The moon was high by the time Captain Mulgrave and his subordinate started for the Abbey with their unwelcome guest.
John Thurley was still unconscious as they lifted him from the rock; and the jolting to which they were forced to subject him, as they made the difficult descent to the level land, failed to rouse him to the least sign of life. Indeed Freda, who followed close, not without suspicions of foul play in one of the bearers, was afraid that this journey was a hopeless one, and that it was a dead man they would carry into the Abbey.
“Up the steps,” directed Captain Mulgrave briefly.
And instead of turning to the left, towards the cave, they crossed the stretch of flat, grass-grown land in the direction of a rough flight of steps, partly cut in the cliff itself and partly formed of stones brought for the purpose, which, guarded on one side by a primitive handrail, formed the communication for the public between the top of the cliff and the scaur.
“It’s a long way round, guv’nor,” grumbled the other. “Better haul him up our way with the rest of the stuff.”
Freda uttered an angry and impatient exclamation. Her father who, to her horror, had appeared not unwilling to act on the suggestion, now shook his head and again nodded towards the steps. The other, though he had to submit to the directions of his chief, did so with a very bad grace, and muttered many expressions of ill-will as he staggered along under his share of the burden. For the unfortunate John Thurley was a solidly built, heavy man, and the ascent up the face of the cliff was not an easy one even in ordinary circumstances.
When they had at last, after many pauses, reached the top of the cliff, the little wizened face puckered up again with an expression of intense slyness.
“The boys won’t be able to get on without one or other of us, guv’nor,” he suggested. “They’ll have got the stuff through to the house by this time, and if there ’s nobody there to look after them they’ll just get roaring drunk, and perhaps manage to get up from the cellar for more liquor, and kick up no end of a disturbance.”
Freda, who was afraid her father might leave her alone with this odious man and the unconscious Thurley, instantly struck in with a suggestion.
“There’s Josiah Kemm waiting about by the ruin,” she said. “I suppose you have some whistle or signal that he would know, and he would bring his cart.”