JК
Sharpes Gold :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 67 из 179'Come here!
Teresa had gone to asecond door, opening into the cemetery, and stood there as if she was not interested. Harper found another spot, levered again, and this time it was easier and there was enough space for a dozen hands to take hold of the slab and pull it from the floor, swinging it like a trapdoor, while Kearsey fussed that they would let it fall and bequeath to the Morenos a broken vault. Dark steps led down into the blackness. Sharpe stood at the top, claiming the right to be first down.
'Candle? Come on, someone! There's got to be a candle!
Hagman had one in his pack, a greasy but serviceable stump, and there was a pause while it was lit. Sharpe stared into the blackness. Here was where Wellington's hopes were pinned? It was ludicrous.
He took the candle and began the slow descent into the tomb and to a different kind of smell. This was not a sweet smell, not rank, but dusty because the bodies had been here a long time, some long enough for the coffins to have collapsed and to show the gleam of dry bones. Others were newer, still intact, the stonework below their niches stained with seeping liquid, but Sharpe was not looking at coffins. He held the miserable light high, sweeping it round the small space and saw, bright in the corruption, the flash of metal. It was not gold, just a discarded piece of brass that had once bound the corner of a casket.
Sharpe turned to look at Kearsey. 'There's no gold.
'No. The Major looked round, as if he might have missed sixteen thousand gold coins on the empty floor. 'It's gone.
'Where was it stored? Sharpe knew it was hopeless, but he would not give up.
'There. Where you are.
'Then where's it gone, sir?
Kearsey sniffed, drew himself up to his full height. 'How would I know, Sharpe? All I know is that it is not here. He sounded almost vindicated.
'And where's Captain Hardy? Sharpe was angry. To have come this far, for nothing.
'I don't know.
Sharpe kicked the vault's wall, a petty reaction, and swore. The gold gone, Hardy missing, Kelly dead and Rorden dying. He put the candle on the ledge of a niche and bent down to look at the floor. The dust had been disturbed by long, streaking marks, and he congratulated himself ironically for guessing that the smears had been made when the gold was removed. The knowledge was not much use now. The gold was gone. He straightened up.
'Could El Catolico have taken it?
The voice came from above them, from the top of the steps, and it was a rich voice, deep as Kearsey's but younger, much younger. 'No, he could not.
Teresa had gone to asecond door, opening into the cemetery, and stood there as if she was not interested. Harper found another spot, levered again, and this time it was easier and there was enough space for a dozen hands to take hold of the slab and pull it from the floor, swinging it like a trapdoor, while Kearsey fussed that they would let it fall and bequeath to the Morenos a broken vault. Dark steps led down into the blackness. Sharpe stood at the top, claiming the right to be first down.
'Candle? Come on, someone! There's got to be a candle!
Hagman had one in his pack, a greasy but serviceable stump, and there was a pause while it was lit. Sharpe stared into the blackness. Here was where Wellington's hopes were pinned? It was ludicrous.
He took the candle and began the slow descent into the tomb and to a different kind of smell. This was not a sweet smell, not rank, but dusty because the bodies had been here a long time, some long enough for the coffins to have collapsed and to show the gleam of dry bones. Others were newer, still intact, the stonework below their niches stained with seeping liquid, but Sharpe was not looking at coffins. He held the miserable light high, sweeping it round the small space and saw, bright in the corruption, the flash of metal. It was not gold, just a discarded piece of brass that had once bound the corner of a casket.
Sharpe turned to look at Kearsey. 'There's no gold.
'No. The Major looked round, as if he might have missed sixteen thousand gold coins on the empty floor. 'It's gone.
'Where was it stored? Sharpe knew it was hopeless, but he would not give up.
'There. Where you are.
'Then where's it gone, sir?
Kearsey sniffed, drew himself up to his full height. 'How would I know, Sharpe? All I know is that it is not here. He sounded almost vindicated.
'And where's Captain Hardy? Sharpe was angry. To have come this far, for nothing.
'I don't know.
Sharpe kicked the vault's wall, a petty reaction, and swore. The gold gone, Hardy missing, Kelly dead and Rorden dying. He put the candle on the ledge of a niche and bent down to look at the floor. The dust had been disturbed by long, streaking marks, and he congratulated himself ironically for guessing that the smears had been made when the gold was removed. The knowledge was not much use now. The gold was gone. He straightened up.
'Could El Catolico have taken it?
The voice came from above them, from the top of the steps, and it was a rich voice, deep as Kearsey's but younger, much younger. 'No, he could not.