Part 23 (2/2)
”You said it was a woman.”
”And it was.”
I had the best of reasons to be positive upon, that point. I had scratched my hand in the gorse and I had seen the blood of my scratches the next day on the dress of the woman who had brushed against me as she pa.s.sed. That woman was Helen Mayle. Had she come from the shed? What did she need with the key?
”Is that shed ever used?” I asked.
”Not now.”
”Whom does it belong to?”
He nodded over towards Merchant's Rock.
”Then Adam Mayle used it?”
”Cullen Mayle used it.”
”Cullen!”
I sprang up to my feet and walked away; and walked back; and walked away again. The shadowy things were indeed becoming visible; my eyes were growing indeed accustomed to the darkness; and, indeed, the door was opening. Should I close, slam it to, lock it again and never open it? For I was afraid.
But if I did shut it and lock it I should come back to it perpetually, I should be perpetually fingering the lock. No; I would open the door wide and see what was within the room. I came back to d.i.c.k.
”What did Cullen Mayle use it for?”
”He was in league with the Brittany smugglers. Brandy, wine, and lace were landed on the beach of a night and carried up to the shed.”
”Were they safe there?”
d.i.c.k laughed. Here he was upon firm ground, and he answered with some pride:
”When Cullen Mayle lived here, the collector of customs daren't for his life have landed on Tresco in daylight.”
”And at night the dead sailormen kept watch.”
”There wasn't a man who would go near the shed.”
”So Cullen Mayle would not have needed a key to lock the shed?”
”No, indeed!” and another laugh.
”Could he have needed a key for any other purpose? d.i.c.k, we will go slowly, very slowly,” and I sat for some while hesitating with a great fear very cold at my heart. That door was opening fast. Should I push it open, wide? With one bold thrust of the hand I could do it--if I would. But should I see clearly into the room--so clearly that I could not mistake a single thing I saw. No, I would go on, gently forcing the door back, and all the while accustoming my vision to the gloom.
”Has that shed been used since Cullen Mayle was driven away?”
”No.”
”You are certain? Oh, be certain, very certain, before you speak.”
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