CHAPTER XXVIII
VOICES IN THE DARK
I looked round the cave with mingled feelings. The place itself was,as a natural wonder, superb; but to me as a treasure hunter it was adisappointment. In no way did it answer the description of Don deEscoban. However I did not despair; there were many openings, and someone of them might bring me to the required spot. I passed to the centreof the cavern and looked round. As I did so, I got a momentary fright,for several of the openings were so much alike that only for my rope Iwould not have been able to distinguish that by which I had come in. Thelesson of this shock should not be lost; I must make a mark by which Icould distinguish this entrance from the others. No matter where theother openings might lead to, this alone, so far as I could tell, wasthe one which could lead me to safety. With a heavy pebble I hammeredaway at the right side of the entrance till I had chipped off a piece ofrock. I could tell this place again by sight or by touch. Then I wentround the cave examining the various branches. It was here that I beganto feel the disadvantage of my imperfect light. I wanted some kind oftorch which would give sufficient light to see the whole place at once.One could get no fit idea of proportion by merely making the littlepatch of dim light from the bicycle lamp travel along the rocky walls.I felt that all this time Marjory must be anxious about me, doubly sosince she had no clue to where I had gone. So I determined to come backat once, and postpone the thorough examination of the place until Ishould have proper appliances. Accordingly I made my way back to theplace where Marjory anxiously awaited me.
Her reception of me was sweet and tender. It was so natural that itsforce was hardly manifest. It may have been that my mind was so full ofmany things that I did not receive her caress with the same singlenessof devotion as was my wont. Now that I was assured of her love for me,and since I had called her my wife, my love lost its element of anxiety.It is this security which marks the difference of a husband's lovefrom that of a lover; doubt is an element of passion, but not of trueconjugal love. It was only afterwards, when I was alone, and Marjory'senchanting presence was not with me, that I began to realise throughthe lenses of memory and imagination the full sweetness of my wife'sgreeting in her joy at the assurance of my safety. It took a veryfew moments to tell her all the details of my adventure, and of theconclusion which I had come to as to the need for postponement. Shethoroughly agreed with me in the necessity; and we then and theresettled that it would be wiser for her to go back to Crom to-night. Wewere to settle later, when all preparations had been made, when weshould again attempt the investigation of the cave.
When I had put on dry clothes, we set out for Crom. We walked ourbicycles past Whinnyfold, and were grateful for the unique peculiarityof that village, an absence of dogs. We did not light our lamps till wegot on the Peterhead road; and we put them out when we got into themesh of crossroads near Crom. In the wood Marjory once more resumed herfootman's coat, and we set out for the castle. On our way we had agreedthat it would be best to try the other side of the castle where it wasnot likely that any stranger would attempt to approach, as there wasonly the mossy foot track through the wood by the old chapel. In thelater days both Marjory and I had used our opportunities of finding newpaths through the wood round the castle; and we had already marked downseveral tracks which we could follow even in the dark with a littlecare. This was almost a necessity, as we had noticed of late traces ofthe watchers round the main gateway through which all in the castle wereaccustomed to come and go.
The path which we took to-night required a long detour of the wood, asit lay right on the other side from the entrance gate. It was only anarrow grass path, beginning between two big trees which stood closelytogether not very far from one of the flanking mounds or hillocks whichhere came closer down to the castle than any of the others. The pathwound in and out among the tree trunks, till finally it debouched at theback of the old chapel which stood on a rising rock, hidden in the wood,some three hundred feet from the west side of the castle. It was avery old chapel, partly in ruins and antedating the castle by so manycenturies that it was manifestly a relic of the older castle on whosesite Crom was built. It may have been used for service early in thesixteenth century; but it could not even have been in repair, or evenweather-proof, for there were breaches at the end of it in which hadtaken root seedlings which were now forest trees. There was one old oakwhose girth and whose gnarled appearance could not have been achievedwithin two centuries. Not merely the roots but the very trunk andbranches had pushed aside the great stones which lay firmly andmassively across the long low windows peculiar to the place. Thesewindows were mere longitudinal slits in the wall, a sort of organisedinterstices between great masses of stone. Each of the three on eitherside of the chapel was about two feet high and some six feet in length;one stone support, irregularly placed, broke the length of each. Therewas some kind of superstition amongst the servants regarding this place.None of them would under any circumstances go near it at night; and noteven in daytime if they could decently excuse themselves.
In front of the chapel the way was very much wider. Originally there hadbeen a clear space leading through the wood: but centuries of neglecthad done their work. From fallen pine-cone, and beech-mast, and acorn,here and there a tree had grown which now made of the original broadalleyway a number of tortuous paths between the towering trunks. Oneof the reasons why we had determined to use this path was that it wasnoiseless. Grass and moss and rusty heaps of pine needles betrayed nofootfall; with care one could come and go unheard. If once she could getthrough the wood unnoticed, Marjory might steal up to the doorway in theshadow of the castle and let herself in, unobserved.
We went hand in hand slowly and cautiously, hardly daring to breathe;and after a time that seemed endless came out at the back of the chapel.Then we stole quietly along by the southern wall. As we passed the firstwindow, Marjory who was ahead of me stopped and gripped my hand so hardthat I knew there must be some good cause for her agitation. She pressedback so that we both stood away from the window opening which we couldjust see dimly outlined on the granite wall, the black vacancy showingagainst the lichen-covered stone. Putting her lips close to my ear shewhispered:
"There are people there. I heard them talking!" My blood began to runcold. In an instant all the danger in which Marjory stood rushed backupon me. Of late we had been immune from trouble, so that danger whichwe did not know of seemed to stand far off; but now the place and thehour, the very reputation of the old chapel, all sent back in a floodthe fearful imaginings which had assailed me since first I had known ofthe plot against Marjory. Instinctively my first act was to draw my wifeclose to me and hold her tight. Even in that moment it was a joy to meto feel that she let herself come willingly. For a few moments we stoodsilent, with our hearts beating together; then she whispered to meagain:
"We must listen. We may perhaps find out who they are, and what theyintend."
Accordingly we drew again close to the opening, Marjory standing underthe aperture, and I beside it as I found I could hear better in thisposition. The stooping made the coursing of my own blood sound in myears. The voice which we first heard was a strong one, for even whentoned to a whisper it was resonant as well as harsh and raucous:
"Then it's settled we wait till we get word from Whiskey Tommy. How longis it likely to be?" The answering voice, also a whisper, was smooth andoily, but penetrating:
"Can't say. He has to square the Dutchy: and they take a lot of sugar,his kind. They're mighty pious when they're right end up; but Lordy!when they're down they're holy terrors. This one is a peach. But he'sclever--I will say that; and he knows it. I'm almost sorry we took himin now, though he is so clever. He'd better mind out, though, for noneof us love him; and if he goes back on us, or does not come up to themark--" He stopped, and the sentence was finished by a click which Iknew was the snapping of the spring of a bowie knife when it is thrownopen.
"And quite right too. I'm on if need be!" and there was another click.The answering voice was strong
and resolute, but somehow, for all thewicked intent spoken, it did not sound so evil as the other. I lookedat Marjory, and saw through the darkness that her eyes were blazing. Myheart leaped again; the old pioneer spirit was awake in her, and somehowmy dread for her was not the same. She drew close to me and whisperedagain:
"Be ready to get behind the trees at the back, I hear them rising." Shewas evidently right, for now the voices were easier to hear since themouths of the speakers were level with the window. A voice, a new one,said:
"We must git now. Them boys of Mac's 'll be on their round soon." Witha quick movement Marjory doubled under the window and came to me. Shewhispered as before:
"Let us get behind trees in front. We may see them coming through thedoor, and it will be well to know them." So motioning to her to go onthe side we were on, I slipped round the back, and turning by the otherside of the chapel, and taking care to duck under the windows, hidmyself behind one of the great oak trees in front, to the north of theoriginal clearing. From where I stood I could see Marjory behind a treeacross the glade. From where we were we could see any one who leftthe chapel; for one or other of us commanded the windows, and we bothcommanded the ruined doorway. We waited, and waited, and waited, afraidto stir hand or foot lest we should give a warning to our foes. The timeseemed interminable; but no one came out and we waited on, not daring tostir.
Presently I became conscious of two forms stealing between the trees uptowards the chapel. I glided further round behind my sheltering tree,and, throwing an anxious glance toward Marjory, was rejoiced to see thatshe was doing the same. Closer and closer the two forms came. There wasnot the faintest sound from them. Approaching the door-way from eitherside they peered in, listened, and then stole into the darkness betweenthe tree trunks which marked the breach in the wall. I ventured out andslipped behind a tree somewhat nearer; Marjory on her side did the same,and at last we stood behind the two nearest trees and could both notethe doorway and each of us the windows on one side. Then there was awhisper from within; somehow I expected to hear a pistol shot or to seea rush of men out through the jagged black of the doorway. Still nothinghappened. Then a match was struck within. In the flash I could see theface of the man who had made the light--the keen-eyed messenger of SamAdams. He held up the light, and to our amazement we could see that,except for the two men whom we had seen go in, the chapel was empty.
Marjory flitted over to me and whispered:
"Don't be afraid. Men who light up like that aren't likely to stumbleover us, if we are decently careful." She was right. The two men, seeingthat the place was empty, seemed to cast aside their caution. They cameout without much listening, stole behind the chapel, and set off alongthe narrow pathway through the wood. Marjory whispered to me:
"Now is my chance to get in before they come back. You may come with meto the edge of the wood. When I get in, dear, go back home as fast asyou can. You must be tired and want rest. Come to-morrow as soon as youcan. We have lots to talk over. That chapel must be seen to. There issome mystery there which is bigger than anything we have struck yet.It's no use going into it now; it wants time and thinking over!" We werewhispering as we walked along, still keeping carefully in the shadow ofthe trees. Behind the last tree Marjory kissed me. It was her own act,and as impulsively I clasped her tight in my arms, she nestled in to meas though she felt that she belonged there. With a mutual 'good-night'and a whispered blessing she stole away into the shadow. I saw her reachthe door and disappear through it.
I went back to Cruden with my mind in a whirl of thoughts and feelings.Amongst them love was first; with all the unspeakable joy which comeswith love that is returned.
I felt that I had a right to call Marjory my very own now. Our dangersand hopes and sympathies made a tie which seemed even closer than thattied in the church at Carlisle.