Lighting a small lantern I had brought, I walked into the cavern, thinking it strange that I saw no trace of Thora at the entrance, for I had made noise enough to attract her.  Yet I noticed the flagon that had held the warm tea we had sent down in the morning lying empty on a flat stone.  I continued my way further into the cavern, watching the play of light upon the huge stalactites that hung from the roof.  At last I came to the stream in which Thora had so nearly lost her life.  It was swollen, and rushed past with great force.  At one point a kind of bridge had been formed by a couple of wooden planks that had been thrown across.  Over this bridge I crossed, turning my lantern to right and left, anxiously looking for Thora, whom I also called by name.  Beyond the little bridge I was sensible of a strong spirituous smell, and this became still stronger as I advanced, until, when I held my light towards a side chamber of the cave I discerned a large number of small kegs.

At once I thought of what Colin Lothian had said the day before in Gray’s Inn about smuggled whisky.  Here, then, I had discovered the secret store of some unlawful trader.  But my surprise at this soon abated in my anxiety to find Thora.  I was continuing my way yet further when my foot touched something strange.  I turned my light upon it, and there, lying before me, was the sleeping form, not of Thora, but of Tom Kinlay.

Chapter XXXVI.  Trapped In The Cave.

I stood for some moments transfixed with surprise at seeing Tom Kinlay in this situation.  He was lying with his head and shoulders upon a square box and snoring loudly.  Behind him were piled up many kegs, which I doubted not were filled with contraband spirits.  As I reasoned on all this I surmised that Tom was there probably by the directions of his father, whom, after what I had heard and seen, I could not but associate with the smugglers.

I now, for the first time, saw also some shade of reason for the enmity that had existed between Carver and my father.  At the time of the wreck of the Undine, years before, when he was stranded in the cavern, Carver had no doubt seen the convenience of the place for smuggling purposes.  The cave was commodious, and the fact that its situation was little known among the natives gave it the additional advantage of secrecy.

I could not tell whether Kinlay had carried on his illicit traffic whilst my father was alive, but I guessed that this was so; and believing that my father was the only man who knew his secret, I saw reason sufficient for enmity.  My father’s death had removed the one great obstacle in the way of Carver’s carrying on the smuggling unsuspected.  It had also enabled him to become a pilot—­a position which gave unusual opportunity to a man so unscrupulous.  As pilot he was able to board any vessel that entered the Orcadian waters, and in the case of ships which came over from the Continent or from the north of Scotland with contraband goods, a transfer of cargo could be boldly effected without exciting suspicion.  And here in the cave I saw before me a part of the smuggler’s store.