“Good heavens!” She drove on for a few moments, her eyes on the road ahead. “Do you mean that Brean may have been in league with footpads?”
“The suspicion had occurred to me,” he admitted. “To what extent, however, I have no idea. I should imagine that he does no more than afford shelter to this Chirk, for although I can readily perceive that a dishonest gatekeeper on a busy road might be of invaluable assistance to the fraternity, for the information he could give them, I can’t believe that such a little-frequented road as ours is a haunt of highwaymen.”
“No, certainly not: I never heard of anyone’s being held up on it.” Her eyes sparkled. “How very shocking, to be sure—and how very exciting! Of course, if this Mr. Chirk of yours is indeed poor Rose’s admirer, his presence in the district is readily explained. But if he is not, what can bring him here? Is it possible that Brean’s disappearance is in some way connected with him?”
“That thought had occurred to me too,” he acknowledged. “Also that some link may exist between him and the unknown stranger of whom Ben stands in such dread. If it does, however, Ben has no notion of it. He esteems Chirk most highly: in fact, he says he is good as ever twanged, which I take to be praise of no mean order! What I hope is that I may be privileged to meet Chirk. I think he has been quite a frequent visitor. But if Brean is working with him, he must know very well where he is, and he won’t come to the toll-house while I am there.”
“And the other? the mysterious man?”
“I’ve seen no sign of him.”
There was a pause. She was looking ahead, frowning a little. Suddenly she drew a sharp breath, and said abruptly: “Captain Staple!”
He waited, and then, as she appeared to be at a loss, said encouragingly: “Yes?”
“It is of no consequence! I forget what I was about to say!” she replied, in rather a brusque tone. The constraint, which had vanished while she recounted Rose’s romance, returned; and after an uncomfortable silence, she asked him, as one in duty bound to manufacture polite conversation, whether he admired the Derbyshire scene. His lips twitched; but he answered with perfect gravity that he had been much struck by the wild beauty of the surrounding countryside. He then said that having approached Crowford from the north-west his way had led him across some rough moorland, whence magnificent views had been obtained. This provided Miss Stornaway with a safe topic for discussion. She supposed he must have passed close to the Peak, and was sorry to think he should not have visited the cavern there. “There are a great many caves in the hills,” she informed him. “Many more, I daresay, than are generally known, but that one, in particular, is quite a curiosity. You should visit it before you leave Derbyshire. Only fancy!—in its mouth, which is enormous, there is actually a village built! The rock is limestone, you know, and if you penetrate into the cave you will find it worn into the most fantastic shapes. There is a stream running through it, and the guide takes one in a small boat along it. It is most romantic, I assure you—but shockingly cold!”
He responded with great civility; and Miss Stornaway, searching her mind for further matters of topographical interest, recalled that the spring, in Tideswell, which had an uncertain ebb and flow, was also reckoned amongst the wonders of the Peak.