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  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE REAVER'S GLEN

  Zachary Spurge, presently ushered in by Gilling, who carefully closedthe door behind himself and his companion, looked as if his recentlodging had been of an even rougher nature than that in whichCopplestone had found him at their first meeting. The rough horseman'scloak in which he was buttoned to the edge of a red neckerchief and astubbly chin was liberally ornamented with bits of straw, scraps offurze and other odds and ends picked up in woods and hedge-rows. Spurge,indeed, bore unmistakable evidence of having slept out in wild placesfor some nights and his general atmosphere was little more respectablethan that of a scarecrow. But he grinned cheerfully at Copplestone--andthen frowned at Vickers.

  "I didn't count for to meet no lawyers, gentlemen," he said, pausing onthe outer boundaries of the parlour, "I ain't a-goin' to talk before'em, neither!"

  "He's a grudge against me--I've had to appear against him once or twice,"whispered Vickers to Copplestone. "You'd better soothe him down--I wantto know what he's got to tell."

  "It's all right, Spurge," said Copplestone. "Come--Mr. Vickers is on ourside this time; he's one of us. You can say anything you like beforehim--or Mr. Gilling either. We're all in it. Pull your chair up--here,alongside of me, and tell us what you've been doing."

  "Well, of course, if you puts it that way, Mr. Copplestone," repliedSpurge, coming to the table a little doubtfully. "Though I hadn't meantto tell nobody but you what I've got to tell. However, I can see thatthings is in such a pretty pass that this here ain't no one-man job--it'sa job as'll want a lot o' men! And I daresay lawyers and such-like is asuseful men in that way as you can lay hands on--no offence to you, Mr.Vickers, only you see I've had experience o' your sort before. But if youare taking a hand in this here--well, all right. But now, gentlemen," hecontinued dropping into a chair at the table and laying his fur cap onits polished surface, "afore ever I says a word, d'ye think that I couldbe provided with a cup o' hot coffee, or tea, with a stiff dose o' rum init? I'm that cold and starved--ah, if you'd been where I been this lasttwelve hours or so, you'd be perished."

  The sleepy waiter was summoned to attend to Spurge's wants--until theywere satisfied the poacher sat staring fixedly at his cap andoccasionally shaking his head. But after a first hearty gulp of stronglyfortified coffee the colour came back into his face, he sighed withrelief, and signalled to the three watchful young men to draw theirchairs close to his.

  "Ah!" he said, setting down his cup. "And nobody never wanted aught morebadly than I wanted that! And now then--the door being shut on us quitesafe, ain't it, gentlemen?--no eavesdroppers?--well, this here it is. Idon't know what you've been a-doing of these last few days, nor what mayhave happened to each and all--but I've news. Serious news--as I reckonsit to be. Of--Chatfield!"

  Copplestone kicked Vickers under the table and gave him a look.

  "Chatfield again!" he murmured. "Well, go on, Spurge."

  "There's a lot to go on with, too, guv'nor," said Spurge, after takinganother evidently welcome drink. "And I'll try to put it all in order, asit were--same as if I was in a witness-box," he added, with a sly glanceat Vickers. "You remember that day of the inquest on the actor gentleman,guv'nor? Well, of course, when I went to give evidence at Scarhaven, atthat there inquest, I never expected but what the police 'ud collar me atthe end of it. However, I didn't mean that they should, if I could helpit, so I watched things pretty close, intending to slip off when I saw achance. Well, now, you'll bear in mind that there was a bit of a dust-upwhen the thing was over--some on 'em cheering the Squire and some on 'emgrousing about the verdict, and between one and t'other I popped out andoff, and you yourself saw me making for the moors. Of course, me, knowingthem moors back o' Scarhaven as I do, it was easy work to make myselfscarce on 'em in ten minutes--not all the police north o' the Tees couldha' found me a quarter of an hour after I'd hooked it out o' thatschoolroom! Well, but the thing then was--where to go next? 'Twasn't nogood going to Hobkin's Hole again--now that them chaps knew I was in theneighbourhood they'd soon ha' smoked me out o' there. Once I thought ofmaking for Norcaster here, and going into hiding down by the docks--I'veone or two harbours o' refuge there. But I had reasons for wishing tostop in my own country--for a bit at any rate. And so, after reckoningthings up, I made for a spot as Mr. Vickers there'll know by name of theReaver's Glen."

  "Good place, too, for hiding," remarked Vickers with a nod.

  "Best place on this coast--seashore and inland," said Spurge. "And as youtwo London gentlemen doesn't know it, I'll tell you about it. If you wasto go out o' Scarhaven harbour and turn north, you'd sail along our coastline up here to the mouth of Norcaster Bay and you'd think there wasnever an inlet between 'em. But there is. About half-way betweenScarhaven and Norcaster there's a very narrow opening in the cliffs thatyou'd never notice unless you were close in shore, and inside thatopening there's a cove that's big enough to take a thousand-tonvessel--aye, and half-a-dozen of 'em! It was a favourite place forsmugglers in the old days, and they call it Darkman's Dene to this day inmemory of a famous old smuggler that used it a good deal. Well, now, atthe land end of that cove there's a narrow valley that runs up to themoorland and the hills, full o' rocks and crags and precipices and suchlike--something o' the same sort as Hobkin's Hole but a deal wilder, andthat's known as the Reaver's Glen, because in other days thecattle-lifters used to bring their stolen goods, cattle and sheep, downthere where they could pen 'em in, as it were. There's piles o' places inthat glen where a man can hide--I picked out one right at the top, at theedge of the moors, where there's the ruins of an old peel tower. I couldget shelter in that old tower, and at the same time slip out of it ifneed be into one of fifty likely hiding places amongst the rocks. I gotinto touch with my cousin Jim Spurge--the one-eyed chap at the'Admiral's Arms,' Mr. Copplestone, that night--and I got in a supply ofmeat and drink, and there I was. And--as things turned out, Chatfield hadgot his eye on the very same spot!"

  Spurge paused for a minute, and picking out a match from a stand whichstood on the table, began to trace imaginary lines on the mahogany.

  "This is how things is there," he said, inviting his companions'attention. "Here, like, is where this peel tower stands--that's a thickwood as comes close up to its walls--that there is a road as crosses themoors and the wood about, maybe, a hundred yards or so behind the toweron the land side. Now, there, one afternoon as I was in that there tower,a-reading of a newspaper that Jim had brought me the night before, Ihears wheels on that moorland road, and I looked out through a convenientloophole, and who should I see but Peter Chatfield in that old pony trapof his. He was coming along from the direction of Scarhaven, and when hegot abreast of the tower he pulled up, got out, left his pony to crop thegrass and came strolling over in my direction. Of course, I wasn'tafraid of him--there's so many ways in and out of that old peel as thereis out of a rabbit-warren--besides, I felt certain he was there on somejob of his own. Well, he comes up to the edge of the glen, and he looksinto it and round it, and up and down at the tower, and he wanders aboutthe heaps of fallen masonry that there is there, and finally he putsthumbs in his armhole and went slowly back to his trap. 'But you'll becoming back, my old swindler!' says I to myself. 'You'll be back again Idoubt not at all!' And back he did come--that very night. Oh, yes!"

  "Alone?" asked Copplestone.

  "A-lone!" replied Spurge. "It had got to be dark, and I was thinking ofgoing to sleep, having nought else to do and not expecting cousin Jimthat night, when I heard the sound of horses' feet and of wheels. So Icleared out of my hole to where I could see better. Of course, it wasChatfield--same old trap and pony--but this time he came from Norcasterway. Well, he gets out, just where he'd got out before, and he leads thepony and trap across the moor to close by the tower. I could tell by theway that trap went over the grass that there was some sort of a load init and it wouldn't have surprised me, gentlemen, if the old reptile hadbrought a dead body out of it. After a bit, I hear him taking somethingout, some
thing which he bumped down on the ground with a thump--I countednine o' them thumps. And then after a bit I heard him begin a moving ofsome of the loose masonry what lies in such heaps at the foot o' the peeltower--dark though it was there was light enough in the sky for him tosee to do that. But after he'd been at it some time, puffing and groaningand grunting, he evidently wanted to see better, and he suddenly flasheda light on things from one o' them electric torches. And then I see--mebeing not so many yards away from him--nine small white wood boxes, allclamped with metal bands, lying in a row on the grass, and I see, too,that Chatfield had been making a place for 'em amongst the stones.Yes--that was it--nine small white wood boxes--so small, considering,that I wondered what made 'em so heavy."

  Copplestone favoured Vickers with another quiet kick. They were,without doubt, hearing the story of the hidden gold, and it wasbecoming exciting.

  "Well," continued Spurge. "Into the place he'd cleared out them boxeswent, and once they were all in he heaped the stones over 'em as naturalas they were before, and he kicked a lot o' small loose stones roundabout and over the place where he'd been standing. And then the oldsinner let out a great groan as if something troubled him, and he fetcheda bottle out of his pocket and took a good pull at whatever was in it,after which, gentlemen, he wiped his forehead with his handkerchief andgroaned again. He'd had his bit of light on all that time, but he dousedit then, and after that he led the old pony away across the bit of moorto the road, and presently in he gets and drives slowly away towardsScarhaven. And so there was I, d'ye see, Mr. Copplestone, left, as itwere, sold guardian of--what?"

  The three young men exchanged glances with each other while Spurgerefreshed himself with his fortified coffee, and their eyes asked similarquestions.

  "Ah!" observed Copplestone at last. "You don't know what, Spurge? Youhaven't examined one of those boxes?"

  Spurge set his cup down and gave his questioner a knowing look.

  "I'll tell you my line o' conduct, guv'nor," he said. "So certain surehave I been that something 'ud come o' this business of hiding them boxesand that something valuable is in 'em that I've taken partiklar care eversince Chatfield planted 'em there that night never to set foot within adozen yards of 'em. Why? 'Cause I know he'll ha' left footprints of hisown there, and them footprints may be useful. No, sir!--them boxes hasbeen guarded careful ever since Chatfield placed 'em where he did.For--Chatfield's never been back!"

  "Never back, eh?" said Copplestone, winking at the other two.

  "Never been back--self nor spirit, substance nor shadow!--since thatnight," replied Spurge. "Unless, indeed, he's been back since fouro'clock this morning, when I left there. However, if he's been 'twixtthen and now, my cousin Jim Spurge, he was there. Jim's been helping meto watch. When I first came in here to see if I could hear anything aboutyou--Jim having told me that some London gentlemen was up here again--Ileft him in charge. And there he is now. And now you know all I can tellyou, gentlemen, and as I understand there's some mystery about Chatfieldand that he's disappeared, happen you'll know how to put two and twotogether. And if I'm of any use--"

  "Spurge," said Gilling. "How far is it to this Reaver's Glen--or, ratherto that peel tower?"

  "Matter of eight or nine miles, guv'nor, over the moors," replied Spurge.

  "How did you come in then?" asked Gilling.

  "Cousin Jim Spurge's bike--down in the stable-yard, now," answeredSpurge. "Did it comfortable in under the hour."

  "I think we ought to go out there--some of us," said Gilling. "Weought--"

  At that moment the door opened and Sir Cresswell Oliver came in, holdinga bit of flimsy paper in his hand. He glanced at Spurge and then beckonedthe three young men to join him.

  "I've had a wireless message from the North Sea--and it puzzles me," hesaid. "One of our ships up there has had news of what is surely the_Pike_ from a fishing vessel. She was seen late yesterday afternoon goingdue east--due east, mind you! If that was she--and I'm sure of it!--ourquarry's escaping us."