THE STOLEN MASTERPIECE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20595, 20 June 1930, Page 20

THE STOLEN MASTERPIECE.

By T. C. BRIDGES

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued). Tho plan depended for its success on his being loft alone insido the mino house, and this was the chanco ho was waiting for. A pretty thin chance, for during the whole of tho previous day there had not been a minute during which one or other of the men had not been hanging round. Jim chucked himself down on his bed of fern and protended to dose, Butch stayed outside and smoked in the sun, but Midian sat at tho door with a pipe between his teeth and his unpleasant eyes fixed upon Jim. And so tho morning dragged by, tho longest morning Jim had over known. At tho midday meal of bread and cheese, Butch chaffed Jim in his dry way. " Reckon you're sorry you didn't give mo your parolo or whatever you calls it," ho remarked. "Be a sportsman," said Jim. " Give me a hundred yards' start, and you won't see me for dust." " I guess you wouldn't find much sport about it," said Butch . "I don't believe you could hit mo at that distance," Jim insisted, but Butch's thin lips tightened. " I wouldn't advise you to try," ho said coldly. Midian went to the leat, but came back quickly and said something to Butch in a voico too low for Jinr to hear, and Butch got up at onco and followed him outside. At the door he turned. " I'm a going to lock you in, Mr. Coryton," he said curtly, " and if you got any regard for your skin, don't try getting out." " How can I, without a pickaxe?" Jim retorted, but tho moment the door was closed ho was on his feet, and hurrying into the inner room. Jim Coryton was a Cornishman born and bred, and every Cornishman is something of a miner. Without being an expert Jim knew enough of tin mines to bo fairly sure that an adit (or gallery) ran from the back of the mino building into the hill. He knew, too, that a tin mine has, as a rule, more than one adit. This one had certainly a second, for he had already spotted another opening higher up the hill and about a quarter of a mile from the mino house. His idea was to get into the near one and out by the far one. This may sound a simplo matter, but in point of fact it was nothing of the sort. The mino had been closod down for years —certainly for half a century, and the odds were strong that the timbers supporting the roof of the interior galleries had long ago rotted away, allowing the roof to fall. It was oven chances that Jim would find his way blocked be- ' fore he had gone far. Even if it was not blocked, tliero would bo rotten places whero the slightest jar might cause a fall. In a working mine the miners wear special hats to protect their heads from falling stones But the worst of it all was that Jim had no candle, and how he was going to find his way through a maze of dark, underground tunnels without light ho did not care to think. The odds were all upon his getting lost and wandering into some blind alley in the heart of the hill, or falling down one of the winzes, the deep shafts which connect one level with another. He shivered a little as he thought of such a fate, lying crushed at the Bottom of such a pit, with no possible help of rescue or escape, yet even this fear did not alter or check his resolution. Inside the inner room he paused. Sure enough, there was a black tunnel mouth at its inner end. A thin stream of water leaked out from tho darksome depths and poured away through a drain in the floor. They—Midian and Butch—would know where he had gone, but even they would hardly dare to follow. Then he saw something else. A box of matches and a candle end lying on an upturned packing case. He snatched them up and plunged into the tunnel. The floor was deep, sticky mud, but he pushed on quickly. In a few steps the light had faded and he was squelching onwards through a darkness that might be felt. CHAPTER IX. TRAPPED. iho roof of the gallery was so low that it was impossible for six-foot Jim Coryton to stand upright. He had to keep his head bent and to watch tho roof whero jutting rocks threatened his head. Many of these rocks had fallen and lay in the mud which covered the floor. This shono with a red iridescence from the tin ore with which it was charged; it was deep, sticky and bitterly cold. The water trickling through it was very little above freezing point. The timbering, as Jim had expected, was rotten. Great pieces had fallen out, and white fungus grew on the mouldering slabs shining like ghostly fingers in the light of his candle. A hundred yards up, and Jim stopped and listened, but there was no sound of pursuit. He pushed on again. The air was heavy and charged with a harsh odour of decay, but it was breathable and his candle burned clearly. He came to a cross-cut and paused, undecided an to whether to turn up if, but decided to go further first. He did not go far, for presently he found his way barred by a roof fall, a block so complete there was no possibility of passing it. There was nothing for it but to turn back and take the passago to tho left along the cross-cut. At any rate, it was tho right direction, but Jim doubted whether it reached the other adit which he knew to be a good deal higher than t.ho level which ho had reached. This cross-cut was drier than the main gallery, but the sides and roof were in very bad condition, and tho floor littered with huge lumps of rock, among which'it was difficult, to pick his way He had Lo go slowly. The cut curved slightly to tho right, and tho light of the candle fell upon enother block. Jim's heart sank, for now there seemed nothing for it but to go back. He began to realise why there was no pursuit. Probably Midian knew that there was no way out, and ho and Butch were waiting below, grinning in their sleeves at the knowledge that their prisoner would be forced to return. Tho thought drove him frantic, and be went up to tho barrier and examined it, and found that the fall did not quite reach the roof. There was a space a foot or so wide between it and the gap from which the rock had Fallen. He saw that if would be just possible to crawl through this opening, yet the risk of doing so appalled him, for the whole roof above was so unstable it looked as if a touch would bring ii down. TTo climbed carefully up tiho side, and looking over, saw the cut strrfehine away ns far as his candle licbt carried. He saw, too. that, it sloped upwards. and finite suddenly made up bis mind that, mine what miflit. lio was coin cr over. That fellow Midian should not have the chance to crow over him if be cou'd help if. Flat on his stomach, he drew himself cautiously across the top of the crreaf, pile of iatreed stones. TTe hardly dared breathe each moment expecting the roof to /rash upon him. but nothincr fell, and with a gasp of rolief be drew' himself clear. He was <;:ife 011 the far side when with a sudden roar, a fresh fall crashed down, and when the dust had subsided ho was able to see that now there was no possibility of net fine; back. It was terrifvine situation, and though Jim had ns much pluck as the next man, and more than some, a shudder ran down his spine, l'or if the road beyond was closed he was helplessly penned in a livinct tomb from which he could never escape'. Tho cut rose, mid seomed, bo far as he could judge, to be running in tho right direction, the walls and floor were drier, and 110 got on faster. Almost too fast, for 110 came upon a winze, a great shaft dropping to unknown depths, and only just pullod up in time. There was 110 way round, and the plank bridge which had once spanned it had long aeo mouldered

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and dropped. Nor was there any way across except by jumping, and although tho breadth was no more than six feet, the lowness of tho roof mado the jump difficult and dangerous. There was, however, no help for it, so Jim hardened <his heart and jumped. He foil as ho landed, and his candle went out, leaving him in a darkness so intense the very air felt solid. A chunk of rock dislodged from the edeo of the winze went rattling downwards, banging from wall to wall, to fall at last with a sulien plunge into deep water. Jim's fingers shook so that he had difficulty in striking a match and relighting his candle, and when it was at last burning ho remained quite still for some momonts, breathing deeply and trying to steady his shaken nerves. His head was aching again and he found he had by no moans got over the effects of the blow Midian had dealt him. .Presently ho was on his feet again and going forward. The next thing that at-' traded his attention was a cut in tho right-hand wall A most unusual sort ot cut, for it ran up at a tremendously steep angle, almost one in two. Where it led, Jim could not seo, for it went up and up like a chimney shaft. He saw tho remains of iron staples last in tho rock, and realized that formerly a ladder must have been fixed to climb this shaft. His candlo was burning low, so ho did not waste tirno, but went 01. again. Once more the gallery curved, and as Jim rounded the bend lie caine, not to a fall, but to tho blank end of the cut. He stood quite still, gazing at the wall of solid rock and trying to realise that this was the limsh. CHAPTER X. ALL i'OB NOTHING! No way forward, no way back, lor the lall had cut oft ail possibility oi return. A pleasant prospect, truiy, and small wonuer tnat dim was conscious of a (horrible sinning leeliug at me pit of his sLoinacn. Jbut tins aid not last long. He stmened. " I'm not done yet." lie said aloud. " There b that shatt." He went quickly back to tho shalt and looked up it. Looking did not give him much comfort, lor, on the face of it, tihe place was beyond anyone to climb, at least singlehanded. Two men might have managed it if thoy haa a rope—but one—! Then Jim glanced at his candle and got a fresh fright. There was only an inch left. To die in tho dark—that was a fate too awful to contemplate. " I'd go mad," said Jim to himself, and hastily set about fixing the candle on the brim of his hat. Then, without giving himself any more time to think of the difficulties ahead, he started to climb. One thing in his favour was that the rock was sound, a second help was the iron staples which though badly rusted still remained firm in their positions. Without these the climb would have been utterly impossible, but there they were at regular intervals, each giving a hand and a foothold. And so, foot by foot, Jim won his way up that perilous place, every moment awaro of the fact that on© mis take, one slip, would mean death. The climb seemed, endless, tevery muscle in his body ached, his hands were torn, his nails split, sweat streamed down his face., almost blinding him. More than once he believed he had reached the end of his tether; it was only the thought of death there in a living tomb of rock and in the dark that spurred him to fresh exertion. His candle flickered wildly, throwing jumping shadows on the smooth rock sides of the shaft. He knew it could not last much longer and the thought drove him on. His head began to spin and queer flashes of light danced before his strain ing eyeballs. Then, just as he felt he could do no more his groping fingers found a ledge, he gave a last desperate heave, hoisted his body over a sharp edge of rock, fell forward on a l?vel surface, and. for the first time in his twenty-four years, fainted. It is never a pleasant business coming out of a fainting fit, even when all possible help is at hand, and the patient is stretched on a sofa with smelling salts and sponges of cold water at hand. Imagine Jim's plight when, struggling back to consciousness, he found himself in pitch darkness, lying face down on rough rocks, with his feet actually still hanging over the emptiness out of which ho climbed. He dragged himself up to a sitting position. His head throbbed horribly and he felt weak and limp. But the worst of it was the darkness. Ho struck a match. There was only about a dozen left in the box and his candle was nothing but a patch of grease with a bit of black wick flat in it. He twisted this into a taper, lit it, and scrambling to his feet hurried forward. By this time ho had not the faintest idea where he was and hardly any sense of direction. All he knew was that the opening was probably somewhere to the left. He staggered as he walked, but the fear of tho darkness kept him going, and up hero the going was fairly good. His eyes were on his tiny taper which was burning away with terrible sped. And when it was done! He could not bear to think of what would happen. Bit by bit it went down; he reckoned he had covered pretty nearly three hundred yards when it flickered and went out. There was nothing left except his matches. Ho pushed on in tho dark, feeling cautiously with his hands. Once he bumped his head badly, then, a little later, found himself up against a blank wall. Ho had to take half a dozen breaths beifafW ho could steady himself to light a match, for he fully believed that he had one© more struck a blind alley. The light gavo him a ray of comfort, for this was not tho end of tho alley, but a plaeo whero it turned sharp to tho right. Holding his match between shak ing fingers, he hurried on. Tho match burnt out, and again ho felt his -way forward in black darkness. Ho began to wonder how long ho could stand the strain und tho suspense, how long before ho started screaming and running. Ho had read of such things; it was only now that he realised how hideously possible they were. A pale glow showed ahead, a luminous patch tho size of a man's head, and very much that shape. For an instant Jim believed that either ho was looking at a uhost or that his eyes were playing him tricks, but ,(cornmonsense came to the rescue and he remembered tho luminescence of the fungus which grew on the decaying timbers. Ho struck another match and at once tho light vanished, hut when this match bumed out there it was. clearer and larger than beforo. Jt gave him some sort of a guiding mark and ho resolved not to strike another match until he had reached it. Ho he went on slowly—very slowly, but tho odd thing was that the patch grew larger, brighter, yet seemed no nearer. Jim's heart began to beat hard, for a faint suspicion was dawning in his mind as to tlie real nature of the light. As hj« groped forward it grew larger still, became circular in shapo and presently there was no doubt any longer in his mind. He made a run and stumbled headlong out in tho glorious sunshine which he had hardly hoped ever to seo again The light blinded him. ho fell on his faco and covered his eyes with his hands. He was aching in every, bone and muscle, yet so full of triumph at his success that ho hardly felt the pain. Then a drawling voice spoke. " You took a hell of a lot of trouble for nothing, didn't ye, Mister?" And Jim. looking up, saw Butch Harvey standing over him. (To be continued daily.)