The Recipe for Diamonds Read online

  CHAPTER X.

  WITH A THREE-ANGLED HOE.

  It is curious how no two people can speak the same words with identicalintonation. Perhaps this is noticeable to some men more than to others.I know some folks never forget a face, others a walk; but for myself,though these things may pass from memory, a voice once heard neverescapes me. I suppose it is because I have been at much pains todistinguish between sounds. I'm rather musical, you know.

  And so as I lay squatted there beneath a sloe-bush, and the tones of avoice grating as those of the corncrake came to me through the chinksin the wall, I knew that Weems was at large once more, and pressing onwith his errand.

  I might have expected him, and yet his arrival was a bit of a surprise;and on the spur of the moment I could not for the life of me think whatwas best to do. One couldn't nobble the man, and still I didn't intendthat he should read that Recipe. So, being unable to make up my mind toany other course of proceeding, I just cowered quietly where I was andawaited developments. As it turned out, these were not very long incoming. Weems had lifted up his voice to get rid of his guide, and theguide, in eloquent Minorquin, was refusing to understand. At last theschoolmaster, in desperation, translating his arguments into silver,called to mind a word from some American novel, and commanded hisattendant to "vamose." Then the native poured out thanks, pocketed thecash after a great show of refusing it, and went; and Weems, waitingtill he was out of sight, climbed the wall. He was a bit chary ofstepping down amongst the prickly scrub on the inner side, and so as hewas taking his time about it, I stood up and watched him. He did notsee me till he was firm on his feet again; but when he did slew round,he stepped back with a gasp as though some one had rammed a sail-needleinto him.

  However, he pulled himself together quickly enough--I give him creditfor that--and slipped a hand into his coat pocket, which I noted wasbulging with some heavy weight--presumably a pistol. Then he resortedto what I suppose he considered diplomacy, and remarked that it was alovely country.

  "Damn you," said I, "you didn't come here to talk to me about scenery,did you? Because if that's the case, I'd rather you'd quit for a while.I've got some business on hand here that I want to work out alone. Sogit, you mean little brute."

  "And I also have a trifling piece of research to make, for which Idesire complete privacy. And this, Mr. Cospatric, is a point upon whichI am prepared to insist."

  Hereupon out came the revolver, a cheap pin-fire tool, brilliantlynickel-plated. Weems fingered it with unholy awe, and his face began tobleach. He wasn't used to the situation.

  "Did you get that thing in Marseille?" I asked.

  "No, sir. I procured it from an acquaintance in Mahon this morning. Andacting upon his advice, I shall not hesitate to use it if you pressme."

  The little man's manner as he struggled between dignity, greediness,and common funk was so irresistibly funny that I roared.

  "You need not fear my failing to be as good as my word," he snappedout. "They don't hang people in Spain."

  "You fool, of course they don't. They garrote. And as the inhabitantsof these islands, take them as a whole, are as mild and peaceable a lotas one could find on the face of the globe, a bit of murder wouldstrike them as being in such bad taste that you'd wear the iron collaras sure as you'd earned it. But that's not the point. You're not goingto shoot me----"

  "Then you will go away."

  "I shall do nothing of the kind. You are not going to shoot me, simplybecause you can't. Man alive, I've been racketing about the evil placesof this world ever since I left Cambridge, and this isn't the firsttime I've looked down the small end of a pistol. If you'd seen as muchshooting as I have, you'd just jump with astonishment at the awful bigpercentage of men who get missed even by good shots, and at short rise.And you! You, you small swab, I can see by the way you're holding itthat you've never had a revolver in your fist before this day, muchless fired one at a 'live mark. Put the thing back in your pocket, andbehave like a rational being."

  "I shall do nothing of the kind," said Weems, sticking up his left arm,and sighting the pistol over the elbow-joint.

  By this time he had got into such a pitiable funk that I was afraidlest out of sheer nervousness his finger might press home the triggerany minute. The chances were big against his hitting me, but I knewthat the report would bring spectators, and those I most particularlydidn't want. Still, I could not see any means of getting the weaponinto my own hands without its going off. It was impossible to "rush"him. The dozen yards which separated us was one solid tangle ofscrub-bushes interwoven with brambles. It would have taken at leastforty seconds to tear through them, and in that time he could mostassuredly snap off all six chambers, however big a duffer he might be.This would bring up some of the country people without fail; andbesides, out of the six, he might fluke one shot into me. About thatlast possibility I didn't trouble my head much, as it was remote; butthe other was a fatal objection. A good satisfactory row with thenatives would effectually upset the apple-cart for both of us.

  So I put it to him squarely that, come what might, I didn't intend togo and leave the coast clear for him; and that if he fired a shot,whether or not he jugged me and tasted _el garrote_ into thebargain, he would most assuredly not get hold of the Recipe.

  These points seemed to strike him as strong ones; and as, being unusedto such strong emotions, he was by this time in very nearly a faintingcondition, he saw fit to ease the strain from his nerves by beginningto treat for terms. How much would I go for? He had bills in hispockets for francs and pesetas, which amounted in all to eighteenpounds four shillings and some odd pence English. That was the absolutesum-total of all he possessed out of England. If he handed it over,would I promise to depart forthwith?

  I think it caused him no real surprise to learn that I would do nothingof the kind.

  "Look here," he went on, "I'll tell you what I'll do as well. I'll sendyou a ten-pound note from England when I get back there, if you'll giveme your address."

  "Oh, go to the devil!" said I, beginning to get in a fury with him. "Ifyou're on for bargaining, I'll give you my bill for five hundred at twomonths to clear out."

  "You can't expect it, Mr. Cospatric----"

  "Of course I can't expect you to sell your chances for a mess ofpottage; still less need you have thought me idiot enough to do such athing. Now look here, you are new at the scrapping game, whereas I amnot by any means. So in case of a tussle the odds are big that you'llfinish underside. And, besides, if you have a bit of a whip-hand overme, I'd have you remember that until I've got my terms, you arestanding under a Damocles arrangement which may tumble on your hat atany moment. And it doesn't take much of a wizard to tell that yournerves aren't good to stand that strain for over-long."

  "The heat----"

  "Oh yes, the heat's making you sweat streams, and sending your facechalky-green, and setting your knees to play _castanetas_ in_cachucha_ time. We'll call it the heat. Anyway, it's exposure toan atmosphere that you aren't accustomed to, and it doesn't suit you.You'd better try a change, or else you'll topple off in afaint--perhaps you'll die. Now look here: it's just foolery to let thisDog-in-the-Manger Company hold the stage any longer. Let's recast it,and play 'The Partners.' Come, what do you say? It's only a three-partpiece, and there's a thumping good treasury to draw upon."

  "Three parts!" shrieked Weems, lifting up his pistol on to his elbowagain, where it gleamed like a dancing mirror in the hot sunshine. Thenas another thought struck him, he lowered the weapon to his side oncemore, and broke out into the ghost of a smile. "Oh, I see. Yes, ofcourse. Two for me, Mr. Cospatric, and one for you. That's much moreright and proper."

  I chuckled, and mentioned that one Haigh and myself were going sharesover this matter, and that I didn't intend to see Haigh defrauded; andthen the battle of words began over again.

  By this time I was so thoroughly sick of the brute's meanness that Imade up my mind stubbornly not to give way a single peg. He argued, heprayed, he commanded, he threate
ned; he appealed to all my betterfeelings individually and then collectively; but it was no good. Allthat he could get out of me was an assurance that he might feel himselfvery lucky if he fingered the proffered third, and a threat that if hedidn't accept it quickly he'd find himself empty-fingeredaltogether--and probably minus a sound vertebral column into thebargain. And in the end he sobbed out an agreement to the terms, andthen flopped down amongst the bushes, deadly sick.

  This last development I was not altogether unprepared for, and, had itseemed good to me to do so, I might have taken advantage of his plightto grab the nickel-plated weapon and repudiate the treaty--as he mostassuredly would have done by me had the positions been reversed. Butover-reaching that kind--euphemistically termed "keen businessinstinct" by some--has never been among my catalogue of acquirements(more's the pity), and so I just hung round till he had disburdened hisstomach and recollected his wits a bit, forbearing to interfere eitherby word or deed.

  "It's the heat," he explained at last.

  "We'll log it down as such," said I, to prevent argument, "and forGod's sake don't let us squabble any more. If you're right again, wemay as well turn-to and get at the _cache_ without furtherdawdling. You have a spade, I suppose?"

  "A spade! Oh dear, oh dear! what an oversight. If you'll believe me,Mr. Cospatric, I never remembered that digging implements would berequired till this moment. The excitement of the last few days----Butdon't let us speak of that now. We must use your spade in turn."

  I laughed. "It strikes me we're a pair of first-class fools. I haven'tgot one either. We both put out from Mahon in such a flaming hurry thataccessories never got a thought. Well, we must get one here if we can,though that's doubtful, seeing that the native hoe, which is pick andshovel combined, is the popular instrument hereabouts. However, I'll goand see if something can't be got. Give me a couple of pesetas, willyou?"

  "What for?"

  "Why, to hire the thing, or buy it if needs must."

  "But why should I pay----"

  "Damnation man, because I don't own a brown cent. Go scout for a toolyourself if you care to. I'm not keen on the job. Only you don't speakthe language, and I thought you'd prefer to sit still and recruit a bitmore before beginning to bustle about again."

  "Oh, I beg pardon," said he, and counted out the money in copper andsmall silver.

  I turned to the Talayot, and climbed to its top. Two fields off,towards clustered Alayor, a man was guiding a single-handed ploughdrawn by a small ox and a sixteen-hand mule. Scrambling down again, Iwent in a bee-line across the intervening walls. The ploughman saw mecoming, and nothing loath, pulled up his team and desisted fromscratching the furrow any further. A chat was just the thing he wanted.

  I could not get clear of him for a good half-hour, and in the end wasonly able to raise what I expected--to wit, a broad-bladed triangularhoe with a short crooked handle. However, as we did not propose to goin for any systematic navvying, and as there was nothing better to begot, back I went with it, and found Weems quite alive again, and on theprowl for what he could find.

  "The soil has been turned up here in places," said he, pointing, "andthis is just the side where, according to Lully's diary, the entrancepassage lies. And if you notice, there are other patches rooted upyonder, and again yonder."

  "Pigs," said I. "This island's celebrated for them, and so is Mallorca.Black, elegant, well-to-do swine, that are exported to Spain insteamer-loads. They're the most celebrated breed of porkers in Europe.But never mind them now. Which do you spot as our point ofcommencement?"

  "Somewhere between where we are standing and that palm-bush."

  "Very well, then. We'll set to work at the other side of this fallenwall-stone; and here goes for the first drive."

  For a while we took spell and spell about at the hoe, working likefiends. I had stripped to the vest at the first set-off, and by degreesWeems let his eagerness overpower dignity till he had discarded asimilar number of garments. There was not a breath of air stirring, andthe sunbeams poured down upon us in a brazen stream. Being used to hardwork, I naturally could do the larger share; but to give the littleschoolmaster his due, he did stick to it for all he was worth; andthough he did drop more than one hint that such physical toil wasdegrading to a man in his station, he didn't try to shirk doing hisjust portion.

  The ground was desperately hard to get through. There was very littlesoil. What we came across chiefly were stones fallen from the sides ofthe Talayot woven together by a network of roots. Over these we hackedand sweated and strained, and tore our hands and wrenched our sinews.And by degrees the heap of big stones and smaller stones and rubble andearth and other debris grew larger amongst the bushes, and our jaggedpit sank deeper.

  Those hours were the only ones in which I ever felt the smallestrespect for Weems. He hadn't chucked away his bless-you-I-know-best airby any means. For instance, scorning example, he plucked a prickly pearoff a clump that grew out of the Talayot, and sucked the pulp out ofthe skin in spite of seeing me devour one in other fashion. And then hecomplained of the damnableness of a needle-sown palate. Also hepersisted in following his own theories about the extraction of thelarge stones, although these seldom came off. But he stuck at work likea Trojan, and one can't help having some respect for a man who keepshis thews in action.

  Whilst the white sun burned to overhead, and whilst it fell half-way tothe water again, did we hack and grovel and wrench, till our pit waswell-nigh twelve feet deep, and we were beginning to have dismalforebodings that we were either delving in the wrong place, or thatRaymond the philosopher had lied most unkindly. But at last, when wewere both nearly sick with weariness and growing disgust, we came upona flat stone which rang hollow when the hoe struck it, and in aninstant our hopes sprang to a feverish height again.

  Weems tugged at the edges of the stone, screaming and swearing in hisexcitement; but it had lain in that bed for many ages, and would notbudge for such puny efforts as his. From the lip of the pit I wasbawling at him to come up out of the way; but not until he had strainedhimself well-nigh senseless would he unlock his fingers from theirgrip, and even then he would not voluntarily resign his place. But Icould not wait. Sliding down into the pit, I hoisted him on to myshoulder and gave an upward heave, and then turned-to with the hoe,battering savagely.

  The flagstone was of granite, and I doubled up my weapon but scarcelysplintered the hard surface. So the edges had to be dug roundlaboriously; and even then, when thoroughly loose, the weight was sogreat that I could scarcely lift it. But at last the great slab washeaved up on edge, and below there lay a hole whose blackness almostchoked the falling sunbeams. The sight of it--or the wet earthy smellwhich came through--somehow made me shiver.

  I looked up. Weems was craning over the edge of the pit, his eyesgoggling, and lips drawn back from his clenched teeth. He lookedunpleasant, to say the least of it, and a thought dangerous as well.There was a bit of the wild beast peeping out somewhere.

  "Come along," said I.

  "How can we see?"

  "Oh, I forgot that. Feel for matches in my coat pocket."

  "I've better than matches. A candle; what do you say to that?"

  Still he stayed glowering at me.

  "Well, why the devil don't you go and get it, man?" I asked.

  "Oh yes, to be sure," said he, and disappeared.

  "You'll go mad, my son," thought I, "if your delicate nerves are keptunder this strain much longer," and leaned back panting against theside. The fellow seemed to take a long time hunting for what he wanted,but at last I heard the sound of his footsteps and looked up.

  Lucky for me did I look up then too, for my eye caught a glint of thewhite sunshine as it was reflected off some bright surface, and withthe inspiration of the moment I stepped into the opening at my feet andfell noisily through amid a small avalanche of rubble. Picking myselfup, I looked out from the darkness, and saw, as I expected, Weemsstanding at the brink above nervously fingering the nickel-platedrevolver.

  "Wh
at have you got that blasted thing for?" I sang out.

  "Oh, you see--er--there's no knowing what one might meet with downthere--er--and it's well to be ready--er--in case----"

  "You lying little viper."

  "Oh, I assure you----"

  "Thanks, I want none of your assurances. But I'll give you one. If youput a foot below here, I'll cave in your head with this hoe."

  Then he began to whine; and then, as I was stubborn, he swore to shootme as I came out, which I believed him quite capable of doing; and somatters were again at a deadlock.

  "Very well," said I at last. "As I won't trust you an inch beyond mysight, heave that revolver down first, and then I won't touch you. Ifyou stick to it, I know you'll try to make cold meat of me in the hopesI shan't be found down here."

  "But you might shoot me, Mr. Cospatric--by accident, of course."

  "Make your dirty little soul comfortable on that score. If I wanted tobe quit of you, I've got ten fingers quite capable of squeezing thelife out of your miserable carcass."

  "Still, I think I'll unload it first, if you don't mind."

  "Go ahead," said I, "if it amuses you." And out came the cartridges oneby one, and then the weapon was tossed down to me. One hand grip on thebarrel and another on the stock, a good strong pressure of the wriststogether, and that gaudy little weapon was effectually spiked.

  "I may come in safety now?" asked Weems, after watching this operationwith a groan.

  "You won't be touched by me if you behave yourself, although you dodeserve half-killing. But mind, if I catch you playing any more pranks,I shall just do as I said--strangle you. See those fingers? They'relengthy, and they're ve-ry strong. _Sabe?_"

  Down he came, heralded by a brown tricklet of soil and a few stones. Heknelt at the edge of the opening for a moment, and I saw his white facepeering down with "funk" writ big all over it. But he soon mastered hisscruples, and dropped through on to the flooring beside me, though anervous upward lifting of one elbow showed that he wouldn't have beensurprised at getting a blow. However, I didn't meddle with him, butonly bade him curtly enough light that candle.

  The sulphur match spluttered and stank, and I'm blessed if his fingersdidn't tremble so much when it came to lighting the wick that hedropped the burning splinter altogether. I grabbed the thingsimpatiently enough out of his hands, got a light, and led the way.

  The walls beside us sloped in towards the top, where they were bridgedby flat slabs some foot or eighteen inches above my head. The passagehad been built before men knew of the arch. Under foot the ground washard and dry, and as I should guess, we passed over some dozen yards ofit before we came into the chamber. That was built in much the sameway, with the courses overlapping, and the top crowned with a greatflat flag instead of a keystone. But with the architecture of theTalayot we bothered our heads little then, and indeed our solitarycandle showed it up but poorly. Right opposite the entrance a strip ofthe wall had been plastered, and at that the schoolmaster and I sprangwith a simultaneous rush.

  There was some writing on it!

  Steadying the flame in the hollow of my hand, I held it near andwithdrew the guard.

  "Good God," shrieked Weems, "what's that!"

  The one word I saw was--_Hereingefallen_, scrawled in whiteletters, and on the ground beneath was a piece of billiard chalk. Therewas nothing on the plastered surface beside, except the scratchings ofa knife-blade. Some one had been there, read the Recipe, and thenobliterated every letter.

  In a flash these things occurred to me, and I turned to see mycompanion collapse on to the ground like an empty sack. It required aneffort to avoid following his example. The shock was a cruel one.

  The thing had been there. The old diary had lied in no single item. Andhere the treasure had been snatched away from us when it was almostwithin our grasp. And--then came the most strange conclusion of all--bysome one who knew we were to follow.

  Haigh was out of the question. He knew no German. It was no elaboratejoke of his. But who could it be? I sat down on the earthen floor withmy head between my fists trying to think it out. _Hereingefallen!_Yes, "sold" indeed. But who, who, who had done it?