The Spider and the Fly

The captain did so.

"Got it? Pull it down and climb."

The captain, without hesitation, did as he was commanded, and as his feet left the tomb felt the wire drawn up.

Slowly and carefully, for it was a perilous undertaking, he ascended, helped thereto by the knots and projections which had been made in the slender rope.

When he had reached what seemed to him a terrific height, he heard Job's voice below.

"Hold tight, and when your feet touch, give way."

Then the rope, moved by some agency over which Job had control below, commenced to swing to and fro, and the captain, with one leg extended, felt his feet touch the narrow ledge.

Presently he heard Job beside him, and the man's cool, audacious grin in his ears.

"It bean't a lady's staircase, be it?" he said; "but it answers the purpose, and cuts off the communication. Now follow me, steady, and remember that a false step is death."

At last, by the glimmer of the lantern which Job had now unmasked, the captain saw among the ivy a small door.

"Here we go in," said Job. "Stand back a bit; it opens outward."

"But," said the captain, now driven to desperation, "it is impossible. A step back is death."

"Cling to the ivy, then, and don't look down," retorted Job, coolly.

The captain took the advice, and Job opened the door.

With a spring, the captain landed beyond the threshold beside Job, and wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

Job grinned.

"A hard bit, bean't it? But it's nothing when you are used to it. I've done it, off and on, three times a week, for the last three years. Now see: In front of ye is the master's study. This old door, by a whim of his, was left behind the bookcase; the bookcase opens out to it, and it was through that, ye see, we came t'other night. Look'ee here."

He touched a spring as he spoke, and passed through the opening bookcase into the study.

The change of scene from the dark horror of the narrow ledge and its abyss below to the dust-covered room with its modern furniture was striking and extraordinary.

"Now step carefully," said Job.

The captain, who had practiced that maneuver, obeyed, and the two men cleared as narrow a strip of dust as possible.

"That will be all right when we come back," said Job.

As he spoke he diverted the captain's attention for a moment, and in that moment touched the spring of the opposite bookcase.

The bookcase drew back, and a gust of air, damp and chilly, rose from the aperture.

It was that chilly, moist atmosphere which the captain had noticed when the ghost disappeared.

"Subterranean," he said.

"Ay," said Job.

He threw the light down the dark deep hole.

"A rope ladder," said the captain.

"Ay," said Job. "Get down."

Job closed the door carefully, and stepped on to the ladder, following close upon the captain.

"Careful!" he warned. "Some of the steps be gone."

The warning was not unneeded, for as he spoke the captain's feet slipped through one of the missing links, and the ladder swayed to and fro.

After a silent descent for some moments he felt his feet touch the ground once more. He waited until Job came with the light, and then saw that he was standing in a small apartment cut out of the solid rock, and with only two means of egress apparent – the one by the ladder down which he had descended, and the other by a round hole just large enough to admit the body of a full-grown man.

"We are now just under the house, captain," said Job, turning the lantern. "Up above us they be comfortably asleep in their beds – rum, bean't it?"

With the lantern suspended to his neck, he commenced crawling through the hole, and the captain, whose courage was pretty severely tested, followed.

Dark and dank, the way seemed interminable.

At last the roof gradually widened.

The men raised their heads and so eased their rigid necks, and presently Job stood upright and threw the light upon a large cavern.

Their way lay now over the natural bed of a series of caverns, and as they proceeded the boom of the sea came plainly to their ears.

At last a gust of exquisite fresh, briny air blew upon them, and Job, as he masked the lantern, said:

"We're close upon the open sea. Give us your hand, captain."

So guided, the captain passed over the slippery rocks, and presently heard Job's feet plash into the water.

He was himself the next moment in the sea up to his knees; but though the shock was so sudden that it took away his breath it was grateful and refreshing.

"Not a word! Don't move," said Job.

They walked in silence, and as they walked there came before the captain's eye another scene.

Another high, dreary cliff, with two men hand-in-hand looking out upon the mighty ocean and waiting!

Presently Job bent down his ear.

"Crouch," he said. "I can see the coast guard's lantern. It's old Bolt. He's getting on in years and does his beat with a light. Ha! ha! There's an advantage, captain. When he's passed, we've got a clear half hour."

"He's gone," he added, "and now for the signal."

Instantly, and for scarcely more than an instant, he turned out upon the sea that tiny beam of light. It was only for an instant, but eager, anxious eyes had been watching for that signal, and eager hands acted upon it.

Then the captain fancied that he heard some sound, but before he could distinguish it there glided a dark object close by his side.

It was a boat.

The next instant there was another, followed by another.

Then in the darkness and deep and impressive silence, lusty figures sprang into the water.

Round objects were handed from those in the boat to those wading to the cavern.

One was handed, or, rather, flung into the captain's arms, and with an excitement born of the scene, he fell to work with the others, William, Job and twenty messmates, the work of unloading was soon done.

The men went back in their boats, and Job, the captain and Willie remained behind.

With muffled oars the boats glided off.

In the secure silence the two men groped their way to a smaller cavern farther from the sea, and out of sight of the cliffs.

Then Job turned on the light and glanced with flushed, sweat-beaded face from Willie to the captain, who had thrown himself upon a rock and stood watching keenly.

"Well," said Willie, with a grim smile upon his grimed and sunburned face, "how do you like it, captain?"

"Very well," said the captain, "if it pays."

"Pays," chuckled the huge fisherman, drawing a small parcel from his breast. "Look at that!" and he unfastened the bundle and displayed a lightly-compressed heap of exquisite lace.

The captain's eyes glistened.

"Ah!" he said.

"Ah!" echoed Willie, while Job smiled with deep satisfaction. "Look at that," he continued, pointing to the barrels ranged along the side of the cavern.

"What is it?" asked the captain.

"Spirit," said Job, curtly. "Come, Will, no time for talking. Bear a hand here, captain."

The captain arose with alacrity, and, with quiet admiration at their sagacity, watched the two men scrape the sand away from the crevice of a rock, which, from its weed-grown and sand-filled chinks, looked as if it had stood unmoved or shaken since the time of its creation.

But Job and Willie applied their shoulders and rolled it away, discovering the mouth of a small cavern.

Into that, the captain counting, the barrels were rolled.

When they were all concealed the stone was replaced.

Then Job, glancing at the tide, said:

"In half an hour the sea will fill this place. You wouldn't like to wait, captain? Come along, then. Give me that bundle, Will."

And with the precious bundle in his breast Job led the return journey.

The three men, Job, Willie and the captain, traversed the subterranean passage as far as the cave.

Here Job paused and said:

"I'll let you into another secret, captain. From here there is another outlet, and a more comfortable one. We can't use it, not we rough men, because it's too near the house; but you can, because if you're found near the entrance, why, there'll be no questions asked."

"I see," said the captain. "I can say that I am taking a midnight stroll and a cigar."

"Will you have one?" asked Job, taking a bundle of cigars from a hole in the cave. "They're choice, they are; you can't buy 'em under five pounds a pound," and he paused.

"My share of the booty at present," said the captain. "I will light it when we get outside."

Job went to a corner and scraped some chalk from a small hole. He then inserted his hand in the hole and pulled out an iron rod like a bellpull.

This opened a small door a few feet farther along the chalk road, and Job nodded to it.

"Here you are, captain. It's a better road than the other; not so back-breaking: You'll want a light," and he held out the lantern.

"Thanks," said the captain.

He took the lantern, trimmed it, and passed into the passage.

"Good-night," he said; "you may shut the door."

The door slammed to swiftly, cutting off the sound of the men's voices, and the captain proceeded on his weird and ghostly way.

The passage was wider and higher, and the road not so painfully uncomfortable as that by which they had reached the cliffs.

He hurried on, and found himself more quickly than he had expected at the end of the long passage, which was terminated by a small door.

A bar of iron extending crossways protected it outside, and the long pin projecting inside fastened it.

The captain thrust the pin through and the door opened.

To his surprise, a gush of warm but pure air greeted him, and with a feeling of extreme satisfaction he knew that he was once more above ground.

Before the door was a large round bush, which effectually concealed it from observation.

Pushing the bush aside with some difficulty the captain looked out and saw that he was in a portion of the disused garden nearest the house.

With a thrill of delight he extinguished the flickering flame in the lantern and pushed his way through the bush, taking care to replace the disturbed branches.

Then he lit his cigar, and with his hands in his pockets, sauntered on, preoccupied, and was somewhat startled by a footstep and a sudden sensation of some one's hands at his throat.

Before he could realize the situation he was on his back.

With an exclamation deep and low, he threw up his arms and struggled with his assailant.

In a moment he had regained his feet and there the advantage was lost again, for the assailant pinned him to the wall of the house, and, in a stern voice, inquired:

"Who are you, fellow?"

"What!" exclaimed the captain, as the familiar tones smote his ear, "what! Leicester Dodson!"

"Captain Howard Murpoint!" exclaimed Leicester, for it was he, dropping his grasp from the captain's arm and staring in the dim light.

The captain shook himself and glared with an evil hatred at the stalwart figure.

"You are late, Mr. Dodson, and pugilistic."

"You are late," said Leicester, utterly ignoring the latter part of the speech, and speaking in a stern and suspicious tone. "You are out late, and if there is any excuse for my attack, that and the fact of a man's figure prowling round the house at such an unwonted hour must supply it."

"Prowling!" said the captain. "Prowling is a strong term to apply to the stroll a gentleman may take at any hour in the grounds of the house at which he is a guest. It is not so strange or unwarrantable a term to apply to the uninvited and unwelcome presence of a comparative stranger."

There was reason in the retort, but Leicester disregarded it or willfully misunderstood it.

"I saw you come from behind that bush," he said, pointing to the bush which concealed the door and in vain striving to get a clear idea of the expression on the captain's face.

"Not that, but another," said the captain, readily. "I had been to light a cigar, the wind preventing it here in the open. I cannot recognize your right to put these questions, and I cannot understand your ground for doing so. May I ask, and I ask as the friend of Mrs. Mildmay, and as John Mildmay's friend, what business brought you here so late; here in the private grounds of the Park, and so close to the house?"

Leicester remained silent for a moment.

"It is a fair question," he said, at last, "and I will answer it. You cannot be ignorant that an interest attaches to these premises," and he glanced at the ruins. "There is something there to excite the curious. I may have come to see the ghost."

The captain smiled grimly.

"Have you seen it?" he asked.

"I have," said Leicester.

The captain was almost guilty of a start.

"You are more fortunate than I," he said. "I have not seen it. It is true that I have been walking on the wrong side of the house. I am particularly the unfortunate party, for if I am not mistaken, your fingers have left their marks on my arms and chest."

"I am very sorry," said Leicester. "I beg you will impute all you have suffered to my excess of zeal for the protection of Mrs. Mildmay's property. To be candid, I took you for a burglar – "

"Burglars do not go about their work with a cigar," said the captain, quietly.

"Or worse," said Leicester. "Either a burglar or one of the villains who for some purpose of their own are playing the ghost trick."

The captain smiled and eyed Leicester keenly.

"You think, then," he said, "that the ghost is a trick of some of the village boys?"

"Or villains," said Leicester. "I am sure there is some trickery at the bottom of it, and I cannot conceive a man playing it for so long without an end in view. However, this is not the time for a ventilation of the subject. I am sorry I made the mistake, and I apologize."

The captain bowed.

"I am not very much hurt," he said. "Another time, perhaps, when you take your stroll of investigation round the Park you will please to give me warning, and I will keep to my room."

Leicester bowed, as if the words were meant seriously and had no covert sneer.

"By the way," he said, "are you aware that your window is wide open, and that there is a light burning in the room?"

"Perfectly," said the captain, who had quite forgotten the fact, "perfectly. I set it open to air the room, and the light was left to frighten the ghost."

"I will find some more effectual way of doing that," said Leicester, decisively. "Good-night."

"Good-night," said the captain, and Leicester, no nearer the truth as regarded the true character of the man he suspected, strode away.

The captain waited until his firm footstep had died out on the hard road, and then went softly to the back of the house.

With great care and circumspection, he drew his rope from the ivy and climbed to his room.