The Lost Valley Part 32

"Isn't it?" c.u.mshaw queried quickly.

I shook my head. "Not in the least," I said. "If the tree was absolutely necessary it'd mean that we'd have to wait until 3rd or 4th of December, the day on which Bradby buried the treasure, and the only day of the year on which the sun, the tree and the threshold of the hut would be in an exact line. Bryce's idea of having to wait three months must have been conceived in the belief that the 3rd or 4th June would answer equally well. It might, but I'm not so sure about it. I guess there'd be a lot of difference in the declination of the sun. But now the tree's gone we're left without that seemingly necessary leading mark."

"What are we going to do about it?" c.u.mshaw demanded.

"We can't give up after having gone so far," said Moira.

"We're not," I told her. "There's a way out of it, and the simplest way on earth. It's so infernally simple that we've all overlooked it. It narrows down to a simple problem in geometry. Do you remember what the cypher said?"

"'When the Lone Tree, the hut door and the rising sun are in line measure seven feet east. Then face direct north, draw another line at right angles to the previous one, extending for twelve feet. Dig then.'"

He rattled through the directions so rapidly that I knew he must have had them off by heart.

"That's it," I said, while the others listened in breathless interest.

"Now this is the position to my mind: The line that runs through the doorway, the tree and the sun must go due east. The sun at that time of the year would be due east. Well, all we have to do is to cast our east line, carry it along for seven feet, and then turn so that we are facing direct north."

"And at right angles to the previous line," Moira reminded me.

"It's the same thing," I said. "Direct north runs at right angles to direct east, if you want to know. However, when we've got our north line we follow it for twelve feet, and after that we dig. Quite possibly Bradby made some slight variation--he wouldn't have the necessary instruments to make his figures absolutely exact--but, as I've said before, I don't see that we can go very far wrong. Whatever variation there is won't matter much once we start digging. If we allow a foot or so in all directions we'll be on the safe side. What do you think, c.u.mshaw?"

"Well," he said slowly, "it sounds feasible enough, and if it turns out as well in practice as it does in theory I'll have nothing to say against it."

"There's only one way of making sure," I said tentatively.

Moira turned on me. "What's that?" she asked with unfeigned interest.

"Trying and seeing for ourselves," I answered. "Here we are, right on the very spot, so why not put it to the test?"

Neither of them answered. A queer, speculative look crept into Moira's eyes and c.u.mshaw paled a little beneath his tan. It was the crucial moment of the expedition, and the mere adoption of my suggestion meant that in the next few minutes we would be face to face with either failure or success--none of us knew which. While we were in ignorance there was always room for hope, but the instant our investigation was concluded the matter would be settled for good or for evil.

"Well," I asked, "what about it?"

"I suppose we've got to do it some time," c.u.mshaw said slowly. "We might as well do it first as last. What do you say, Miss Drummond?"

"Ye-es," said Moira in a half-whisper. "Ye-es, I suppose we had better."

"And you, Carstairs?"

"Nothing venture, nothing win," I quoted gaily. "Anyway it's my suggestion, and I'm not going to fall down on it. I didn't bring the spade along just for the fun of carrying it."

"Go on then," c.u.mshaw said.

Then commenced the operation of locating the position of the treasure.

As the one most used to such things I snapped open my pocket-compa.s.s, took a line from the mouldering ruin that had once been the threshold of the hut, and proceeded to calmly measure off the requisite distance. The others followed my movements with breathless interest; c.u.mshaw's cheeks were still pale, partly from the stress of emotion and partly, I fancy, because he feared that, even at the last, Fate would play a trick on us and bring the work of two generations to nothing. Two little red spots glowed in Moira's cheeks, and in her eyes was an opalescent glow that spoke of suppressed excitement. I wasn't so carried away by my feelings as the others were--I had been trained in a rough school, and my training had taught me at all times to keep an adequate control over my emotions--but the romance of the adventure and the excitement of the game had penetrated even my thick skin, and the mere fact that others hung breathlessly on my movements swayed me a little from the normal.

That streak of vanity which is in all of us came to the surface, as it does with the best of men at the best of times.

I didn't see how I could possibly make a mistake, and the only thing that troubled me was the likelihood of some stray prospector having stumbled on the h.o.a.rd by accident. At last I reached the spot where the north line ended, and then calmly and methodically I took off my coat, folded it, and laid it on the ground. I rolled up my shirt sleeves and seized the spade in my hands. The others watched me with apprehensive eyes.

CHAPTER VII.

THE ADVENTURE CLOSES.

I could hear Moira's quick breaths come and go as I worked, and with each shovelful of soil I turned c.u.mshaw craned his head a little further forward.

"Three foot, maybe three foot six," c.u.mshaw said once, in a voice that was curiously hoa.r.s.e. The remark puzzled me for a moment, and then in a flash I recollected that his father had told Bryce that the hole where the gold was buried would be three feet or three feet six deep at a guess.

I went on digging. The hole deepened and widened, and still nothing appeared. I paused in my work and flung the damp perspiration from my forehead with a grimy hand. I had been working eagerly, excitedly.

"I'll take a hand now," c.u.mshaw offered with surprising alacrity.

I shook my head and stabbed the spade further into the earth. It struck something soft which yet offered a remarkable resistance to the progress of the instrument. And then in an instant I was down on my knees, the steaming sting of my perspiring face all forgotten in the wild intense eagerness of my discovery. I flung the spade about like a mad-man, and my breath came and went through my teeth with a hissing sound like that of escaping steam. I was mud and muck from head to foot and my hands were caked with clay, but that did not matter. Nothing mattered save the one startling fact that I had struck something that answered to the description of the stuff we were seeking. At last, after seemingly eternal hours of incredible toil, though in reality it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, the earth came away, and my spade lay bare four bags of mouldering leather--four torn and decaying things through which came the dull golden gleam of minted metal. With a smothered cry c.u.mshaw threw himself on the saddle-bags and hugged and clawed them like a man gone demented. For the moment there came a curious vulpine look into his face, and then it pa.s.sed so swiftly that I could have fancied that it had never been there or anywhere else save in my imagination.

"We've found it at last," I said, and was surprised to find how thin my voice had become. It was the first rational word since I had begun to dig, and it acted on c.u.mshaw like a douche of cold water. He dropped the bags as if he had been stung, and climbed out of the hole rather shamefacedly.

Moira opened her mouth as if to speak and then shut it again. Ludicrous as it all looked, it was sufficient to show me just how unbalanced sane people can become at the sight of gold. The three of us looked at each other, and then I fancy we all laughed, albeit a little hysterically.

The rest is soon told. We got the rotting bags out somehow, and portion of their contents spilled out on the ground, though we didn't mind that at the time. There was more money in each of the bags than any one of us had ever handled before. In the light of what happened afterwards I'm positive that it was c.u.mshaw who suggested filling up the hole.

"A good idea," I thought. A gaping hole in the ground might attract the attention of strangers and lead to further enquiries--the kind of enquiries that would not be welcomed by us. I had thrown all but the last shovelful in when c.u.mshaw drew something from his pocket, looked at it a moment, and then, with a muttered exclamation, threw it into the hole and trod it deep into the earth. I got but the one look at it, and it seemed to me to be an ordinary leather-covered pocket-book. I was on the point of asking him the meaning of his action when I chanced to glance up at his face, and what I saw there made me shut my lips down like a steel trap. I said nothing, and beyond my first natural start of surprise I don't think I gave myself away at all.

It doesn't matter just how much we made out of it. If I were to write down the exact figures no one would believe them or me; but when I say that neither c.u.mshaw nor I--for Moira pooled her share with mine after all--will have to do a hand's turn again as long as we live, some idea can be gained of what was in those four decaying saddle-bags. To place gold, more especially minted coin, in circulation in this year of grace one thousand nine hundred and twenty requires more ingenuity than most men are possessed of, and frankly I could see no way out of it for many a long day. But in the end I struck an unexpected solution. What that solution was is neither here nor there: the expedients I resorted to would, if written down, fill a longer and perhaps a more exciting volume than this. Some day, when old age is creeping on me and the good opinion of my neighbours has almost ceased to matter, I may tell the tale in its entirety.

As we had no desire to attract more attention than we could help we did not attempt to take the gold along with us. Instead we buried it in a secluded spot not far from the railway, and a week or so later c.u.mshaw and I returned in the car for it.

"I wonder," I said, "how those chaps managed to find out so much about everything? Of course they were paralleling Bryce's investigations, but that doesn't explain all; they knew more about some things than he did himself."

We were sitting round the fire one evening a month or so later. Moira and I had just returned from our honeymoon, and c.u.mshaw had dropped in with the news that his father was in the hands of a noted alienist who hoped in time to completely cure the old man. The announcement had set us talking about our recent experiences, and _apropos_ of them I had uttered the above remark.

"I've often wondered," Moira said, "how they first learnt about the treasure."

There was silence for a s.p.a.ce and then c.u.mshaw spoke. "I rather fancy,"

he said, "that they knew about its existence long before Mr. Bryce did."

Moira shot a startled glance at him and I said, "Whatever do you mean?"

"You remember that pocket-book I threw into the trench the day we found the treasure?"

I nodded. "Yes," said Moira breathlessly.

"I found that in the gra.s.s early in the morning before I went up to the cave. It was a diary belonging to a man named Alick Blane. I didn't read it right through--I didn't have the time for one thing--but what I did see told me all I wanted to know. I buried it in the trench because I did not want what was written in the book to be published to the world.

It was one of those things that are better kept out of sight and circulation."