“Guess I know now why they diverted the water,” said Wrexham. “The stream probably comes down on the far side of that gateway, and they diverted it to keep the entrance clear. Any one seen any movement in front?”
“Not a sign,” said Forsyth. “I’ve been putting my telescope on the loopholes. I should say they were real, not fakes like the rest of the carving.”
We lay there for perhaps three quarters of an hour watching, but never a sign of life in the gateway. At last I said to Wrexham, “Well, what’s the next move?”
He turned over and slid back down the rock.
“‘When in doubt put out pickets.’ Isn’t that what your frontier experts say? We must have some one always here in case any one appears. One of us three with one of the men. I propose that we do three shifts during the day, say six to ten, ten to two, and two to six. They may not use this place often; depends on the number of people they have to kill off, and we don’t want to miss a chance of seeing what sort of creatures they are. It’s after two o’clock now, and, if you two will stay here, I’ll scuttle back and get one of the men and then come and relieve you for the evening watch. Then to-night we can talk over the future.”
“What’s the programme if anything turns up?” asked Forsyth.
“Question of discretion, I think. Have a good look, and if they’re peaceful you might venture conversation. If not, don’t, but at least we shall know something about what they’re like. I’ll be as quick as I can.” And, picking up his rifle, Wrexham trotted off down the valley.
“Well, of all the d——d family graveyards I’ve ever struck,” said Forsyth as we settled down to our watch. “I wonder if it is a graveyard, by the way, in spite of Wrexham’s theory about killing people. We may have found the back entry into a sort of Parsi Tower of Silence place, where they put their dead because earth and fire are sacred elements and mustn’t be contaminated by corpses.”
“By Jove! I never thought of that,” I answered. “It might very well be that, after all. One can imagine this is rather like what the inside of one of those places on Malabar Hill would be, for instance. Only, if the diary is true, it knocks the cemetery theory out of count. And everything in it has panned out so far.”
“Yes, that’s so. Old Wrexham would have found a nicely laid out corpse and not a fellow with his hands tied and an arrow in him. Phew! When I come on a job like this again, I’m going to bring a gas-mask.”