e their ruins and make a search--a private search, mind you--and
at the end they announce that nothing's been found--and there you are!
And--supposing they did find something--supposing they found Bassett
Oliver's body--What is it?" he asked suddenly, seeing Copplestone staring
hard across the sands at the opposite quay. "Something happened?"

"By Gad!--I believe something has happened!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Look
there--men running down the hillside from the Keep. And listen--they're
shouting to those fellows on the other quay. Come on across! Will it be
out of keeping with your invalid pose if you run?"

Gilling answered that question by lightly vaulting the wall and dropping
to the sands beneath.

"I'm not an invalid in my legs, anyhow," he answered, as they began to
splash across the pools left by the recently retreated tide. "By
George!--I believe something has happened, too! Look at those people,
running out of their cottages!"

All along the south quay the fisher-folk, men, women, and children, were
crowding eagerly towards the gate of the path by which Bassett Oliver had
gone up towards the Keep. When Copplestone and his companion gained the
quay and climbed up its wall they were pouring in at this gate, and
swarming up to the woods, all talking at the top of their voices.
Copplestone suddenly recognized Ewbank on the fringe of the crowd and
called to him.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What's happened?"

Ewbank, a man of leisurely movement, paused and waited for the two young
men to come up. At their approach he took his pipe out of his mouth, and
inclined his head towards the Keep.

"They're saying something's been found up there." he replied. "I don't
know what. But Chatfield, he's sent two men down here to the village. One
of 'em's gone for the police and the doctor, and t'other's gone to the
'Admiral,' looking for you. You're wanted up there--partiklar!"

CHAPTER XI

BENEATH THE BRAMBLES

By the time Copplestone and the pseudo-curate had reached the plateau of
open ground surrounding the ruins it seemed as if half the population of
Scarhaven had gathered there. Men, women and children were swarming about
the door in the curtain wall, all manifesting an eager desire to pass
through. But the door was strictly guarded. Chatfield, armed with a new
oak cudgel stood there, masterful and lowering; behind him were several
estate labourers, all keeping the people back. And within the door stood
M