# The Castle by the Sea/Chapter 18

pp. 245–258.

### CHAPTER XVIII
#### THE SECRET OF THE CAVES

I ROSE on the following morning with my mind full of my project, and at one time I thought of inviting Toosey's assistance. But the time was hardly ripe for that. I must make a preliminary reconnoitre first. This I succeeded in doing before midday.
I descended on the foreshore by the wicket gate in the Castle grounds, and was soon on the beach among the rocks. The tide was out once more, and the cave easy of access. I had furnished myself with a hurricane lamp and a generous store of matches; and I entered the outer shell, the ear of the cavern, as it were, in which all the sounds of the external world drummed and echoed, with sensible excitement and expectation. Having lighted my lamp I turned into the interior cavity, and pushed on to the bottom of that. Here a passage in the rocky way gave entrance to a third chamber, an ample and lofty vault, dripping to the eye and dank to the nostril. Out of this again a defile led into still further caverns, and I was on the point of passing through this when I noticed another opening a little to my left. I swung the lamp on it, and discovered that it also led off, but in another direction. I went through the first opening, and found at the base of this fourth cavern a gallery leading on apparently indefinitely. I came back and tried the second opening, and here again I made acquaintance with a gallery. What is more, I counted three openings out of it in the space of twelve yards. Once more I retraced my way and returned to the first gallery. The same phenomenon was here repeated. Numerous openings in the solid rock testified to the ramifications of the passages. The whole place was evidently burrowed like a rabbit warren. I felt that I needed better assistance than my memory if I was to attempt to solve the secret of this subterranean hold; and so reluctantly I resought the light of day.
It was now quite clear to what use these caverns had been put in older days. They had formed the hold of the Freetraders, and their ramifications had, doubtless, been of service to them in their continuous war with the revenue authorities. The place was a nexus of passages, perhaps intercommunicating, and possibly leading to a central warehouse, which would thus defy the unravelling of any one save the initiated. I judged that this subterranean cellarage was mainly natural, but probably connections had been also artificially made. Certainly, I must consider further before I became involved in that honeycomb.
By the time I reached the Castle again, it was nearly one o'clock, and I lunched hastily in order to get down into Southington in good time. I had only just finished when Mr. Toosey appeared. He had been sent for by the Harveys, and had been over to their hotel in reference to the disappearance of Norroy. I now learned that Mrs. Harvey was increasingly anxious to engage the services of a detective, and I wrote out a lengthy telegram for despatch to her to prevent this. "I may have important news by to-morrow. If not, then authorize professional help," I wired to her.
I said nothing of what I expected, or of how I expected it; for, to say the truth, I took a little human satisfaction in the mystery of my clue. Not even to Toosey did I mention details, but I gave him a mission which pleased him. I suggested that he should paint out-of-doors, and at the Point, moreover; and I gave him a description of the man I wanted him to observe. He took to the work as a duck to water, and gave me an elaborate explanation of his plans for avoiding curiosity. He would choose his subject carefully, prospecting every foot of the hamlet, and he would prove a fool, he thought, if he did not ultimately fetch up in front of this particular fisherman's cottage. That accomplished, Toosey's eagle eye would be on the sinister man.
I did not doubt his capacity to put so easy a plan into execution; as an artist no one would question his bona fides. And it would serve me to have the confederate under supervision all the afternoon. For, you see, I had realized that it was impracticable to make my second essay at exploration until the tide served again—which would not be till near dark. Until after eight I was perforce idle. And, lacking the opportunity to be useful, I took the opportunity to be happy. In other words, I spent a couple of hours at Southington. Of course, I had a good excuse in reporting progress, if I wanted one; but I did not. I entered Mrs. Lane's as a right, and, the discreet Isabel being absent, I held out my arms. Perdita shook her head, smiling.
"We live in the daylight," she remonstrated, when I paid no heed to this.
"Light or dark, rain or shine, sun or snow, I care not," I said defiantly. "All the world is one to me, and all weathers are the same, provided I have Perdita, All tragedies are comedies, and there is no space nor time, while I have Perdita. There is only just so much space as is spanned by Perdita, and only just so much time to kiss her. The only time that time gallops is when I do that. Otherwise it stands still."
"You speak," said Perdita, rosy warm, "as if you had often done it. You have only done it once—twice."
"One hundred million times in my heart," I said, "and since it is only twice in sad fact, why I must make a beginning in earnest."
Perdita retreated almost to the door of that room into which she had once thrust me, her own sweet personal chamber, wherein she was wont to dream sweet dreams and live her girlish fancies.
"You want to see Isabel," she said. "I will call her."
"If you call Isabel," I retorted, "I will box her ears. I will take her and push her out of the room. I will use awful language such as she will scream and rush from. And I know awful words!"
Perdita had her back to the door of her room, and she laughed, her hand behind her on the handle to prevent surprises.
"It's time I was getting on with my shopping," she said demurely. "It's my turn to shop to-day."
"Thank goodness, I know what it is to be a man," I said heartily, "and to abound and rejoice in physical strength. Let me warn you, beloved, that no girl is a match for a brutal man with arms like brawn and a determination like iron. No one shall go forth from this room except at my pleasure."
Perdita slipped into her own room and closed the door. I was alone.
I cried, I pleaded, I begged, I humbled myself—and she was adamant. Then I told her through the keyhole my opinion of women, their fickleness, their deceit, their treachery, and their vanity.
"You have only gone to beautify yourself more," I said sarcastically. "But you can't, you know you can't. That's the joke. Oh, my Perdita is my vain thing; she thinks to gild the lily and to paint the rose."
Perdita was offended at this. "I have never used a cosmetic in my life," she said primly when she had returned, pretending that she had not run from me and had not heard me, and that she really wondered to find me there.
"I thought it was time you went," she said austerely. "Isabel is out just now."
Oh, I won't recall the word I used in connection with Isabel, but Perdita was not really shocked. She said she was, but it has always been my secret belief that Perdita was sometimes a humbug. Yet when Isabel did come, she brought me news that Mr. Toosey was looking for me in the village. He had been to the Castle and not found me. Now, how on earth did he know that I was at Mrs. Lane's?
Mr. Toosey's report brought me back to dull earth. He had identified the man I had described, had succeeded in choosing his cottage as a "pitch," and had kept him under observation until the man had put to sea after his midday meal. So far good; if he had gone I should be the safer from surveillance in my expedition. I went back to Mrs. Lane's, but the ladies were dressing to go out, and I got no consideration whatsoever from Perdita. I was not to attend them I was told; they were on purely private affairs connected with the house. She challenged me with her glances, and I insisted on accompanying them, which I successfully accomplished without further protest.
I liked shopping with Perdita; there was something indefinably intimate in it, for presently Miss Puller discovered business at a cottage on the hill, and imposed the task upon us. I watched Perdita while she bought soap and candles and sugar, and offered her advice on sundry household purchases. But unhappily she did not seem to have much opinion of my opinion; she steadily ignored it.
"We 'll change all that, my lady, when you 're my wife," I whispered threateningly in her ear. It grew pink like the petal of a pink rose, and she hurriedly talked to the shop woman.
"And may I have a bar of tea, please," said silly Perdita. Then, her confusion worse confounded, she grew redder, and, when we had got outside safely, declared she was going home. Alas, it was time for me also to go home to make my preparations.
"Perdita!" said I, solemnly, when we paused to part, "I have suddenly remembered something. I've never formally asked for your hand. When may I come and do it? It's rather important." She only looked; she did not answer. I don't somehow think she could answer just then.
"And you 've never called me anything," I went on. "Never, never anything. Now I must be called something."
"I—I don't know what to call you," stammered Perdita. And the dear heart, I had not reflected, did not, of course, know I was Richard. I told her.
"Never mind," I added. "That will keep until I have formally asked for your hand, which I propose to do—let me see—to-morrow. Heavens, how terrible a sweetness there is in living in suspense! But as you must call me something, and must n't call me Dick yet, suppose you call me dearest."
"Oh!" protested Perdita, aflame.
"Very well, beloved," said I, "I am going hence, and Heaven only knows when you will see me again. I am going on a desperate venture." My Perdita opened her eyes largely. "I'm plunging into unknown risks and hazards." Perdita's face fell.
"What—what are you going to do." she asked anxiously. I loved to see that anxiety resident there—for me.
"I'm going to follow up a clue," I said; and so I told her, and she was the only one who knew.
Perdita blanched. "But what—what—" she paused. "Oh, isn't there danger?" she asked.
I shook my head. I was charged with confidence then, and would not have called the king my cousin. Before me Fate spread her lures in vain. From my height I looked down upon a less fortunate world; and no intervention could bar my way to happiness.
"But what do you expect to find there?" said Perdita, with awe in her voice.
"I shall find the secret which has been puzzling us," I said confidently. "If it is anywhere, it is there. I am not afraid for Norroy. There's nothing tragic about it all, but only something dishonest. Those caves, my dear, were used for contraband a hundred years ago; I believe they are used for contraband to-day, but mutatis mutandis. That's all. And you and I shall speed like fairy princess and prince to release the hapless victim."
"Do you think he can be there?" she asked breathlessly.
"I think I shall know about it when I have been there," I answered.
She drew a deep breath, and contemplated me with triumphing ardor. I think, though she said nothing but with those eyes, she was glad that her lover was so brave and noble. Ah, dear heart, I have never done anything brave or noble in my frivolous life, but now I know I could face death and torture and eternal ruin for the sake of one woman. I was proud to seem a hero in those pretty eyes, though I was half ashamed at the false pretences. I was only visiting an interesting cavern. We step out upon our most fateful journeys unawares; we turn the corners light-heartedly to tragedy.
Perdita laid a hand upon my arm, pleading with me with that instinct magic of understanding that had come to pass between us. "You must not nm into danger. You must not come to harm, ... dearest," she said in a low tense voice.
If it had not been the road I would have caught her up in my arms. But I could only control myself and speak through my gaze, which devoured that vision of loveliness. There was some strange chord that bound us; words could say no more between us just then. I turned and left her, and, looking back at the comer of the square, I saw her looking back also.
I nearly rushed into the arms of Miss Fuller, as she came up the street, laden with parcels.
Radiantly, I was going by with a significant smile for her, when she stopped as if to address me, and some of her packages were scattered on the road. I stooped to pick them up, mysterious long "drapery" things, some mustard that had broken its bonds, and pepper that set Miss Fuller sneezing.
"Atchewl" she sneezed, and another package fell. It was a bulky envelope for which she had evidently called at the post-office, and the flimsy paper had frayed and broken, so that part of its contents slipped out in the dust. I gathered them up while Isabel continued her sneezing, and as I did so I could not but see the inscription on the packet and the contents. It was addressed to Miss Fuller at Mrs. Lane's, bore a London postmark, and it held, apparently, several letters addressed to Miss Rivers. I stacked them all carefully in Isabel's arms and dismissed her with my blessing.
"Go back, dear lady," I said, "and tell the most beautiful woman you chance to see that you met one walking with his head in air, and that he upset all your parcels thereby, and spilt the pepper in the gutter; and say that if he were walking to perdition he would still walk with his head in air and perish happily ever afterwards."
"It's nonsense, you know," said Isabel, laughing nervously and pleasantly, "but I know what you mean. I'm so glad."
All the world was glad. I strolled up the deep-sunk lane to the Castle the gladdest of all, listening to the birds. It was already that hour in late afternoon when they are contemplating the evening concert. Ah! I sighed to think that no nightingale ever poured out his passionate full heart in Devon. Other birds may make musical the countryside, but never sad Philomel. The blackbird sang with rich melody, the thrush scattered his song with reckless largess, the wren was like fireworks in the hedge, and the voice of the unseen willow-warbler drifted out of the trees like a plaintive ghost that sings as it fades away. But no nightingale sang to any rose by Devon lanes and Devon gardens. No; in Devon the nightingale's song is in the lover's heart.
Mr. Toosey had embarrassed Mrs. Jackman during my absence by his researches in the Castle; he had politely insisted on exploring the precincts of the kitchen for a solution of the hypothetical cipher in the "Novum Organum"; and to Mrs. Jackman's obvious distress he had imagined he had discovered it in her bedroom. I had dinner with him, and, if he had not been so crack-brained and volatile of mind, I should have invited him to join me on my adventure. It was just a toss-up, as the saying is, that I did not. On so little does so much depend. I left the Castle towards dark alone, but armed with several adjuncts.
The tide was running well out, and when I gained the beach in front of the cave not a soul was in sight. Only far out a single sail moved like a dot on the great channel. I lit my lamp in the first cave, proceeded through the second into the third without hesitation; and then my new experiment opened. I had brought with me several balls of strong thin twine, and the end of one of these I made fast to a projecting point of rock; then with the hurricane lamp throwing a light before me I plunged cheerfully down one of the corridors to which I have referred in a previous chapter.
I had selected the passage at random, for there was nothing to guide me in my choice; and now I must pick one of the channels that led off it by the same guesswork. The first I entered in a very short time proved a blind alley, and I retraced my way to make trial of another. This conducted me for some distance and then branched into two, one of which I was obliged to take in preference to the other. Again, I had the same alternative forced upon me; and then half a dozen openings were offered to me. At least four or five times I chose at haphazard, ever trailing my thread behind me through the darkness, until I fancied I had penetrated at least one hundred and fifty yards m these intestine alleys. That was so far as distance was concerned, for I had not been able to keep count of direction, and I had not a guess where I was in relation to the sea. Immediately, upon that, I arrived in a cave of large area, which I was only able to illumine faintly with my lantern.
I threw up the light to the vault above, which was some fifteen feet high, and, travelling slowly round the walls of the cavern, I reckoned its diameter at something like thirty feet. I made a careful examination of this chamber, and in one place found some old decaying casks, and other débris, which suggested that the vault had been used in other days as a storage cellar by the smugglers. This seemed to indicate that there was a nearer passage between it and the sea; for I could not believe that those erratic and tedious ramifications had been utilized for the difficult transport of goods. And this indication was endorsed by the number of holes which led out of the vault. Indeed, so numerous were they, that it is not exaggerating to say that the walls were riddled with holes. Avenues seemed to converge on that central warehouse from all quarters, though whether they intercommunicated and flowed subsequently in one ampler channel I could not say.
So far my quest had met with no reward, save the relics of an interesting history. But after all, my concern was in no way with the dead freebooters of a past civilization. And when I looked at those burrows my heart misgave me. I was standing in the arena in consideration, when my eye was caught by a mark on the floor. This was of sand, dry and dusty, and evidently a superficial carpet to the deeper rock. The marks that arrested me were uniform lines ploughed two inches deep, and extending across the cavern. I put my lantern to the ground and traced them. They went right through the chamber and disappeared into a burrow. I came back, tracked them in the other direction and saw them slip into a burrow on the other side. The vault then was intermediate in a road of traffic which led from somewhere beyond to what must be the entrance to the whole nest of subterranean galleries. The marks seemed to me to have been sunk by a wheel.
I was bent over them, lost in thought, when there came to my ears a rumbling sound, a hollow echo as of a human voice. Instinctively, I put out the lantern and crept towards the sheltering darkness of the walls. It was as well I did so, for out of a burrow on one side a spreading light emerged, flinging strange shadows the length of the vault; and, presently, I made out the figure of a man from which the light swung. It was short and crabbed, bow-legged and squat, but of astonishing breadth; it walked like a beetle, the lantern creaking as it went, and throwing grotesques upon the walls and on the floor. Slowly it passed across and disappeared into one of the holes, and the light died away.
Stealthily I relit my own lantern and followed the direction of this curious creature to its point of disappearance. Then I came back. I was not sure what I ought to do. Should I pursue the beetle and see what the pursuit brought? Or should I proceed with the investigation I had already begun into the wheel-marks? A vague thought that these galleries might be the home of a gang of coiners, or even of illicit distillers, flashed through my mind. Whoever they were, it was my bounden duty to follow up my discoveries. I retraced the wheel-marks, and to my surprise and satisfaction, I found that they came out of the opening from which the dwarf had entered. I immediately made my decision. I would explore that way.
I had no difficulty now in guiding myself by these signs of human handiwork. My lantern showed them to me plainly on the sandy floor; and I passed several openings without pausing to regard or consider them. Finally, I struck into another cave, but one of smaller size than the vault I had left, and here I came to an abrupt stop. For right in the centre of my path was a pickaxe lying on a heap of stones.
I drew nearer, bent over it and scrutinized it carefully. The stones were of different sizes, some being jagged pieces of rock. My mind was bewildered but eager; and my gaze wandering farther round lighted now upon a wheelbarrow. Here was evidently the explanation of the marks I had been following. I stared farther still, and the light threw up dimly a second heap of stones. What was it? I stooped again, and picked up one in my hand; it weighed like lead. I am no geologist and no man of science. Least of all am I a metallurgist. Yet to me that stone spoke somehow of metal. I put it up right into the eye of the light, which gleamed on a clean exposed face. I uttered an exclamation. The secret was out. I held in my hand a lump of exceedingly rich copper ore.