In fact, they could hardly believe it was true. The passage broad -
ened out suddenly into a high and enormous cave. Its walls, all scaly
with damp, shone red in the light of what was not a fire but a dozen
flaring and smoking torches. Enormous stalactites, shaped like
cocoanut cones, hung from the roof of the cave; now and then a
drop fell from the tip of a stalactite on to a torch, which would fizz
horribly. There were pools between ribs of rock on the floor of the
cave. The torches were held by twelve men of most dangerous
appearance, who sat on the rocks in a circle, and in the centre, on
the highest of all the rocks, sat Perkins. Perkins did not hold a torch,
he was too important, but something shone in the torchlight; he had
a gun over his knees. He looked absolutely different, as unpleasant
as ever but terribly fierce and menacing as he addressed his
followers; his oily manner had disappeared.
One great thought: “
Brigands
!” flashed through Oliver’s and
Maria’s minds. They stared at each other, but dared not speak.
“And
that
,” they heard Perkins say in an awful voice, “is the lot.”
At these words, a murmur of admiration ran through the
brigands; they lowered their torches and scrambled together to look
at something at Perkins’s feet. In the lowered torchlight the children
saw, as the brigands’ excited bodies closed in, a great gleam and
flashing. Gold plates and goblets and silver statues, with diamond
tiaras amid emerald chains straggling over them were piled up in a
heap. The diamonds and emeralds Oliver already had seen on Aunt
Alice’s chest. The statues came out of the drawing-room cabinets.
The goblets, his uncle had won for shooting. The gold plates must
always have been locked up, till Aunt Alice could entertain royalty.
All this was Perkins’s booty. Oliver gasped.
Maria gasped also, for as the brigands’ faces came more clearly
into the light she recognised three of the gardeners and four of the
footmen. The other gardeners and footmen who, as they were not
here, must be quite respectable, these brigands must have been
ready to murder at any moment. It is extraordinary how unlike
gardeners and footmen brigands can look when they return to their
true characters. Though they had not grown beards, their faces
looked quite wolf-like; their teeth flashed, their eyes glittered and it
was clear they would stop at nothing.
Perkins, looking very pleased with himself, watched his brigands
examine the booty, though he kept his gun ready in case they
should help themselves. When they had done, he said: “Order!” and
thumped his gun on the rock. The brigands obediently scrambled
back to their places and Oliver saw what a strong will Perkins must
have.
“And what,” Perkins said, “shall we ask for the girl?”
“Ten thousand pounds,” shouted one of the brigands.
“Twenty!” exclaimed another.
“Thirty!”
“Fifty!”
“A hundred!”
It became rather like an auction. Perkins, looking scornfully at
them, said: “I say two hundred thousand, or she’s not worth taking
at all.”
There was another murmur of admiration, then a pause, while the
brigands, doing arithmetic, worked out how much they would each
get. “Are you sure they’ve got all that?” said one of the brigands,
cautiously.
“
D’you mean
,” shouted Perkins, with a frightful expression, “that
I
don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“Oh, no,” said the brigand, so much alarmed that he dropped his
torch into the puddle and could not light it again. He was quite
young and had only just joined.
In this roaring confusion, Maria put her mouth close to Oliver’s
ear and whispered: “They’re going to kidnap Priscilla.”
This became quite clear, for Perkins went on to speak of his plans
in a cold-blooded voice. There was no doubt, he said, that the
robbery of the gold plates, silver statues and jewellery would be
discovered tomorrow – in fact, he said, grinning horribly at his
watch,
today
– for though the things taken the night before had
come out of the safe, which no one had since had occasion to open,
the silver statues out of the drawing-room had left such gaps that
even people so stupid as Aunt Alice and the respectable servants
could never fail to notice. So Perkins was going to go back and leave
false tracks, such as broken shutters and wrenched-open locks and
footmarks, that would look as though ordinary burglars had been
there – at the name of ordinary
burglars
, all the brigands sneered –
so tomorrow the whole house would be in confusion, with everyone
telephoning to the police, trying to get bloodhounds and running
about talking. So, while everybody was busy, Perkins would put wire
out in the field where she rode to trip up Priscilla’s pony. He would
then spring out and knock Priscilla on the head as she fell, drag her
off into hiding and, after midnight, drop her gagged and bound
down the rock-shaft into the shed into the hands of the waiting
brigands. Then they would send off letters asking for ransom to her
distracted father and mother.
“And don’t give her anything to eat,” Perkins said, “it’s a waste of
money, and she is too fat already.”
He then went on to say things about Priscilla’s appearance and
character that would have surprised and horrified Aunt Alice.
Though Oliver partly agreed, he felt Perkins had no right to talk
like this – even if he were the Chief Brigand. Maria giggled and
stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth.
“Well,” said Perkins, “I think that concludes the evening.”
All the other brigands, raising their torches higher, stood up,
drew a deep breath and sang: “For he’s a jolly good fellow.” They
paraded round and round Perkins in a circle, waving their torches
and stumbling over the rocks. The cave echoed. Perkins, looking
extremely pleased with himself, sat there holding his gun.
“Look
out!
” said Maria. “They’re coming!” And sure enough, the
whole file of brigands began to come winding this way, prepared to
march Perkins in triumph to the foot of the ladder. How they could
march in triumph along a passage too low for even Maria and
Oliver, it was hard to imagine. However, no doubt they would crawl.
Rushing for dear life Oliver and Maria fled back down the
passage, not daring to use their electric torches till they were well
away. They thought they would never get back, but they just did.
As Oliver reached the top of the ladder, pushing Maria before him
as hard as he could, he heard the puffing and scrambling of the first
brigand, still some way down the passage. They slammed the trapdoor and both raced out of the shed in different directions, not
daring to talk. Oliver heard a cock crow and knew it would soon be
morning.
The servants cannot have dusted the drawing-room early, for by
nine o’clock that morning no word of the burglary had reached the
schoolroom. Directly breakfast was over, Oliver ran to look for his
uncle. He found him walking up and down on the terrace beside the
hyacinths, looking gloomy, as though he wished he were back in
South Africa.
“Uncle
Arthur
,” said Oliver, “there are
brigands
under the house!”
His uncle stopped and looked at him absent-mindedly. “Yes, yes,”
he said, “that is very nice.”
“Uncle Arthur,
Perkins
is the Chief Brigand!”
“Dear me,” said his uncle, “he’s a bit short-tempered, I know. But
you mustn’t mind that.”
“Oh,
listen
: they’ve robbed the whole house; they’re going to
kidnap Priscilla!”
“Priscilla?” said his uncle, “I expect she’s doing her exercises. Run
away now, Oliver, there’s a good chap; I’m busy.”
“
Uncle Arthur, listen
– ”
But Uncle Arthur, clasping his hands behind his back again,
walked away. He always did this when anyone talked excitedly,
because he was accustomed to Aunt Alice.
In despair, and knowing that there was not a moment to lose,
Oliver rushed off to find Aunt Alice, who was quietly reading her
letters beside her boudoir fire.
“Aunt
Alice
,” he said, “there are brigands under the house.”
“Hush,” said Aunt Alice, “you must not make so much noise.”
“
Perkins
is the Chief Brigand!”
“Hush,” said Aunt Alice, “I cannot allow you to shout in here.”
“They’ve robbed the whole house; they’re going to kidnap
Priscilla!”
“If you want to play brigands,” said Aunt Alice, trying hard to be
patient because he was somebody else’s child, “you must go into the
garden. And don’t disturb Priscilla; she’s doing her flat-foot exercises
till eleven o’clock.”
“If Priscilla rides today, she’ll be hit on the head!”
“Really,” said Aunt Alice, “you
are
an inconsiderate little boy.” And
not knowing what to do she rang for the butler.
By this time, Maria had turned up. They held a council of war. It
was really desperate. They went to the French governess and told
her; she went into hysterics. But when she recovered it turned out
that this was because she had a brother-in-law who was a brigand in
Corsica, so she considered the subject personal. She was very angry
and told them to go away. So they found Priscilla, who was doing
knee-bending-and-stretching exercises, bobbing up and down in the
middle of the schoolroom with two books on her head; she looked
very cross.
“Priscilla,” Oliver shouted, “
don’t
ride your pony today.”
“You’ll be hit on the head and kidnapped!” shouted Maria.
“Go away,” said Priscilla, who did not like to be looked at. The
two books fell off her head.
“How would you like,” said Oliver, “to be bound and gagged and
dropped down a slimy black hole?”
“How would you like,” said Maria, “to be starved by brigands with
torches?”
“Go
away
,” said Priscilla, “I’ll tell mother.” She burst into tears.
“Oh, really!” exclaimed Maria. “I think we’d better let Perkins
have her.”
“No we won’t,” said Oliver, “it would be such a score for Perkins.
I despise Priscilla, but I loathe him!”
When Priscilla heard she was despised she sobbed louder and
louder. In fact, she went into hysterics, which she had learnt to do
from her French governess. She lay down and banged her heels on
the floor. This made such a noise that a housemaid came in to see
what was the matter.
“Dear me!” she said. “What have you two been doing to Miss
Priscilla?”
“The silver statues are gone from the drawing-room!” Maria and
Oliver shouted.
“Sakes!” said the housemaid, and rushed off. After this, of course,
the robbery was discovered. Aunt Alice’s maid missed the jewels, the
butler looked into the safe and found the gold plates gone. The
whole house (as the wicked Perkins expected) was in an uproar.
They found the false burglar-tracks and believed them; everyone
started screaming for the police, telephoning for bloodhounds and
running about talking. Aunt Alice went to bed and took sal volatile,
6
Uncle Arthur discovered that they had taken a small silver mug he
had won for shooting, which he valued more than anything else,
and went about stamping and saying that this came of buying a
castle. Two policemen came in and took notes. Nobody, least of all
the policemen,
7
would listen to one word from Oliver and Maria.
Meanwhile Priscilla stolidly went out to mount her pony. She rather
wanted to ride this morning, because Oliver and Maria had asked
her not to. That is always the way.
And meanwhile Perkins, looking perfectly calm, walked about on
the terrace, tying up the pink hyacinths Oliver had broken.
Whenever anyone passed he stood up and touched his cap and said
it was a pity about the burglary.
Maria said: “There is only one thing to do.” They went round
to the stable yard, and just as Priscilla climbed heavily from the
mounting-block to the saddle, with the groom respectfully holding
the pony’s head, Maria opened her long, sharp penknife, stooped
down and cut the girths. The saddle swung round, Priscilla fell off
with a flump, on her ear. The pony snorted and bolted across the
yard.
“That,” said Maria, “will teach you.”
When Uncle Arthur who was walking about out of doors to avoid
the police saw his daughter being carried into the house, he thought
at first she was unconscious, until he came nearer and heard her
screaming and roaring. “Oh, oh!” she said, “Maria has killed me!”
“Maria,” said Uncle Arthur, feeling that this was really the limit,
“what have you done?”
“It was for her own good,” said Maria. “There are brigands under
the house.”
“Perkins is the Chief Brigand,” said Oliver, slowly and distinctly,
trying to make Uncle Arthur collect himself.
“Don’t talk to me about brigands,” said Uncle Arthur, “when we’re
overrun with burglars. They’ve taken that silver mug I won in 1895.
It’s been with me everywhere. I think everything of that mug.”
“The burglars are brigands. Perkins is their chief. They have got
your mug. They were going to kidnap Priscilla.”
“Do you mean,” said Uncle Arthur, pulling himself together and
staring at Oliver, “you really know where that mug
is
?”
He forgot all about the gold plates, he forgot Priscilla; at this
good news of his mug he became quite docile and listened carefully
to what Oliver and Maria told him. Rich men are often like this.
They led him round to the shed, which Perkins had locked, of
course; Uncle Arthur was so impatient that he sent for the groom
and the chauffeur to break the door open. Then they rushed in and
pulled up the trap-door. There was the deep, dark hole in the rock,
with cold air coming up, and the top of the slimy ladder. Uncle
Arthur took one look down and disappeared down the ladder, to
find his mug. The groom and the chauffeur went after him, striking
matches and filled with respectful curiosity.