He walked forward, and his lantern presently found the hole in the rock. It was narrow, and low; more blood was to be detected there; and after one look at it, Chirk went on, John following him.
The passage was only a few feet long; it opened into a far broader and loftier passage, colder than all the rest, and with water dripping from the rock. Chirk stopped short, exclaiming: “There is a river, and we’ve come to it! Lord, I never saw the like of it! Look at it coming out of that tunnel in the rock! It’s quite shallow, though. Do you tell me a little stream like this can flood the whole place?”
“Yes, when the water rises. Look at the slime on the walls! It goes up as far as you can see.” John began to walk along the passage, beside the stream. It plunged into the rock again some fifty yards on, where the passage came to an end, blocked by a mass of loose rocks and rubble, which showed where a part of the roof had fallen in. John set his lantern down, and, his face very grim, began to remove the stones and the boulders from the pile. Chirk came to join him, and in silence followed his example. A choking sound broke from him suddenly, and he sprang back, shuddering. A hand was protruding from amongst fragments of rock, piled up in a rough cairn. In another minute John had uncovered the upper half of a man’s body. He picked up the lantern and held it above the body. “Well? Is this Brean?”
Chirk nodded, his eyes on an ugly gash where the neck joined the shoulder. “Knifed!” he said unsteadily. “His hand—Soldier, it was like a slab of ice, and wet—slimy wet!”
“Do you wonder at it, in this temperature? I don’t know how long a body might remain here without rotting: some time, I daresay. That’s just as well, for Stogumber must see this! Help me to cover it again! This is what Henry found—and it’s my belief he didn’t know Brean had been murdered, but suspected it, and came because he suspected it.”
“If Coate did this—”
“Either he, or his man, Gunn. He must have had some inkling of what Brean meant to do. He may even have been watching him at night. It seems certain he followed him here.”
“I don’t hold with Brean trying to diddle him, but he didn’t have to murder him!” Chirk said, with suppressed violence. “He’s got pistols, no question! He could have held Ned up easy enough! What does he want to stick a damned chive into him for?”
“I should imagine that once he knew Brean was unsafe he meant to kill him. He may have mistrusted his aim in this poor light, and so preferred to use a knife. He seems partial to knives. If it hadn’t been for you, I suppose Stogumber’s body would have been brought here as well.”
He straightened himself, and went to wash his hands in the stream. The icy coldness of the water numbed his fingers; he wiped them dry on his handkerchief, rubbed them briskly to restore the circulation, and said: “It’s time we were going. We have still to cord up that chest again.”