wet and steaming garments of the murderers
were hung on convenient stalagmites to dry; upon the other side of the
red blaze the four men, dressed in strange motley, gleaned from their
"swags," wrangled over the division of the plunder.

"There's only a hundred-an'-forty-seven quid in my lot, I tell yer!"
Garstang's rasping voice could be plainly heard above the others. "Count
it yerself."

"Count it, Dolly, an' shut his crooked mouth."

"I'll take his word for it," said the leader. "We can make it good to
you, Garstang, when we get to town and sell some gold. Now listen, all
of you. I'm going to divide the biggest haul we've ever made, or are
likely to make."

"Listen, blokes," interrupted Sweet William, with an oath. "Give the
boss your attention, _if_ you please."

Tresco glued his eye tighter to the aperture through which he peered.
There lay the dull, yellow gold--if only he could but scare the robbers
away, the prize would be his own. He rose on one knee to get a better
view, but as he did so his toe dislodged a loose piece of stone, which
tumbled noisily down the gallery steps, the sound of its falling
re-echoing through the spacious cavern.

In a moment the robbers were thrown into a state of perturbation.
Seizing their arms, they glanced wildly around, and stood on their
defence.

But all was hushed and still.

"Go forward, Garstang, and search the cave," ordered the leader in a
voice of authority.

With a firebrand in one hand and a revolver in the other, the big, burly
man crept forward; his mates alert to fire over him at any object he
might discover. His search was haphazard, and his feet were naturally
uncertain among the debris which had accumulated on the floor of the
cavern.

Skirting the grotto's edge, he examined the inky shadows that lay behind
pillar and projection, till he came to the stairs which led to the Organ
Gallery.

Tresco, filled with an unspeakable dread, contemplated a retreat down
the passage he had lately explored, where he might be driven by the
murderers over the abyssmal depth which he had failed to fathom, when
suddenly the man with the torch tripped, fell, and the flame of his
firebrand disappeared in a shower of sparks. With an oath the prostrate
man gathered up his bruised limbs, and by the aid of the flickering
fire-light he groped his way back to his fellows, but not before he had
placed his ear to the damp floor and had listened for the sound of
intruders.

"