‘No,’ said Cowlick. ‘When he brought me food the last time, he was on his own, and he whispered to me not to worry. He said he’d see that no harm would come to me, and not to be frightened by the strange noises I’d be hearing during the night.’

  ‘Then who do you think is the boss?’

  Cowlick shrugged. ‘Marcus … Wilson Harper … or any one of the ex-convicts on the estate. Maybe they’re all in on it, for all we know.’

  ‘Even so,’ I said, ‘Felicity still won’t be able to marry Mr King.’

  ‘You can say that again. But I still can’t understand why her father should help me when he’s helping them, and there’s no doubt about it, he’s helping them every way he can.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘he doesn’t mind stealing, but draws the line at kidnapping or murder. After all, he must know the others are hardened criminals and that they would stop at nothing short of murder to get the gold. Look what they did to poor Juno.’

  ‘That’s probably it all right,’ said Cowlick, ‘but it’s still a pretty low thing to do – I mean, robbing your own daughter.’

  I had to agree. ‘That’s what it amounts to all right. As Mrs Rochford-King the treasure would belong to her too.’

  Cowlick shifted to a more comfortable position. ‘But you haven’t told me what happened to you? Where are the others, and Prince?’

  ‘Don’t worry, they’re all right,’ I assured him. ‘They’re up in the castle at this very moment – telling Mr King everything that happened, I hope.’

  I told Cowlick the whole story, from the time he disappeared on Wariff Hill, to the moment I was seized in the Stags’ Hall and thrown in beside him.

  ‘But you all might have been drowned in the Devil’s Cup,’ he said when I had finished.

  I nodded. ‘But how else could we get into the estate without setting off the burglar alarm?’

  ‘I wonder why it didn’t go off when broken-nose and his pals brought me in?’

  ‘Major Boucher probably had it switched off, or else he left one of the green doors in the estate wall open for them.’

  ‘That would be it all right,’ said Cowlick. ‘I thought I heard them shutting a gate or something behind us. It was after that I fell and nearly broke my neck. We must have been going over that bit of ground near the boundary wall, with all the humps and hollows and the steep paths in among the rhododendrons.’

  ‘Little wonder they had to take your blindfold off.’

  ‘Shh,’ warned Cowlick, ‘somebody’s coming.’

  ‘And I’ve still got the spade guinea in my pocket,’ I gasped.

  14. A SIGHT TO BEHOLD

  The door was unlocked and the three men came into the cell. One of them, who was carrying an old hurricane lamp, was saying to the broken-nosed man, ‘I tell you, we had to take him. He was going to spill the beans to Rochford-King, and he said he had something to prove it.’

  ‘On your feet, both of you,’ ordered the broken-nosed man. ‘All right, Ginger, where are you from?’

  ‘From the valley,’ I said. ‘And my name’s not Ginger.’

  ‘Don’t be smart,’ he snarled. ‘What were you doing up in the castle?’

  ‘Playing with Dan Moxley.’

  ‘Snooping, you mean. What were you going to show Rochford-King.’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘No? Search him!’

  One of the others stepped forward and started to go through my pockets. In my jacket pocket he came across my bourtree whistle and my torch. He gave the torch to the broken-nosed man and threw the whistle aside with hardly a glance. In my trousers pocket, of course, he found the guinea.

  ‘So,’ said the broken-nosed man, shining my torch on it, ‘you were only playing, huh?’ Giving the torch to one of the others, he struck me across the face with the back of his hand.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ shouted Cowlick as I staggered under the blow. ‘Leave him alone, or it’ll be the worse for you.’

  The broken-nosed man ignored him and came after me. ‘How much do you know?’ he demanded, hitting me again.

  My face was stinging, and I could taste blood on my lips as I reeled against the wall of the cell.

  ‘How much do you know?’ he repeated, catching my jacket and holding me up against the wall.

  ‘What is there to know about an oul’ halfpenny I found up on Wariff Hill,’ I yelled back at him.

  ‘Trying to be smart, eh?’ he snarled, raising his hand to hit me again.

  I cringed, but before the blow could fall another figure came into the cell. It was Major Boucher.

  ‘Stop it, stop it at once,’ he demanded, throwing himself in front of me.

  ‘Stand aside, old man, or you’ll get it too,’ threatened the broken-nosed man.

  ‘No,’ said Major Boucher in a trembling, but determined voice. ‘You’re to get on with the job as quickly as possible – that’s an order. What does it matter what they know? By the time they’re found you’ll be far away – if you’ve the sense to get on with it.’

  For a moment they stared at each other. Then the broken-nosed man relaxed, pocketed the guinea and strode out, followed by the other two. I slid to the floor, weak and trembling, and found Major Boucher untying my hands. He also untied Cowlick’s hands, and giving him his handkerchief told him, ‘Here, dab his face with this. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  When the Major returned, he hung a hurricane lamp on the wall outside and brought in a bowl of hot water with which he cleaned and bathed the cuts and bruises on my face.

  ‘Don’t worry, old chap,’ he said. ‘I have my own plans for those ruffians.’

  Before we could ask him any questions, we heard someone coming.

  ‘Pretend you’re still tied,’ he whispered, and we whipped our hands behind us again.

  ‘Okay, Major,’ said the man with the broken nose. ‘We need your help – come on!’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Major Boucher.

  When they went out the broken-nosed man locked the door and they disappeared down the passageway.

  ‘How do you feel now?’ asked Cowlick.

  ‘A lot better than I would have if Major Boucher hadn’t intervened. I wonder if they’re still within ear-

  shot?’

  ‘There’s one way to find out,’ said Cowlick, and he proceeded to shout, ‘Help! Help!’

  There wasn’t a sound from the passageway.

  ‘Now’s our chance,’ I said. ‘Have you got your bourtree whistle?’

  Cowlick shook his head. ‘I squashed it when I fell up at the fairy fort.’

  ‘Then help me find mine.’

  Scrambling on our hands and knees, we started picking through the straw. In spite of the light from the passageway, it was still quite gloomy in the cell and we couldn’t remember just where my whistle had been thrown.

  ‘If we could signal with it,’ I continued, ‘they just might hear us up in the castle, and Prince and the boys would know immediately it was one of us looking for help.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Cowlick, ‘but where did it fall?’

  ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it,’ I cried. ‘Here, you blow it, my lips are too sore.’

  Pressing his face in between the bars of the cell door, Cowlick blew three sharp blasts on the whistle. We listened. There was no reply. Again he put the whistle to his lips … and again … and again … ‘It’s no good,’ he said at last. ‘They can’t hear us.’

  ‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I thought I heard Prince. Try once more.’ Again Cowlick put the whistle to his lips and blew three times. Hardly had the echo died away than we heard three faint answering blasts away above us in the castle.

  ‘They’ve heard us, they’ve heard us,’ I cried. ‘Keep it up, keep it up.’

  Soon the whistling was joined by loud hammering, and we guessed Mr King and the boys had been guided to the Stags’ Hall by our signals and were looking for the secret door. Even as we were rejoicing, we heard the men returning. Quickly we threw ourselves down on the straw and put our hands behind our backs. As we did so, the three of them appeared at the door. They looked in, then looked up, and listened.

  ‘It’s coming from the Stags’ Hall,’ said one.

  The broken-nosed man nodded and said, ‘Quick, we must look for the boss. Whoever finds him first, tell him they’re on to us and that we’ll have to make the breakthrough now.’

  They hurried off, and when the sound of their footsteps had died away Cowlick continued to blow the whistle to guide Mr King and the boys and, we hoped, spur them on to greater efforts. All the while, the barking and the whistling and the hammering continued above us. We hoped against hope that they would find the secret door and break through before the thieves returned, but not so.

  After only a few minutes, we heard the men running back into the passageway and start hammering at something with implements, probably picks and sledgehammers, we thought.

  Next thing we knew, someone else entered the passageway and an argument developed. We pressed our faces between the bars and squinted to our utmost, but we couldn’t see what was happening. Seconds later, we saw Major Boucher being propelled along the passageway by the broken-nosed man. The Major was resisting for all he was worth, and when he was almost opposite our cell he managed to break free and make a run for the steps leading up to where we reckoned the secret door must be in the Stags’ Hall.

  Our hearts were in our mouths as we watched him scramble up the steep steps on all fours. We hoped desperately that he would make it, but the broken-nosed man, who was younger and stronger, caught him and pulled him back. Another struggle ensued at the bottom of the steps, and to our horror, we saw Major Boucher go down under a hail of blows.

  Without even checking to see if he was alive or dead, the broken-nosed man then turned and dashed back to where his friends were still digging for the gold.

  ‘Major Boucher, Major Boucher,’ we cried.

  He didn’t stir.

  ‘Major Boucher, Major Boucher.’

  To our great relief, we saw him lift his head and look in our direction.

  ‘Major Boucher,’ I called again. ‘Are you all right?’

  He didn’t answer, but pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and began creeping over to us. Away above us the banging had got louder and we guessed they had found the secret door and were trying to break it in. At the same time, the hammering down the passageway had speeded up to a frenzied clatter. Major Boucher was outside the cell door now. We reached through the bars and helped him to his feet. He staggered along the wall, and when he reappeared he had the key to the cell door.

  With trembling hands we helped him to unlock it.

  As we tumbled out into the passageway, Mr King and some of his men came bounding down the steps, followed by Dan, Doubter, Curly and Totey. We cried out a greeting to them, and threw an anxious glance down the passageway to where the crooks were working.

  The sight that met our eyes rooted us to the spot, for we had turned just in time to see none other than Simon Craig lay open a secret niche in the passage wall with one final swing of a pick. As he did so, an ancient iron-banded casket crashed on to a pile of rubble and burst open. However, it didn’t spill out the stream of glittering gold coins that we expected. Instead out fell one single solitary spade guinea, which rolled slowly around in a circle before collapsing and shivering to a stop on the dusty floor.

  15. DUEL ON THE HILL

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ exclaimed Doubter from the steps. Like Mr King and the others, he had stopped, mesmerised by what he had seen.

  Craig immediately dropped the pick and tried to grab the casket. However, his three helpers apparently had the same idea. A mad scramble ensued. Two of them were sent flying onto the floor, to be seized by the powerful arms of Marcus who had come down the steps with Mr King.

  Realising there was nothing for it now but to escape without the treasure, Craig and the broken-nosed man fled through a large hole that had been made in the side of the tunnel. Mr King grabbed a hurricane lamp they had been using, and following him through the hole we found ourselves in the other tunnel leading from the kitchen to the stone tower.

  Prince was by my side now and as we hurried along the tunnel I reached down and patted his neck. A few minutes later we climbed up into the tower and rushed outside. As we did so, we saw Craig disappearing round the corner of the stables, and the broken-nosed man racing away through the trees.

  ‘Go seek’m, boy,’ I yelled, and Prince needed no second bidding. As he streaked off in pursuit of the broken-nosed man, we followed Mr King towards the stables. At the entrance to the stable yard, we had to take a quick step back when Craig came charging out on his blood mare. He swerved, almost ran down the foreman, Wilson Harper, who tried to stop him, and cut through the vegetable gardens. There he slowed down for a moment to grab one of the long bamboo poles, before galloping on through the far gate, where he swerved savagely back into the trees and made off in the direction of Big Hughie’s farm.

  As Mr King had been on his way out to the stables when we met him, his horse was already saddled and waiting for him. Seeing Craig gallop off he sprang into the saddle, also collected one of the bamboo poles on his way through the vegetable gardens, and raced off through the trees in pursuit. At that moment, to add to the confusion, the burglar alarm began clanging throughout the castle, triggered, no doubt, by the broken-nosed man clambering over the boundary wall.

  ‘Come on,’ cried Dan. ‘Up to my room. We can watch from there.’

  * * *

  Panting for breath, we flung ourselves over to the window of Dan’s room. And what a sight met our eyes! Big Hughie’s farm was like a battlefield. The broken-nosed man had run into a long line of men coming down the back field towards the estate and we knew it was a search party out looking for us. I picked out my father, Mr Stockman and Juno. Even Shouting Sam was there, his gramophone horn raised to his lips as if urging his troops into battle.

  The broken-nosed man turned, only to be confronted by Prince, who obviously had been delayed trying to get over the wall. He started kicking, but that only made Prince leap upon him and seize his trouser leg. The searchers moved in on him, and that’s when he made his second mistake. He threw a punch at my father. The broken-nosed man was big, but so is my father. He just drew back, and if he didn’t break that ruffian’s nose again, he certainly gave him a taste of his own medicine, for he sent him reeling down the field.

  ‘Oh, boy, did you see that?’ I exclaimed, throwing up my fists at Cowlick. ‘Wham, just like that!’

  ‘There’s Craig now,’ shouted Dan, and we crowded around the window again in time to see the searchers waving their arms to try and stop the blood mare. The mare reared up, but Craig held on and turned her back towards the estate.

  Through a gap in the trees, we could see Mr King take his mount clear over the estate wall at a spot where Craig’s mare had dislodged some stones. Gathering up his horse in fine style, he raced up the field to cut Craig off. Then we saw the strangest spectacle of all.

  Levelling their bamboo poles like lances, the two horsemen charged each other like knights of old. Never before had we seen anything like it, except in books or on television, and we watched wide-eyed as they warded each other off to survive the first clash.

  Turning sharply, they faced each other again. This time Craig caught Mr King a glancing blow on the shoulder. Being an expert rider, Mr King held on, for all the world like a whitterick clinging to the neck of a rabbit. Then without even pausing to rub his shoulder, he swung around to face Craig for a third time.

  Both spurred their horses forward. They met. Mr King caught Craig squarely on the shoulder with his bamboo, and to our great delight we saw Craig swept clean off his blood mare, to be promptly seized by members of the search party. As I said before, we weren’t the only ones who needed riding lessons.

  It wasn’t long before Craig and his three friends were safely locked up in one of the castle cells awaiting the arrival of the police. Mr King invited everyone else into the castle, and with the large crowd gathered around a huge mahogany table we related our story.

  Our fathers were very pleased with us when they heard it and we were very proud of them for the way they prevented Craig and the broken-nosed man from making their escape. For their part, they had guessed we might be at the castle after Juno told them about our visit to his mother and Mr Stockman told them about the raft.

  Major Boucher filled us in on the rest of the story. Why, you might ask, was he with us and not in the cells with the other four crooks, and what happened to the treasure? As the Major himself explained, he was after the treasure all right, but not for the same reason as the others. He sat back, relaxed, the centre of attention.

  ‘You see,’ he told us, ‘I know how much Felicity and Mr Rochford-King want to get married, and I knew they wouldn’t be able to afford it for a long time to come, what with costs rising all round, and the income of the estate barely sufficient to meet them. So I decided to make a serious effort to solve the Legend of the Golden Key in an endeavour to secure for them the long-lost treasure. I searched through all the books in the castle library, and studied every possible reference to either the treasure or the legend. I studied and studied them until I could barely sleep at night for thinking about the legend. I even studied the exact wording of it as inscribed on Sir Timothy’s headstone and examined every grave in the family cemetery.’

  We didn’t interrupt, but we realised then that the figure Shouting Sam had seen ‘rising’ out of Sir Timothy’s grave had been the Major. We smiled to ourselves as it dawned on us why Sam had said the figure was ‘sort of’ dressed like himself. The similarity, of course, was between the Major’s plus fours and Sam’s trousers which are wrapped in strips of sacking from the knees down.

  ‘I tried everything,’ said Major Boucher, ‘but I got nowhere, absolutely nowhere – until Craig approached me one day.’

  ‘And we thought all the time it was Marcus,’ said Cowlick.

  ‘Poor Marcus,’ smiled Mr King. ‘His only crime is that he doesn’t know his own strength. That’s what landed him in prison in the first instance. Cracked some fellow’s skull. Probably didn’t mean to do it, but it still landed him in prison.’