I hazarded a whisper to Tortue, and certainly no one else heard it,
but neither did Tortue. Roper struck his spade in with renewed vigour,
and a stifled cry which burst at the same moment from the five mouths
told me the coffin-lid was disclosed. I whispered again the louder:
"Tortue! Tortue!" and with no better result.
The pick was handed down at Roper's call. I _spoke_ now, and at last
he heard. He turned his head across his shoulder towards me, but he
only motioned me to silence. The pick rang upon wood, and now I
called:
"Tortue! Tortue!"
Still no one but Tortue heard. This time, however, he rose from his
knees and came to me. Glen looked up for an instant.
"See that he is fast!" he said, and so looked back into the grave.
"What is it?" asked Tortue.
"The plan has gone. Loose my hands!"
I could no longer see Roper; he had stooped down below the lip of the
trench.
"Gone!" said Tortue. "How?"
"Some one has been here before you, but within this last week, I'll
swear. Loose my hands."
"Some one!" he exclaimed savagely. "Who? who?" and he shook me by the
arms.
"I do not know."
"Swear it."
"I do. Loose my hands."
"Remember it is I who save you."
His knife was already out of his pocket; he had already muffled it in
his coat and opened it; he was making a pretence to see whether the
end was still fast. I could feel the cold blade between the rope and
my wrist, when, with a shout. Roper stood erect, the stick in one
hand, a sheet of paper flourishing in the other.
He drew himself out of the trench and spread the paper out on a pile
of clay at the graveside. Glen held his lantern close to it. There
were four streaming faces bent over that paper. I felt a tug at my
wrists and the cord slacken as the knife cut through it.
"Take the rope with you," whispered Tortue.
The next moment there were five faces bent over that paper.
"On St. Helen's Island," cried Glen.
"Let me see!" exclaimed Tortue, leaning over his shoulder.
"Three--what's that?--chains. Three chains east by the compass of the
east window in the south aisle of the church."
And that was the last I heard. I stepped softly back into the darkness
for a few paces, and then I ran at the top of my speed westwards
towards New Grimsby, freeing my arms from the rope as I ran. Once I
turned to look back. They were still gathered about that plan; their
faces, now grown small, were clustered under the light of the lantern,
and Tortue, with his flashing knife-blade, was pointing out upon the
paper the position of the treasure. Ten minutes later I was well up
the top of the hill. I saw a lugger steal round the point from New
Grimsby and creep up in the shadow towards the Abbey grounds.
I spent that night in the gorse high up on the Castle Down. I had no
mind to be caught in a trap at the Palace Inn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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