“Oh, that is all right,” said Miss Inderwick, assisting to replace the jewels; “he went away this morning. Inspector Moon sent him a wire saying he was to go back to town.”
“Oh!” said Alan thoughtfully, as he closed the panel, and it resumed its innocent look. “I expect Moon has given up all hope of Sorley returning to this place. Well, I expect he is right. It would be foolish of your uncle, dear, to thrust his head into the lion’s jaws.”
“I am sure he will return and prove his innocence,” cried Marie resolutely; “and won’t he be pleased when he learns that we have found the Begum’s jewels, Alan?”
“We haven’t found them yet,” answered Fuller, determined in his own mind that whether innocent or guilty the man should not meddle with the girl’s property. “Let us go and look, Marie. Ask Henny or Jenny for a crowbar.”
“What for?”
“We must pry up the stone under which the treasure is hidden. I expect, as you suggest, that it is marked with a red triangle.”
“I don’t expect we have a crowbar,” said Miss Inderwick dubiously, but went into the back part of the house on her errand, nevertheless, while Alan took his way to St. Peter’s dell. He surveyed what Ferrier had called “The Pool” in his cryptogram, and expected that he had done so, since there was no gem’s name beginning with “W” which he could have placed in the peacock’s tail. The man had engraved the letter “K” on the ring as a hint to his master, as was evident, but had not taken the same liberty with the peacock, since it might solve the riddle too easily.
“And hang it, how easy it was after all,” said Alan, who could not get over this point. Then, while awaiting the coming of Marie, he surveyed the well.
There it was, standing amongst the still leafless trees, and amidst the rank slushy grasses, a circle of stone, surmounted by the wooden canopy with its mellow red roof. The windlass was rotten with age, and the rope, formerly used to wind up the bucket, was conspicuous by its absence, as was the bucket itself. Fuller peered into the depths and saw the water far down twinkling like a star in the uncertain light, which filtered to the depths. The sides of the well were of massive masonry, green with moss and slime, while the circle above ground was overgrown with herbage. In the hope of finding the marked stone, he began to tear away the grasses and briars and ivy, scratching his hands considerably as he did so. To save these he put on his stout deerskin gloves, which he fortunately had slipped into his pocket. Marie found him thus occupied.
“We have a crowbar after all,” she cried, bending under the article she mentioned, along with a spade and a coil of rope. “One of the workmen who was building a new wall at the back of the house, left it a year ago.”