'I didn't want any one going up into those workings.' He stood up. 'What I do on my own property is my business, Pryce. Wheal Garth belongs to me. And no damned deserter I
of a miner is coming letting the sea into Wheal Garth.'
'Deserter of a miner, is it?' I roared. 'And what are you then? A murderer.'
At the word he seemed to shrink back, his face pale. The skin of his cheeks tightened across the bones so that his beard seemed to grow out of his skull. 'No,' he said. 'No.' His beard lifted. 'That's a lie,' he almost screamed.
'It's not a lie,' I thundered. 'You left me to die, buried alive in your damned mine because you were afraid of me. You had no more consideration for me than you had for the dog you flung down that shaft after your wife — or than you had for my mother.'
He seemed to have shrunk in stature. He looked bent and old. 'I did it to save your mother,' he said. 'I tell you I did it to save her.'
His vehemence brought the horrible thing that had been in my mind crawling to the surface. I tried to dispel it. It just wasn't possible. And yet… 'Your wife, Harriet, left you all her holdings in Wheal Garth, didn't she?'
He seemed to sense the drift of my question, for he began to tremble and didn't speak.
'Didn't she?' I shouted at him.
He nodded. He seemed mesmerised. Those pale, unblinking eyes were fixed upon me as though — yes, as though they saw some horror.
'Did my mother have any holdings in Wheal Garth?' I asked him.
His eyes flickered. I don't think he was capable of answering my question. He was dumb with fear.
'James Nearne, my mother's father, owned this place,' I said. 'He was landlord here when it was a pub. When the mine was still working. Now you own Cripples' Ease. My mother made it over to you, didn't she? She must have done.' I went towards him then. 'Did James Nearne also own shares in Wheal Garth?' I asked him.
And when he didn't answer, I said, 'So my mother made those over to you, too, eh? And your first wife left you her holdings in Wheal Garth. Three women — and they all owned shares in Wheal Garth. And they all died,' I added.
Still he was silent.
'I understand now,' I said. 'You killed them. You and your love of that cursed mine. You got their holdings and you killed them.'
'I didn't,' he shrieked, suddenly finding his tongue. His lower lip was trembling visibly. Stark madness stared out of those pale eyes. He leaned forward then. 'They would not work the mine, you see. A mine has a soul. A derelict mine is a devilish thing. It kills people, unless they take notice of it. It kills them, I tell you,' he cried. 'That's why Harriet died. It was the mine. And your mother. And you,' he screamed. 'Wheal Garth'll not let you destroy its riches by letting in the sea. It'll kill 'ee. You see if it don't.' There was a froth of spittle on his lips and his eyes glittered as he stood there screaming at me like a monkey. And I faced him, dumb with horror, appalled at his admission.
Then the door was flung open. 'What the hell's going on here?' It was Captain Manack.
'You keep out of this,' I said.
'Get back to the mine,' he ordered. 'You've no business to be up here, anyway. What'd happen if the police paid a visit? There's gossip enough as it is.'
'Who cares about the police?' I answered. I was angry at his interruption. I wanted time to work it out. The mine had killed them, he had said. And he was the mine. That meant that he had killed them. He had killed his wife — he, and not my mother. My God, what a fiend! He'd killed his wife and made my mother think she had done it. 'You crazy swine,' I muttered.
His son came forward and caught my arm as I moved towards the old man. I flung him off. There was murder in me at that moment. The Captain must have seen it in my eyes, for he cried out, 'Pryce!' His voice rang as though he was calling a platoon of infantry to attention. 'Stand back, will you.'
I said, 'This is between your father and me. You keep out of it. And when I've finished with him,' I added through my teeth, 'you can look after the bits.'
'Get out of here,' he ordered. 'Do you hear? Get out!'
'Not until I've finished with this murderous swine,' I said.
But as I started for the old man, who was cowering against the desk, the Captain suddenly called out, 'Stay where you are, Pryce — or by God I'll shoot you.'
I stopped then, for he had a gun in his hand.
'That's better,' he said. And his teeth showed angrily beneath his moustache. 'Stand back against the wall. Go on — stand back.' Reluctantly I did as he ordered. 'Now then, what's the trouble?' he asked. His voice was tense.
'This,' I answered hotly. 'Your father's a murderer. He's just tried to kill me down in Wheal Garth. And he killed his second wife. He pitched her down that shaft and then persuaded my mother that she'd done it. He killed my mother and Kitty's. For all I know he killed yours as well.'
'No. My mother died naturally. But he did kill his second wife.' The son's lips were drawn in a tight little smile. 'That's why I control what happens in Wheal Garth,' he added.
At that there was a terrific crash. We all swung round. Kitty was standing there in the open doorway, her face ghastly white and the broken remnants of the tea tray on the floor at her feet. '— I was bringing you some tea,' she said in a pitifully small voice.
'Better go back to the kitchen, Kitty,' I said.
She looked at me with staring eyes. Then she nodded slowly and went out as though in a daze.
Seeing her go so stunned by what she'd heard made me realise the pathetic tragedy of it all. This old man crazed with the lust for tin, and Kitty living here and not knowing he had murdered her own mother.
The old man saw the open door and suddenly darted towards it. I thrust out my foot and he pitched headlong to the floor. I'd have been on to him if his son hadn't suddenly barked at me to keep back. There was something in the way that man held a gun that made it clear he wouldn't hesitate to use it. The old man was scrambling to his feet. He reached the door, mumbling incoherently to himself. Then he vanished into the corridor.
'Let him go,' said Captain Manack. 'I'll look after him in a minute.' He motioned me to a seat. 'See here, Pryce,' he said. 'This has been a bit of a shock to you. But there's nothing you can do about it — not now. Killing him' — he jerked his head towards the open door — 'won't bring your mother back. He's mad. I've known it ever since I came back. The mine has driven him crazy. What happened this evening? What started all this?'
I told him. When I'd finished, he nodded slowly. 'I was afraid of that,' he said. 'But I thought his guilty conscience would keep him clear of you.'
'What are you going to do now?' I said. 'There must be some justice in the world.' I got to my feet. 'My God, Manack! I want the swine brought to justice. He drove my mother mad. The sheer, calculated cruelty of it is horrible. I want justice,' I cried, thumping the desk. 'And by God I'll have it, even if it means giving myself up and standing a court martial.'
'Listen,' he said. 'What good will that do you? None. Absolutely none. I'll look after the old man. I'll lock him up. From now on he'll be out of harm's way. You do the job you have to do. Then you clear off. He'll get his desserts. He'll spend the rest of his life wandering forlornly through the galleries of Wheal Garth watching the sea slopping about in the gallery that might have brought him a fortune. He's mad enough now. He'll die a crazy, pathetic old man. You'll have your revenge, if that's what you're seeking.'
'I'm not seeking revenge.' I told him. 'It's justice I want.'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'You can do what you like when you've finished this job for me,' he said. 'But he won't hang, even if you can prove it — which I doubt. They'd send him to Broadmoor. And you'd serve a sentence for desertion. You'd drag your mother's name through the courts — see her wretched history plastered all over the pages of the Sunday press. And destroy Kitty entirely,' he added.