His own lantern cast its light only through one unshuttered side, and the Captain had no hesitation in following him, since the beam of light was thrown ahead, and could not cast his own figure into relief. He trod heavily, allowing his nailed brogues to scrape and clatter on the slippery rock beneath them; and as he went he rapidly considered what had most probably been planned for him. From Stornaway’s urgent desire to lead him away from the large chamber, it seemed certain that his murder was not to take place there, but either in the passage beyond it, or where this curved abruptly, and widened into the broader and loftier passage through which the stream ran. Then, quite coolly, he rejected this theory. Stornaway had just taken care to warn his friend that their prospective victim was not carrying a lantern; and Coate would certainly realize that he must depend for his aim on the light Stornaway would cast on to the Captain from his own lantern. But the man who held the lantern would naturally be the leader, and little though Coate might relish having Stornaway as an accomplice he would certainly take care to keep him alive while he was so necessary to the final success of his schemes. He would risk no shot in the confined space of the corridor, John decided, for the slightest deviation of his aim might mean the death of the wrong man. A moment’s reflection convinced him that the river-passage would be almost as hazardous a place to choose, for although it was very much broader, the stream, running along one side under the slimy rock-face, took up quite half its width, so that only an uncomfortably small space could lie between two men standing beside it. Had he himself been carrying a lantern, no doubt Stornaway, at a prearranged signal, could have cast himself on the ground; but since Stornaway must hold his lantern with its beam fixed steadily upon him this would be an impossible manoeuvre. No one, thought John, would be quicker to realize this, and to provide against such a contingency, than the efficient Mr. Coate. Moreover, he doubted very much whether that cool gentleman would, whatever the circumstances, place the slightest reliance on Stornaway’s ability to keep his head if he thought himself in the smallest danger of being shot.
I wouldn’t myself, thought John, as he entered the narrow passage in Stornaway’s wake. So why didn’t he darken his lantern, and come down the slope to the main chamber while we were still in it, and he had the light of Stornaway’s lantern to guide him?
Then he recalled the rubble and the stones which lay scattered at the foot of the natural stair: Coate must have been afraid of betraying his presence by stumbling over a boulder in the darkness, or kicking some loose stone down the slope, and Coate did not know that his victim carried no pistols.
Very wise! thought the Captain approvingly. If he risked a shot at that range, and missed me, I might, if I were armed, put a bullet into him before he could fire his second pistol. In his shoes, I wouldn’t fire the second pistol, except pointblank. In fact, I should do precisely what I fancy he has planned to do: enter the big chamber when I am safely out of earshot and eyeshot, take up a strategic position near the entrance to this passage, and wait for Stornaway to lead me back to the chamber. Not immediately in front of it, for Stornaway’s lantern must then reveal him to me, but to the side, out of sight of anyone approaching down the passage. Once clear of the passage, Stornaway will turn, as though to speak to me, I shall step—into the main chamber, with the light shining full in my face, and Coate will have the easiest shot of his life, and will put a bullet through my temple.
By the time the Captain had reached this cheerful conclusion he and Stornaway had emerged into the river passage. He halted, exclaiming in well-simulated surprise that he had not known a stream ran through the cavern. But while he marvelled at it, and even bent down to test the temperature of the water, his thoughts raced on.
No rubble in the passage: the rock is slippery, but firm; very little in the main chamber. If I don’t make haste, I shall have Stogumber here before I want him.
“For God’s sake, never mind the stream!” exclaimed Stornaway, in fretting impatience. “Look there!”
“Well?” said the Captain, following the beam of the torch to the heap of debris at the end of the passage.
“That is where Brean lies buried! You’ll find him soon enough!”
“Not I!” said the Captain, with a strong shudder. “If that’s where he is, you’ve dragged those stones off him once, and you may do it again! Give me the lantern! I’ll hold it for you.”
“I tell you he’s there! I won’t uncover his body a second time—it’s horrible! If see him you must, do it for yourself!”
“No, I thank you!” said John emphatically. “What makes you so nice all at once?”
Stornaway thrust the lantern into his hand. “Damn you, take it, then! Do you think I’m lying? Oh, you fool, how can I see what I’m about, if you swing the light all round? Hold it steady!”
The Captain, affecting an awed interest in his surroundings, swept the beam along the wall. “Hold hard! I’ve never been in such a place as this!” he said, swiftly calculating the distance from a projecting ledge of rock to the opening into the passage. “Why are you in such a quirk? A dead man can’t hurt you.” He moved towards the ledge he had noticed, and sat down upon it, directing the lantern-light on to the mound of stones and rubble.
“Be quiet, be quiet!” Stornaway said hysterically. He looked over his shoulder, as he bent to lift a rock from the heap. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a stone out of my shoe,” replied the Captain, who was, in fact, removing his shoes. “What the devil should I be doing? Brr! How cold it is here! Make haste, and let’s get out of this tomb!”
“You’re holding the lantern so high I can’t see!”
“Is that better?” John asked, setting it softly down on the rock from which he had risen.
“Bring it nearer!” snapped Stornaway.
“Very well. Let me put my shoe on again first, however!” John said, both brogues gripped in his right hand, and his eyes watchful on Stornaway’s bent back.
“I wish you will hurry!”
But the Captain returned no answer to this, for he had found the opening into the narrower passage, and was stealing along it, his left hand feeling the wall for guidance, and his stockinged feet making no sound on the rock-floor. He went as swiftly as he dared, for Stornaway had only to look round again to discover his absence, and at all costs he must be clear of the passage before the inevitable alarm was shouted to Coate. The noise of the water, which was here very loud, made it unnecessary for him to worry much over the chances of a stumble, and he knew that there were no alcoves in the walls to mislead him. Ahead of him loomed dense darkness: Coate must have shuttered his lantern.
Well, thought John, if he is standing immediately before the opening, and I collide with him, so much the worse for him! I must be nearly at the end of the passage now.
Even as this thought came into his mind, the rough wall seemed to vanish from under his groping hand. He stood still for just long enough to feel the angle of it, as it turned sharply away, knew that he stood on the threshold of the main chamber, and slid straight ahead with long, swift strides. He encountered no obstacle, and the scrunch of a little patch of rubble when he trod on it barely reached his own straining ears above the noise of the water.
He had taken no more than five strides when a high-pitched shout sounded behind him. As though from a long way off, he heard Stornaway’s voice calling in panic: “Where are you? Where are you?”
The Captain’s immediate object was to reach the cover of the Treasury chests before Coate could unshutter his lantern, and sweep its light round the chamber. Throwing caution to the winds, he raced forward, knowing that Coate’s lantern would not pierce the darkness for a distance of more than a few yards. Again Stornaway’s voice shrilled above the rush of the river through the rock. “Nat! Nat!” Stornaway screamed. “He’s gone!”