The Killer Mine

The beam of a lamp flashed on me from above. I looked up. I could see nothing but the glaring disc of a miner's lamp. 'Now you understand why the gallery must not be flooded,' the voice added, and I knew then that it was the old man. 'Well? What have you decided?' he asked.

I didn't know what to say.

Perhaps he took my silence for acquiescence, for he said, 'You shall have your two hundred and fifty pounds. And when I start to work that lode, you shall be one of my bal captains.' He stared up at the scaffolding. Standing there above me on the edge of the pit he looked a magnificent figure of a man. If his helmet could have sprouted horns he would have looked like the old prints I had seen of the Vikings. 'My son is a fool,' he said. 'He doesn't know when he is rich. This will not work. And if it does — sooner or later he'll be caught. Then what good will it have done to have let the sea into the Mermaid? Before we could work that lode, this gallery would have to be sealed off, the mine would have to be de-watered to the two hundred level and the lode located there. Men are blind when they don't understand. All he knows about is machinery.' He leaned towards me again. 'Come on up, my boy. You shall have your money and then you can go.'

I found my voice then. 'No,' I said. 'I'm not going.'

He peered down. 'You mean you intend to stay here and blast your way through to the sea as my son wants?' His voice quavered.

'I don't know,' I said. 'But I can't go.'

'Why?' His tone was tense.

I waded across to the ladder. I was at a disadvantage down here with him standing above me. I couldn't have it out with him like this. I began to climb. My lamp flashed on his gum boots. He was standing right at the head of the ladder. 'Why?' he asked again, and the echo of his question was flung back by the dripping walls.

'Because,' I said, 'there's too much I need to find out.' And I heaved myself out of the pit and leapt to my feet. We stood there facing each other, seeing the reflection of our mine lamps in each other's eyes.

'You mean about my son?' he asked.

'No,' I said.

He caught hold of my arm. For a man of sixty-five he was immensely strong. The grip of his fingers was like iron. 'Listen,' he said. 'I've found what I've been looking for all my life. Neither you nor anybody — not even my son — is going to rob me of that. Take my offer and go — before it is too late.'

'No,' I said again.

'Don't be a fool,' he cried. Take it and get out. If you don't — " He stopped and half-turned. The light of another lamp was shining on us.

Take what?' It was Captain Manack's voice. The question was strung tight like a bow string. We must have been so lost in our altercation that we had not noticed him coming along the gallery.

'I have told him that I will not allow the sea to be let in here,' his father said. 'I have offered to pay him what you would pay him if he will go.'

'And what will you pay him with?' sneered his son. 'With my money. Oh no. He stays until he's finished the job.'

'You intend to go through with this plan?' The old man's voice quavered.

'Yes,' his son replied.

'Then, sir, I must order you off my property.' The old man had a strange dignity. 'I have no alternative,' he added sadly. Though it is hard for me to say this to my own son.'

'Your own property?' Captain Manack laughed. 'I know how you got this property. If you want me to leave Wheal Garth then you'll have to get the police to shift me. And you won't do that, will you, Father?'

The old man's eyes glittered dangerously. 'Take care,' he said. 'One day you'll push me too far. Get rid of this man. That's all I ask. Get rid of him and let the Mermaid be.'

That's all you ask.' His son laughed. 'Have you read this morning's paper?'

'You know I never read the papers. This is my world. I'm not interested in any other.'

'Well, to begin with, Pryce can't leave. The police are after him. There's a complete description — " He stopped then for he realised that the old man wasn't listening to him. He was staring at me — a look at once incredulous and fearful. Then suddenly his eyes were blank, giving no clue to his thoughts. 'I thought you said his name was O'Donnel,' he said to his son.

'Yes. But his real name's Pryce.'

'Jim Pryce,' I said.

The old man was trembling. He turned and stared at me. 'Pryce, did you say?'

'Yes,' I answered. And then I added slowly, 'Ruth Nearne was my mother.'

His eyes jerked wide and his whole body tensed. He was like a man under the impact of a bullet. 'No,' he said. 'No — no, it's impossible.' His eyes darted round the rock walls. Then he recovered himself. 'So you're Ruth Nearne's son. She was a fine woman — a fine woman.' He nodded in a fatherly way. 'She often spoke of you.'

The calmness of his. manner roused me. 'How would you know?' I snarled. 'She was alone. You took her away from my father and then you deserted her.' I went towards him. 'You killed her. You drove her to suicide.'

The old man was watching me. His eyes had a cunning look. He edged away down the gallery. Captain Manack got hold of my arm. I flung him off. I was within a few feet of the old man now. I said, 'You think I'd help you to work this mine, knowing what I do of the way you treated my mother? No,' I shouted. 'Instead I'll blast a way through to the sea for you. I'll flood the place. All your life you've thought of nothing but that damned lode of tin. Well, you'll never touch it. You'll never touch it because of what you did to Ruth Nearne. When the sea comes roaring into this gallery, that'll be the end of your dreams. Then it'll be your turn to walk over the cliffs.'

The old man was trembling. 'Don't do it,' he said. 'Don't do it. The mine wants to be worked. It has the pride of a rich mine. It must be worked. And if you try to let the sea in, it'll kill you. I've warned my son. Now I'm warning you. The mine will kill you.'

He turned then and went quickly off down the gallery. And I let him go.

CHAPTER SIX The Dog was Murdered Too

'So Ruth Nearne was your mother?'

I was gazing after the old man. The glow-worm light of his lamp was already some distance down the gallery. 'Yes,' I said. I was thinking of all the misery he had brought my mother.

'Is that why you came here?'

I turned to Captain Manack. He was watching me suspiciously. 'No,' I said. 'I didn't know it was your father she went off with. Not until last night.'

'What did you find out last night?'

'That he never married her. That she acted as his housekeeper. And that — she committed suicide.'

'Is that all you found out?'

'My God!' I cried. 'Isn't that enough? Your father drove my mother mad. He kept her shut up in that attic room where I slept. To leave a husband and a child and then find her lover married. Not only that, but when your mother died, he still didn't marry her. She remained here as housekeeper, and he married Kitty's mother. God — it was enough to send any woman mad.'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, it's a strange world,' he said. His eyes seemed to laugh at me — or perhaps it was some trick of the carbon gaslight. It was almost as though he relished the situation. If so, he had the devil's own sense of humour. I felt angry and bitter — and frustrated. I should have thrashed that fiendish old man. It was what he deserved. Instead I'd let him walk away down the gallery telling me my mother was a fine woman. I could still see the yellow glow of his lamp bobbing along the gallery.

'Well, it's done now,' Manack said. There's nothing you can do about it. But it's a strange coincidence, you coming here like this.'

'Yes,' I said. 'It's a strange coincidence.'

'How long will it take you to blast through to the sea bed?' His voice was suddenly matter of fact.

'A day or two,' I replied vaguely. 'I hadn't given it a thought.'

'We'll go back now,' he said. 'You can start this afternoon.'