British Mystery Classics - Arthur Morrison Edition (Illustrated). Morrison Arthur

covered most of the patch, and seemed pretty healthy in their situation, with the exception of half a dozen — singularly enough, all together in a group. These were drooping, yellow, and wilted, and towards these Hewitt straightway walked. “Dig up those wilted cabbages,” he said to the jobbing man. “They’re really useless now. You’ll probably find something else six inches down or so.”

      The man struck his spade into the soft earth, wherein it stopped suddenly with a thud. But at this moment a gaunt, slatternly woman, with a black eye, a handkerchief over her head, and her skirt pinned up in front, observing the invasion from the back door of the cottage, rushed out like a maniac and attacked the party valiantly with a broom. She upset the jobbing man over his spade, knocked off one policeman’s helmet, lunged into the other’s face with her broom, and was making her second attempt to hit Hewitt (who had dodged), when Merrick caught her firmly by the elbows from behind, pressed them together, and held her. She screamed, and people came from other cottages and looked on. “Peter! Peter! “the woman screamed, “come ‘ee, come’ee here! Davey! They’re come! ”

      A grimy child came to the cottage door, and seeing the woman thus held, and strangers in the garden, set up a piteous howl. Meantime the digger had uncovered two wooden boxes, each eighteen inches long or so, bound with hoop-iron and sealed. One had been torn partly open at the top, and the broken wood roughly replaced. When this was lifted, bars of yellow metal were visible within.

      The woman still screamed vehemently, and struggled. The grimy child retreated, and then there appeared at the door, staggering hazily and rubbing his eyes, a shaggy, unkempt man, in shirt and trousers. He looked stupidly at the scene before him, and his jaw dropped.

      “Take that man,” cried Hewitt. “He’s one! ” And the policeman promptly took him, so that he had handcuffs on his wrists before he had collected his faculties sufficiently to begin swearing.

      Hewitt and the other policeman entered the cottage. In the lower two rooms there was nobody. They climbed the few narrow stairs, and m the front room above they found another man, younger, and fast asleep. “He’s the other,” said Hewitt. “Take him.” And this one was handcuffed before he woke.

      Then the recovered gold was put into the cart, and with the help of the village constable, who brought his own handcuffs for the benefit and adornment of the lady with the broom, such a procession marched out of Lostella as had never been dreamed of by the oldest inhabitant in his worst nightmare, nor recorded in the whole history of Cornwall.

      “Now,” said Hewitt, turning to Merrick, “we must have that fellow of yours — what’s his name — Gullen, isn’t it? The one that went down to measure the hole in the ship. You’ve kept him aboard, of course?”

      “What, Gullen?” exclaimed Merrick. “Gullen? Well, as a matter of fact he went ashore last night and hasn’t come back. But you don’t mean to say ”

      “I do” replied Hewitt. “And now you’ve lost him.”

      IV.

      “But tell me all about it now we’ve a little time to ourselves,” asked Merrick an hour or two later, as they sat and smoked in the after-cabin of the salvage tug. “We’ve got the stuff, thanks to you, but I don’t in the least see how they got it, nor how you found it out.”

      “Well, there didn’t seem to be a great deal either way in the tales told by the men from the Nicobar. They cancelled one another out, so to speak, though it seemed likely that there might be something in them in one or two respects. Brasyer, I could see, tried to prove too much. If the captain and the steward were conspiring to rob the bullion-room, why should the steward trouble to cut through the boiler-plate walls when the captain kept the keys in his cabin? And if the captain had been stealing the bullion, why should he stop at two cases when he had all the voyage to operate in and forty cases to help himself to? Of course the evidence of the carpenter gave some colour to the theory, but I think I can imagine a very reasonable explanation of that.

      “You told me, of course, that you were down with the men yourself when they opened the bullion-room door and got out the cases, so that there could be no suspicion of them. But at the same time you told me that the breach in the Nicobar’s side had laid open the bullion-room partition, and that you might more easily have got the cases out that way. You told me, of course, that the cases couldn’t have fallen out that way because of the list of the vessel, the position of the rent in the boiler-plate, and so on. But I reflected that the day before a diver had been down alone — in fact, that his business had been with the very hole that extended partly to the bullion-room: he had to measure it. That diver might easily have got at the cases through the breach. But then, as you told me, a diver can’t bring things up from below unobserved. This diver would know this, and might therefore hide the booty below. So that I made up my mind to have a look under water before I jumped to any conclusion.

      “I didn’t think it likely that he had hidden the cases, mind you. Because he would have had to dive again to get them, and would have been just as awkwardly placed in fetching them to the light of day then as ever. Besides, he couldn’t come diving here again in the company’s dress without some explanation. So what more likely than that he would make some ingenious arrangement with an accomplice, whereby he might make the gold in some way accessible to him?

      “We went under water. I kept my eyes open, and observed, among other things, that the vessel was one of those well-kept ‘ swell ‘ ones on which all the hatch gratings and so on are in plain oak or teak, kept holystoned. This (with the other things) I put by in my mind in case it should be useful. When we went over the side and looked at the great gap, I saw that it would have been quite easy to get at the broken bullion-room partition from outside.”

      “Yes,” remarked Merrick, “it would be no trouble at all. The ladder goes down just by the side of the breach, and any one descending by that might just step off at one side on to the jagged plating at the level of the after orlop, and reach over into the bullion safe.”

      “Just so. Well, next I turned my attention to the sea-bed, which I was extremely pleased to see was of soft, slimy claystone. I walked about a little, getting farther and farther away from the vessel as I went, till I came across that clean stone which I turned over with my foot. Do you remember?”

      “Yes.”

      “Well, that was noticeable. It was the only clean, bare stone to be seen. Every other was covered with a green growth, and to most clumps of weed clung. The obvious explanation of this was that the stone was a new-comer — lately brought from dry land — from the shingle on the sea-shore, probably, since it was washed so clean. Such a stone could not have come a mile out to sea by itself. Somebody had brought it in a boat and thrown it over, and whoever did it didn’t take all that trouble for nothing. Then its shape told a tale; it was something of the form, rather exaggerated, of a loaf — the sort that is called a ‘ cottage ‘ — the most convenient possible shape for attaching to a line and lowering. But the line had gone, so somebody must have been down there to detach it. Also it wasn’t unreasonable to suppose that there might have been a hook on the end of that line. This, then, was a theory. Your man had gone down alone to take his measurement, had stepped into the broken side, as you have explained he could, reached into the bullion-room, and lifted the two cases. Probably he unfastened the cord, and brought them out one at a time for convenience in carrying. Then he carried the cases, one at a time, as I have said, over to that white stone which lay there sunk with the hook and line attached by previous arrangement with some confederate. He detached the rope from the stone — it was probably fixed by an attached piece of cord, tightened round the stone with what you call a timber-hitch, easily loosened — replaced the cord round the two cases, passed the hook under the cord, and left it to be pulled up from above. But then it could not have been pulled up there in broad daylight, under your very noses. The confederates would wait till night. That meant that the other end of the rope was attached to some floating object, so that it might be readily recovered. The whole arrangement was set one night to be