Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 63
Colin nodded rather absent-mindedly. After all, the thing was done and there was no more to be said. Then he opened a subject nearer to his heart.
“We’re going to get the girls away by the tunnel, I suppose? That’s your plan?”
Northfleet shook his head, much to Colin’s surprise.
“We’d never manage it. These gunmen will be keeping an eye on the stairs, to see that the girls don’t slip down and escape. That’s selfevident, since they’re not imbeciles. We could never get two girls downstairs, into the passage, and past those chasms before the whole pack was after us in full cry. There’d be shooting, and the girls might get hurt, even if we did get them away. No, that’s no catch, Trent. Now, look here, we haven’t time for chattering. There are two jobs on hand, and you can take your choice. One is to saw up this gold brick or file it down. I must have it in small pieces. The other job is to open up that tunnel by breaking through the new brick wall that Graigmore put up. Choose whichever you like. We’ve got to get busy. Time’s the thing we can’t spare.”
“All right,” Colin decided. “Give me the pick and I’ll start on the tunnel.”
The idea of breaking down the barrier appealed to him. Somehow, the removal of that wall would make him feel nearer to Jean, fanciful though the idea was.
But as he was leaving the laboratory there came a faint shout from outside the house.
“Good Lord!” Colin ejaculated in contrition as he recognised the voice. “It must be that poor devil Wenlock, the detective. I’d forgotten all about him; and he’s hurt, too. I am a beast.”
He was about to hurry out to help the wounded man when Northfleet stopped him.
“Get on with your job, Trent. I’ll patch this fellow up. And as soon as you’re finished, come and lend a hand with this filing. I want this gold to dissolve as quickly as possible.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE RAID ON WESTER VOE
THE night passed without alarm. Northfleet worked far into the morning in the laboratory, snatched some sleep, and returned to his task. Colin lay down, but found that sleep was out of the question for him. The detective, in pain with his wound, kept an unnecessary watch. Leven, apparently, slept soundly, for they heard him snoring upstairs at intervals.
During the forenoon, Colin found the enforced inactivity getting on his nerves. He wanted to be up and doing, to feel that some progress was being made towards the rescue of the captives at Wester Voe. Anxious and restless, he wandered into the laboratory with the idea of questioning Northfleet about his plans. The reception he got was sufficient to put this notion out of his head.
“For any sake, Trent, get out of here—and stay out!” Northfleet exclaimed irritably. “I’m at a tricky stage now, and I can’t afford to have my attention distracted. Sorry if I sound rude; but l really mean it. The least thing might put the whole business in the soup. Do keep away. Take a walk up to the headland and show yourself to the girls. They’ll recognise you by your walk, if they can’t see your face; and it’ll assure your wife that nothing’s happened to you. Wave to them if you like, but no semaphoring, remember. We don’t want to set these swine thinking.”
Colin was only too glad to take his colleague’s advice. It would always be something: to wave to Jean and see her answering signal from the window. And, as Northfleet said, the sight of him would ease her mind about his safety and take one worry off her shoulders.
He set off, but in a quarter of an hour he was back in the laboratory.
“What is it now?” snapped the chemist. “Stand back at the door, there. Don’t come fussing about.”
Colin resented the tone; but his good nature reminded him that Northfleet could hardly be expected to be normal just then. He must be half-mad with anxiety about Hazel, just as Colin himself was on tenterhooks about Jean.
“Just dropped in to tell you one thing. The bloke Beeston didn’t rat to the other lot. He must have been in a blue funk about them, poor devil. He went down to the beach, and managed to launch the skiff. Evidently meant to risk the sea that was running rather than be mixed up in any shooting. I found his body on the Bands down below. The skiff’s gone.”
He halted for a moment, then added gloomily:
“That’s our last boat. No chance of getting the girls away now, even if the wind went down and we could risk the passage to Stornadale.”
“There are the rockets at Wester Voe,” said Northfleet.
“Get help, you mean? That’s why you wanted the passage re-opened? Of course, the rocket-case is just alongside the secret door.”
“Oh, get out of here,” Northfleet adjured him. “I simply can’t have you lounging about while I’m at this job. That’s a fact, Trent. Please shift yourself.”
“All right,” said Colin sympathetically. “I know how you feel. I must do something, though.”
“Then scratch up some lunch, if you can. I don’t suppose Leven will condescend to make himself useful. And there’s another thing. See if you can find some garden-stakes and cut them to a six-foot length. Half a dozen will be enough and less might do. But get a couple if possible.”
“I’ll see to it,” Colin assured him, glad to have something to do which promised to be useful; though what part garden-stakes could play was beyond his imagination.
“Say six foot six inches, just to be on the safe side,” Northfleet revised.
Colin noted this. Then, irrevelantly, he remarked :
“The Dinnets won’t come back to-day. Sea’s still too rough for the motor-boat. And, naturally, they don’t know there’s anything amiss here.”
“Just as well,” Northfleet commented. “They’d only be a complication for us.”
Colin saw signs of impatience in Northfleet’s face, so he hastened to withdraw.
“Well, I’ll