Dick was convinced that the man would be as good as his word, but he still lingered, casting about helplessly for an excuse, a hope of escape.

‘Blast you, won’t you speak?’

Dick felt the knife cut into the rope above his head, and shrieked aloud in a paroxysm of terror.

‘Stop, stop!  I’ll tell!’

‘Tell then, an’ be quick.  That’s one strand o’ the rope gone; there’s two more.  Speak!’ He raised the knife threateningly.

‘It’s under that big flat stone near the spring in the Gaol Quarry.’  The lie came almost involuntarily from the boy’s lips in instantaneous response to a new impulse.  But he was doomed to disappointment.

‘Good!’ ejaculated the man.  ’Now, you go with me.  I don’t trust you; you’re too smart a kid to be trusted.’  As he spoke he twisted the gag into Dick’s mouth again.  ‘No,’ he cried with a sudden change of intention, ’you’ll stay where you are.  You’re safe enough here.  While I’m away think o’ what’s below you there, an’ pray yer hardest in case you’ve lied to me, because if you have you’re done fer.  I’ll kill you, s’elp me God, I will!’

Rogers took a bee line through the scrub in the direction of the quarry, leaving Dick hanging over the open shaft.  The Gaol Quarry was not more than half a mile off, and Rogers ran the whole of the distance.  He made his way clumsily down the rocky side from the hill, falling heavily from half the height and bruising himself badly, but paying no attention to his injuries in the anxiety of the moment.  He found the big flat stone after a minute’s search, and succeeded in turning it only after exerting his great strength to the utmost.  There was nothing underneath.  Yes, there was something; a snake hissed at him in the darkness and slid away amongst the broken rock.  Rogers fell upon his knees and groped about blindly, but the ground was hard.  There was no sign of the gold anywhere, and not another stone in the quarry that answered to the boy’s description.  Possessed with a stupid blundering fury against Dick, Rogers turned back towards the Piper.  He breathed horrible blasphemies as he ran, and struck at the scrub in his insensate rage.  He was a man of fierce passions, and meant murder during those first few minutes-swift and ruthless.  He reached the Piper breathless from his exertions and wild with passion.  He did not even pause to resume his disguise, but ran to the shaft, cursing as he went.  There he stopped like a man shot, his figure stiffened, his arms thrown out straight before him; his eyes, wide and full of terror, stared between the skids rising from the shaft to the brace above.

Dick Haddon was not there.  The space was empty, the rope’s end moved lazily in the wind.