“You understand: no one is to inspect the mine without my permission. No one is to have any information given to him whatever.”
“Yes, I understand,” growled Sturgess.
“I shall hold you accountable.”
The man made no reply, and Clive continued his walk of two miles more over the hills, to the farmhouse where he lodged temporarily.
“Hold me accountable, eh?” muttered Sturgess; and he went in and shut the door, to throw himself into a chair and sit gnawing portions of his thick beard.
That night, when the mine gap was dark and still, a lanthorn was visible swinging here and there as it was borne towards the mouth of the pit, where it disappeared in the cage, and a dark shadowy figure followed it.
“Sit fast!”
“Stop!” came in a husky whisper; “how are we to get back?”
“I can manage that. Not afraid, are you?”
“Afraid!” was the scornful reply.