CHAPTER XIII
A RIDE THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS
I read Don Escoban's narrative over and over again, till I hadthoroughly mastered every detail of it; then I studied the key of thenumber cipher till I had it by heart. I had an instinct that memoryon this subject would be a help and a safety to me now or hereafter.For now new doubts had begun to assail me. What I had learned was inreality a State secret and had possible consequences or eventualitieswhich, despite the lapse of three centuries, might prove far-reachingand dangerous. The treasure in question was so vast, its purpose sodefinite, and its guardianship so jealously protected against time andaccident, that there was but little chance of forgetfulness regardingit. I was not assailed by moral scruples in any way. The treasure hadbeen amassed and dedicated to the undoing of England; and for thosewho had gathered it and sent it forth I had no concern. That it hadbeen hidden in Britain by Britain's enemies during time of war surelydeprived them of all right to recover by legal means. What the law mightbe on the subject I did not know, and till I knew I cared little. It wasa case of "finders keepers," and if I could find it first I held myselfjustified in using it to my own purposes. All the same I made up my mindto look up the law of Treasure Trove, which I had a hazy idea was in apretty uncertain condition. At first none of these issues troubled me.They were indeed side issues till the treasure should be found; whenthey would become of prime importance. I had felt that my first step towinning the hand of Marjory Anita was to read the cipher. This I haddone; and in the doing had made discovery of a secret of such a naturethat it might place me beyond the dreams of avarice, and in a positionto ask any girl in the world to marry me. I believe that I regarded thetreasure as already my own; as much as though I had already recovered itfrom the bowels of the earth.
Early in the morning I took my way to Whinnyfold, bringing with me apocket compass so that I could locate the exact spot where the mouthof the cave had been closed. I knew of course that even granite rockscannot withstand untouched the beating of three centuries of stormy sea,the waste of three hundred summers and winters, and the thousands ofnights of bitter frost and days of burning sun which had come to passsince the entrance of the cave had been so rudely shaken down. But Iwas, I confess, not prepared for the utter annihilation which had cometo every trace of its whereabouts. Time after time the sea had bitteninto the land; and falling rocks, and creeping verdure, and driftingsand had changed the sea-front beyond all recognition.
I did what I could, however, to take the bearings of the place as laiddown by Don de Escoban by walking along the top of the cliff, beginningat the very edge of Witsennan Point till I reached a spot where thesouth end of the outer rock of the Skares stood out.
Then to my surprise I found that it was as near as possible in thedirection of my own house. In fact when I looked at the plan which thelocal surveyor had made of my house I found that the northern wall madea bee line for the south end of the main rock of the Skares. As it wasmanifest that what had originally been the front of the cave had fallenin and been partly worn and worked away, my remaining hope was that thecave itself lay under part of my ground if not under the house itself.This gave a new feature to the whole affair. If my surmise were correctI need not hurry at all; the safest thing I could do would be to quietlymake an opening from my house into the cave, and explore at leisure. Allseemed clear for this proceeding. The workmen who had done the buildingwere gone, and the coming of the decorators had not yet been fixed. Icould therefore have the house to myself. As I went back to the hotel, Iplanned out in my mind how I should get from Glasgow or Aberdeen properimplements for digging and cutting through the rock into the house;these would be sent in cases, so that no one would suspect what I wasundertaking. The work would have to be done by myself if I wished topreserve secrecy. I had now so much to tell Marjory when we should meetthat I felt I should hardly know where to begin, and the business sideof my mind began to plan and arrange so that all things might come indue order and to the best effect.
When I got to the hotel I found awaiting me a letter from Marjory whichhad come by the last post. I took it away to my room and locked the doorbefore opening it. It had neither address nor date, and was decidedlycharacteristic:
"My dear Sir: Mrs. Jack asks me to write for her to say that we shall be leaving Braemar on Tuesday. We shall be staying at the Fife Arms Hotel, and she will be very happy if you will breakfast with us at nine o'clock A. M. Room No. 16. This is all of course in case you care to ride down to Aberdeen. We are breakfasting so early as the ride is long, sixty miles, and Mrs. Jack thinks that I should have a rest at least twice on the way. As I believe you know the road, she will be glad if you will kindly arrange our stopping places. Mrs. Jack will leave Braemar at about three o'clock and drive down to Ballater to catch the half-past five train. She asks me to say that she hopes you will pardon her for the trouble she is giving you, and to impress on you that in case you would rather not come, or should anything occur to prevent you, she will quite understand a telegram with the single word 'regret.' By the way she will be obliged if you will kindly not mention her name--either her surname or her Christian name--before any of the people--strangers or hotel people, at Braemar or during the journey--or indeed during the day. Believe me,
Yours very truly, "MARJORY ANITA."
"P.S.--How about the cipher; have you reduced the biliteral, or got any clue yet?
"P.P.S.--I don't suppose that anything, unless it be really serious, will prevent your coming. Mrs. Jack is so looking forward to my having that bicycle ride.
"P.P.P.S.--Have you second-sighted any ships yet? Or any more white flowers--for the Dead?"
For long I sat with the letter in my hand after I had read it over andover again many many times. Each time I read it its purpose seemed moreluminous. It may have been that my old habit of a year ago of findingsecret meanings in everything was creeping back to me. I thought andthought; and the introspective habit made me reason out causes even inthe midst of imaginative flights. "Might not" I thought "it be possiblethat there be minor forms of Second Sight; Day Dreams based on somegreat effort of truth. In the real world there are manifestations oflife in lower as well as higher forms; and yet all alike are instinctwith some of that higher principle which divides the quick and the dead.The secret voices of the brain need not always speak in thunder; theDream-Painter within us need not always have a full canvas for theexercise of his craft."
On Tuesday morning when at nine o'clock to the minute I went to the FifeArms at Braemar, I found Marjory alone. She came forward with a bright,frank smile and shook hands. "It's real good to see you" was all shesaid. Presently she added:
"Mrs. Jack will be here in a minute or two. Before she comes, it isunderstood that between this and Aberdeen and indeed for to-day, you andI are only to be comrades."
"Yes!" said I, and then added: "Without prejudice!" She showed herpearly teeth in a smile as she answered:
"All right. Without prejudice! Be it so!" Then Mrs. Jack came in, andhaving greeted me warmly, we sat down to breakfast. When this was over,Marjory cut a good packet of sandwiches and tied them up herself. Theseshe handed to me saying:
"You will not mind carrying these. It will be nicer having our lunch outthan going to a hotel; don't you think so?" Needless to say I cordiallyacquiesced. Both our bicycles were ready at the door, and we lost notime in getting under weigh. Indeed my companion showed some anxiety tobe off quickly, as though she wished to avoid observation.
The day was glorious. There was bright sunshine; and a sky of turquoisewith here and there a flock of fleecy clouds. The smart easterly breezeswept us along as though we were under sail. The air was cool and theroad smooth as asphalt, but with the springiness of well-packed gravel.With the least effort of pedalling we simply seemed to fly. I could seethe exhilaration on my companion's face as clearly as I could feel it inmy own nature. All was buoyancy, above, below, around us; and I doubt ifin all the wide circle of the sun's rays th
ere were two such glad heartsas Marjory's and my own.
As we flew along, the lovely scenery on either hand seemed like anendless panorama. Of high mountains patched with heather which here andthere, early in the year as it was, broke out in delicate patches ofpink; of overarching woods whose creaking branches swaying in the windthrew kaleidoscopic patterns of light along our way; of a brown riverfed by endless streams rushing over a bed of stones which here and therelifted their dark heads through the foam of the brown-white water; ofgreen fields stretching away on either side of the river or risingsteeply from our feet to the fringes of high-lying pines or the blackmountains which rose just beyond; of endless aisles of forest where,through the dark shade of the brown trunks, rose from the brown massof long-fallen pine needles which spread the ground below, and wherepatches of sunlight fell in places with a seemingly intolerable glare!Then out into the open again where the sunlight seemed all natural andeven the idea of shade unreal. Down steep hills where the ground seemedto slide back underneath our flying wheels, and up lesser hills, sweptwithout effort by the wind behind us and the swift impetus of our pace.
After a while the mountains before us, which at first had seemed like anunbroken line of frowning giants barring our course, seemed to open away to us. Round and round we swept, curve after curve yielding andfalling back and opening new vistas; till at the last we passed into theopen gap between the hills around Ballater. Here in the face of possibledanger we began to crawl cautiously down the steep hill to the town.Mrs. Jack had proposed that we should make our first halt at Ballater.As, however, we put on pace again at the foot of the hill Marjory said:
"Oh do not let us stop in a town. I could not bear it just after thatlovely ride through the mountains."
"Agreed!" I said "let us push on! That twenty miles seems like nothing.Beyond Cambus-o-May there is a lake on the northern side; we can rideround it and come back to the road again at Dinnet. If you like we canhave our lunch in the shelter of a lovely wood at the far side of it."
"That will be enchanting!" she said, and the happy girlish freshness ofher voice was like a strain of music which suited well the scene. Whenwe had passed Ballater and climbed the hill up to the railway bridge westopped to look back; and in sheer delight she caught hold of my arm andstood close to me. And no wonder she was moved, for in the world therecan be few places of equal beauty of a similar kind. Right above us tothe right, and again across the valley, towered mountains of rich brownwith patches of purple and lines of green; and in front of us in thecentre of the amphitheatre, two round hills, looming large in a delicatemist, served as portals to the valley which trended upward betweenthe hills beyond. The road to Braemar seemed like a veritable road ofmystery, guarded by an enchanted gate. With a sigh we turned our backson all this beauty, and skirting the river, ran by Cambus-o-May andbetween woods of pine in an opening vista of new loveliness. Eastwardbefore us lay a mighty sweep of hill and moor, backed on every side bygreat mountains which fell away one behind the other into misty distanceof delicate blue. At our feet far below, lay two spreading lakes ofsapphire hue, fringed here and there with woods, and dotted with littleislands whose trees bent down to the water's edge. Marjory stood raptfor awhile, her breast heaving and her face glowing. At last she turnedto me with a sigh; her beautiful eyes were bright with unshed tears asshe said:
"Oh, was there ever in the world anything so beautiful as this Country!And was there ever so exquisite a ride as ours to-day!"
Does ever a man love a woman more than when she shows herselfsusceptible to beauty, and is moved to the fulness and simplicity ofemotion which is denied to his own sex? I thought not, as Marjory and Iswept down the steep road and skirted by the crystal lakes of Ceanderand Davan to the wood in which we were to have our _al fresco_ lunch.Here, sheltered from the wind, the sunshine seemed too strong to makesitting in the open pleasant; and we were glad to have the shade of thetrees. As we sat down and I began to unpack the luncheon, Marjory said:
"And now tell me how you have been getting on with the cipher." I stoodstill for so long that she raised her head and took a sharp glance ofsurprise at me.
In the charm of her presence I had absolutely forgotten all about thecipher and what might grow from it.