Free Ampersand Papers by Michael Innes

was certainly more striking. The assumption had to be that the birdwatching Lord Ampersand had owned an eye for picturesque effect.
    So thoughtfully, for the moment, was Dr Sutch’s attention directed above that he was unaware of something happening below. Where immediately before there had been nothing but the bare face of the cliff there now stood a man of about Dr Sutch’s own age. His sudden presence was completely mysterious. He wore a tin hat, had an electric torch strapped to his chest, and carried a small hammer.
    ‘A beautiful evening,’ this person said. ‘How lucky I am to have emerged in time to view the sunset.’
    ‘Emerged?’ It has to be recorded that Dr Sutch repeated the word blankly – but a moment later his powerful intelligence had grasped the situation. ‘Sir,’ he said courteously, ‘am I to understand that you are a speleologist?’
    ‘Most certainly.’ The stranger must at once have gathered from Dr Sutch’s ready command of this erudite word that he was in the presence of a fellow savant . ‘My name,’ he added, ‘is Cave.’
    ‘How do you do?’ Dr Sutch refrained from making what, to Mr (or might it be Professor?) Cave, must have been a sadly familiar joke. ‘I am Ambrose Sutch, and I may describe myself at present as archivist to the Marquess of Ampersand, under whose walls you are doubtless aware that we are standing now. May I say that it is a privilege to meet one in the great tradition of Monsieur Martel.’
    ‘My dear sir, I should like so to think of myself. Martel was undoubtedly the founder of my science, such as it is. Before his time, the exploration of caverns, grottoes, and the subterranean regions of the earth in general was treated as a mere sport, or as affording material for writers of romance. You will recall A Journey to the Centre of the Earth . I confess that it a little touched my imagination as a boy.’
    ‘Yes, indeed, Mr Cave. I myself remember being much struck by Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea . It fell short, however, of inducing me to make my career in submarines.’
    Thus, under the rugged and louring mass of Treskinnick Castle, did these two learned persons agreeably converse. It transpired that Mr Cave actually intended to spend the night at the Ampersand Arms. He was engaged, he explained, on a very brief speleological survey of the region. It had proved so potentially rewarding that he proposed to make a more extended visit in a few weeks’ time. Dr Sutch said a few words on his own manner of work, and the two men then fell into step together in the direction of their hostelry.
    ‘Is there anything much close to Treskinnick itself?’ Dr Sutch asked. ‘You had the appearance, if I may say so, of having bobbed pretty well out of the bowels of the place.’
    ‘Indeed, yes. Precisely so.’ Mr Cave was delighted by this interest in his activities. ‘There are several interconnecting caverns, the farther recesses of which must actually extend beneath the castle itself. It is my preliminary impression that they have been very little explored. The more accessible parts may have been utilized by smugglers at one time. And by pirates, if one cares to be romantic.’
    ‘There was a Digitt in the late sixteenth century who was little better than a pirate, Mr Cave. Digitt, as you may know, is the family name of the Ampersands. And Narcissus Digitt was an associate of the celebrated Sir John Luttrell, whom it might be decent to describe as a corsair. It is curious to reflect that Narcissus may have anchored his craft, its hold full of booty, hard by in yonder cove.’ As he made use of this poetical expression Dr Sutch made an equally poetical gesture to a spot a quarter of a mile ahead of them.
    ‘He could have come right up to the castle, for the matter of that,’ Mr Cave said. ‘It is a point of some geological curiosity that there is a deep-water channel extending almost to the spot at which I had the pleasure of encountering