Part 22 (1/2)

Cleek stepped cautiously forward into the gloom, lighting it up as he progressed, the rays of his tiny torch always some five feet ahead of him. And the end it proved to be, in every sense of the word. For here, leading upward as the other had done, was a similar little flight of clay-hewn steps, while at the top of them-Cleek gave a long sigh of relief-showed a square of indigo, a couple of stars and-escape at last.

”Thank G.o.d!” murmured Cleek, as they mounted the rough steps and came out into the open air, with the free sky above them and a fine wind blowing that soon dispelled the effects of their underground journey. ”Gad! it's good to smell the fresh air again-eh, Dollops? Where on earth are we? I say-look over there, will you?”

Dollops looked; then gasped in wonder, astonishment, and considerable awe.

”The Flames, guv'nor-the blinkin' Frozen Flames!”

Cleek laughed.

”Yes. The Flames all right, Dollops. And nearer than we've seen 'em, too! We must be right in the middle of the Fens, from the appearance of those lights, so, all told, we've done a mile or more underground, which isn't so bad, my lad, when you come to look at the time.” He brought out his watch and surveyed it in the moonlight. ”H'm. Ten past eleven. You'll have to look sharp, boy, if you're to get to the docks by twelve. We've a good four miles' walk ahead of us, and-what was that?”

”That” was the sound of a man's feet coming swiftly toward them; they had one second to act, and flight over this marshy ground, filled with pit holes as it was, was impossible. No; the best plan was to stay where they were and chance it.

”Talk, boy-talk,” whispered Cleek, and began a hasty conversation in a high-pitched, c.o.c.kney voice, to which Dollops bravely made answer in the best tone he could muster under the circ.u.mstances.

Then a voice snapped out at them across the small distance that separated them from the unseen stranger, and they stiffened instinctively.

”What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?” it called. ”Don't you know that it's not safe to be in this district after nightfall? And if you don't-well, a pocketful of lead will perhaps convince you!”

From the darkness ahead of them a figure followed the voice. Cleek could dimly discern a tall, slouchy-shouldered man, clad in overalls, with a cap pulled down close over his eyes, and in the grasp of his right hand a very businesslike-looking revolver.

Cleek thought for a moment, then plunged bravely in.

”Come up from the pa.s.sage, sir,” he responded curtly. ”Loadin' up ternight, and some fool locked t'other end before me and my mate 'ere 'ad finished our work. 'Ad to come along this w'y, or else spend the rest of the night dahn there, and we're due for loadin' the stuff at the docks at midnight. Master'll be devilish mad if 'e finds us missin'.”

It was a chance shot, but somehow chance often favours the brave. It told. The man lowered his revolver, gave them a quick glance from head to toe, and then swung upon his heel.

”Well, better clear out while there's no danger,” he returned sharply. ”Two other men are on the watch-out for strangers. Take that short cut there”-he pointed to the left-”and skirt round to the road. Quarter of a mile'll bring you. Chaps at your end ought to see to it that none of the special hands stray up this way. It's not safe. Good-night.”

”Good-night,” responded Cleek cheerily. ”Thank you, sir;” and, taking Dollops's arm, swung off in the direction indicated, just as quick as his feet could carry him.

They walked in silence for a time, their feet making no sound in the marshy ground, when they were well out of earshot-Cleek spoke in a low tone.

”Narrow shave, Dollops!”

”It was that, sir. I could fair feel the razor aclippin' a bit off me chin, so ter speak. 'Avin' some nice adventures this night, ain't we, guv'nor?”

”We certainly are.” Cleek's voice was absent-minded, for his thoughts were working, and already he was beginning to tie the broken threads of the skein that he had gathered into a rough cord, with here and there a gap that must-and should-be filled. It was strange enough, in all conscience. Here were these underground tunnels leading, ”if you kept to the right,” from a field out Saltfleet way, to the very heart of the Fens themselves. And what went on here in these uninhabited reaches of the marshland? Nothing that could be seen by daylight, for he had traversed every step of them, and gained no information for his pains. Therefore there could be no machinery, or anything of that sort. H'm. It was a bit of a facer, true; but of one thing he was certain. Somehow, in some way, the Frozen Flames played their part. That factory at Saltfleet and the fis.h.i.+ng boats and the Fens were all linked up in one inexplicable chain, if one could only find the key that unlocked it. And what was a man doing out there at night, with a revolver? What business was he up to? And he had said there were two others on the look-out, as well.

Cleek pulled out a little blackened clay pipe, which was part of his make-up as Bill Jones, and, plugging it with tobacco, began to smoke steadily. Dollops, casting a sideways glance at his master, knew what this sign meant, and spoke never a word, until they had left the Fens far behind them and were well on their way toward the docks, and the ”appointment” with Black Whiskers at twelve o'clock. Then:

”Notice anything, Dollops?” Cleek asked, slewing round and looking at the boy quizzically.

”How do you mean, sir?”

”Why, when you got to the top of those little steps and came out into the Fens.”

”Only the Frozen Flames, sir. Why?”

”Oh, nothing. It'll keep. Just a little thing I saw that led me a long way upon the road I'm trying to travel. You'll hear about it later. Time's getting on, Dollops, my lad. You're due with your friend Black Whiskers in another ten minutes-and we're about that from the dockyard. Wonder if there'd be any chance of me lending a hand?”