Terror keep
“Why naturally?” she whispered.
“Because the beach is covered with water at high tide and the cave’s
the only place. It is a little too densely populated for me just now.”
She stared at him in amazement.
“Populated? What do you mean?”
“Whisper!” he warned her, for she had raised her voice.
Again he listened.
“I’d like to know how they get down--Daver and that old devil.”
She felt herself going white.
“You mean… Flack?”
He nodded.
“Flack’s only been here about an hour, and how he got down God knows.
I suppose our fellows are patrolling the house?”
“The police?” she asked in astonishment.
“Flack’s headquarters--didn’t you know it? I suppose you wouldn’t. I
thought Reeder--I mean Mr. Reeder--told you everything.”
He was rather a talkative young man, more than a little exuberant at
finding himself alive, and with good reason.
“I’ve been dodging in and out the cave all the morning. They’ve got a
sentry on duty up there”--he nodded towards Siltbury. “It’s a
marvellous organisation. They held up a gold convoy this morning and
got away with it--I heard the old man telling his daughter. The funny
thing is that though he wasn’t there to superintend the steal, his
plan worked out like clockwork. It’s a curious thing, any crook will
work for old Flack. He’s employed the cleverest people in the
business, and Ravini is the only man that ever sold him.”
“Do you know what has happened to Mr. Ravini?” she asked, and he shook
his head.
“He’s dead, I expect. There are a lot of things in the cave that I
haven’t seen, and some that I have. They’ve got a petrol boat inside…
as big as a church!… the boat, I mean… hush!”
Again he shrank against the cliff. Voices were coming nearer and
nearer. Perhaps it was the peculiar acoustics of the cave which gave
him the illusion that the speakers were standing almost at their
elbow. Brill recognised the thin, harsh voice of the old man and
grinned again, but it was not a pleasant smile to see.
“There’s something wrong, something damnably wrong. What is it, Olga?”
“Nothing, father.”
Margaret recognised the voice of Olga Crewe.
“You have been very good and very patient, my love, and I would not
have planned to come out, but I wanted to see you settled in life. I
am very ambitious for you, Olga.”
A pause, and then:
“Yes, father.”
Olga Crewe’s voice was a little dispirited, but apparently the old man
did not notice this.
“You are to have the finest husband in the land, my dear. You shall
have a house that any princess would envy. It shall be of white marble
with golden cupolas… you shall be the richest woman in the land, Olga.
I have planned this for you. Night after night as I lay in bed in that
dreadful place I said to myself: ‘I must go out and settle Olga’s
future.’ That is why I came out--only for that reason. All my life I
have worked for you.”
“Mother says----” began the girl.
“Pah!” Old John Flack almost spat the word. “An unimaginative
commoner, with the soul of a housekeeper! She has looked after you
well? Good. All the better for her. I would never have forgiven her if
she had neglected you. And Daver? He has been respectful? He has given
you all the money you wanted?”
“Yes, father.”
Margaret thought she detected a catch in the girl’s voice.
“Daver is a good servant. I will make his fortune. The scum of the
gutter--but faithful. I told him to be your watch-dog. I am pleased
with him. Be patient a little while longer. I am going to see all my
dreams come true.”
The voice of the madman was tender, so transfigured by love and pride
that it seemed to be a different man who was speaking. Then his voice
changed again.
“The Colonel will be back to-night. He is a trustworthy man… Gregory
also. They shall be paid like ambassadors. You must bear with me a
little while, Olga. All these unpleasant matters will be cleared up.
Reeder we shall dispose of. To-morrow at high tide we leave…”
The sound of the voices receded until they became an indistinguishable
murmur. Brill looked round at the girl and smiled again.
“Can you beat him?” he asked admiringly. “Crazy as a barn coot! But he
has the cleverest brain in London: even Reeder says that. God! I’d
give ten years’ salary and all my chance of promotion for a gun!”
“What shall we do?” she asked after a long silence.
“Stay here till the tide turns, then we’ll have to take our chance in
the cave. We’d be smashed to pieces if we waited on the beach.”
“There’s no way up the cliff?”
He shook his head.
“There’s a way out through the cave if we can only find it,” he said.
“One way? A dozen! I tell you that this cliff is like a honeycomb. One
of these days it will collapse like froth on a glass of beer! I heard
Daver say so, and the mad fellow agreed. Mad? I wish I had his brain!
He’s going to dispose of Reeder, is he? The cemeteries are full of
people who’ve tried to dispose of Reeder!”
CHAPTER XVII
/It/ seemed an eternity before the tide turned and began slowly to
make its noisy way up the beach. Most of the time she was alone in the
little recess, for Brill made periodical reconnaissances into the
mouth of the cave. She would have accompanied him, but he explained
the difficulties she would find.
“It is quite dark until the tide comes in, and then we get the
reflected light from the water and you can see your way about quite
easily.”
“Is there anybody there?”
He nodded.
“Two chaps who are tinkering about with a boat. She’s high and dry at
present on the bed of the channel, but she floats out quite easily.”
The first whirl of water was around them when he came out from the
cave and beckoned her.
“Keep close to the wall,” he whispered, “and hold fast to my sleeve.”
She obeyed and followed him and they slipped round to the left,
following a fairly level path. Before they had come into the cave, he
had warned her that under no circumstances must she speak, not even
whisper, except through hollowed hands placed against his ear. The
properties of the cave were such that the slightest sound was
magnified.
They went a long way to the left, and she thought that they were
following a passage; it was not until later that she discovered the
huge dimensions of this water-hollowed cavern. After a while he
reached back and touched her right hand, as a signal that he was
turning to the right.
Whilst they were waiting on the beach he had drawn a rough plan in the
sand, and assured her that the ledge on which they now walked offered
no obstacle. He pressed her hand to warn her he was stopping, and,
bending down, he groped at the rocky wall where he had left his shoes.
Up and up they went; she began to see dimly now, though the cave
remained in darkness and she was unable with any accuracy to pick out
distant objects. His arm came back and she found herself guided into a
deep niche, and he patted her shoulder to tell her she could sit down.
They had to wait another hour before a thin sheet of water showed at
the mouth of the cave, and then, as if by magic, the interior was
illuminated by a ghostly green light. The greatest height of the cave
it was impossible to tell from where she sat, because just above them
was a low and jagged roof. The farther side of the cave was distant
some fifty yards, and here the rocky wall seemed to run straight down
from the roof to the sandy bottom. It was under this that she saw the
motor boat, a long grey craft, entirely devoid of any superstructure.
It lay heeled over on its side, and she saw a figure walk along the
canted deck and disappear down a hatchway. The farther the water came
into the cave, the brighter grew the light. He circled his two hands
about her ear and whispered:
“Shall we stay here or try to find a way out?” and she replied in like
fashion:
“Let us try.”
He nodded, and silently led the way. It was no longer necessary for
her to hold on to him. The path they were following had undoubtedly
been shaped by human hands. Every dozen yards was a rough-hewn block
of stone put across the path step fashion. They were ascending, and
now had the advantage of being screened by the cave from people on the
boat, for on their right rose a jagged screen of rock.
They had not progressed a hundred yards before screen and wall joined,
and beyond this point progress seemed impossible. The passage was in
darkness. Apparently Brill had explored the way, for, taking the girl
by the arm, he moved to the right, feeling along the uneven wall. The
path beneath was more difficult, and the rocky floor made walking a
pain. She was near to exhaustion when she saw, ahead of her, an
irregular patch of grey light. Apparently this curious gallery led
back to the far end of the cave, but before they reached the opening
Brill signalled her to halt.
“You’d better sit down,” he whispered. “We can put on our shoes.”
The stockings that she had knotted about her waist were still wet, and
her shoes two soggy masses, but she was glad to have some protection
for her feet. Whilst she was putting them on, Brill crept forward to
the opening and took observation.
The water which had now flooded the cave was some fifty feet below
him, and a few paces would bring them to a broad ledge of rock which
formed a natural landing for a flight of steps leading down from the
misty darkness of the roof to water-level. The steps were cut in the
side of the bare rock; they were about two feet in breadth and were
unprotected even by a makeshift handrail. It would be, he saw, a
nerve-racking business for the girl to attempt the climb, and he was
not even sure that it would be worth the attempt. That they led to one
of the many exits from the cave, he knew, because he had seen people
climbing up and down those steps and disappearing in the darkness at
the top. Possibly the stairs broadened nearer the roof, but even so it
was a very severe test for a half-starved girl, who he guessed was on
the verge of hysteria; he was not quite certain that he himself would
not be attacked by vertigo if he made the attempt.
There was a space behind the steps that brought him to the edge of the
rock, part of the floor of the cave, and it was this way that he
intended to guide Margaret. There was no sound; far away to his right
the men on the launch were apparently absorbed in their work, and,
returning, he told the girl his plan, and she accompanied him to the
foot of the steps. At the sight of that terrifying stairway she
shuddered.
“I couldn’t possibly climb those,” she whispered as he pointed upwards
into the gloom.
“I have an idea there is a sort of balcony running the width of the
cave, and it was from there I was thrown,” he said. “I have reason to
know that there is a fairly deep pool at the foot of it. When the tide
is up, the water reaches the back wall--that is where I found myself
when I came to my senses.”
“Is there any other way from the cave?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I’m blest if I know. I’ve only had a very hasty look round, but there
seems to be a sort of tunnel at the far end. It’s worth while
exploring--nobody is about, and we are too far from the boat for them
to see us.”
They waited for a while, listening, and then, Brill walking ahead,
they passed the foot of the stairs and followed a stony path which, to
the girl’s relief, broadened as they progressed.
Margaret Belman never forgot that nightmare walk, with the towering
rock face on her left, the straight drop to the floor of the cave on
her right hand.
They had now reached the limit of the rocky chamber, and found
themselves confronted by the choice of four openings. There was one
immediately facing them, another--and this was also accessible--about
forty feet to the right, and two others which apparently could not be