We shouted for another rope to be let down, and, tying it round the limp, lifeless form, we gave the signal, and the body of the unfortunate ruffian was drawn up to the light of day.
Another object met our gaze; it was the skeleton of a man encased in armour that showed him to have been a Roundhead. He must have perished during the attack on the castle, for his heavy broadsword was found by his side.
"Send a man down with a spade," called Felgate to those above, and presently a man came down the ladder, followed by Drake. In less than an hour the mud was heaped in one corner of the vault, laying bare a hard, roughly paved floor. Still there was no sign of the much-sought-for prize.
The damp, unhealthy atmosphere made our heads swim, so for a time the work was suspended and we gained the upper air, where a crowd of morbid countrymen were dividing their attention between the corpse of the unfortunate Increase Joyce and the gaping hole from which we had emerged.
A rest of half an hour revived us, and we returned to the attack with feverish anxiety.
"Three feet down and we'll come across it right enough," said Drake, and lustily two stout countrymen plied their tools.
The cobbles, set in cement, were like an iron plate, but once these were removed the work of digging a hole became easy. As the depth increased our excitement rose, till at length one of the mattocks struck something that emitted a metallic sound. It was a heavy iron chest.
When laid bare, the box was about three feet in length, about two feet in breadth, and a foot and a half in depth. Two handles, rusted with age, were sufficiently strong to enable the chest to be hoisted by means of a stout rope, and with a shout of suppressed excitement from the crowd the precious box was hauled up and deposited on the grass.
THE CHEST IS HOISTED TO THE SURFACE