Through Russian Snows (8 page)

It was but for five or six minutes at the utmost that he had lost sight
of the bushes, and in that time the man could not have got far. "Where
on earth has he hidden himself?" Julian muttered.

He went down to the clump of bushes, still holding his gun in readiness
for instant use. The patch was but some thirty feet long by half as
wide. He walked backwards and forwards among the low bushes, but the
fugitive was certainly not there. Going to the end of the patch he could
see plainly enough the track where the man had entered, for although
there was little snow on the top of the ground it lay among the tufts of
grass. He walked round the clump, but there were no signs of any
footsteps leaving it. "This is the rummest thing I ever saw," he
muttered; "the fellow can't have flown away; yet, he certainly has not
walked off."

Thinking it over, an idea suddenly occurred to him. When sailing along
the coast with Bill, the latter had one day pointed out to him a hole in
the cliff some twenty feet above high-water mark. "Do you see that hole,
Mr. Julian?"

"Yes, I see it plain enough. What of it?"

"Well, sir, if I owned all the goods that have been taken into that hole
on dark still nights I should be a rich man."

"Do you mean to say that they run cargoes there, Bill?"

"Not kegs—they are too heavy and too awkward to get away—but laces,
and silks, and such like. Many a lugger when she comes from abroad lands
all them sorts of things here, and then sails away and takes her chance
of running the rest of the cargo somewhere else."

"But how can anyone get up there? I see nothing like a path."

"There ain't no path, sir. The revenue men would have found it out long
ago if there had been. The boat comes along, as I said, of a dark night,
when there is no swell on, and the chaps inside show a tiny light to
guide them to the spot. When the boat comes, they lower a rope down and
haul the bales up; and then the boat goes back to the lugger, and she
ups sail, and no one is the wiser."

"But what do they do with the stuff? I don't mean, where do they stow
it, but how do they get it away?"

"There is a passage somewhere," Bill replied. "I don't know where it
goes out. I reckon there ain't half a dozen men in Weymouth who do know.
I should say, except the men whose business it is to take the goods
inland and forward them to London, there is only one chap who is in the
secret; and he is not in Weymouth now—he is in jail. That is Joe
Markham. He is in for poaching. But for a good many years he sailed in
one of those French luggers. Then, as I have heard, he was keeper of the
cave for a bit; but he had to give it up—he was too well known to the
coast-guard, and they kept too sharp an eye on him for him to venture to
go out. He had had enough of the sea, and no doubt he had got some money
laid by; anyhow, he took a cottage by the river, and took to poaching,
more for devilment, I should say, than because he wanted the money. I
expect he was well paid by the smugglers, for he used to get up half the
stories to put them off the scent, and never missed being present when a
run was made."

This conversation came back to Julian's memory, as he stood by the clump
of bushes wondering what had become of the man that he had pursued, and
it flashed upon him that the spot where he was standing could not be far
from the smugglers' cavern, and that the entrance to this might very
well be among these bushes. The man knew where that entrance was, and
nothing was more likely than that he should make for it as a place of
concealment until an opportunity occurred to get on board a lugger and
cross the channel. It was a very likely place; men could come and go at
night without risk of being seen or heard by any of the coast-guardsmen
on the cliff, and would not be likely to encounter anyone within two or
three miles of it. Years might pass without anyone happening to enter
the bushes.

Laying down his gun, Julian began to search in earnest. It was half an
hour before, feeling about in the coarse grass, he came upon a handle.
He pulled at it, gently at first, then as it did not yield, he exerted
his strength, and it gave way, and a section of the rough herbage rose,
while three feet away it sank in the same proportion. Raising it higher,
he saw that the trap-door—for such it was—was two feet wide by about
five feet long and eighteen inches deep; it was, in fact, a deep tray
pivoted on the centre and filled with earth, on which grass grew as
freely as in the ground adjoining.

The greater portion of the trap was overhung by bushes, which grew so
thickly around the part which sank that the probability was small indeed
that anyone would tread upon it. Julian saw, too, that under the handle
was a bolt that, when fastened, would hold the trap firmly down. No
doubt the man in his haste had forgotten to fasten it before he
descended. Looking down, Julian saw a circular hole like a well,
evidently artificially made in the chalk; a ladder was fastened against
one side.

JULIAN FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER AMONG THE SMUGGLERS.

Julian hesitated. Should he return to Weymouth, inform the authorities
that he had traced the murderer of Mr. Faulkner to a place of
concealment, and bring them there to arrest him, or should he go down
and encounter him single-handed? Although of a fearless disposition, he
would have decided on the more prudent course had it not been that to
have done so, would have let the authorities into the knowledge of the
smugglers' cave. Although he had determined to have nothing more to do
with them, this he felt would be an act of treachery, for it was only
because he had been believed by Bill to be absolutely trustworthy, that
the latter had told him of the existence of this cavern and of the
secret exit, and without that information he would never have searched
for and discovered the trap-door. Then, too, the thought that the credit
he would gain by the capture of the murderer single-handed would go far
to efface the memory of the disgrace that had befallen him, helped to
decide him.

He fetched his gun and slung it over his shoulder, got upon the ladder,
and pulled the trap-door down behind him. As he did so he found that it
moved easily, and that he could push it up again without any difficulty,
and feeling the bolt, discovered that it had been partially shot, but
not sufficiently to catch fairly, although containing so far a hold of
the frame, that it had torn a groove in the somewhat rotten wood with
the force that he had used to raise it. He went down the ladder very
cautiously, until, after descending for some thirty steps, his foot
encountered solid ground. After a moment's consideration he knelt down
and proceeded on his hands and knees. Almost immediately he felt the
ground slope away in front of him. He got on to his feet again. Holding
out his arms he found that the passage was about four feet wide, and he
began to descend with extreme care, feeling his way along both walls. He
had gone, he thought, about fifty yards when the passage made a sharp
turn, still descending, and at a considerable distance ahead the light
streamed in through a rugged hole. He walked more confidently now, and
soon the light was sufficient to enable him to see the path he was
following.

On arriving at the aperture, he saw that, as he expected, he was looking
over the sea. On one side of the hole there was a shelf cut in the
chalk. This was stained as if by oil, and he guessed at once that it was
a look-out and a spot for signalling a craft in the offing. The path
here turned again and ran parallel with the face of the cliff. There was
no occasion to exercise care in walking now, as here and there the light
streamed in through openings a few inches long. He now unslung his gun,
stooped and took off his boots, and then proceeded noiselessly. The
descent was considerable, and in some places steps had been cut. At last
he arrived at a door. It was roughly but very solidly made, and would
doubtless sustain an attack for some time before it yielded, and so
would give time to the occupants, in case the trap-door was discovered,
to make their escape by the lower entrance on to the beach. There was a
latch to it. Lifting this quietly, he found the door yielded, and,
holding his gun in his right hand ready to cover the fugitive the moment
he entered, Julian threw the door wide open and sprang forward.

He had not calculated on a further descent, but the floor of the cave
was five feet below him, and he fell heavily upon it, the gun going off
as it struck the floor. Instantaneous as the fall had been, his eyes had
taken in the scene. Several lanterns faintly lit up the cave; while in
the centre a table, at which several figures were sitting, was
illuminated by three or four candles. He was partly stunned by the
heaviness of his fall, but vaguely heard shouts of surprise and alarm,
and was, a minute later, roughly seized and dragged along. Then he felt
that he was being tightly bound. For some minutes he was left to
himself, but he could see three men with guns in their hands standing
near the door by which he had entered, listening attentively. Presently
he heard steps coming down the passage and two other men came through
the door, shut and bolted it carefully, and then came down the steps
into the cabin.

They spoke to their comrades as they came in, and the news was evidently
satisfactory, for the men leaned their guns against the wall and came to
the table. There was some talk for a few minutes, and then Julian was
raised and placed in a sitting position on the head of a cask by the
table. One of the men then addressed him in French. Julian, who by this
time had recovered from the effects of his fall, shook his head. The
other then spoke to the poacher, who had seated himself opposite Julian,
and the latter then said:

"You are the young fellow who was tried in court three weeks ago, are
you not?"

"Yes, I am."

"I thought so; I was there. It was the very day I got to Weymouth. Well,
what the deuce are you doing here? You are the chap who has followed me
all the way up the hill?"

Julian nodded.

"What did you follow me for?"

"Because I was in the road when you shot Faulkner. I heard the gun, and
ran in and found him dead. I caught sight of you in the wood, and went
in chase of you."

"What did you intend to do, you young fool?"

"I intended to capture you," Julian said fearlessly.

"What for? I have done you a good service as well as myself. You had no
reason to bear him any good-will, and some of the men who were there
told me that though Downes got you off, it was true that you were going
to throw Faulkner into the fire."

"So I was; but he had just struck me and I was in a furious passion; but
that was a different thing altogether to shooting a man in cold blood."

"He got me two years' imprisonment," the man said, "which to my mind was
a good reason for shooting him when I got the chance; and another thing
was he would never leave us alone, but was always on our heels. There
are two or three men in prison now that he got sent there, and eight
more are waiting their trial. He made war on us, and I have turned the
tables on him.

"I heard that you had been at several of the runs, and of course you are
in with some of our fellows. How did you get to know about the entrance
to this place?"

"I only knew that there was a cave here, that it was used by the
smugglers, and that it had an entrance somewhere. The man who told me
knew well that I was to be trusted, but it was only because you
disappeared among those bushes, and that there were no footprints to
show that you had left them, that it appeared to me that the passage
might be there, and so I looked about until I found the handle to the
trap-door."

"Why didn't you go and call the coast-guard? There was a station not a
quarter of a mile away."

"Because I could not have done that without betraying the secret of the
cavern. I found the entrance myself, but I should never have done so, if
I had not been told about the cave and the secret passage, and I felt
that it would be an act of treachery to betray it."

"And you were really fool enough to think that if you captured me
single-handed I should walk with you like a lamb to the gallows?"

"I didn't intend to give you a chance of making a fight. I intended to
rush straight in and covered you with my gun."

"Well, you have plenty of pluck, young fellow, if you haven't much
wisdom; but if you think that after getting in here, I shall let you go
out again to bring the constables down on me you are mistaken
altogether."

THE SMUGGLER'S CAVE

Joe Markham had, as soon as he arrived, told the French smugglers that
he had shot the magistrate who had for the last five or six years given
them so much trouble and caused them so much loss, and who had, as the
last affair showed, become more dangerous than ever, as he could only
have obtained information as to the exact point of landing by having
bribed someone connected with them.