Dick leant against the wall in dull stupefaction. He had said nothing to his parents about the expedition; he had expressly charged Sam not to speak of it to Reuben. His very caution had proved his undoing. So common was it for him to be all day away from home with Sam that their absence would scarcely be remarked until night, and then, even if it caused alarm, no one would dream of looking for them at the well, still less in one of the passages below. But if Dick’s suspicions and inferences were well founded, at some time during the day or night there would be smugglers in one or other of the galleries, and they would surely come within sound of his voice, and not be so base as to refuse to help him. Then it struck him that perhaps such a cry might merely terrify them; that they might believe it to be the utterance of the disembodied spirits that were said to haunt the place. But no; as his first terrors subsided, and he regained his thinking power, a sudden light dawned upon him. The ghosts were the invention of the smugglers themselves! They had taken advantage of ancient tradition and floating rumour for their own purposes, encouraged the credulity of the many in order that the few might preserve the secret of their hiding-place. And then it flashed upon him that his presence near their jealously-guarded lair had been discovered, and that his return had been deliberately cut off, so that they might carry out undisturbed the important operation of which Trevanion and Doubledick had spoken. In that case his incarceration would be temporary, like Penwarden’s. As soon as the run had been accomplished, he, like the old exciseman, would be liberated, and the smugglers would gloat over their triumphant strategy. "How many candles have you got?" he asked suddenly. Sam rummaged in his pocket, and produced five stumps varying in length. "They will last about twelve hours," said Dick. "There is no wind here to make them gutter." "But they won’t make us a bridge," groaned Sam. "Listen to me," said Dick. Speaking calmly, he told Sam the conclusions to which he had come. "Now, Sam, you see what we have to do. It was about nine o’clock when we came down the well. It will be twelve hours or more before they attempt the run. We have twelve hours before us; we must get across the shaft and dish them—I don’t know how, but we must do it." "How can we? Rake it all, we shall have no dinner!" "Don’t talk like that," said Dick sternly. "We want all our wits and determination. ’Tis mere folly to think about dinner, or groan and moan because we are hungry. I tell you, young Sam, you must do your best to help, and be cheerful, or you and I will split." "Well, I’ll keep my solemn thoughts to myself and spake out nothing but merry ones, if I can think ’em."