“I shouldn’t think it a capital go at all,” replied John. “And whatever may happen to me, you will be protected by Stogumber. You have only to do precisely as I bid you, and we shall come about famously.”

“Yes, well, maybe we got different notions about that!” retorted Chirk. “Seems to me your notion o’ what’s famous ain’t by any means mine!”

“Be quiet! A fine rank-rider you are, to turn as melancholy as a gibed cat at the hint of a risk!”

“Hint? Hint of a risk?” interpolated Chirk indignantly.

“That’s all. Now, you listen carefully to what you must do, and see you don’t forget anything!”

“I thought it wouldn’t be long before you took it into your head I was one of them troopers of yours,” commented Chirk rebelliously.

“If any trooper of mine ever argued with me as you do, I’d have him under guard before the cat could lick her ear! Stubble it! I’ve told Stogumber that you have found the gold, but that I would not let you divulge the hiding-place to him until my plans were completed. I told him also that Stornaway is nothing but a sapskull, and knows nothing of the robbery. Whether he believes that or not is no matter: he will believe it. You will tell him that Stornaway, when it was shown to him that Coate had been using him as a mask, readily agreed to use his best endeavours to discover where the treasure had been hidden, and—like you!—suspected the cavern might be the place. You will then tell him that I have baited my trap, and you will take him to the cavern. He can borrow the landlord’s cob, and you must both be there a full hour before eight o’clock. You will see fast enough if Coate has entered the cavern. If he has not, take the horses well beyond it, and tether them, and yourselves find cover within sight of the cave-mouth. And then wait! When Coate enters the cavern, which I am persuaded he will do as soon as I am safely inside it, follow him, but not so close that he will see or hear you until he has reached the main chamber. Do you perfectly understand? It will not suit me at all for Stogumber to arrest him before that moment.”

“Out of course it wouldn’t!” agreed Chirk, with deceptive cordiality. “Why, if Stogumber and me was to do the trick afore he got into the cavern, you wouldn’t be able to play at hide-and-seek in the dark with as nasty a pair o’ cutthroat culls as ever I see!”

“Exactly so!” said John gravely. “But, you see, I have very good reason for what I am doing. Don’t forget that I shall be expecting Coate, and so shall not be taken by surprise! Unless he can see me clearly, he won’t risk a shot at me, and you know how little light two lanterns afforded us in that place! If it comes to a struggle, why, I fancy I should be able to hold my own against the fellow! Come! Promise me that you’ll do precisely as you’re bid! If you don’t, you may well bring all to ruin!”

After a long pause, and with every sign of reluctance, Chirk gave him the required promise. John gripped his hand, and got up. “Excellent fellow! I’m off to snatch a few hours’ sleep now: I’ll rouse you at six o’clock.”

There were several points on which Mr. Chirk would have liked to have received some further information, but he had by this time reached a very fair estimate of Captain Staple’s character, and he wasted no time in asking questions which, he gloomily knew, would only be fobbed off. Stretching himself out on his improvised bed, he philosophically went to sleep.

In a very few hours’ time, he was on his way to the village, slipping out of the kitchen just as Ben emerged, yawning, and knuckling his eyes, from his room.

Upon learning that he must mind the gate during the morning, Ben said that Mr. Sopworthy had commanded his services at the Blue Boar. The Captain, knowing very well that he found his work at the inn far more agreeable than pike-keeping, said suspiciously: “You don’t go to Sopworthy on Sunday!”

“It’s on account o’ the company they got at the inn,” explained Ben virtuously. “So I tells Mr. Sopworthy as I’d go, gov’nor. Promised him!”

“Well, I’m sorry for that, but you can’t go: I need you.”

“Mr. Sopworthy will be in a rare tweak if I don’t!”

“No, he won’t. I’ll make all right with him.”

“But Jem-Ostler says as he’ll let me help him groom the swell cove’s prads!” cried Ben, much chagrined. “Coo, they are a bang-up pair!”

But although he laughed, the Captain refused to relent; so instead of beguiling the breakfast-table with artless chatter, Ben ate a hearty meal in cold silence: a form of punishment which suited John’s humour exactly.

Since there had been no reappearance of Chirk at the tollhouse, the Captain was satisfied that Stogumber must have consented to go with him to lie in wait outside the cavern. He had directed Chirk not to go by way of the road, but to ride across Huggate’s fields; and shortly before eight o’clock he himself set forth, walking up to the barn to saddle Beau. Remembering how cumbersome he had found his topboots in the cavern, he did not wear them; and as he swung himself into the saddle he grinned, thinking of Mr. Babbacombe’s shocked horror, could he have known that his friend was riding about the country in woollen stockings, much stained breeches, a flannel shirt, and a leather waistcoat.

He reached the lane some minutes before Stornaway put in an appearance, and began to walk Beau slowly up it. It was not long before the sound of a trotting horse made him turn his head. Stornaway came up with him, muffled in his caped coat, and with a thick scarf wound round his neck. That he was extremely nervous, John saw at a glance. He broke at once into speech, complaining of the autumnal chill in the air, and assuring John, who had asked for no assurance, that he had left Coate snoring. John saw him steal several of his furtive glances at him, and guessed from the direction of these that he was trying to ascertain whether or not he was carrying pistols. Rather maliciously, he said: “No, I am not armed, Mr. Stornaway. Why should I be?”

“Armed! I never thought of such a thing! Though, to be sure, for anything I know you may be meaning to murder me in that cavern!” said Stornaway, flustered into unwise speech.

“Why should I?” asked John.

Thrown into worse confusion, Stornaway tied himself up in a muddle of half-sentences, while John reflected that so loose a tongue must effectually have warned him that mischief was intended, had he not been already well aware of it. Stornaway seemed to be incapable of keeping anything to himself; and it was not long before he had presented John with one of the few pieces of information that could interest him. “You should not call me Mr. Stornaway,” he told him. “I am Sir Henry Stornaway now, you know!”

“I felicitate you,” said John dryly. “May I know when this happened?”

“Oh, about five o’clock, I fancy! My grandfather’s man—an insolent fellow!—did not fetch me, so I’ve no very precise knowledge. The thing is that I’m master at Kellands now, as several people will precious soon discover!”

It seemed to be so much in keeping with his character that he should be looking forward to an easy triumph over his grandfather’s servants that the Captain was scarcely angry. He returned an indifferent answer; and the rest of the way was beguiled by Henry’s rambling exposition of what he meant to do at the Manor, as soon as his grandfather was buried.

This diverted his mind from his present anxieties, but when he led John off the lane, towards the cavern, these returned to him, and he grew markedly silent, while the fretting behaviour of his horse betrayed unmistakeably how much his nerves were on the jump.

The fence was securely tied across the mouth of the cavern, and the withered gorse bushes almost wholly concealed it. While Stornaway lit his lantern, John stood with his head up, listening intently. He heard no sound of horse’s hooves, but he could not suppose that Coate was far behind, and reflected that once he left the lane the rough turf would muffle the noise of his approach.

“Have you no lantern?” demanded Stornaway, still on one knee before his own.

The Captain glanced down at him, slightly shaking his head, a glint in his eyes.

Stornaway looked a good deal taken aback, but said after a moment: “You should have brought one! It is devilish dark inside, and you might easily miss your footing, not being familiar with the place! You had best take mine, for I should not wish you to break your leg, as my father once did!”

“You shall lead the way,” replied the Captain amiably.

Stornaway hesitated, and then rose to his feet. The entrance to the cave laid bare, he stepped into it, the Captain following him. Except when he warned the Captain to stoop, or to take care where he was setting his feet, he hardly spoke during the descent to the main chamber. John said nothing at all, being fully occupied in listening for any sound of pursuing footsteps. As he climbed down the rough stairway, the rushing noise of the water again assailed his ears, and he realized that it was loud enough, in the confined space, to drown the mere sound of footsteps. This, while it would materially assist Stogumber, would certainly make his own position more perilous, since he would be obliged to rely for warning of Coate’s arrival on the chance of seeing the light of his lantern before he darkened it, as he undoubtedly would, on reaching the main chamber. It began to seem as though he might indeed find himself playing at hide—and-seek in the dark, as Chirk had prophesied. However, the imminence of danger had never yet exercised a depressive effect upon the Captain’s spirits; it merely sharpened his faculties; and not for a moment did he hesitate to go on.

When they came to the main chamber, Stornaway immediately led John up to the chests, saying jerkily: “There they are! You may see for yourself that only one has been opened. It was Brean who did that. He came here to steal from us. That’s why Nat stabbed him. Now I’ll show you where——”