The machinery which Campion had referred to as a ‘piece of old bicycle’ was in fact an ancient iron device, worked with a pedal, for opening the trap. As soon as he had lifted this hatch, Abbershaw hauled himself into the open space above it which he knew must be the chest itself. The lid was down, and he waited for some moments, breathless, listening. He could hear nothing, however, save the scuffling of the rats behind him, and at length, very cautiously, he put his hands above his head, pressed the lid up an inch or two, and peered out.
No one appeared to be about, and he climbed silently out of the box. He was in a longish vaulted room, one of the relics of the days when Black Dudley had been a monastery. Its stone walls were unpanelled, and a small window high up was closely barred. It was, as Campion had said, used as a box-room, and filled with lumber of every description.
Abbershaw looked round eagerly for a door, and saw it built almost next door to the fire-place in the wall opposite him.
It was small, iron, hinged, and very heavy.
He tried it cautiously, and found to his relief that it was unlocked. So Campion’s escape had been discovered, he reflected, and went warily. He let himself out cautiously; he had no desire to be apprehended before he reached Dawlish himself.
The door opened out on to a small stone landing in which were two similar doors. A steep spiral staircase descended almost at his feet.
He listened attentively, but there was no sound, and he decided that Dawlish’s inquisition could not be taking place on that floor. He turned down the steps, therefore, treading softly and hugging the wall. Once round the first bend, he heard a sound which made him stiffen and catch his breath – the muffled murmur of voices somewhere quite close. He went on eagerly, his ears strained to catch the first recognizable word.
The stairs ended abruptly in a small oak door to the right of which a narrow passage led off into the darkness.
Through the door he could hear clearly Dawlish’s deep German voice raised menacingly.
Abbershaw took a deep breath, and pressing up the latch, carefully pushed the door open. It swung silently on well-greased hinges, and he passed through it expecting to find himself in the Colonel’s bedroom.