He was sensible enough to see this, changed the position of the stone and worked from the other angle. And then, without warning, all that she had predicted happened. He leapt aside into the open doorway as with a crash the sector fell and broke into fragments on the stone pavement.

“You see, you see!” he screamed. “I’ve done it!”

A steady shower of shingle was falling. He struck upwards with the point of his crowbar, and the shower increased until it made a heap on the ground.

And then he saw the edge of a box.

“Look, look, look!”

His trembling hands could scarcely hold the tool. With the energy of dementia he dug away at the shingle beneath it, and presently, gripping it by the edge, he pulled it clear. It was a tin chest, a miniature of those she had seen at Fossaway Manor, six inches, in length, four inches broad and as deep. With his crowbar he prised open the lid and the rusted iron hasp parted with a snap. Inside was what appeared to be a bundle of discoloured cloth. He lifted it out.

“There’s something heavy here,” he said hoarsely, and his hands shook so that in pity she came forward and helped unwrap the thing that the box held. Presently it came to light; a long flask containing a colourless fluid. The bottle was heavily sealed at the top.

He snatched it from her hand, a frenzied gleam in the staring eyes.

“The Elixir!” he croaked. “The Life Water! Oh, God be thanked!”

She tried to take it from him, but he snarled round on her like an angry dog.

“You devil!” he screamed. “You’re in league with Dick! You’re trying to rob me of life! But you shan’t, you shan’t!”

The flask was corked with a piece of wood that had swollen. He dragged at it with his teeth and presently extracted the stopper.

“I shall live eternally! But you shall die! He shall find you here dead, and realise–”

He put the flask to his lips and drank. She covered her eyes with her hands, then, as he moved, gripped the knife.

And then she heard something drop with a heavy crash to the floor and looked. The shingle was still sliding down like sand in an hour-glass, but now something big and heavy thudded to the ground. It looked ludicrously like a yellow candle, but its weight was such that the first bar struck the pavement and the impact bent it hook-shaped. Another followed. She watched, fascinated as they came, first slowly, then in a stream, from the triangular space in the roof – scores, hundreds of yellow candles thundering down in twos and threes amidst the flow of shingle.

“The gold, the gold!” screamed Harry. “But he shall never have it!”