I sprang up to my feet and walked away; and walked back; and walked away again. The shadowy things were indeed becoming visible; my eyes were growing indeed accustomed to the darkness; and, indeed, the door was opening. Should I close, slam it to, lock it again and never open it? For I was afraid. But if I did shut it and lock it I should come back to it perpetually, I should be perpetually fingering the lock. No; I would open the door wide and see what was within the room. I came back to Dick. "What did Cullen Mayle use it for?" "He was in league with the Brittany smugglers. Brandy, wine, and lace were landed on the beach of a night and carried up to the shed." "Were they safe there?" Dick laughed. Here he was upon firm ground, and he answered with some pride: "When Cullen Mayle lived here, the collector of customs daren't for his life have landed on Tresco in daylight." "And at night the dead sailormen kept watch." "There wasn't a man who would go near the shed." "So Cullen Mayle would not have needed a key to lock the shed?" "No, indeed!" and another laugh. "Could he have needed a key for any other purpose? Dick, we will go slowly, very slowly," and I sat for some while hesitating with a great fear very cold at my heart. That door was opening fast. Should I push it open, wide? With one bold thrust of the hand I could do it--if I would. But should I see clearly into the room--so clearly that I could not mistake a single thing I saw. No, I would go on, gently forcing the door back, and all the while accustoming my vision to the gloom. "Has that shed been used since Cullen Mayle was driven away?" "No." "You are certain? Oh, be certain, very certain, before you speak." Dick looked at me in surprise, as well he might; for I have no doubt my voice betrayed something of the fear and pain I felt. "I am certain." "Well, then, have you, has any one heard these dead sailormen making merry--God save the mark--since that shed has been disused?" Dick thought with considerable effort before he answered. But it did not matter; I was certain what his answer would be. "I have never heard them," he said. "Nor have met others who have?" "No," said he, after a second deliberation, "I don't remember any one who has." "From the time Cullen Mayle left Tresco to the night when we crossed the Down to Merchant's Rock? There's one thing more. Cullen was in league with the Brittany smugglers. He would be in league, then, with smugglers from Penzance, who would put him over to Tresco secretly, if he needed it?" "He was very good friends with all smugglers," said Dick. "Then," said I, rising from the ground, "we will sail back, Dick, to Tresco, and have another look into that shed."