# The Strand Magazine/Volume 3/Issue 16/Lady Florry's Gems

Illustrated by Paul Hardy.
Layout 4
By George Manville Fenn.
CREAK! crawk! And then thud! splish! splash! and a horrible echoing, whispering sound, as the water drawn up by the two men at the winch rose some ten feet higher, where each bucket in turn was caught by a check and reversed, to pour its contents into a huge cistern to supply the drinking water at the Castle.
I, Charles Lester, had climbed the down after my early morning visit to the sea beneath the cliffs, where a plunge down into the clear depths had sent an electric thrill through me. There I had swum and dived for ten minutes, dressed in the warm sunshine, and tramped back over the cliff slope where Lord Gurtleigh's flock of Southdowns were nibbling the short dewy herbage and giving their mutton a gamey flavour by crunching up the thousands of tiny snail-shells as well.
I was satisfied with the look of the flock, laughed to myself as I thought what a farmer, bailiff, and general man of business I was growing in dear old Dick's interest, and had then gone round so as to pass through the gardens and let the men see I was about.
"I know they'll call me a nigger driver," I said to myself, "but they've all had too easy a time of it during Dick's minority, and things have been shamefully neglected." And then I mused on my plans respecting the management of the estate as I went back to the Castle, making up my mind that as Gurtleigh had placed everything in my hands, I would have none but good men about the place. Everything should be honest and above board; and so it fell out that I was walking back to my room, through the yard, at seven o'clock that bright summer morning, meaning to do a couple of hours' writing and account reading, when I heard the squealing and creaking of the wheel in the well-house with its high-pitched roof.
I turned sharply, entering the great stonepaved, wet place, where a man was grinding away on either side of the opening, and came plump—that's the correct word, and his appearance justified it—upon Brayson, the butler, standing there, slowly sipping a tumbler of water, and looking as clean-shaven and smooth as if he were by the sideboard in the dining-room, waiting at one of the meals.
"Good morning, sir."
"Morning, Brayson. Stop! Look here, my men, why, in heaven's name, don't you grease that wheel?"
The men ceased turning, and the one nearest touched his forehead.
"Be no good, sir. Her squeal again dreckerly, all on account o' the water."
"Then, grease it again, or oil it, or something!"
"Never have been greased," said the man on the other side, slowly, and in a way which seemed to say "What business is it of yours?"
Then let it be done before to-morrow morning," I said sharply. "The whole of the machine is eaten up with rust. Where's your common sense, men? Why, your work will be as easy again.—Do you do this often, Brayson?" I said.
"Every morning, sir," he replied obsequiously. "Winter and summer, I always have a glass of this water first thing. Finest drink in the world for your health. Will you try a glass, sir?"
"Well—yes."
Before I had finished speaking, he was ​rinsing the tumbler in a freshly filled tub; then, taking a clean napkin from his pocket, he wiped and polished it, finally, as one of the buckets rose out of the black, vaporous depths of the opening enclosed by the framework of the winch, he signed to the men to stop, and dipped the glass full, holding it for a few minutes in the open doorway, while a frosty dew rapidly formed on the outside of the tumbler.
"'There, sir,' he said solemnly."
"There, sir," he said solemnly, and he handed it to me as if it were a glass of his lordship's choicest champagne.
I took the glass and drank its contents.
"Capital water, Brayson."
"Finest glass in the country, sir."
"And nice and cool."
"Always the same, sir, winter or summer. Comes from so deep down. It's just a hundred feet."
"Now, after the dry weather?"
"Never alters, sir; just keeps to the same height, and there's about eighty foot of water down there; never-failing supply."
"Humph; cut right down the solid chalk," I said, as I gazed into the black depths of the huge shaft, which was about ten feet in diameter, and breathed the cool, damp air which rose.
"Yes, sir, and she's never foul," said the man nearest to me. "I've been down when they mended the bottom wheel. Can't do that at Sir Romney's place; two men choked there only last year."
"Year afore," growled the other man.
"Oh, weer it? So it weer."
Then the winding went on as I peered down into the gloomy place, listening to the dull, heavy plunge of the buckets as they reached the water, and then to the echoing, splashing, and hollow musical sound as the water streamed and dripped back when they rose.
"Clumsy arrangement," I said, as I turned away with a shudder; for the place was creepy and terrible and strange. "There ought to be a force-pump turned by a pony or a donkey, as at Carisbrooke. Oh! by the way, Brayson," I continued, as I was crossing the yard toward the gates, "I want to go over the wine-cellar."
"The wine-cellar, sir?" he said, and his fat face changed colour,
​"Yes, to take stock. His lordship talks of laying down a fresh supply. Have your cellar book ready, and we'll begin at once." There was a slight dew on the man's face, or I fancied there was, and I said to myself, as I went round to the front:
"Master Brayson has been helping himself to a few bottles of port, and I've got to find him out. Deuced unpleasant, all this running tilt at the servants; I wish I had gone on reading for the law."
CHAPTER II.
After breakfast I rang for Brayson, and began my inspection of the wine-cellar. That took up the greater part of four days. Result: I had Brayson into the little library which was given up to me as my office, Lord Gurtleigh having merely reserved to himself the right to come of an evening and smoke a pipe.
Brayson came in looking very pale and sodden. In those four days he had lost flesh; and, as he stood before me, the miserable wretch perspired profusely and was trembling.
"Now, look here, Brayson," I said gravely, "you are aware that Lord Gurtleigh has placed everything in my hands."
"Yes, sir, his lordship told me so."
"Exactly. Well, I am very sorry to have to exercise my prerogative so soon; but I must make an example. You were in the late Lord Gurtleigh's service fifteen years, and for the past seven years you have had sole charge of that valuable cellar of wine which has been shamefully plundered. What have you to say?"
His lips moved, but no words came.
"Nothing? Well, I have a little to say. Give me your keys. I shall have the plate examined at once. His lordship will be extremely loth to have you prosecuted, but you must leave here; and I can only say, how could you be so mad as to throw away so good a post? "
"Oh, for God's sake forgive me, sir!" he cried passionately, and crying now like a child. "I'll confess everything, sir. The plate is all right, sir—I swear it is, sir; but I did take a little wine."
"A little, man! hundreds of dozens are missing."
"Yes, sir, it's true, sir; but have mercy on me, sir. I'll turn over a new leaf, sir, and be the best servant his lordship could have, sir. I did sell some wine, sir; I was tempted, sir. No one ever wanted to know about it before in all these years."
"And now the day of reckoning has come."
"For heaven's sake forgive me, sir."
"Yes, sir; but I will mind, sir. For Heaven's sake forgive me, sir. I've a wife and family, sir; and it's ruin to me. You know it is. I can never get another place with a character like that. I'll be the best of servants, sir. I'll be your slave, sir, and I'll confess everything, sir, and show you ​what's been going on in the stables, and at the farm, and in the garden, and about the hares and fezzans, sir."
"I can find out for myself," I said, sternly; "and Lord Gurtleigh wants an honest butler, not a contemptible tale-bearing spy."
"Of course, sir; of course. But, Mr. Lester, sir, have mercy on me, sir. Indeed I'll turn over a new leaf."
"Then go and turn it over, man, and don't grovel before me in that way. Let me see that you do repent. But, mind this, if the slightest act of dishonesty comes to my ken, there will be no more mercy."
"God bless you, sir; thank you, sir," he sobbed out. "I—, I—."
He could say no more; but broke down, and stood with his face working.
"Sit down, Brayson, till you are more composed," I said, quietly. "There is cold water in that carafe; take some. Don't let the servants see you in this condition."
"Thank you, sir, thank you," he whispered hoarsely, and the glass tapped against the bottle as he poured out some water and drank it.
"Weak, drinks more than is good for him—excepting the cold water from the well every morning to steady his nerves," I said to myself as soon as Brayson had gone. "Well, I hope he will turn out right, and that I have made a friend."
CHAPTER III.
The months glided on, and after a great deal of anxiety I could honestly feel that I was getting Gurtleigh's little kingdom into a fair state, when one night we had a shock. I was in the little library, poring over some papers sent down by his lordship's solicitor, about which a reply was needed. I had been speaking to Dick about it over our coffee, and he had replied, "Well, you know best. Don't bother me! Go and get it done, and then we'll have a quiet cigar. I'll join you in an hour."
He joined me in half that time, dashing into the library excitedly.
"Charley, old man!" he cried. "Quick, there's something wrong!"
"What!" I cried as excitedly. "Lady Florry—"
"Yes," he panted, "went up to her dressing-room. The door was locked. There must be—"
"Burglars!" I cried. "Quick, call the servants! Go up and guard that door, and send someone round to me!"
"Where are you going?'
"I ran up the ladder."
"Under your windows," I cried, throwing open the one at the end of the room; and, springing out, I ran round to the front of the house, fully expecting to see one of the farm ladders reared up against the broad stone balcony which ran along the first floor. There it was, in the dim light, which was sufficiently strong for me to see that the window was open.
I did not hesitate a moment. "Burglars are always cowards," I reasoned, and I ran up the ladder and dashed to the window, thinking, though, that I should be awkwardly situated if our visitors had revolvers.
But no shot welcomed me as I stepped in, took a little match-box from my pocket, ​struck a light, and held it above my head. Nothing to be seen, so I stepped forward, lit the candles on the toilette-table, and peered about.
"Hullo!" cried a voice behind me, and Lord Gurtleigh sprang into the room. "Anyone there?"
"No," I said, "we are too late."
A minute's search proved that I was right, and then we turned to the door, which was carefully bolted on the inside; and, as we threw it open, there stood Brayson, the footman, and a couple of grooms, while voices behind us told that help was ready below, the gardeners and stablemen having been called up.
"Mind!" I shouted, running to the window, "keep back on the grass; there may be footprints there—I shall want to examine."
Then I stood thinking for a moment before issuing my orders as promptly as I could, sending grooms off mounted to summon the police, and then ride on to the railway station, and ask for help to detain any suspicious-looking people; while the gardeners went to scour the grounds and rouse the keepers, watchers, and people at the nearest farms.
It all proved labour in vain, and towards morning I sat fagged out—after despatching a telegram to the county town and another to London—talking to Lord and Lady Gurtleigh.
"I wouldn't care twopence," said the former, "but they've got jewels that are priceless. All poor Florry's pearls, which came from the Guicowar of Badjar Aman, and the old family diamonds."
"Don't fret, Dick, dear," said Lady Gurtleigh, quietly; "it's a great pity, but I will not mind. I daresay Charles Lester will get them back for me."
"Bless your faith," I cried, unable to repress a smile, in spite of my chagrin; "what a wonderful man you two think I am!"
"Well," said my old college chum, giving the table a rap with his fist, "wonderful or no, I do say this, if anyone can get them back it's dear old Charley here."
"Indeed!" I said, "then my dear Lady Florry, try and be resigned, for your jewels are gone for ever, unless the detectives can run the scoundrels down."
"What, have you sent for the detectives?" cried Gurtleigh.
"Of course."
"How delightful," cried Lady Gurtleigh, clapping her hands, "it will be like reading a romance."
"Humph!" ejaculated Gurtleigh, "she's not going to break her heart about the jewels."
"I should think not, indeed, dear," she cried, merrily. "They haven't killed us to get the nasty things. There now, you two poor tired creatures are to smoke a cigar each, and I'll ring for some coffee."
She rang, and Brayson appeared looking sadly troubled and bearing a tray.
"I took the liberty, my lady," he began.
"Oh, Brayson, how good of you!"
"Yes," said Lord Gurtleigh; "but, I say Brayson; you should have brought the brandy too."
"I did, my lord, I havc it outside here on a tray."
"All your doing, Charley," said Gurtleigh as soon as we were alone, "that chap's getting quite a moral, as they say down here. Here's to you, dear boy, and I hope Florry is right."
The police were soon on the spot, and at once created a revolution among the servants, who threatened to leave in a body on finding that they were suspected. The upper-housemaid being particularly demonstrative and full of angry demands that the police sergeant should search her box.
But they did not trace the thieves, neither did they make any discoveries through the pawnbrokers or diamond merchants, and the months rolled on, and it was summer once again.
"It isn't your fault, old man," Gurtleigh said to me one day when they were down at the Castle again, after spending the winter in Italy, "and, look here, I taboo the topic. Whenever we meet, you begin going on about those confounded jewels. I don't mind now, and Florry doesn't mind, so let them rest. Anyone would think they were yours, you make so much fuss."
But I could only think about those lost stones, and Lady Gurtleigh's words that if they were found it would be by me. How I had pondered over their loss, and suspected different people, but only to feel guilty afterwards of misjudging them. For again and again I had felt convinced that the theft had been committed by someone who knew the place and our habits; hence I argued that it must have been one of the out-door servants—groom, gardener, farm labourer, or perhaps even a keeper. I grew more convinced of this as time glided by; for it seemed to me that those jewels must be buried or hidden somewhere, with the ​thief waiting his time till he could find an opportunity for disposing of them safely. I don't know how it was, but the gardener excited most of my suspicion, and I used to go about the grounds at all hours ponder- ing upon likely places where they could have been buried—under newly planted trees, in vineries, under forcing frames, in pots or tubs in the conservatories. Then the labourers, the men who could be handy with ladders, had their turn in my suspicions, and, with my monomania increasing, I wandered about haystacks and farm buildings, peered under thatches and eaves, and pondered over the tiles and stones of floors.
"Those jewels never reached London!" I used to declare to myself as I wandered about with my walking-stick (one made of steel, heavily varnished, and so sharp at the point that I could use it as a probe to thrust into the ground amongst roots, or into stacks or thatches, in the hope of discovering the hidden gems). There were times when I told myself it was all imagination, especially when I was wearied out and felt that I had searched everywhere, and one night I thought that I would follow Lord Gurtleigh's advice, and give the matter up.
Result: I woke the next morning, and went down to the sea for my plunge in the deep hole beneath the cliffs determined to proceed, and with a peculiar belief that sooner or later I should find those gems.
CHAPTER IV.
A great change had resulted from my management, I must own. The people about the place had found out that I was not to be trifled with, and it was quite cheering to find how they settled down to the work. But I did not relax my vigilance. I was out early every morning and about the place, fine weather or foul, and for months past I had encountered smiles where there used to be scowls. One bright June morning I descended the cliff and reached the great chalk rock, where I undressed, stood for a few moments with the early sunshine full upon me and reflected from the high cliff, as I gazed down into the dark depths of the clear water before making my dive. Then I leaped right out, parted the cool, bracing fluid, and dived right down to see how long I could stay below before rising again, and repeating the performance, feeling for the moment what an excellent diver I was, and directly after how feeble my efforts were as compared with those of a seal.
"I ought to have gone right to the bottom," I said to myself, as I was dressing; "who knows but what the jewels may have been thrown in there. Not a bad hiding-place," I mused, "but no, not likely."
I walked back sharply, and, as of old, the rushing and splash in the well-house saluted me as I crossed the yard, thinking that if it had not been for my old friend's heavy loss I should have persuaded him to let me design new machinery for raising the water supply.
Brayson's words had so impressed me that it had grown into a habit to take my glass of cold water after my bath, and one was kept on a shelf on purpose for my use, one of the men thrusting in the winch-stop when a bucket was level, and filling the glass as a matter of course as soon as I was seen crossing the yard.
That morning, as I stood in the well-house, sipping the clear, cold fluid, and listening to the trickling and echoing splashing of the falling water, I gave quite a start, and involuntarily peered down into the horrible-looking black hole.
The next minute I had tossed off the remains of my draught, and hurried away, trembling lest my excitement should have been noted by the men; for, like an inspiration, the thought had come to me, "The jewels are hidden down there!"
Instead of turning into the gardens, as I generally did, I hurried in, and up to my own room, to finish dressing, but with my cheeks burning and temples throbbing, calling myself fool, madman; telling myself that it was impossible, improbable to a degree; that there were a million more likely places for the jewels to have been hidden, and that to throw them down there was to cast them away for ever.
But all these arguments were vain against the hourly growing feeling that I had at last hit upon the spot where the stolen gems were hidden.
Why had I not thought of that place before? I don't know. Perhaps it was too simple, perhaps too impossible. Suffice it, I never had till now, and the idea had suddenly become a fever, which went on increasing for quite a week, when, unable to combat the feeling longer, I gave way.
"There must be something in it," I said to myself, "or I should not be haunted in this fashion. Superstition? Perhaps; but whether it is that, or madness, or folly, I ​shall never rest till I have searched that well."
As soon as I had made up my mind to this, my first thought was to consult Lord Gurtleigh, but I cast that out at once.
"He'll ridicule it," I said, "I can't make him feel as I do;" and, although I would have gladly given anything for a confidant, I felt that I must act alone, and keep my actions hidden—no easy task—from everyone about the place.
It was like a fit of insanity, quite a monomania; but I was determined, and from that hour began to think out my plans. The simplest thing would have been to empty the well; but that was impossible. No amount of drawing water had the slightest effect, for the diggers had tapped the huge reservoirs extending beneath the mighty chalk range running east and west of the vast spur upon which the castle stood dominating the sea. There could be no draining the well, and, even had it been possible, I should not have felt disposed to propose such a thing; for I wanted to keep my actions secret in case it was all a fancy engendered by the sight of the place.
That night, with a feeling of certainty that I had as good as found the jewels which had been hidden there for the reasons I had already settled, I made my way to the well-house after everyone had retired for the night.
I had provided myself with a lantern, matches, and a reel, upon which were a hundred yards of salmon line from Lord Gurtleigh's tackle, and, lastly, a heavy plummet, beneath which I hung a little grapnel formed of hooks securely bound back to back.
"I lowered the light."
The place looked very grim and repellent as I carefully closed the doors. All was silent and black, and when a drop of water dripped from the great cistern overhead it fell with a splash far below, which echoed from the slimy sides of the well in a peculiar way that was almost startling. But I was too hot upon my project, and, carefully lighting my lantern in one corner, I tried to keep it covered over till I had attached the end of the line to the lantern-ring, and swung it down over the side into the well.
"Nobody is likely to be watching the place," I thought, as I lowered the light for ten or a dozen feet; and then, as I looked over the rail, I began to search for what I expected to find, to wit, a string attached somewhere to the side—a string that I had settled in my own mind would be attached to the packet lowered down.
But I walked slowly round, examining carefully, and specially about the massive oaken cross beams which supported the ​bucket wheel, and there was no result. I could see nothing but the stout rope, which rose up from the darkness, passed over the wheel by the cistern, and went down again into the black depths—two ropes, as it were, three feet apart, about the centre of the great shaft, nothing more.
I drew the lantern a little higher, then lowered it; and again more and more, but there was no string, and, bitterly disappointed, I let the light go down and down, stopping several times, and listening, in fear lest the clicking made by the salmon winch might draw attention to my task; and at last the echoing sound seemed so loud that I twisted the line about the railing, and stole to the door and listened.
All was still, and I went back to peer down at the lantern swinging softly to and fro fully fifty feet down. And now, after loosening the line, I let it run out with the lantern descending, past the buckets, till I caught a faint gleam just beneath it, and then I could just see part of a wheel standing out of the black water, the beams which held it being beneath the surface, the light burning clearly and showing that there was no foul air.
As I rapidly wound the lantern up, I saw once more the two buckets about halfway down. Then, as I went on winding, they seemed to be descending, but of course it was the lantern coming up, and directly after I had it in my hand, untied it, and attached my grapnel. This I held over the well, and the weight ran it out rapidly. I heard it strike the water, and then on and on it went to what seemed to be a tremendous depth, before it touched bottom.
Then I began to drag here and there, pulling it in all directions, expecting every moment to feel a check, and when at last I did, my heart seemed to leap; but, as I lifted, it was only to find that a hook had caught against the bottom.
I kept this up for about a couple of hours, passing from one side of the draw wheels to the other after hauling up; but my efforts were in vain. I hooked nothing, and at last, in despair at my ill-success, I wound up, meaning to put the work off for another night, when all at once there was a sharp check, which nearly snatched the wheel out of my hand, and I knew that I had caught against one of the cross-beams that supported the lower wheel beneath the water. After a great deal of snatching and tugging the line was free, but at the expense of many yards left below, and my plummet and grapnel left sticking in the beam.
"Enough for to-night," I said to myself, opening my lantern and blowing out the candle.
Then throwing back the doors, I stood listening, fancying I had heard a step, but all was silent, and I crossed the yard, let myself in, and went to bed, but not to sleep. For I lay tossing from side to side, more convinced than ever that the jewels lay at the bottom of that well.
Why? I don't know: I only tell you what I thought, and, though I had dragged so unsuccessfully, and felt that I was not likely to recover them in that very primitive way, feeling as I did that the beams would prevent me from thoroughly searching the bottom, I was more determined than ever, and by sunrise had made up my mind what to do.
CHAPTER V.
I rose that morning an hour earlier than usual, and went down for my customary bathe.
As I reached the shore I searched about till I had found a couple of chalk boulders to my taste, and carried these to the top of the rock off which I regularly made my plunge, and laid them there.
"An Englishman ought to be as clever as a nigger," I said as I undressed, and I stooped and picked up one of the stones and gazed down into the deep water. "Seems a mad thing to do," I muttered; and then, feeling that if I hesitated I should fail, I took my leap, struck the water with a tremendous splash, and then went down like an arrow, lower and lower till quite in dismay I unclasped my hands from the stone and rose rapidly to the surface. "It's easy enough," I thought, as my head shot into the sunshine; and, climbing back, I took the other stone, contriving to glide off from close to the surface with the weight nipped between my knees.
This time I went down feet first till the water began to grow dark, when the stone slipped, and I again shot up, rather breathless, but encouraged by my success. I tried that experiment for half a dozen times more and continued it for a week, morning after morning, providing myself now with short lengths of line to tie round the stones to form a handle, and practising till I could seize a stone, plunge in with it, and let it drag me rapidly to the bottom, where I loosened ​my grasp after trying how long I could stay; and towards the last, after finding that I could easily stay down a minute, I always rose with some small stones or a handful of pebbles from the bottom.
"It's easy enough."
"I can go East and turn pearl diver now," I said, "if everything else fails;" and, quite satisfied with the confidence acquired by my skill in diving, I prepared one night for a venture which rather chilled me as the time approached.
It was a mad plan, and I knew it. I felt that I was quite a monomaniac; but I was blindly determined, and one night found me, lantern-armed, and provided with matches, shut up in the well-house.
I had stolen out about one, with every nerve strung to the highest pitch, and a horrible feeling of dread sending a shiver through me; but I honestly believe that, if at that moment the danger of my task had been twice as great, the bull-dog obstinacy within me would have carried me through.
But the danger was great enough, I well knew, as I set down on the humid floor the load I had brought, and then lit the lantern, and placed it on the framework of the great winch. Then lighting a piece of wax candle, I fixed that on the other side of the well by letting a little of the wax drip on the stout rail.
"So far so good," I said to myself, as I resolutely drove back horrible suggestions, set my teeth, and threw off the ulster I wore, to stand ready in an old football jersey and drawers.
I had thought out my plans to the smallest minutiæ, and made all my calculations; so that, feeling that my only chance for carrying out my task successfully was by going straight on without hesitation, I raised the load I had brought one by one—a couple of fifty-six pound weights, and after seeing that the stop was in the winch, placed them ready in one of the buckets which I had drawn up level with the rail. Then, fastening a string to the lantern, I lowered it down till it was about five feet from the water, fastened the string, and taking out the stop, let the first bucket run down with the weights till I heard it kiss the water with a hollow, echoing splash. As the sound arose I thrust the stop into the cogs of the winch once more, and the bucket was stopped, as I could see, half in the water.
The next task was perilous, but nothing I felt to what was to come, as, mounting the rail, and climbing out on the apparatus, I seized one rope, reached out, caught the other, twisted my leg round, hung for a moment over the shaft, which looked, if anything, more horrible from the dim light below, and let myself glide rapidly down.
It was the task of a very few moments, but long enough for me to be attacked by thoughts such as—suppose the rope broke—suppose the air was foul down below—suppose I could not get back to the surface—answers to which came at once, for I knew that the rope would bear double my weight; that the lantern would not have burned in foul air; and that as to returning I had but ​to stand in the bucket when I reached it, and draw myself up by hauling the other rope.
No—impossible; I had fixed the machinery with the stop. The thought unnerved me for the moment, and then I laughed, as I recalled how often I had climbed a rope. Then I was level with the swinging lantern, my feet touched the water close by the partly-submerged lower wheel, and I checked myself to feel about and find, as I had anticipated, a broad resting-place, just below the surface, composed of slippery cross-beams.
Here I stopped for a few moments thinking—not hesitating—as to which side I should descend. And now, in spite of the dogged courage within me, I felt in full force the terrible risk I was about to run. It was one thing to plunge down into the open sea in broad daylight, holding one of those boulders; another to take a fifty-six pound weight from that bucket close by me, plant it by me on the beam, thrust my foot through the ring right up to my instep, and then lower myself off and let that weight drag me down into those horrible cold, black depths.
I shuddered with the shock of dread which ran through me, and then snapping my teeth together like an angry dog, I uttered a low laugh, which startled me again, as in my desperate fit I said—
"Bah, what a poor soldier I should have made! Common workmen go through such risks every day as a matter of course. The jewels or—"
I did not finish my sentence, but bent down as I held on by the rope, and took one of the weights out of the bucket close by me; the water washing about and whishing against the slimy walls as if it were swarming with live creatures, disturbed by my coming, and ascending rapidly from the depths to attack the intruder upon their home.
My foot glided along over the oaken beam on which I stood, but I held on by the rope and recovered myself, planted the weight down in the water by my feet, and holding up the ring thrust my right foot through close up to the instep.
"I looked up."
"That will do," I thought, as I raised my toes, feeling that if I descended carefully it could not slip off till I lowered the fore part of my foot. "Now, lad, no silly fancies," I muttered. "A few long breaths, then one deep inhalation; down you go rapidly; then feel about for a minute and a half, find the package, slip your foot out of the ring—no, you will be holding it then—keep your hands over your head in case you come up under the beam, and then hurrah for to-morrow."
It was a childish way of addressing myself, perhaps; but I felt bound to treat the matter lightly, so as to cloak the peril from my too active brain.
"Ready?" I said, as I kept on breathing slowly and deeply, preparatory to taking the long, deep, lasting breath.
"Yes," I said, mentally, and changing my hold to the other rope, I was about to lower myself into a sitting position on the beam, drawing that deep breath the while, when like lightning came the thought—"Suppose it is your last!" for a thrill shot down my left arm right to my heart, and I sprang back to my erect position wondering as the thrill went on.
Were my muscles quivering like that? No; it was the rope which I held in my hand, literally throbbing. I looked up, and there far above me, dimly visible by the light of the candle I had left burning, I ​could see something dark reaching out from the woodwork to the rope. The throbbing went on violently, and before I could grasp what it meant, the rope gave way in my hand, there was a peculiar rushing in the water, I lost my balance, my foot in the iron ring felt as if snatched off the slippery beam, and I was rushing down through the black water rapidly toward the bottom.
CHAPTER VI.
I suppose I must have struck out involuntarily, and in the act, as the water thundered in my ears and literally jarred me as if blows had been struck over my head, the weight glided from my foot and I rose to the surface choking, panting, and grasping wildly at the first object I touched. It was rope, and it gave way beneath my grasp. I caught at something again. It was a wheel and it turned round, but, as strange sounds, shouts, and cries reached my ears, I got hold of the cross beam, and somehow, by help of the wheel, managed to reach my old position, but crouching down and holding on for dear life.
"Below there!" shouted a familiar voice, but hollow and strange, "who is it?"
"I! Help! Help!" I gasped, now thoroughly unnerved.
"Right; can you hold on till we send you down a rope?"
I did not answer for a few moments as I strove to realise my chances.
"Yes," I said hoarsely. "Don't be long."
It seemed an age before the rope came, and during the terrible waiting time I listened to words of encouragement mingled with stern orders delivered in Lord Gurtleigh's voice.
Then came a cheer, and he shouted to me—
"Hold on, lad! Rope's being rigged over the wheel. I'm coming down."
"No, no," I shouted, rousing myself now from the apathy into which I had been fast sinking. "Send it down, and I'll make it fast."
Soon after a lantern began to descend, and by its light I saw the loop of a rope gradually glide lower and lower till it reached me, when I was so numbed and cramped that I had hard work to get it over my head and arms. But I succeeded, and it must have spun round and tightened about my chest as I was hoisted up, for I was quite unable to help myself, and insensible by the time I reached the top.
When I opened my eyes again with an understanding brain, my old friend was seated by my bedside; and, after I had assured him that I was not going to die, he told me that he had been roused up by the head keeper throwing shots at his window; and, upon his opening it, the man told him that there was something wrong, for, passing near the back of the buildings, he had seen a light in the well-house through the little window.
"We were only just in time, Charley. Caught the scoundrel with the knife in his hand. He had just cut through the rope.'
"Who—who was it?" I cried.
"Why, Brayson, of course!"
"Then he was the thief!" I cried, excitedly, "and the jewels are there."
"Jewels? Down the well? You were after them!"
"Of course," I said, and I told him all.
"Well," he said, as I finished my brief narrative, "I have heard about men being fit for Colney Hatch, and you're one !"
"Never mind that," I said, "if Lady Florry gets back her gems."
"And old Brayson is hung for trying to murder you," said Lord Gurtleigh. "But, I say, old fellow, I'm glad I came."
But Brayson was not hung, he only had a taste of penal servitude for the robbery of the jewels and also of some valuable plate, two packages secured in fine wire netting being brought up after proper dredging arrangements had been made.
As for myself, I was none the worse for my submersion, save that my nerves were unsteady for some time, especially when I used to lie and think—
"Suppose that keeper had not seen the light!"