The Killer Mine

Then suddenly I sat up, my nerves stretched taut to a stifled scream. There was a light in the gallery beyond the sloping.

I tried to tell myself I was seeing things, that the darkness was playing tricks on my eyes. But I could see the cleft quite plainly, like an old doorway and it was all yellow with light. I stood up. Perhaps it was Manack coming back. The light seemed to be getting stronger. Then a long-drawn out cry curdled my blood. It was a soft wailing sound that dragged itself through the galleries and came echoing back in wail after wail, growing fainter each time. It came again. It was a woman's cry — a mad, wailing, echoing cry. And slowly the light grew brighter in the shaft beyond the sloping.

CHAPTER EIGHT Mad Manack

I don't know what I expected to come along that gallery. I stood there, clutching at the wet rock of the walls and my blood pounded in my ears. But for the darkness of the gallery behind me, I think I would have run. The light grew steadily brighter till the walls glistened and I could see the rotten stulls of the sloping thrust out like arms from the sloping rock. If it were human I knew it couldn't cross that gap. But I don't think I thought it was human. No man brought up on the old tinners' tales could possibly have thought that wild cry human.

At last the light itself appeared. It was attached to a miner's helmet and the miner himself came steadily on towards the slope. I thought of all the men who must have lost their lives down here. The mine was old. Two or three centuries of tinners must have worked down here, burrowing down from above and in from the cliffs. Many would have been killed.

I wailed in a sweat of fear to see what the thing would do when it reached the rotten lagging. Would it come on — or would it stop?

The figure reached the gap, stopped and then swung itself against the rock, feeling for the staples.

It was human.

But it wasn't Manack. It was much smaller than Manack. It wasn't his son either, or Slim or Friar. I hesitated. I hadn't been seen. I was in the shadow of my part of the gallery. The miner failed to find the expected foothold, drew back and bent down, looking for the staples that should have been there. The beam of his lamp shone like a disc of light straight at me. Then I found my voice. 'Who are you?' I asked.

The figure jumped back with a startled cry.

It was a woman's cry.

'Is that you, Jim?' asked Kitty's voice.

Relief, surprise, humiliation — they were all mixed up. 'Yes,' I said, coming out into the light of her lamp.

'Oh, thank God!' she said.

'What in the world are you doing down here?' I asked her.

'I came down to find you. Thank God you're all right.' The softness of her voice whispered back at me as though it had wandered through countless galleries.

'Didn't you think I would be?' I asked.

'I don't know,' she replied. 'I didn't know what to think. I saw Mr Manack come up. I was down by the sheds where you said you'd meet me. I waited. But you didn't come up. And then I got scared. I went down to the hideout. Mr Tanner hadn't seen you. I went out to the Mermaid then. I thought you might be down there. But you weren't, and when I got back you hadn't returned to the hideout. I was really scared then and decided to come up into the old workings. I thought you might have got lost — or something. But I see I needn't have bothered,' she added with a trace of sharpness.

I said, 'Is this the only way into the old workings?'

'No. There's one other way. It's a very low tunnel. You have to crawl flat on your stomach. A stranger wouldn't find it.'

'I see,' I murmured. 'But this is the way you'd normally come?'

'Yes. My stepfather drove staples into the rock.'

'Well, your stepfather's just knocked them out again.'

'What do you mean?'

'You won't find any staples now.'

'I was just looking for them when you spoke to me.' She peered down. 'No, you're right. They've been knocked out.'

'Yet less than an hour ago when I followed the old man across this gap, they were there. What do you know about that?'

'You mean — " She broke off, unwilling to put the thought into words.

'That's right,' I said. 'He led me up into a rabbit warren of galleries, then doubled back and cut off my only line of retreat. A nice fellow, your stepfather.'

'And he knew you were following him.' She said it slowly, stating it as a fact. 'He knew that, didn't he?'

'How did you guess?' I said, surprised.

'It's not a guess. I knew he meant you to go down the mine after him. When you left the kitchen I looked out of the window to — to see if there really was a moon. He was standing on the slope that leads down to the mine. He was looking back to the house, waiting. As soon as he saw you come round the house, he started on down towards the mine. I left the kitchen and followed you. I saw you hiding in the gorse, waiting for him to come out of the store shed. Then, when he disappeared down that shaft, I saw you run for the hoist. I waited and waited. At length Mr Manack came up — alone. I thought you'd be up soon after him. But you didn't come, so I went down to the hideout. It was then I got worried and decided to look for you in the mine. It's not a place for a stranger to be wandering in — even if he is a miner.'

'It certainly is not,' I told her. 'My torch has gone dead on me, I'm down to my last five matches, I've scrambled miles and had the fright of my life. I was just sitting here, thinking that this place was likely to be my tomb. Look, what about showing me that alternative route?'

'Yes,' she said. 'Wait there. I won't be long.' The light of her lamp faded down the gallery. Then suddenly all was dark again as she turned out of the gallery.

I became conscious once more of the unending drip of the water. That infernal darkness almost had me convinced Kitty had never been there, that I had imagined it all. I waited there in the darkness for five, maybe ten minutes. Then a light glowed in the gallery behind me. A moment later she was standing beside me and the great cleft where the tin had been sloped out showed clearly in the beam of the lamp she held in her hand.

The relief of having light and company! I found her hand in the darkness. 'I'd like to thank you,' I said.

'It's all right,' she said, and drew back timidly. 'I just felt there was something wrong, so I came down.' Her voice had fallen to a whisper.

'Well,' I said, 'I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't turned up. I'd have just stayed here till I rotted.'

'Somebody would have come to look for you.'

'I don't know,' I said, 'They might not have thought of looking for me up here. And I'd never have got across that gap. And I wouldn't have found the other way. I'd no light. It was only by luck I found my way back as far as this. He lost me in the farthest reaches of the old workings.' I turned her towards me. 'You saved my life, Kitty.'

'It's nothing,' she said, nervously.

'Well, it is to me,' I said with an attempt at a laugh that got stuck in my throat.

We were silent for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. I turned her face towards me. She wouldn't look at me. But she didn't turn her head away. I bent and kissed her then. Her lips were warm and soft. I drew her close to me, but at the touch of my body she thrust away from me. She was panting and I caught the gleam of her eyes. They were wild and scared looking, like an animal's. But I needed her. I needed her close to me — to prove that I wasn't alone any more. I caught hold of her by the arms and drew her towards me. Her helmet fell clattering to the floor and her hair tumbled loose, hiding her face as she fought me off.

Suddenly she stopped struggling. The next instant her body was pressed close against me and her lips sought mine. They were open, inviting lips and she thrust against me with an abandon of passion that was quite wild. Then she drew quickly back and bent to pick up her helmet. I could hear her breath coming in quick pants. She turned back along the gallery. 'I'll show you the tunnel,' she said in a whisper as though she did not trust herself to speak to me.