CHAPTER XV
THE LOST KEY IS FOUND
It happened in this way. I took Dick Parmiter with me and sailedacross to St. Helen's. We beached the boat on the sand near to thewell and quarantine hut, and climbed up eastwards till we came to thehole which Glen's party had dug. The ground sloped away from thechurch in this direction; and as I stood on the edge of the hole withmy face towards the side of the aisle, I could just see over the grassthe broken cusp of the window. It was exactly opposite to me.
It occurred to me, however, that Glen had measured the distance wrong.So I sent Dick in the boat across to Tresco to borrow a measure, andwhile he was away I examined the ground there around; but it was allcovered with grass and bracken, which evidently had not beendisturbed. Here and there were bushes of brambles, but, as I was atpains to discover, no search for the cross had been made beneath them.
In the midst of my search Dick came back to me with a tape measure,and we set to work from the window of the church. The measure was fora few yards, so that when we had run it out to its full length,keeping ever in the straight line, it was necessary to fix some sortof mark in the ground, and start afresh from that; and for a mark Iused a big iron key which I had in my pocket. Three chains brought usexactly to the hole which had been dug, and holding the key in myhand, I said:
"They made no mistake. It is plain the plan was carelessly drawn."
And Dick said to me: "That's the key of our cottage."
I handed it to him to make sure. He turned it over in his hand.
"Yes," said he, "that's the key;" and he added reproachfully, with nodoubt a lively recollection of his mother's objurgations: "So you hadit all the time."
"I found it this morning, Dick," said I.
"Where?"
"In the shed on the Castle Down. Now, how the deuce did it get there?The dead sailormen had no use for keys."
"It's very curious," said Dick.
"Very curious and freakish," said I, and I sat down on the grass tothink the matter out.
"Let me see, your mother missed it in the morning after I came toTresco."
"That's three days ago." And I could hardly believe the boy. It seemedto me that months had passed. But he was right.
"Yes, three days ago. Your mother missed it in the morning. It islikely, then, that it was taken from the lock of the door the nightbefore."
"That would be the night," said Dick, suspiciously, "when you tappedon my window."
"The night, in fact, when I first landed on Tresco. Wait a little."
Dick sat still upon the grass, and I took the key from his hand intomine. There were many questions which at that moment perplexedme--that hideous experience in Cullen Mayle's bedroom, the rifling ofAdam Mayle's grave, the replacing of the plan in it and thedisappearance of the cross, and I was in that state of mind wheneverything new and at all strange presented itself as a possible clueto the mystery. It seemed to me that the key which I held was verymuch more than a mere rusty iron key of a door that was never locked.I felt that it was the key to the door of the mystery which baffledme, and that feeling increased in me into a solid conviction as I heldit in my hand. I seemed to see the door opening, and opening veryslowly. The chamber beyond the door was dark, but my eyes would growaccustomed to the darkness if only I did not turn them aside. As itwas, even now I began to see dim, shadowy things which, uncomprehendedthough they were, struck something of a thrill into my blood, andsomething of a chill, too.
"The night that I landed upon Tresco," I said, "we crossed the CastleDown, I nearly fell on to the roof of the shed, where all the deadsailormen were screeching in unison."
"Yes!" said Dick, in a low voice, and I too looked around me to seethat we were not overheard. Dick moved a little nearer to me with anuneasy working of his shoulders.
"Do you remember the woman who passed us?" I asked.
"You said it was a woman."
"And it was."
I had the best of reasons to be positive upon that point. I hadscratched my hand in the gorse and I had seen the blood of myscratches the next day on the dress of the woman who had brushedagainst me as she passed. That woman was Helen Mayle. Had she comefrom the shed? What did she need with the key?
"Is that shed ever used?" I asked.
"Not now."
"Whom does it belong to?"
He nodded over towards Merchant's Rock.
"Then Adam Mayle used it?"
"Cullen Mayle used it."
"Cullen!"
I sprang up to my feet and walked away; and walked back; and walkedaway again. The shadowy things were indeed becoming visible; my eyeswere growing indeed accustomed to the darkness; and, indeed, the doorwas opening. Should I close, slam it to, lock it again and never openit? 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 doorwide 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 lacewere 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 somepride:
"When Cullen Mayle lived here, the collector of customs daren't forhis 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 goslowly, very slowly," and I sat for some while hesitating with a greatfear very cold at my heart. That door was opening fast. Should I pushit open, wide? With one bold thrust of the hand I could do it--if Iwould. But should I see clearly into the room--so clearly that I couldnot mistake a single thing I saw. No, I would go on, gently forcingthe 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 doubtmy voice betrayed something of the fear and pain I felt.
"I am certain."
"Well, then, have you, has any one heard these dead sailormen makingmerry--God save the mark--since that shed has been disused?"
Dick thought with considerable effort before he answered. But it didnot 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 onewho has."
"From the time Cullen Mayle left Tresco to the night when we crossedthe Down to Merchant's Rock? There's one thing more. Cullen was inleague with the Brittany smugglers. He would be in league, then, withsmugglers from Penzance, who would put him over to Tresco secretly, ifhe needed it?"
"He was very good friends with all smugglers," said Dick.
"Then," said I, rising from the ground, "we will sail back, Dick, toTresco, and have another look into that shed."
I made him steer the boat eastwards and land behind the point of theold Grimsby Harbour, on which the Block House stands, and out of sightof Merchant's Point. It was not that I did not wish to be seen by anyone in that house. But--but--well, I did not wish at that moment toland near it--to land where a voice now grown familiar might call tome.
From the Block House we struck up through Dolphin Town on to the emptyhill, and so came to the shed. I pushed open the door and went in.Dick followed me timidly.
The floor was of stone. I had been thinking of that as we sailedacross from St. Helen's. I had been thinking, too, that when I wascarried into the inner room the door of the pa
rtition was jambedagainst the floor, that Roper had kicked it open, and that, as ityielded, I had heard some iron thing spring from beneath it and jingleacross the floor. That iron thing was, undoubtedly, the key which Iheld in my hand.
I placed it again under the door. There was a fairly strong windblowing. I told Dick to set the outer door wide open to the wind,which he did. And immediately the inner door began to swing backwardsand forwards in the draught. But it dragged the key with it, and itdragged the key over the stone floor. The shed was filled with aharsh, shrill, rasping sound, which set one's fingernails on edge. Iset my hand to the door and swung it more quickly backwards andforwards. The harsh sound rose to a hideous inhuman grating screech.
"There are your dead sailormen, Dick," said I. "It was CullenMayle who took the key from your door on the night I landed onTresco--Cullen Mayle, who had my horse to carry him on the road andsmuggler friends at Penzance to carry him over the sea. It was CullenMayle who was in this shed that night, and used his old trick to scarepeople from his hiding-place. It was Cullen Mayle who was first in theAbbey burial ground. No doubt Cullen Mayle has that cross. And it wasCullen Mayle whom the woman---- But, there, enough."
The door was wide open now, and this key had opened it. I could seeeverything clearly. My eyes were, indeed, now accustomed to thegloom--so accustomed that, as I stepped from the shed, all thesunlight seemed struck out of the world.
It was all clear. Helen Mayle had come up to the shed that night. Shehad told Cullen of the stick in the coffin--yes, she must have donethat. She told him of the men who watched. What more had passedbetween them I could not guess, but she had come back with despair inher heart, and, in the strength of her despair, had walked late atnight into his room--with that silk noose in her hand.
That she loved him--that was evident. But why could she not have beenfrank with me? Cullen had spoken with her, had been warned by her, hadleft the island since. Why had she kept up this pretence of anxiety onhis account, of fear that he was in distress, of dread lest he returnunwitting of his peril and fall into Glen's hand? Clutterbuck's word"duplicity" came stinging back to me.
I sent Dick away to sail the boat back to Merchant's Point, and layfor a long while on the open hillside, while the sun sank and eveningcame. It was only yesterday that she had played in her garden upon theviolin. I had felt that I knew her really for the first time as shesat with her pale face gleaming purely through the darkness. Why couldshe not have been frank to me? The question assailed me; I cried itout. Surely there was some answer, an answer which would preserve mypicture of her in her tangled garden, untarnished within my memories.Surely, surely! And how could such deep love mate with duplicity?
I put the scarf into my pocket, and crossed the hill again and camedown to Merchant's Point. I could not make up my mind to go in. Howcould I speak of that night when I slept in Cullen Mayle's bedroom? Ilay now upon the gorse watching the bright windows. Now I went down tothe sea and its kindly murmurings. And at last, about ten o'clock ofthe night, a white figure came slowly from the porch and stood besideme.
"You have been here--how long?--I have watched you," she said verygently. "What is it? Why didn't you come in?"
I took both her hands in mine and looked into her eyes.
"Will you be frank with me if I do?"
"Why, yes," she said, and her face was all wonder and all concern."You hurt me--no, not your hands, but your distrust."
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