nough!--and I
shan't go too far."

Nevertheless, he exhausted the full length of both ropes, and it seemed
a long time before they heard anything of him. Betty, frightened of what
she might hear, fearful lest Neale should go too near the edge of the
shaft, began to get nervous at the delay, and it was with a great sense
of relief that she at last heard the signal.

The tinker came hand over hand up the stationary rope, helped by the
second one: his face, appearing over the edge of the gap, was grave and
at first inscrutable. He shook himself when he stepped above ground, as
if he wanted to shake off an impression: then he turned and spoke in a
whisper.

"It's as I thought it might be!" he said. "There's a dead man down
there!"

CHAPTER XVII

ACCIDENT OR MURDER?

Betty checked the cry of horror which instinctively started to her lips,
and turned to Neale with a look which he was quick to interpret. He
moved nearer to the tinker, who was unwinding the rope from his waist.

"You couldn't tell--what man?" he asked, in low tones.

Creasy shook his head with a look of dislike for what he had seen by the
light of his lantern.

"No!" he answered. "'Twasn't possible, mister. But--a man there is! And
dead, naturally. And--a long way it is, too, down to the bottom of that
place!"

"What's to be done?" asked Neale.

The tinker slowly coiled up his ropes, and laid them in order by the
crowbar.

"There's only one thing to be done," he answered, after a reflective
pause. "We shall have to get him up. That'll be a job! Do you and the
young lady go back to Scarnham, and tell Polke what we've found, and let
him come out here with a man or two. I'll go into Ellersdeane yonder and
get some help--and a windlass--can't do without that. There's a man
that sinks wells in Ellersdeane--I'll get him and his men to come back
with me. Then we can set to work."

Creasy moved away as he finished speaking, untethered his pony, threw an
old saddle across its back, and without further remark rode off in the
direction of the village, while Neale and Betty turned back to Scarnham.
For a while neither broke the silence which had followed the tinker's
practical suggestions; when Betty at last spoke it was in a hushed
voice.

"Wallie!" she said, "do you think that can possibly be--Uncle John?"

"No!" answered Neale sharply, "I don't! I don't believe it possible that
he would be so foolish as to lean over a rotten bit of walling l