As he reached the head his eye
caught a glint of sunlight on some metal far up on the moor beyond the
belt of trees. He did not turn his head again; he went straight in and
waited.
Presently he heard steps coming up, and Mr. John appeared smiling and
out of breath.
"I have them in," he said, "by promising that there was no great
difference after all; and that there was no time. Now, sir--" And he
went towards the wall at which, long ago, Mr. Owen had worked so hard.
"And yourself, sir?" asked Robin, as once more an innocent piece of
panelling moved outwards under Mr. John's hand.
"I'll see to that; but not until you are in--"
"But--"
The old man's face blazed suddenly up.
"Obey me, if you please. I am the master here. I tell you I have a very
good place."
There was no more to be said. Robin advanced to the opening, and sat
down to slide himself in. It was a little door about two feet square,
with a hole beneath it.
"Drop gently, Mr. Alban," whispered the voice in his ear. "The altar
vessels are at the bottom, with the crucifix, on some soft stuff....
That is it. Slide in and let yourself slip. There is some food and drink
there, too."
Robin did so. The floor of the little chamber was about five feet down,
and he could feel woodwork on all three sides of him.
"When the door is closed," said the voice from the daylight, "push a
pair of bolts on right and left till they go home. Tap upon the shutter
when it is done.
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