In other words, as I was later to
discover, the wily Mr. Tubbs had contrived to raise the boulder
from its bed and push it over the cliff into the sea, afterward
replacing the mass of vines upon the grave.
As to the entrance to the tunnel, it was apparent to me that Mr.
Tubbs had not yet discovered it. Even if he had, I am certain that
he would have been no more heroic than myself about exploring it,
though there was no missing Peter to haunt his imagination. But
with the grave as a starting-point, there could be no question as
to the ultimate discovery of the cave.
I was so eager myself to see the inside of the cave, and to know
whatever it had to reveal of the fate of Peter, that I was inclined
to wish Mr. Tubbs success in driving his hard bargain, especially
as it would profit him nothing in the end. But this sentiment was
exclusively my own. On all hands indignation greeted the rigorous
demands of Mr. Tubbs. With a righteous joy, I saw the fabric of
Aunt Jane's illusions shaken by the rude blast of reality. Would
it be riven quite in twain? I was dubious, for Aunt Jane's
illusions have a toughness in striking contrast to the uncertain
nature of her ideas in general. Darker and darker disclosures of
Mr. Tubbs's perfidy would be required. But judging from his
present recklessness, they would be forthcoming.
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