Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Read online

  Bell and Tester went with them, for Bell was to keep watch and prepare some food, and Tester was to be tied up, because he was sure to be distressed if Mansel went down the well and might even fall down in some effort to comfort his lord.

  Then I went down, with the light and the beams which Carson and I had cut the night before.

  A foot or more of the mouth of the shaft was visible, and, by directing the light, I could see the steps within; but I never beheld a place which looked so black and uninviting, and there was now in the depths of the well an odour which I cannot exactly describe. It seemed to be a bad smell, grown faint with age.

  I had my beams in place in a minute of time, and then gave the signal for Hanbury to lower the planks.

  As might have been expected, the shaft was between the two beams, but so much had I twisted and turned during my descent that, though I knew from the niches that it must run North or South, I could tell no more. But, when the planks were in place, Mansel lowered the measuring-line, and under my direction, moved it until it hung plumb over the middle of the mouth. This showed, as I afterwards found, that the shaft ran North, towards the castle: and Hanbury marked the place by driving a peg out of sight into the ground.

  The stage, when I had built it, lay some six inches below the lintel of the mouth of the shaft. The water was rising fast, and I set the planks as close to the mouth as I could, so that by using the windlass, without disturbing the stage, we could do something to keep the water down.

  Then I was pulled up, and Mansel made ready to descend.

  Over his clothes he put on a waterproof suit, tight-fitting at the wrists and ankles as at the waist and throat. In his pocket he had a torch, and that was all.

  Communication by shouting up and down the well had proved unsatisfactory, for the words arrived distorted and often unrecognizable: while I was below, therefore, Mansel and Hanbury had lashed a spring to the pulley-beam and fastened a cord to the spring. This rude apparatus worked very well, for, when the cord was pulled tight and then let go, the spring hit the beam with a smack which there was no mistaking. To the other end of the cord was fastened a biscuit-tin, which, in case of trouble, we were to dash against the wall. We also took the bell which rang from the kitchen hall and hung it inside the parapet so that, were it to ring while he was below, Mansel would receive so important a signal direct.

  So soon as Mansel was down, we were to start bailing, and the signal that he was clear and that we could pull up the seat was to be two strokes of the spring upon the pulley-beam.

  We had hardly begun to lower him, when, to our dismay, the search-light, which I had left burning upon the stage, went suddenly out; but Mansel cried to us to go on, and a moment later I saw the flash of his torch. Compared with the search-light, this threw a miserable beam; and I was not at all happy to think he was going down thus embarrassed to a place which had seemed so dreadful when it was full of light. I think we all had three hopes that, when he was down, he would be able to put in order what had gone wrong, but, if we had, they were vain, for, after a little, the spring struck twice upon the beam, and, when we pulled up the seat by which we had let him down, the lamp was hanging upon the hook beneath.

  Then we let down a bucket and started to bail, and we knew that Mansel was in the shaft, for the light which his torch had been giving had disappeared.

  And, except that we laboured steadily for about five minutes, that is as much as I know of that day’s work, for then I was dealt such a blow on the back of my head that I fell down like an ox and lost consciousness.

  Hanbury saw me fall, but before he had time to cry out, he had been served as I had, and, since he was still senseless when I sat up, Mansel alone of us three can speak to what followed the assault.

  This was the tale he told us so soon as he could.

  “I made a bridge of a plank from the stage to a step in the shaft, and so spared myself immersion; and, though I got pretty wet, I was able to keep the torch out of the water. Then I drew the plank after me into the shaft, for, if I had left it in place, the bucket would have fouled it when you began to bail.

  “The shaft is three feet wide by about five high. Its walls and steps are of stones from the river-bed, laid in cement. Its roof is curved and built of stones similar to those used for the well. I imagine it owes its style to the Count’s desire for secrecy, for all the stuff used to build it might well have gone into the well. The walls of the latter are certainly backed with pebbles as high as the first spring.

  “The going was very unpleasant, not to say dangerous, for the steps are very rough and covered with slime. I had hoped, by counting them and measuring the rises and treads, to get figures from which Hanbury could tell pretty well where the chamber lies, but their flight is so irregular that without a rule I could do nothing valuable. So far as I could make out, the shaft runs dead straight. The air was abominable.

  “I had taken some twenty-five steps before I slipped.

  “Now a fall in that shaft would be an ugly business, and I don’t think you could complain if you broke no more than a leg, and, as, all things considered, it’s not the place you’d choose for a first-class smash, I saved myself at the cost of dropping the torch. This, of course, was broken by the fall, and, although I recovered it, it would give me no light.

  “To proceed in the dark seemed futile, and I had just begun to retrace my steps, when I became aware of a light which came from the well.

  “I at once assumed that you had adjusted the searchlight and were letting it down, for I heard the windlass working, but a moment later I thought that I heard a whistle, and stopped in my tracks.

  Someone alighted heavily on the stage.

  But for the whistle I had heard, that it was not you, Chandos, would never have entered my head. As it was, I made sure you would hail me almost at once, but, remembering that all things are possible, I waited you to speak.

  That I did so was just as well, for I was still waiting when somebody snuffed and spat.

  Well, that eliminated any of us.

  I can’t pretend I wasn’t shaken.

  I dared not think what had happened to you and Hanbury; the servants, presumably, were obediently keeping the house; the enemy had the windlass; and I was trapped, good and proper, in a blind tunnel five by three, and eighty-odd feet below ground.

  “All of a sudden I wondered if the enemy knew I was there.

  “I decided that the odds were that he did not. Unless he had seen me go down, there was no reason why he should know. The search-light had failed, my torch had gone out, although the stage was there, I had withdrawn my bridge. The fact that he made no attempt to conceal his presence assured me that I was right.

  “Instinctively I began to reascend the shaft.

  “I had not thought that even Rose Noble would suspect our work at the well, and the reflection that I had been so heartily outwitted and outclassed was very bitter. The attack had been well done. One minute, you and Hanbury were bailing, the next, one of the five was descending the well. I assumed that he had come to reconnoitre. When he had made his report, the others would bail for a while, and then the actual attempt to lift the treasure would be made. Unless I could reach the servants, I did not see how this could fail.

  “I had taken five or six steps, when a splash told me that my man was making the shaft. Though there was still one spare plank, the idea of a bridge had not, I suppose, occurred to him, but, after a struggle—in which he went under water—I heard him make the steps. For a moment he stood grunting and blowing, and trying to get his breath. Then he began to ascend. This surprised me, for I had made certain that he would first produce a torch, but what astonished me still more was the progress he made, for he climbed as well as I had when I had seen my way.

  “So we went up the shaft in single file, some thirty odd steps apart.

  “My own idea, of course, was to get to the top of the well. The only way to do this was, unknown to the rest of the gang, to take his place and let
them haul me up in his stead. What would happen when they saw their mistake no one could tell, but with luck I should have been landed before they saw what they had done.

  “It was quite plain that, if I could escape the notice of the man in the shaft, I should stand a better chance of taking his place. Even if I had room, I could not see to hit him under the jaw, unless I could knock him senseless, he would probably let out a yell; I was unarmed, and by a hand-to-hand fight in the dark in such a place I was as likely to come to harm as was he. But what weighed with me most of all was the natural reluctance to kill. Unless I laid him out, his shouts would give me away; but, if I put him out of action, in view of the pace at which the water was rising, he would either be drowned or trapped—probably trapped. And it seemed a shocking thing to sentence a fellow creature to such a terrible doom.

  “To avoid him in the shaft was out of the question, but I thought if I could reach the chamber, I could let him go by to the treasure and start right back.

  “I was not afraid of his hearing me, for I was going quietly, but he made a lot of noise.

  “The shaft seemed endless, but at last I felt a step which was clear of ooze. I took it, and two more, and then something I hadn’t expected told me that I was upon the threshold of the chamber itself. Four iron bars, set up on end in the way. From their shape, I should say they were crowbars, such as a well-digger used about his business. And I don’t suppose it took five minutes to bed them, but, once the cement had set, well, I don’t know if you’ve ever filed iron, but it’s tedious work. Top and bottom, they were bedded into hewn stone. There’s no doubt about it, Axel the Red was a very careful man.

  “That it would come to a fight was now certain; so I set my back to the bars and awaited my man.

  “Suddenly I heard the bell ring at the top of the well.

  “My man heard it, too, and stopped—about ten steps away.

  “Of course, I knew what it meant, and praised God. But he was clearly alarmed, for he was holding his breath, and, I fancy, straining his ears. I know exactly how he felt, and, believe me, I don’t blame him.

  “The bell rang again.

  “A moment later I heard him begin to descend.

  “Be sure I followed.

  “Before I did so, I tested every bar. They were all the same size, nearly an inch thick, not very rusty: and not one of them would budge.

  “Such plan as I now had was to follow him into the well. When he had been reassured by those at the top, I thought it more than likely that he would re-enter the shaft and try once again to reach the chamber, but, whether he did or no, once I was in the well, I should be immeasurably better placed to deal with whatever arose, if for no other reason, because to occupy that shaft, yet not dwell upon its undesirability as a retreat is almost impossible.

  “And here let me say that, treasure or no, I was immensely surprised to find that any one of the five could withstand its terrors so well. Of the ugly side of Nature that kind of man usually fights very shy. Ellis, for instance, would never have gone down the well. I knew it wasn’t Rose Noble, and Punter would have cursed; but, whichever of the others it was, he was a brave man, for, if the devil had not been driving, I wouldn’t have gone up that shaft without a light for any money.

  “The fellow descended steadily, and I came down after as fast as I dared.

  “At last I heard him touch water. Then he took a deep breath and floundered out of the shaft. By the time he was on the stage I was still ten steps up. The water had risen, for they had not thought to bail, and the stage was submerged.

  “I made what haste I could, but I heard no colloquy. I imagine that he whistled, but, as I slid into the water, the windlass began to work; and, when I took hold of the stage and could look about me, I saw my man in mid-air, lantern and all.

  “I did not know whether to be sorry or glad, but what was much worse, I did not know what to think. What mystified me was their silence. This seemed unnatural, and I could think of no reason why they should take him up without a word.

  “I had pulled myself on to the stage and was listening to the click of the ratchet and watching the lantern rise, when, all of a sudden, I heard the windlass stop.

  “Then a shot was fired, and, after a moment, I heard a flurry of voices at the top of the well.

  “I assumed that the servants had come to dispute possession of the windlass, and, generally, counter the attack; and I would have given a lot to be above ground, but, all the same, it struck me that, ill placed as I was, I would very much sooner be standing upon the stage than dangling from the end of the chain some forty feet up.

  “I had just come to this conclusion when the man who was in mid-air expressed the same view; at least, from the apprehension with which he invested an oath, I gathered that he felt his position. And, directly I heard his voice, I knew who it was. And the knowledge, as you may imagine, gave me plenty of food for thought.

  “So I stood very still and waited, with my eyes on the lantern and my back against the wall.”

  That was as much as Mansel had to tell, and, since there was but one shot fired at that time, I can take up the story without a break, because I had just sat up and was trying to collect my wits, when I heard a cry and men running, and then the sound of a shot.

  The moon had not yet risen, but I could make out the well and that I was sitting above it, half in and half out of the wood. My wrists were bound behind me, and my head was aching very much.

  There were figures about the well, and I heard Rose Noble’s voice.

  “Who fired?” he said. “We or they?”

  “I did,” said Punter. “They saw me coming and ran.”

  “Pardon me,” said Rose Noble: “they heard you. You don’t know how to move. How many were there?”

  “Two,” said Punter. “Servants, I think; but it may have been the two pups.”

  “That’s right,” said another voice. “They was busy crankin’ the well.”

  Here one of them must have looked down and seen the light, for there was a cry of surprise, and then a buzz of exclamation, of which I could make no sense.

  Then Rose Noble spoke again “Quite so,” he said. “Quite so. If there’s one down there, we’ve got him by the short hairs. And is that as far as you can see? Damn it,” he cried, “lift up — your eyes! THINK! What are they doing by night in this well? You may have a twist for sweet water, but—”

  The rest of his sentence was drowned in a burst of appreciation of his discovery; and I never heard grown men so abandon themselves to their glee, for they shouted and stamped and laughed, like so many lunatics, and nothing that Rose Noble could do could bring them to order.

  In the midst of the flurry another came running up, and then I heard Ellis’s voice.

  As far as I could make out, they were now all five by the well, but, since they all continued to speak at once, I could hear nothing that was said.

  Then Ellis was asked some question, and I heard his reply.

  “I think they’re out,” he said. “There’s no light or sound. When I tried the door, a dog barked: but that was locked, and the ground-floor windows are barred.”

  “There’s three of them somewhere,” said Rose Noble. “Two of them ran from here, and there’s one below.”

  “God give it’s Little Willie,” said Ellis, and sucked in his breath. “I’d like to meet him like this.”

  “Me, too,” said Punter.

  “Big Willie, you mean,” said Rose Noble. “Bag him, and we’ve got the lot. Besides,” he drawled, “if anyone’s thinking of scores, I reckon I’ve one to settle that takes precedence.”

  The oath with which he enforced this dark saying was the most dreadful I’ve ever heard, and I began to strive, like a madman, to free my wrists, for the thought that Mansel was about to deliver himself into such cruel and bloody hands was insupportable.

  “Job,” said Rose Noble, “back to the path and watch. If anything moves, let it have it: we don’t want to be disturbed.”<
br />
  Here one of them found the search-light, and they wasted a minute or two trying to make it light. Then they kept peering down the well and whispering and cursing one another for making a noise. Indeed, I never saw men so plainly out of their element, for they did not seem to remember that those they had put to flight had been using the windlass, or to notice what must have been manifest—that the lantern below them was nowhere near the water: and it was only after a lot of argument that two took hold of the windlass and felt the weight on the chain.

  “It’s loaded,” I heard one say. “’Eavy as lead.”

  At that they all peered over the parapet again, and I did not know what to think, but was greatly afraid that the weight must be Mansel himself.

  Here my attention was diverted to something which stirred by my side. To my relief, it proved to be Hanbury, bound as was I. I managed to move until I had my mouth to his ear, and, as soon as he could receive it, I told him as much as I knew. Except that his head was aching, he did not seem to be hurt, and, when I suggested that I should try to unfasten the cord which was binding his wrists, he turned on his side and put them up without a word. At once I turned my back on him and got to work upon the knots, but I made no progress, and, after a minute or so, his fingers brushed mine aside, and fell to work in their stead.

  At that moment I heard Rose Noble say “Give way,” and at once two men at the windlass began to turn.

  The moon was rising now, and I could see that the others were on their knees or crouching beside the parapet, ready, no doubt, to cover Mansel the moment he reached the top. That they thought this was necessary argues their respect for his arm, for even they must have realized that four men can never have had one at a great disadvantage.

  Hanbury worked feverishly, while I tried to think what to do.

  Unless he were in danger of death, to attempt to assist Mansel until we had arms of some sort, would be the act of a fool. I, therefore, decided that, when once we were free, we must try to reach the kitchen, join forces with the servants, and deliver a counter-attack.