Free The Treasure at Poldarrow Point (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) by Clara Benson Page B

very low tide, it was totally inaccessible. It was a low, wide opening in the rock which a quick inspection showed opened out into a little cave. Without bothering to stand up (it was too low to walk under in any case), Barbara scrambled inside and saw that she had at last found what she was looking for. She got to her feet. The ceiling of this cave was lower than the other one, and the floor made mostly of rock, but this one too was dripping and strewn with wet seaweed. Barbara glanced out through the entrance into the sunshine and saw that the sea was not twenty yards away. She briefly considered leaving her expedition until the next low tide, but then the gleam of the torch happened to fall on the tunnel entrance itself at the back of the cave, and her decision was made.
    She crossed the slippery floor carefully and entered the passage, looking about her. Her heart beat in her chest as the tunnel dipped down steeply and then began to wind upwards, and she gripped her torch more firmly, thankful that she had remembered to bring it. After a hundred yards or so the damp passage emerged into a sort of chamber that was much drier. Barbara had a vague recollection of having once read a book about Cornish smugglers, and supposed that in the olden days, when customs men might turn up at any time or the tide take them by surprise, the men must have brought the smuggled booty to this place first of all. Afterwards, once it had all been brought ashore safely, they would carry it up to the cellars of Poldarrow Point at their leisure.
    The chamber was rather cold. Barbara could feel a draught of air on her skin, which was welcome after the stuffiness of the tunnel, and a faint light came from somewhere—or at least, the darkness was less impenetrable here. Barbara’s eyes gleamed as she spotted two old wooden barrels standing against the wall, and she went across to examine them. The first one was empty and the wood quite rotten: it fell to pieces when she touched it, and she started as a large spider ran out and attempted to climb up her arm. She brushed it off hurriedly and pointed the torch at what remained of the barrel. It was quite empty. The second cask was made of stronger stuff, being bound with metal rather than wooden hoops. It was impossible to get into, so Barbara ended by tipping it up and rattling it about in order to find out whether it contained anything, but it, too, was empty. She did not really expect to find a priceless necklace inside an old wine cask, but told herself that a true detective should leave no stone unturned.
    There was nothing else to see in the chamber, so Barbara continued on through the tunnel. The path had become much steeper now, and she panted as she pressed on eagerly. Surely she must be close to the house by now. At last she came to a fork. One branch led straight on, while the other doubled back and curved sharply out of sight a short distance ahead. Supposing that the first path led to the house, Barbara decided to see where the second one went, but was brought up short after about thirty yards by a rock-fall that blocked her way. She returned the way she had come and, shortly afterwards, arrived at the bottom of the shaft that led up to the trap-door into the cellar of Poldarrow Point. She recognized the metal rungs down which she had climbed herself only the day before.
    ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I have found the tunnel, at any rate, although there’s no sign of any necklace. I suppose Preacher Dick must have taken it into the house—of course, he must have, since all his men knew about this tunnel and it wouldn’t have been safe to hide it here.’
    At that moment it occurred to her that she had spent rather a long time wandering around in the dark, and that the tide was coming in rapidly. She turned and hurried back down the passage as fast as she could. The light from her torch had been growing weaker for some time, but she judged that it would last until she got outside. She passed