“You do not read German? I think you told me that before. It is a pity, because this is a very fascinating narrative, told by an outsider, of the Chelfords of the period. You will be pleased to learn that I have located the treasure. It was not difficult. I knew all the time that it was behind the second door in the room above.”

“Have you known this place for long?”

He nodded.

“For six years,” he said. “I found it on the twenty-first anniversary of my dear mother’s death. I think I ought to say ‘murder,’ for there is no doubt that my father, who had all the worst qualities of Dick, killed her – hanged her.”

Her face contorted with horror.

“In that room?” she said, in a strained voice. “Behind the door?”

He nodded. “The thing was hushed up. My clever father was too great a man to be put on trial for his life, and the story was circulated that she had died by her own hand.”

Every word he said was a lie, as she knew, but he believed it. He explained quite rationally how the light was worked; showed her the little wash-place with the stream of water running from the raw rock through a cavity into some invisible deeps; even gave her a short résumé of the history of the place. It had been built by the Black Abbot himself for his own especial purpose.

“My first idea was that there was another exit here, or rather an entrance for those peculiar friends of his, but that I have failed to discover.”

He took up one of the rifles, shot back the bolt with the air of an expert, and, going up two steps, unfastened the heavy oaken bar that kept the stone in place.

The slab pivoted round, and she had a wild idea that when it was closed she would fasten it; but he was evidently prepared for this, for she heard him drag a paving-stone to the edge of the hole and place it so that the trap could not close.

“Good night, Leslie,” he said, peering down at her through his spectacles. “You will not mind my light? I want to read a chapter before I sleep.”

For a quarter of an hour no sound broke the silence. She sat on the bed, her hands clasped on her knees. And then she heard him move and her breath came faster, but he had only a question to ask.

“Tell me, Leslie, did Thomas leave any relations? I should like to provide for them. The man annoyed me, and I really do not regret killing him. But I should not like to feel that his relatives were suffering through my act of justice.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she said, and it did not seem to be her voice.

55