly strange," muttered the Scout. "When a crowd of us came over here there were rabbits running about everywhere; now they keep a very respectful distance. I wonder if they know a gun when they see one?"
Phillips halted to straighten his back and to wipe the moisture from his forehead.
"What's that?" he exclaimed to himself, as the sound of a sharp thud came from almost under his feet.
He listened intently. The noise was repeated.
"I wonder if there's a cave underneath here?" he thought. "Seems almost as if there's a man using a pick, only the noise is rather different."
He knelt down and placed his ear against the ground. A wasp, busy amongst the gorse, promptly buzzed so close that he jumped hastily to his feet.
"Bothered if I can understand it," he said to himself. "I'll mention it to Atherton when he comes back. The Island seems chock full of mysterious noises. But, there, I shan't get any rabbits if I fool about here, so here goes."
On and on he went till he neared the cliff on the eastern side of the Island, but without the chance of a shot.
"The rabbits are not out to-day, that's evident," he muttered. "Perhaps they will be more in evidence this afternoon. I'll get back to the camp, for the longer I stay the more the other fellows will expect me to bring back."
With his gun under his arm, Phillips set off at a steady pace, following almost the same route that he had taken on his outward journey.
Half way across the warren, a rabbit suddenly darted out of the furze bush and tore off as hard as it could away from the lad, at the same time making a wide curve to the right.
Before Phillips could fully cock his gun and raise it to his shoulder the rabbit was beyond ordinary range. The Scout took a rapid aim and pressed the trigger. With a report that, compared with the crack of a miniature rifle, was like a cannon going off, the gun kicked and sent the lad spinning. In his excitement he forgot the pain of the blow, for the rabbit was sprawling on the ground.
"Got one, at any rate," exclaimed Phillips, gleefully.
Placing his gun on the ground with more haste than care the Scout ran towards his prize; but before he had covered half the distance the rabbit contrived to regain its feet and crawl down a hole.
"What a nuisance," said the Scout dolefully, and, lying at full length, he thrust his arm down the hole in the hopes of being able to secure the wounded animal. He could hear it scuffling only a few feet away, but it was a case of so near and yet so far: as far as he was concerned he had lost his trophy.
Rather crestfallen, Phillips returned to the camp, where he found Farmer Trebarwith surrounded by an attentive audience of the "Wolves."
"Got anything?" asked Neale. "We heard you firing."
"Of course he's got some," said Hayes. "He's shot so many that he's had to leave them for us to go out and fetch."
"You jolly well shut up," retorted Phillips. "I knocked one over, and that's more than you could do, Hayes."
"Where is it, then?" asked his tormentor.
"It slipped down a hole."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Hayes and the two Coventrys.
"That's enough," said Simpson, reprovingly. "I'll bet Phillips did his best."
"Have you unloaded, young gentleman?" asked the farmer. "Always make sure you have no cartridges in your gun when you leave the warren. Bless me I'll tell ye how to knock over the rabbits, if you like."
"You usually take a dog with you, don't you?" asked Phillips.
"Yes, a dog will turn out any rabbit that is lying close. All the same it isn't necessary. Now, I saw you going through the warren, and I said to myself, 'Sure he'll be main lucky if he gets a shot.' You have to stalk 'em. Keep dead against the wind, and have your gun ready to let fly directly you see a movement in the bushes. You were going with the wind, and they know your scent. Coming back you walked too quickly. It was only haphazard-like that you had a shot at one at all."
"I believe I walked over a cave or something," said Phillips. "I heard a funny sort of tapping noise."
"Whereabouts?" asked several of the Scouts.
"Right in the middle of the warren."
"Don't you know?" asked the farmer. "That's the rabbits in their holes giving warning to those in other burrows. They hit the ground with their hind foot. When you hear that 'tain't much use to stay there: they won't come out again in a hurry."
"I'll try again," said Phillips, giving a glance at the large iron pot that stood in a suggestive position close to the fire.
Making a wide detour, he got to leeward of the warren, then stealthily made his way against the wind. Before he had gone fifty yards two young rabbits of fair size fell the victims of his gun. Three minutes later another excellent shot at sixty yards added a third to the Scout's bag.
"It seems to me that I shall have to send Hayes to fetch them after all," he mused, as he lifted the three dead rabbits. "They are heavy."
Phillips waited a little longer to give the denizens of the warren time to recover from their fright at the discharge of the gun, then he resumed his stealthy advance. Right ahead were the ruins of the old oratory. The Scout remembered that there was a fairly open expanse on the other side where he had often seen the rabbits frisking in the sunshine.
"I'll take cover in the ruins and see if I cannot get in a double-barrelled shot," he said to himself, and with that object in view he crept up the slope on which the ruins stood.
The remains of the chapelry consisted of three roofless walls with open lancet windows. On the west side the masonry had been removed, several masses of stone lying in disorder all down the slope. The walls were destitute of foliage, not even so much as a tendril of ivy softening the hard effects of the dark grey stone.
Since by entering the building on the west side the Scout would have to run the risk of being observed, Phillips decided to crawl through one of the lancet windows, cross the dust-covered floor, and take up a favourable position at the window looking northward.
The opening was narrow. Phillips just unloaded his gun, passed the weapon through, and then began to squeeze between the stonework. As he did so he was surprised to see a portion of the floor almost underneath that window give an upward motion. The dust rose, and as the slab fell there was a well-defined trace of the joint in the stonework.
Again the slab trembled: it was being forced up from beneath.
The Scout took in the situation at a glance. Quickly grasping his gun, he dragged it through the window and propped it against the outside wall, so that it could not be seen from within. Then removing his hat, he peered between two displaced stones, and waited.
He had not long to wait. With a lusty heave the stone rose and toppled backwards, disclosing a circular cavity of about two feet in diameter. Out of the hole appeared the head and shoulders of a man.
Placing his hands on the edge of the aperture, the fellow raised himself clear of the hole and stood blinking in the strong sunlight.
"Golly! It's that chap Tassh. Whatever is his little game," thought Phillips.
As soon as his eyes grew accustomed to the daylight, Tassh replaced the stone, scattered dust over it, and stole to one of the windows in the opposite wall to the one behind which the Scout was crouching.
Looking in the direction of the camp, Tassh muttered an inaudible exclamation, then bending low he crept across the fairly open space and gained the shelter of the gorge. Here he broke into a run, and was soon lost to sight as he made off in the direction of the Tea Caves.
"Atherton was right: that chap's up to mischief, I'll be bound," thought Phillips. "Well, it's not much use my following him alone. He's making for the caves we explored the other day. I'll rout out Simpson and the 'Wolves,' and we can decide what's to be done."
"I say, Simpson," he exclaimed breathlessly, as he reached the camp, "I've seen——"
"Yes, seen—but how many did you shoot?" asked the Leader of the "Wolves." "We're waiting to dress the rabbits in time for our new Scoutmaster."
"They'll have to wait. I've knocked over three. But, I say, I've made a discovery. I've just seen Tassh crawl out of a secret tunnel opening into the old ruins."
At this startling information the "Wolves" were in a state of excitement. Neale and Fraser proposed following the butler, surrounding him and peremptorily demanding an explanation of his suspicious actions—a suggestion that the two Coventrys and Armstrong backed up for all they were worth.
"No, we must wait till we've spoken to Mr Buckley," said Simpson. "We have no authority to waylay the man. I'll tell you what we can do: we'll take possession of the ruins so that he cannot return to the cave or tunnel, whatever it is, without being seen. Hurry up, you fellows; get your staves. No shouting, mind. Double."
It did not take the "Wolves" long to reach the ruins.
"Where's the hole, Phillips?" asked several of the lads.
Without replying, Phillips walked across to the concealed stone and swept away a layer of dirt and dust that Tassh had thrown over it.
"Here you are; help me to heave it up," he said, as soon as the position of the slab was disclosed. "Why, here's a ring let into the stone! Now, all together."
Thrusting a staff through the rusty ring, the Scouts gave a combined heave. The stone came up quite easily.
"I might have known that," remarked Phillips to the Leader of the "Wolves." "Tassh pushed it up, and he does not look a particularly strong man. But why is the lid so light in comparison with its size?"
An examination revealed that the lid was deeply hollowed on the under side, so that its weight was hardly a quarter of what it would have been had the cavity not existed.
"We must have walked over the stone dozens of times and not noticed it sounded hollow," said Hayes. "Now what are we going to do, Simpson?"
"We'll just have a look at this hole or tunnel, whatever it is. Golly! Atherton's missed something by going off to meet the Scoutmaster."
"I wonder how deep it is," said Coventry minor, peering into the pit that yawned at his feet. "There are no steps as far as I can make out."
"I can see a niche on your side, Coventry," announced Fraser. "It looks deep enough to get a good foothold."
"Be careful, young Coventry," cautioned Simpson, as the lad sat down at the edge of the hole, turned face downwards and groped for the niche.
"I'm used to it," replied Coventry minor, confidently. "Here's another one. It's quite easy."
Phillips and the remaining "Wolves" watched the Scout make his way farther and farther down the shaft, till he had descended quite a dozen of the rough footholds cut into the rock.
"Haven't you got to the bottom yet, Coventry?" Simpson called out, with a tinge of anxiety in his voice. "You had better come back, and we'll go to the camp and get some rope and candles."
The Scout instantly began to retrace his footsteps. Possibly owing to the fact that he had already performed the harder task of descending, he momentarily allowed his sense of caution to desert him. The fingers of both hands simultaneously slipped from a lichen-covered niche. He struggled desperately to recover his hold, and fell.
The lads, gathered round the mouth of the pit, heard a stifled cry followed by a dull thud, then all was silent.
"Off belts, lads," ordered Leader Simpson.
In a few seconds a leathern rope, twenty feet in length, was made up. Simpson fastened one end round a staff which was held by four of the Scouts, and threw the free end down the pit; then, without hesitation, he grasped the improvised life-line and swung himself lightly over the edge.
Simpson knew he could trust to these belts. They were not the cheap shoddy article, but well-made ones of well-seasoned leather. The buckles, too, were strong and reliable, so that the Leader of the "Wolves" had good cause to have perfect faith in the rope of belts.
Hand over hand he descended, until he knew that he was literally almost at the end of his tether. Then, proceeding slowly and cautiously, and keeping his feet rigid, he continued his downward course till his hand encountered the buckle joining the two lowermost belts.
"I must risk it and drop," he thought, finding himself unable to touch the side of the pit. "It cannot be so much farther to the bottom."
Relaxing the muscles of his legs in order to bear the shock with the least risk of broken limbs, Simpson released his hold and dropped—a distance of less than two feet. With a sigh of relief he drew a box of matches from his pocket and struck a light.
Lying almost at his feet was the unfortunate Coventry minor. The lad was senseless and bleeding from a cut just above the left ear.
There was no time to be lost. It was imperative that the luckless Scout should be brought up to the open air as quickly as possible.
By the aid of another match, Simpson discovered the position of the line of niches. Then, unfastening the unconscious lad's belt, he refastened it round his chest just beneath his arm-pits. This done, the Leader clasped the buckle at the end of his emergency rope to the ring in Coventry minor's belt.
"Haul up, slowly and steadily!" he shouted.
Ascending by means of the niches, Simpson accompanied his senseless charge, steadying the lad's body to prevent it swaying against the rock, till at length to his great relief Neale and Fraser grasped the rescued Scout and grew him clear of the shaft.
"Is he dead?" asked the unfortunate lad's brother, anxiously.
"No, he's stunned. The sooner we get back to camp and fetch a doctor the better, Hayes and Armstrong, cut off as fast as you can, take the small boat and row across to Polkerwyck and fetch Dr. Carraway. Leave your staves here. Now, 'Wolves,' form a stretcher."
In remarkably quick time the stretcher, formed by means of staves, belts, and long stalks of bracken, was made, and in broken-step form the Scouts carried their comrade towards the camp, Phillips walking by the side to guard against the possibility of the patient falling off.
Before they had covered half the distance, Phillips perceived his patrol descending the road to Polkerwyck harbour.
Bringinghis binoculars to bear upon the stretcher party of the "Wolves," Mr Buckley saw that an accident had occurred.
"You look through my glasses, Atherton," said the Scoutmaster. "You'll know who it is."
Atherton did so. He was half afraid that there had been a shooting accident, but a glance removed that anxiety. The injured Scout he recognised as Coventry minor, and since Phillips understood that on no account was he to be accompanied by anyone else while carrying the gun, the logical conclusion was that the injured Scout had not received his hurt by this means.
"There's Hayes at the landing-place," announced Atherton. "He's calling us up by semaphore. Reply to him, Baker, and I'll read the message."
Baker stood upon the end of the stone pier so that his dark green shirt showed up plainly against the white-washed wall behind him.
"Coventry has fallen down a hole. Concussion. Still unconscious. Fetch doctor," read Atherton.
"Hurry up and bring the doctor along with you, Everest," said Mr Buckley. "Green and Baker will remain here with one of the boats. How many have you?"
"Two, sir," replied the Leader. "One is on the Island side."
"Signal to those fellows to bring that boat over, then," continued the Scoutmaster. "We can then get across and see what's wrong."
While Everest was on his way to Dr Carraway—for the Scouts had made it a point of finding out where the doctor lived almost as soon as they arrived at Polkerwyck—the Scoutmaster and the four "Otters" crossed to the Island. During the passage Hayes and Armstrong told their comrades what had occurred, and how Phillips had discovered the butler's hiding-place.
"Hiding-place," repeated Atherton. "Most likely a tunnel communicating with Polkerwyck House. Didn't Sir Silas say that the House used to be an old monastic building, and that it was partially rebuilt on the existing foundations? What puzzles me, though, is why Tassh did not return by the tunnel on the night of the wreck, since he evidently came to the Island by that way."
"You've a fine site for a camp here, lads," remarked Mr Buckley, as the two patrols met. "It is unfortunate, though, that your holiday should be marred by this accident."
The Scoutmaster knelt by the unconscious Scout.
"Yes, he's had a nasty blow," he said, observing Coventry's skin was pale and cold, his pulse feeble, and his breathing slow and punctuated by distressing sighs. "Raise his head a little more; we ought to place him in a darkened room as soon as possible. In any case, one of you stand so that the shadow falls across his face."
"There's a small cave down by the landingplace, sir," said Phillips. "It will not be so far for the doctor to come."
"Very good," assented the Scoutmaster. "Lead on. Steady now, stretcher-bearers. Mind you don't slip on this steep path."
Carefully little Coventry was carried into the cave, where in the semi-gloom he was carefully tended by two of his comrades. Mr Buckley also remained in the cave, awaiting the arrival of the doctor.
The rest of the Scouts returned to the camp, when, under Atherton's directions, steps were taken to keep Tassh under observation. Three of the "Wolves" were sent to take cover close to that part of the cliff overhanging the Tea Caves. A strong party, carefully concealed, occupied the ruined oratory, in order to cut off the rogue's retreat by force, if necessary; while between the ruins and the Tea Caves relays were posted in order to hasten to the assistance of the outlying Scouts should occasion arise.
It was not long before the doctor arrived on the scene, and was escorted to the cave where the patient lay.
"You've done excellently, lads," he remarked to the Scouts in attendance. "He has had a severe blow, but youth and clean living are in his favour. He'll soon be all right. Meanwhile, keep him here in the dark until nearly sunset. See that his feet and arms are kept warm. When the twilight gathers in, you must bring him across to Polkerwyck. I will make arrangements for him to be nursed at my house."
"It's awfully good of you, doctor," said Mr Buckley, warmly.
"Nonsense: we're used to it. Every summer I have on an average a dozen similar cases. Visitors seem to have an insane desire to climb the cliffs. They are not used to it, they look down, and then the mischief is done. Well, I cannot do more at present. Give him a draught of this every hour, and keep him warm, especially when bringing him across the bay in the boat."
In duty bound Mr Buckley gave information to the police that Tassh was seen on the Island. At the Scouts' earnest request he did not say by what means the butler got there, since the lads wished to have the honour of exploring the tunnel.
Within a very short time Seal Island was invaded. A dozen county police, drawn from the neighbourhood, nearly the whole of the detachment from Refuge Point coastguard station, and almost all the male population of Polkerwyck flocked to the place. Every nook and cranny was investigated, the caves systematically explored, but without result. Although nearly thirty people searched the ruined oratory not one noticed the granite lid covering the pit, in spite of the fact that the Scouts, with an idea of fair play, took no steps to conceal the joints in the stone floor with dust.
Tired out with their exertions, the Scouts retired to rest as soon as Coventry minor had been carried to the doctor's house. Undisturbed by the noise of the untrained searchers the lads slept soundly, till the morning revealed Seal Island untenanted save by themselves and a couple of policemen, who, at the Scoutmaster's suggestion, had installed themselves in the old oratory to keep a long and fruitless vigil.
"He's slipped through our fingers, sure enough, sir," remarked one of the constables. "All night we've been on the alert. No doubt he's managed to swim across to the mainland when he found we were hard on his track. We'll be going now, sir, and leave you in peace and quietness, so to speak. If you see or hear anything, sir, happen you won't mind sending one of your young chaps to give us the tip?"
As soon as the policemen were well clear of the Island, and the Scouts had had breakfast, steps were taken to continue the search for Sir Silas Gwinnear's butler, and also to explore the tunnel which they had good reason to believe communicated with the mainland.
The latter task was the more enviable. Both patrols wished to undertake that particular business, and urged their respective claims till the Scoutmaster had gently and firmly to remind them of their sense of discipline.
"You cannot all explore the tunnel," he added. "One patrol will be quite sufficient for that. The other will keep an eye on the camp, guard the landing-place and the approach to the Tea Caves. I suppose you have no objection to decide the matter by lots?"
Walking away for a few steps, Mr Buckley gathered a handful of long grass. From this he selected two blades, one much longer than the other. These he held in his hand, with an inch of each showing at equal length.
"Now, Scouts, the one who draws the longest blade represents the patrol to explore the tunnel. One of the Tenderfoots can draw: that's right, Scott."
Reggie Scott pulled out one of the blades of grass from the Scoutmaster's clenched fist. It was the long one.
"Good: the 'Otters' will explore the tunnel. The 'Wolves' will take up positions I have indicated on this map. It is a very clear map, Simpson, by the way. You did it excellently. Already by its means I have quite a comprehensive knowledge of Seal Island."
Carrying ropes, two camp lanterns, and a supply of candles and matches, the "Otters" made their way to the ruined oratory, where the stone covering to the pit was soon raised.
"I do not mean to go with you, lads," said the Scoutmaster. "I feel confident you will get on all right without me. Rope your men, Atherton; keep one well ahead of the rest in case there is an accumulation of poisonous gases, which I do not for one moment suppose is the case. So long as the candles burn brightly there is no danger on that score."
"Tassh came through all right, sir," remarked Everest. "That was only yesterday."
"And once, at least, according to all accounts, he was prevented from returning. So it is evident that at times there is some obstruction. However, 'Be prepared' and you'll come out on top."
One by one the "Otters" were lowered into the gaping pit, Mr Buckley letting Tenderfoot Sayers down last of all. This done, he took up his position at the top of a spiral stone staircase that terminated abruptly almost on a level with the roofless walls. Here, with only the upper portion of his face showing above the masonry, he was able to command a panoramic view of the Island and Seal Bay. Moreover, he was ready to render assistance should the "Otters" find the tunnel impracticable and have to return by the same way as they went.
The "Otters" found themselves in the mouth of a passage hewn out of the solid rock.
image: Seal_Island6.jpg
image: Seal_Island6.jpg
[Illustration: "In broken-step form the Scouts carried their comrade towards the camp."—Page168.]
[Illustration: "In broken-step form the Scouts carried their comrade towards the camp."—Page168.]
It was roughly from five to six feet in height and thirty inches wide. The floor was ankle deep in dry dust that showed unmistakable signs of the same person having passed to and fro on several occasions.
With the candle-light glimmering on the walls the Scouts advanced, Atherton leading by twenty paces, the rest following at shorter intervals and linked together by a light yet strong rope. The progress was slow, for Atherton, cautious lest he should stumble into a hidden pitfall, systematically sounded the ground with his staff at every other step.
For nearly three hundred paces the tunnel sloped steeply downwards, the walls remaining perfectly dry—a circumstance that showed the passage was still under the Island. Beyond that distance, although the tunnel was still on the down grade, the roof and walls showed signs of moisture, while in place of the dry dust the floor was ankle deep in slime. Overhead a deep muffled roar betokened the fact that the sea was only separated from the Scouts by a few feet of rock, through which the sound of the ground-swell was audible.
Suddenly Atherton came to a halt, and held his lantern above his head.
"Anything wrong?" asked Phillips.
"It's all right here," he announced. "The air is quite fresh. I've found something: looks like a seat with some carving above it."
On the right-hand side of the tunnel, in a cavity three feet in depth and extending the whole height of the passage, was a stone bench. Above the latter were several carvings in relief, all more or less damaged by the ravages of time and the moisture of the rock.
"Here's a crucifix," said Atherton, pointing to a Cornish cross. "And there's some inscription underneath. I can't quite make out the letters, though."
"I can read one word," said Green. "The first letter is supposed to be a P. The word is 'Pax.'"
"And here's a date: MCCLI—that's 1251," announced Atherton. "This must be a sort of half-way resting place for the monks who visited the oratory. If it's not half way it's at the lowest level of the tunnel, for the gradient is now on the ascent. But let's go on. I wonder where we shall find ourselves when we come to the end."
"Why, at the end, of course," replied Everest. "Where else did you expect?"
The forward movement was resumed, Atherton placing the previous distance between him and the next Scout. At length the rocky walls began to show less signs of moisture, and the Scouts knew that they had passed under Seal Bay and were now not far from, if not actually underneath, the village of Polkerwyck.
"Hulloa, here's some steps," said Atherton in a low voice. "Come along, you fellows; before we go any farther we must search this place. It won't do to leave any unexplored places behind us. Green and Mayne, you come with me, the others can stand by. If I call for assistance, Everest and Baker can come to our aid. Five of us ought to be a match for Tassh, if he's hiding here."
"Do you think he is hiding here, Atherton?" asked Tenderfoot Sayers in a whisper.
"He may be. Since he hasn't been found on the Island he may be lying low in this place till the coast is clear. We'll soon find out. After me, Green."
Holding the lantern in his left hand and well away from his body, Atherton commenced the ascent of a spiral flight of steps. Unlike those in many old ruins scattered about the country, these steps were in a good state of preservation, showing that during the flight of centuries they had been but comparatively little used.
The Leader ascended cautiously. At any moment he might be assailed by the fugitive from justice. The Scouts were strangers to the place and therefore at a disadvantage; a trap might be laid for them, while in addition they were handicapped by having to carry a lantern which would render them conspicuous to anyone lurking in the darkness. Yet, in spite of these drawbacks, Atherton and his two companions had embarked upon an enterprise from which there was no turning back until the task of exploring the place was completed.
At the twentieth step the Leader discovered that he was level with the topmost part of the staircase. On all sides was a cavernous space that was almost all in darkness, save for that portion within the field of the rays of the lantern.
"What's that?" whispered Green, laying a detaining hand on Atherton's wrist. "There's some one moving."
"Yes, I can hear footsteps," assented Atherton, as the muffled sounds of a firm, steady tread came from the dark recesses of the vault-like room. "They are coming this way. Stand by with your staff, Green. I'll challenge him."
In spite of his customary coolness, Atherton felt his heart beating violently.
"Who's there?" he called.
There was no reply. The noise of the footsteps continued as if the person walking was quite unconcerned at being called upon to explain who he was.
"Who's there?" repeated the Scout, in a louder voice.
There was silence for a few moments, then the sound of a person walking was resumed, only, instead of approaching, footsteps were obviously those of some one retiring.
Atherton waited no longer. Gaining the floor, he raised the lantern above his head. The comparatively feeble rays gleamed upon a glittering object standing on the ground close to the wall of the underground room.
Resisting the temptation to pounce upon and examine the article, the Scout waited till his companions rejoined him, and then began an examination of the place. It was circular and barely five yards in diameter. The roof was domed, the highest part being about ten feet from the floor. The walls, hewn from the solid rock, were smooth and uninterrupted by any visible openings communicating with elsewhere. To all appearances the Scouts had struck a blind alley.
Having thus taken stock of their surroundings, the Scouts discovered that the glittering object was a massive silver bowl, filled with forks and spoons of the same precious metal.
"Hidden treasure," gasped Mayne.
"Not much," retorted Green. "Stolen from Sir Silas, that's what it is. You can see the stuff isn't tarnished, and there's no dust on it."
"Georgian silver," added Atherton, examining the markings on the spoons and forks. "It must be some of that rascal Tassh's plunder. We may find some more here. Ha! What's that?"
A rumble, momentarily growing louder, could be heard, the sound apparently coming from overhead. Then, waning, it ceased to be audible.
"A cart—that's what it is, and the sound we heard just before that was a man walking overhead. It's my belief that the place is immediately under the only street in Polkerwyck," declared Atherton.
With their staves, the Scouts sounded the walls, floor and ceiling. There was no trace of any secret openings. The walls were solid enough; only the distance between the dome and the open air was thin enough to enable the noise of the traffic to be heard with comparative distinctness.
"All right up there?" called out Phillips from the foot of the spiral staircase.
"Yes," replied Atherton. "We'll be with you in a minute."
"What shall we do with this lot?" asked Green, indicating the silver. "It's jolly heavy."
"We'll take it with us. We can put a few of the forks and spoons in our pockets and the bowl can be slung from a staff and carried by two of us. Mind how you carry it, Green."
As soon as the three Scouts returned to their waiting companions, the silver was distributed for the sake of easier carriage, and the march of exploration resumed. Presently, instead of continuing the upward slope, the tunnel dived with considerable abruptness. At the bottom of the dip there was water on the floor to the depth of six inches, while from the signs of excessive moisture on the walls and ceiling it was fairly conclusive that the whole of this portion of the tunnel had recently been flooded. A slight stream of water was still running from a fissure in the wall.
"This must be a proper trap in wet weather," said Phillips. "The water lodges in the dip until it soaks out again. That accounts for the fact that Tassh was unable to return to Polkerwyck House on the night of the storm."
"It certainly seems like it," said Green, as he splashed boldly through the water. "Doesn't it feel cold?"
From this point the tunnel again sloped upwards, in places so steeply that the incline had to be broken by short flights of steps.
"I reckon we've come quite two miles," said Baker, "and in a fairly straight direction according to my compass. If I had known——"
The remark was suddenly cut short by a low warning whistle from Atherton. The rest of the patrol closed upon their Leader, who had come to a standstill before a blank wall. Right and left were short passages terminating in spiral flights of steps.
Once more Atherton and his two chosen comrades began their subsidiary investigations, while the remaining members of the "Otters" remained at the junction of the two cross-ways.
It was not long before the Leader returned.
"No go," he announced. "There are only eleven stairs and then a bricked-up wall. By the undisturbed state of the dust on the steps we know that no one has been there for months at the very least. Come on, all of you, we'll try our luck with this branch."
Round and round, up and up, went the Scouts. They realised that they were on the eve of an important discovery, for here there were undoubted traces of human footsteps. At the fifty-fourth step, Atherton found farther progress barred by a stone wall, each block being roughly fifteen inches wide and twelve high, and set in hard, black cement.
The Scouts looked at each other with feelings akin to dismay. It seemed hard lines, after traversing the whole length of the subterranean passage, to find a blank wall.
"I'll tell you what, Atherton," said Green. "It's my opinion that Tassh, or whoever it is, discovered the tunnel at the Seal Island end, and, like us, explored it as far as it went. He then had to retrace his footsteps, and that accounts for the complicated nature of the trail."
"Yes, that's all very well," replied Atherton. "But how do you account for the finding of the silver stuff in the underground chamber?"
"Perhaps Tassh meant to hide it there, or it was too heavy for him to carry any farther," suggested Mayne, as he rested on the edge of a step his end of the staff from which the bowl was slung. As he did so the end of the pole touched the stonework at the side of the staircase. The slab of granite trembled visibly.
"This part of the wall is quite loose," exclaimed Mayne.
"Steady," whispered Atherton, warningly. "Keep quiet, you fellows."
The Leader felt the face of the granite slab. It was certainly loose, but the joints of the masonry were not wide enough for his fingers to obtain a grip.
"Hold my lantern a minute, Phillips," he said. "I'll see what I can do with my knife. You have matches handy? Good! Now blow out all the lights."
These orders were promptly carried out. The darkness was darkness indeed. To the excited lads it seemed to have weight. Even Phillips, strong-minded as he was, grasped his box of matches tightly, as if he derived some consolation from the fact that he held a weapon that could be used to effectually banish the stifling sensation imparted by the intense darkness.
Scratching lightly with the blade of his knife, Atherton at length found the joint of the stonework once more. Deftly inserting the blade, he cautiously prised the block of granite. It gave, then slid back in its position.
"The stone is pivoted," he whispered. "Where's your hand, Mayne? Put it here, and when I swing the stone out half an inch try and get a grip."
The blade bent almost to breaking point. The stone swung outwards. Mayne, gripping the rough edge, sought to retain a tenacious hold.
"It's slipping," he gasped in low, tense tones. Atherton instantly drove the blade home till the handle was tightly wedged in the enlarged orifice. Then, relaxing his hold upon the knife, he aided Mayne with his wiry fingers.
The block swung stiffly outwards another inch, then with hardly any resistance it turned, disclosing an aperture sufficiently large for a man to crawl through.
The sudden rush of daylight blinded the lads, but at length their eyes grew accustomed to the scene. They found themselves looking into the room in Polkerwyck House that had been the rascally butler's quarters. It was not untenanted.
Seated in a canvas deck-chair, with his back turned to the secret opening, was a man. Only the back portion of his head was visible above the top rail of the chair.
"It's Tassh," said Atherton to himself.
The question was how the Scouts were to act. To crawl through the narrow opening one by one and throw themselves upon the culprit was a business that was not only fraught with danger but well-nigh impossible to perform without giving the man due warning. Yet to Atherton it seemed the only way.
Beckoning to Phillips to follow him, the Leader began to edge carefully through the gap in the stonework. Could he but gain a footing in the room and await his Second's entrance without alarming the occupant of the chair, there was a possibility that the rascal, taken by surprise, might be seized and secured.
The Scout was almost through. One foot was actually on the floor, when Green accidentally knocked the staff to which the silver bowl was slung. With a crash and a clatter the heavy metal ornament went rolling down the spiral stairs, cannoning against the ankles of Scott and Sayers as it did so.
In a trice the fellow in the chair was on his feet.
"The game's up," he exclaimed. "Come out of that or it will be the worse for you."
Athertonstood stock still, his eyes fixed upon the small suggestive muzzle of a revolver levelled at his head. It was horribly disconcerting. He was unable to go forward; his movements were hampered. Nor could he retreat with the possibilities of being shot at staring him in the face.
The tension was acute whilst it lasted, but the Scout was greatly relieved to hear the voice of Polglaze, the detective, exclaim:
"In the name of thunder what have you Scouts been up to?"
Atherton hastened to complete the awkward crawl through the opening, the rest of his companions following.
The detective, with wonderment written on every line of his face, examined the revolving stonework, patting it with his hands and testing the cunningly concealed mechanism.
"Well, this beats everything," he exclaimed. "I've been investigating this room for hours, tried the floor, walls and ceiling, and not a suspicion of a secret passage did I discover, Yet, from a logical point of view, there must have been some means of escape other than by the door, which was locked. How on earth did you fellows find this out?"
"We walked along a tunnel from Seal Island," explained Atherton. "It leads to the ruins in the centre of the Island. And we've found some of the booty, Mr Polglaze."
"You have?" The detective's jaw dropped slightly. Visions of a substantial reward slipping through his fingers accounted for his tone of disappointment. "Where?"
"In a side passage out of the main tunnel. There's a large silver bowl at the bottom of these steps, and each of us have smaller articles."
One by one the Scouts placed on the table the spoons and forks they had discovered. Polglaze snatched one up and examined.
"Yes, that's part of Sir Silas' stuff," he announced. "Is that all you've found?"
"Yes, sir," answered Atherton. "With the bowl, of course."
"Then there's a heap more to be recovered," said the detective. "Tell me about the tunnel."
Polglaze listened attentively and in silence to the Scout's narrative.
"You are quite sure you examined every part of the tunnel?" he asked, when Atherton had finished. "There is no place where Tassh might hide that you neglected to make sure of?"
"I think not, sir."
"Good. I'll inform Sir Silas."
The detective was certainly jealous of the Scouts' success, but the news could not be withheld from the baronet. It also opened a fresh channel for the detective's energies. Since the robber's retreat was discovered, the ends could be bricked up and no further attention paid to it. Polglaze would be free to devote his skill to the tracking of the butler on Seal Island.
Great was the astonishment of Sir Silas to find that the dust-grimed members of the "Otter" patrol had entered his house by a means hitherto unknown to him.
"A remarkable thing, Polglaze," he observed. "Now I come to think of it there is a legend to the effect that Polkerwyck monastery was connected with the oratory on Seal Island by a subterranean passage. I regarded it as a myth. You get the same story wherever there are any old ruins. But what an elaborate piece of work, by Jove!"
Sir Silas had closed the revolving stone. When in position it seemed exactly like a portion of the solid wall, and opening in the old-fashioned chimney corner it was rendered still more unnoticeable by the soot that clung tenaciously to the grate. "You've closed it, sir," exclaimed Atherton, unable to prevent the baronet's action. "We don't know how to open it from this side."
"Bless my soul, I am thoughtless!" ejaculated Sir Silas. "See what you can make of it, Polglaze."
The detective prised the stonework with his penknife, thrust his shoulder against the unresisting granite, and fumbled for possible springs, all to no purpose. The sliding door was to all appearances part and parcel of the wall.
"Now, Atherton, you have a shot at it," suggested Sir Silas.
The Scout did his best, but without result. He was completely baffled.
"And there's a large silver bowl down there, sir," he remarked, "and all our lanterns too. I'll tell you what, sir: we must get back to the Island as quickly as possible, or our Scoutmaster will be anxious. We'll let him know we're all right, and then some of us will go through the tunnel again and open the slide from the inside. I think I know how to do that."