There he stopped abruptly. The noises of tapping and scraping had begun again. Tap, tap, tap, far up above their heads, and then a crunching sound. It was as if someone at a considerable distance was striking with a pickaxe and shovelling up loose earth. Jimmy listened intently.
"If you ask me," he repeated, "I'm inclined to think that somebody is trying to knock a hole in the roof of this cave. What's above us here, Beth?"
"I don't know," said Beth. "The cliff, I suppose."
"Well, then, there's somebody on the top of the cliff digging a hole. Can't imagine what he wants to do such a thing for!"
He struck a match and looked up. The hole, a large space of inky blackness, was some six feet from the ground. It was wide and the rocks at its side were jagged.
"If I could get a grip on that craggy bit that is sticking out," said Jimmy, "I could pull myself up into the hole. It's probably easy enough climbing after that. Just stand clear for a minute while I jump. I'll have a try at it."
But Beth was not inclined to let him try. Instead of standing clear she clung to him more tightly than before.
"Don't do it, Jimmy," she said.
"Still nervous about the smuggler's ghost?"
"I'm not thinking about ghosts. Suppose another stone came down when you were halfway up that chimney?"