The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot by - (red queen ebook txt) 📗

had been resolved to search the whole forest through, no wonder the task had been practically impossible; but when he had had indications of a confined locality, he had looked upon his work as well-nigh accomplished, and had come here with a heart full of high hopes. And now he was confronted by difficulties that appeared almost as insurmountable as before; for he plainly saw the hopelessness of attempting single-handed to delve the whole dell over. Robin would return before the task was more than begun. He would guess the import, would set a close watch, and would slay the bold invader of his haunted dell without pity or remorse. Whilst the only other plan, that of bringing a gang of men to work strong enough to be a guard to themselves, was simply out of the question for Cuthbert. He had no money himself. His uncle Martin would certainly not give him the gold in the box for any such hare-brained scheme; whilst to appeal to Sir Richard, with nothing to back his statements but what would be looked upon as old wives' fables and gipsy delusions, would only be to provoke ridicule and scorn. The Trevlyns had long given up the treasure as lost beyond recall. They had no sort of hope of recovering it, and the present owner of the Chase and his lady were in particular very greatly averse to any sort of dealings with occult magic and gipsy lore.

Cuthbert had a shrewd notion that there was little enough of magic in any of the words and dark sayings he had heard. He had been let just a very little behind the scenes, and had his own opinions on the subject. His faith in spirits and familiars had been greatly shaken; but he knew that his story would sound wild and improbable, and he was by no means sure that even Joanna would consent to appear before Sir Richard and repeat it all to him. She was anxious to do her part towards making restitution; but, having put the clue in Cuthbert's hands, would very likely consider that part done, and decline to be questioned further by any one.

"What I do I must do alone," said Cuthbert to himself, with a sigh, at the close of that day of toil and discouragement. "Well, I should have been mightily surprised had I lighted on the treasure at the close of the first day. I ought not to be thus discouraged, and yet I am. Still there is one more thing to do. If I can but watch Long Robin, surely I shall learn somewhat from him. I vow that that is better far than prowling aimlessly about the dell. Let me spend my time and strength in building for myself some nook high up in one of yon trees, from which vantage ground I may spy upon his doings. If I can but get me up high enough, I can watch him from spot to spot. Sure I should be stupider than a daylight owl an I could not learn somewhat from his looks and actions on his next visit. And it will be safer for me to have mine own perch. I will venture to sleep one more night in the tree; but after that I will sleep by day and watch by night, for it is plain that he is a night bird in his visits here."

The next day Cuthbert set to work with a better heart. It was not difficult to find the sort of nook he wanted high up in the branches of a great sycamore. The oaks were hardly thick enough yet to conceal him, and the foliage of the elm was somewhat scanty still, for all that the season was forward. But by good hap there chanced to be, amongst the tall trees that fringed the round of sward, a noble sycamore in full leaf and very thick; and by skillful contrivance, and with the help of his tools, Cuthbert quickly built himself up there a small but secure and commodious platform, upon which he could perch himself at ease and watch the whole of the dell. Even if he fell asleep, he was in no danger of falling; and if he could obtain the needful supplies of food, he could keep watch there unseen for an indefinite time. He had plenty of provision so far, for he had been supplied with dry and salted provisions enough to last a week. These he took up to his nest, and also his tools, which he resolved to keep beside him for safety; and having spent the best part of the day in this labour of ingenuity and patience, and having then quenched his thirst by long draughts of clear cold water, he ascended to his perch with an armful of dried bracken--the eighth such load he had carried up--and as he arranged his riding cloak upon the soft and fragrant cushion thus prepared, he said to himself with a smile that he could afford to be patient now, for he had a commodious castle all his own, and could await with patience the advance of the foe.

His patience was not, however, destined to be very sorely taxed. He had fallen into a light sleep, and was dreaming of a hand-to-hand struggle with Long Robin, when some unwonted sound smote upon his ears, and he started up all alert on the instant.

He knew that sound; he had heard it before. It was the wild, unearthly noise made by Robin to increase the fear of this dell in the hearts of any chance wayfarers who might haply be within hearing. In a few more seconds Cuthbert, peering down from his leafy canopy, saw the tall form thrusting itself through the underwood; and Robin, with a loud laugh, threw himself upon the low wall of the pixies' well.

He was talking and muttering to himself, but Cuthbert could not catch the words. He seemed in a merry mood, for he laughed aloud once or twice, and drank of the well and laughed again. Once Cuthbert thought he caught the words "treasure" and "safe," but of that he could not be certain; and it was not easy to see how Robin could know this, seeing he had not stirred three paces from the well.

And then a sudden flash came into Cuthbert's soul like one of inspiration. Suppose the treasure was in the well itself? What more likely? Would not that be the safest place of all? For the precious metals would not hurt through contact with the water; and had he not heard that the waters of this well possessed peculiar properties for preserving anything thrown into them?

Cuthbert's heart beat so fast that he almost feared Robin would hear his deep breathing; but the man was looking down into the well, laughing to himself in the peculiarly malevolent fashion that Cuthbert had heard before. He never moved from the side of the well for the long hour he remained; and Cuthbert, waiting in feverish impatience till he should be gone, felt as though he had never known an hour so long.

But it ended at last. The tall figure reared itself upright, and he heard the voice distinctly now.

"I must be going--I must be going. Miriam will be asking questions. That hag is the plague of my life. All safe--all safe. And now I will depart."

The tall figure put on its stooping gait, which appeared to be second nature, and went slouching away through the underwood along the narrow track. Cuthbert waited till there had been a long spell of perfect silence, and then he glided with cat-like caution to the ground.

"I may not be able to see anything by this light, not even the glint of gold beneath the clear waters. But he seemed to see. He looked down and muttered, 'Safe--safe!' Beshrew me but I trow I have the secret now! The pixies' well--the hidden secret it guards so well. All is true! all is true! Why did I not think of it before?"

Creeping to the side of the well, Cuthbert peered over the edge and gazed fixedly into the dark water. What was it he saw? Was that moonlight shining and glinting there; or was it--could it be--Hold, what is this?

With a stifled cry Cuthbert strove to spring to his feet; but the attempt was vain. He was encircled in the bear-like grip of a pair of arms that were strong as bands of iron around him. He felt as though all the breath were being pressed out of him, and in his ear there rang a hideous laugh, the sound of which he knew but too well.

"Fool!" cried a hoarse voice, hissing the words in his ears--"fool of a mad boy to trust a treacherous gipsy tale! So thou thoughtest to outwit Long Robin! Thou thoughtest to win back the lost treasure to the house of Trevlyn! Mad boy--fool of a hardy knave! But yet thou shalt have thy wish--thou shalt have thy will. Thou shalt see with thine own eyes that long-lost treasure."

There was a cruel sneer in the man's eyes, a mocking inflection in his voice, that sent a thrill of cold horror through Cuthbert's veins. He was absolutely powerless in that merciless clasp. He felt the strength leaving his limbs and his head turning giddy. He only just knew it when he was laid upon the grass, his captor's knee firmly planted on his chest; and then he felt his hands and feet being tightly and securely bound, whilst the stars in the sky seemed to reel and dance before his eyes, and he said to himself, without realizing the import of his own words:

"He is going to kill me; he is going to kill me."

"Yes, I am going to kill thee, mad boy," said Long Robin coolly, as though he had heard the spoken word. "I am going to kill thee, as I kill all those who dare to thwart my will or cross my path. I shall kill thee; but thou shalt first have the desire of thine eyes and of thine heart. Thou shalt see and thou shalt touch the long-lost treasure! Thou shalt learn the secret ere thou diest, and thy ghost can impart it to thy friends."

With a brutal and almost diabolical laugh, Long Robin rose to his feet and leaned over the well. He seemed to be raising from it some heavy weight, and Cuthbert heard a heavy thud fall upon the grass.

"Now, thou shalt go to join the lost treasure. The Trevlyns when they find it will find their lost kinsman, too! Ha, ha! they are welcome to that find; they are welcome to it!" and the man stooped to lift the bound and helpless Cuthbert in his strong arms.

Cuthbert closed his eyes. He knew well what was coming. A fall, a sullen splash, one brief ineffectual struggle, and then black darkness. He tried to breathe a prayer, but could form no words. He thought of Cherry, of Petronella, and sharp stabs of pain seemed to run through him. One minute more and all would be over. But what an endless minute that was, whilst he felt the grip upon his body growing firmer as the giant prepared to lift him.

What was that?

"Crack!"--a sudden flash from the dark underwood, and with a loud cry his captor dropped him, and staggered backwards, to fall a few paces farther on, where he lay rigid and motionless. Then from the thicket there came the sound of a quick sharp cry, and a slim figure rushed forward with the gasping question:

"Is he dead? Oh, have I killed him?"

And Cuthbert, raising his head, and scarce believing aught of this could be anything but a fevered dream, uttered the one word:

"Petronella!"

Chapter 17: Brother And Sister.

"Petronella! thou here!"

"Brother--brother mine--art thou hurt?"

"Never a whit, though I looked to be a dead man ere this. Sister, take my knife and cut my bonds; yon man may rise again, and I must be free to defend myself and thee."

Petronella cast a scared and fearful glance at the long dark figure lying face downwards upon the sward, showing signs of life only by a spasmodic twitching of the limbs; and then drawing Cuthbert's long hunting knife from his belt, she cut the cords that bound his hands and feet, and in another moment he sprang up and shook himself, keeping a wary eye all the while upon the prostrate foe. But he did not go to his side at once; he was too keenly aroused and interested by this sudden appearance of his sister.

"Petronella! I can scarce credit my senses. How comest thou here, and at such an hour?"

"I am doing as thou biddest me," she answered in a low voice: "I am flying from our home, even as thou wast forced to fly. I verily believe that thou art right, and that our father is well-nigh mad. I