CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
Doubledick on Duty
It was a chill, dreary afternoon. The sky weighed upon earth and sealike a canopy of lead. The wind moaned and sighed about the roof; thetrees seemed to shiver in their nakedness. From over the cliff came thehollow murmur of the breakers. Northward Penwarden's cottage stoodlonely and forlorn; eastward stretched the dark gloomy waste ofmoorland; southward the village huddled in its cleft as if for warmth, afew thin streamers of smoke flying inland on the wind. Nearer the DowerHouse a score of men were engaged in erecting sheds and machinery forTrevanion's miners, and the sound of their voices came in mournfulcadence to Dick's ears.
For some time there was scarcely a movement on the face of the country.Presently a carrier's cart rumbled down the road, stopping at the DowerHouse. Through his spy-glass Dick saw Susan's bright face smiling asshe spoke to the carrier, who conveyed into the house boxes, baskets,and packets of various shapes and sizes. Dick remembered that on themorrow Trevanion was entertaining a party of friends to celebrate thereopening of the mines. He was miserably conscious of the contrastbetween his cousin's lot and his own. Why, he asked himself, had Fatedealt so hardly with the Trevanions of the Towers? The cart moved on,no doubt to the Five Pilchards, where the carrier would refresh himselfbefore starting on his return journey to Truro. The workmen shoulderedtheir tools and tramped after it, and when they had disappeared the landwas left in its former immobility.
At length, as the gloom was deepening with the dusk, Dick descried, somedistance to his left, two figures moving slowly along, one towards himon the high road, the other away from him, crossing a ploughed fieldtowards a footpath that led from the road, some distance behind, acrossthe moor. The sky was so lowering that Dick could not at first, eventhrough his glass, identify the men. The receding figure dwindled, andwas by-and-by lost to sight; the advancing one increased, and becamerecognisable by its crookedness as that of Pennycomequick, the cobbler.But he bore no bundle of leather. He passed the Towers in the directionof the village, and soon he too had vanished.
Dick could not doubt that the other man was the farmer, Jimmy Nancarrow.The path into which he had struck led to his farm. Where had they comefrom? Not far along the high road, otherwise the farmer would have leftit when he reached the path, and have gone the easiest and shortest wayhome; unless, indeed, he had remained with the cobbler for company'ssake. Dick smiled at this thought. Pennycomequick was the most crabbedand crossgrained man in the village; whereas Nancarrow was a hearty,jovial fellow, not the kind of man to walk an extra half-mile and trampover a ploughed field for the pleasure of the cobbler's society. Itseemed more probable that the men had come to the road together fromsome adjacent spot, and that the farmer had left it at once.
Cold and hungry after his hour of watching, Dick was about to descendinto the house when he caught sight of Tonkin's lugger beating up fromnorthward against the south-west wind, and evidently making for theharbour. He gazed at her through his glass. Tonkin and three other menwere aboard her. A large fishing-net was heaped on the deck. It was astrange coincidence that these movements on sea and land should havebeen contemporaneous. Dick went down the stairs to the living-room,then vacant, lay down in front of the fire, and ruminated on what he hadseen, until the warmth sent him to sleep.
When he awoke, his father was in the room. Dick considered whether heshould speak about the clues which he believed he had discovered, anddecided that, since nothing was as yet certain, he would keep silenceuntil he had carried his investigation further. To search for thetracks of the two men, or to follow them up if found, would beimpossible that evening; but this was to be his task as soon as therewas clear daylight on the morrow.
"Mr. Mildmay is going to the randy at the Dower House to-morrow, Ihear," said the Squire.
"Is he, sir?" replied Dick, surprised.
"Yes; I heard it from Mr. Polwhele, who is going too."
"Mr. Mildmay is almost a stranger, and 'tis rather a dull life for himbetween whiles; but Mr. Polwhele knew John Trevanion years ago, did henot, sir?"
"Oh! he is going as watch-dog. He suspects that the invitation may be atrick to get them out of the way while the smugglers run a cargo, andgot Mr. Mildmay to promise to leave promptly at nine. He accompanies himto see that he is not detained."
"Nothing has been heard of old Joe, Father?"
"Nothing at all. I incline to think that we shall soon see him again.With Mr. Polwhele on the alert, and Mr. Mildmay also, let us hope, therecan be neither run nor shipment, and the rascals will tire of keepingguard on the old man."
Again Dick was on the point of disclosing what he knew, but wasrestrained by the same feeling that suspicion must become certaintybefore any steps were taken.
Next morning, waking before it was light, he rose and dressed, rousedSam, and set off with him to investigate the neighbourhood of the spotwhere he had first seen Nancarrow and Pennycomequick. The air was crispand clear, with the first nip of frost, giving promise of a finemorning. There had been rain in the night, but a thin film of icecovered the ruts and pools, and the boys might have been tracked in thedarkness by the slight crackling under their feet as the icy layer gaveway.
The night was yielding by the time they reached the high-road near thepoint where Nancarrow had left it. The farmer's tracks were easilydiscoverable in the ploughed field, for, having been filled up by rain,the prints of his large boots formed a series of white and regularpatches in the frost-besprinkled ground. A covey of snipe rose into theair from the sedgy border of a pool at the side of the field, and Sampointed out a fox with lowered brush slinking along after them beside ahedge of brambles.
"We have other foxes to run to earth--two-legged foxes," said Dick, whohad told Sam on the way the occasion and the object of their expedition.Sam had a quick eye for the tracks of birds and beasts, but when theyhad traced the farmer's footprints back to the road, even he was at aloss. The rain had washed the hard surface of the highway, andobliterated the tracks of footfarers.
Finding their examination of the road likely to prove fruitless, theyscrambled through the hedge on the left, and crossed into the rugged anduneven ground that lay between the road and Penwarden's cottage. Therewere no footprints on the path that ran past the cottage, nor on thecoarse grass with which the earth was covered. Returning to the road,they walked for a quarter of a mile further, until they reached thefootpath which, in the ordinary course of things, the farmer would havetaken. They failed to light upon any more traces.
"I'll work backwards along the other side under the hedge," said Dick."Nancarrow must have crossed the road. You go back to where we saw hisfootprints, and I'll keep pace with you. No; we'll change parts; I caneasily find the prints; your eyes are quicker than mine to discover newones."
"That's true," said Sam, gratified by this testimony to his powers."Wend along, then, Maister Dick, and holla when you come to 'em."
In a few minutes Dick called to Sam to halt. The latter bent towards theroad, and scrutinised its hard surface minutely, for several yards ineach direction beyond the point opposite to that where Dick stood.
"Neither heel nor toe mark do I see," he said at length. "The road bewashed clean."
He stood erect and gazed about him in a puzzled way. All at once hiseyes became fixed on one portion of the hedge. Stepping towards it, hestooped and peered among the stiff rime-encrusted leaves.
"Hoy!" he called.
"Hush!" said Dick, hastening towards him. "Speak low; there may be someone about. What have you found?"
"Look' ee see," replied Sam in a mysterious whisper.
Dick stooped; there was a patch of foliage less thick than the hedgearound it; some of the leaves had apparently been shaken off, and hereand there twigs were broken.
"Some man, fox, or other creeping thing hev squeezed hisself throughtheer," said Sam. "We'll do the same."
He thrust his body against
the hedge, which yielded to his pressure, andwithout much effort he passed through to the other side.
"Dear life!" he whispered, "here be the line o' fortune. Come through,Maister."
Dick followed him. The softer earth on the seaward side of the hedge,more receptive than the highway, showed distinct traces of the passageof clumping boots. Some were recent; some appeared to be of slightlyolder date. Looking along the ground towards the sea, they saw that thegrass was crushed over a width of two or three feet, though many moregoings and comings were needed to make it a beaten path.
This was a discovery indeed.
"We will follow it up," said Dick.
They set off side by side. Dick was surprised to find how frequently,and to all appearance erratically, the track wound to right and left.But after a few moments it became clear that the deviations were notaccidental, but purposeful. The general surface of the ground was veryuneven, here a bump, there a hollow; now a patch of gorse, then astretch bare of all but grass. Of these features advantage had beentaken by those whose passing had made the track. They had chosen, notthe easiest route, but that on which they would be least visible fromthe direction of the village. Dick noticed that nowhere along the pathwere the towers of his home in sight, although a few yards to right orleft they were completely in view. This explained how it was thatPennycomequick and Nancarrow, if they had come this way from the cliffto the road, had escaped his observation from the parapet.
They had followed the track for perhaps half a mile when the ivy-cladruins of the chapel above St. Cuby's Well came into view. Instantlyrecollections, suspicions, deductions linked themselves in Dick's mind.Penwarden had mentioned a hiding-place which the smugglers were believedto have on the shore, but which was seldom used, and had never beendiscovered. The old mine, with its abandoned workings, would form anideal temporary store for contraband goods. But how was access to itobtained from the sea? Not by the entrance to the seal cave, for thiswas unsuitable in itself for a storehouse, and the work of hoisting thetubs up the wall and over the ledge would be very laborious. Dickremembered the transverse gallery which he had passed on his way throughthe adit to the well; probably the hiding-place would be found at theshoreward end of that, though it was strange that the pertinacity of therevenue officers had never discovered it. Another surprisingcircumstance was the choice of the well as the channel for theconveyance of goods between the shore and the country. The horror anddread in which it was held by the villagers had seemed genuine; yet, ifhis reasoning was correct, the fear of ghosts had not been so potent asto prevent the smugglers from entering it. Possibly there was anothershaft connecting the hiding-place with the upper ground; but rememberingthe strutted adit he had traversed, Dick felt sure that the goods werebrought to the surface by way of the well. The explanation of thispuzzling fact did not occur to him till later.
As they approached the well the boys proceeded with great caution.
"I believe they have got Penwarden down there," said Dick. "Somebody isguarding him; somebody may be watching in the chapel. If we are seen itwill be awkward for us, and perhaps still more for old Joe."
"Daze it all, we could run to the Towers and tell of all their wickeddoings. But do 'ee think they bean't afeard o' the ghosteses?"
"They don't appear to be."
"Dash my simple soul, I see their manin', I do b'lieve. 'Afeard o'their own bogeys,' says Maister John. They do be the ghosteses theirown selves. To think o' their deceivin' ways, tarrifyin' poor simplefolks like you and me wi' their feignin'!"
They spoke in whispers, peering ahead, listening for sounds. But therewas nothing to alarm eyes or ears, and they came at length beneath theshade of the masonry, and stood on the brink of the well. Here therewere clear traces of recent movements--traces which might have escapedthem had they come unsuspectingly, but which were evident to theirprepared perception. The herbage was slightly trodden; the topmoststaple was not so thickly cased with rust as it had been at their lastvisit; and the mossy coating of the stonework at the edge was darkenedat two places, about two feet apart, where the hands of men ascendingwould have rested for support.
"We must go down and explore the adits," said Dick.
"But we couldn't see a hand's length ahead of us," replied Sam, fumblingin his pocket. "No; there's no candle; have you got one?"
"No. 'Tis a pity. We had better go back for breakfast and come againby-and-by. Just take a look round and see that nobody is about."
Sam left the slight hollow in which the ruins were situated, and mountedto a spot whence the ground sloping up to Penwarden's cottage, and thewhole expanse southward to the Towers, could be scanned. No one was insight, but the boys considered it prudent to return by the road, as theyhad come, and made the best of their way back. The hour was stillearly; there were neither vehicles nor pedestrians visible; and theyarrived at the Towers considerably excited by their discovery, and witha healthy appetite for breakfast.
While they were still engaged in that meal, John Trevanion issued fromthe front door of the Dower House. He wore an old shooting-coat andleggings, and carried a fowling-piece slung over his shoulder. Leavinghis own grounds, he skirted those of the Towers, gained the road, walkedalong it for some distance, then struck into the path leading pastPenwarden's cottage in the direction of St. Cuby's Well. He saunteredeasily along, and although he had apparently come out to shoot, he wasnot accompanied by a dog, nor did he proceed with that intentwatchfulness which a sportsman usually displays.
When he arrived on the crest of rising ground beyond which lay the wellat the distance of a quarter-mile, he paused, and looked round in alldirections, as a man might look who is either seeking game or admiring alandscape. Then he resumed his walk, but at a much brisker pace thanbefore. On coming within a hundred yards of the ruins, he began withapparent carelessness to whistle a tune. In a few moments the mass ofivy hanging before a doorway parted, and a man appeared. Trevanionthrew a swift glance behind him, then advanced, joined the man who wasawaiting him, and vanished with him behind the ivy.
"All well, Doubledick?" he asked.
"Iss, well enough, though I shall say 'praise be' with a feelin' heartwhen 'tis all over."
"_You_'re not afraid of bogeys, Doubledick?"
"Not I. But 'tis lonesome, and never a soul to change a word with."
"Jake Tonkin did not stay with you, then?"
"No. 'A would hev if so be I'd axed un; but when his feyther landed meI seed they two chuckleheads afeard o' their own bogeys--hee! hee! 'tisyour sayin', Maister John. I wouldn't lose my fame wi' the likes o'they, so when Jake axed should he bide, I answered un bold as brass, Iassure 'ee. Not that I wouldn' ha' been glad o' company, for 'tis a'nation long time from four o'clock yesterday till midnight to-day."
"It is, but 'twas right not to change guard too often. The less comingand going the better, even by sea. Pennycomequick and Nancarrowreturned on the lugger, of course?"
"Well, no. The sea was choppy, and the wind stiff agen 'em, so theycome this way to save time and squeamishness."
"Chuckleheads, as you say. I hope they were careful not to be seen."
"Trust 'em for that. Nanky 'ud go straight to farm, and Penny's crookedframe 'ud make nobody mispicious."
"Well, twelve hours will see the end of it. All is planned, and will golike clockwork. The officers are coming at six; they talk of leaving atnine, and I shall not hinder them."
"Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick.
"Tonkin and his crew will do their part. They won't be back in time tolend a hand here, but we have enough without them. The wind holds; thecutter will not trouble us; and we can go to church to-morrow and sing'Te Deum' with some satisfaction."
"Ay, true, 'twill be summat noble to talk about to-morrer in churchyardamong the tombs."
"Well, I'll go and bag a brace of woodcock on the moor. I'll look in onNancarrow, too; 'tis just as well to be sure he met nobody."
Trevanion moved to the ancient
doorway and pulled aside the screen ofivy. But he let it fall quickly and stepped back.
"Look here, Doubledick," he said in a whisper.
Doubledick went to his side, and peered out through the foliage. Twofigures were approaching the spot, not by the track from the road, butacross the higher ground. Each carried a fowling-piece.
"Come out shooting, like me," whispered Trevanion.
"They didn' see 'ee?" said Doubledick anxiously.
"Not they. If they had seen me they wouldn't have followed. The lastperson young Dick would wish to meet would be his cousin."
Themselves concealed behind the ivy, the two men could watch thenew-comers without the risk of being seen. They expected the boys topass by, as nine villagers out of ten would have done, and theexpression on their faces changed when Dick and Sam came directlytowards the ruins, and, what was still more surprising, straight towardsthe well. Anger was written on Trevanion's countenance, and alarm onDoubledick's. The boys stood for a moment at the brink of the well.Then Dick, telling Sam to follow him immediately, kindled the candle inhis hatband, lowered himself over the edge, and began to descend.
A muffled curse broke from Doubledick's lips. He reached for Trevanion'sgun, but Trevanion, now smiling, withdrew it, and signed to theinn-keeper to be silent. They remained where they stood for a minute ortwo after Sam had disappeared, then went forward to the well and peereddown into the depths. The shaft was in darkness. It was clear that theboys had entered the adit.
There was no one to hear the short dialogue that ensued between the twomen standing close together at the head of the well. Apparently it wasof agreeable tenor, for both smiled, though hardly with amusement.Doubledick took from his pocket a strip of something soft and black,removed his hat, and tied to his face a mask of crape. Then, with nolight to guide his footsteps, he made his way downward into the shaft asthe boys had done. When he had entirely disappeared, Trevanionshouldered his gun, and sauntered towards the road. Crossing this, hetramped over the moor towards Nancarrow's farm. Rather more than anhour later he was overtaken on the Truro road by Mr. Carlyon, who wasriding his cob towards the village.
"THERE WAS NO ONE TO HEAR THE SHORT DIALOGUE THAT ENSUEDAT THE HEAD OF THE WELL."]
"Fine birds, vicar," said Trevanion, holding up a brace of woodcock anda moor-hen. "They'll look smaller on my table a few hours hence."
"Good morning, Mr. Trevanion," said the parson, and rode by.