"Let's see," whispered Clive. "Let's creep on round the foot of the tower and see what we come to."
Brambles and ferns obstructed their path. A crumbling wall of stone crossed it, and halting for a moment they saw that it turned abruptly to the right some fifty yards away, and then again came towards the building.
"A courtyard or the garden in the old days," said Bert. "Wonder if that's where that old beggar hid the treasure?"
"Ah!" It was a very shrewd suggestion. Clive stared about him with added interest. "Hardly likely," he ventured after a while. "The old chap was cooped up, isn't that the story?"
"Yes; and hadn't a chance. Knew every farthing would be taken from him."
"And so buried it."
"Don't blame him either," declared Hugh. "But where would a fellow be most likely to bury gold under the circumstances? Not in the garden."
"Why not?" asked Bert curtly.
"Because the enemy were round there without a doubt. Probably sat behind the garden walls comfortably taking pot shots at the defenders. Look there, there's a hole in the tower right opposite. Bet you the cannon smashed the stones in. That old cove couldn't have got to the garden."
This seemed probable enough, and therefore the movement forward was proceeded with. They skirted the moss-covered foot of the tower for some fifty paces, and though all observed that the battlements above them had been much broken, and had disappeared altogether in parts, yet the height of the walls was still so great that climbing was out of the question.