"No!" he answered. "'Twasn't possible, mister. But—a man there is! And dead, naturally. And—a long way it is, too, down to the bottom of that place!"
"What's to be done?" asked Neale.
The tinker slowly coiled up his ropes, and laid them in order by the crowbar.
"There's only one thing to be done," he answered, after a reflective pause. "We shall have to get him up. That'll be a job! Do you and the young lady go back to Scarnham, and tell Polke what we've found, and let him come out here with a man or two. I'll go into Ellersdeane yonder and get some help—and a windlass—can't do without that. There's a man that sinks wells in Ellersdeane—I'll get him and his men to come back with me. Then we can set to work."
Creasy moved away as he finished speaking, untethered his pony, threw an old saddle across its back, and without further remark rode off in the direction of the village, while Neale and Betty turned back to Scarnham. For a while neither broke the silence which had followed the tinker's practical suggestions; when Betty at last spoke it was in a hushed voice.
"Wallie!" she said, "do you think that can possibly be—Uncle John?"
"No!" answered Neale sharply, "I don't! I don't believe it possible that he would be so foolish as to lean over a rotten bit of walling like that—he'd know the danger of it."
"Then it must be—the other man—Hollis!" said Betty.
"Maybe," agreed Neale. "If it is——"
He paused, and Betty looked at his set face as if she were wondering what he was thinking of.