Kitabı oku: «Under Padlock and Seal», sayfa 5

CHAPTER IX.
A FRESH DISCOVERY

Saturday had come round again, and as the children started for school that morning not one of them guessed what an eventful day it was going to prove. Meeting in the road outside the Pines on their return, they passed together through the gate, and along the drive.

"Hooray!" exclaimed Guy, swinging his bundle of books round and round at the end of the strap. "No more work till Monday! I thought I should have been kept in for Cæsar to-day, but I just happened to get an easy bit with words I knew."

"It's a wonder you ever know anything," remarked Ida, who was rather fond of reproving other people. "You are always drawing, or cutting up pen-holders with your knife, or doing something of that kind, when you ought to be preparing your work. Elsie's getting just the same. She sat staring at the wall all yesterday evening, and the consequence was that this morning she got both lessons returned. She's getting such a little funk, too, that she won't go up to bed alone, but waits on the stairs till I come."

"Oh, what a cram!" exclaimed Elsie, rather feebly.

"It's not a cram," returned her sister. "You know it's perfectly true, and you look under the bed too, expecting to find a hidden robber, I suppose."

In a playful manner Brian caught hold of Elsie by the back of the neck, much in the same way as he might have done a small boy at the Grammar School, but with perhaps a lighter touch.

"Come, what's the matter with you?" he asked. "You never used to be afraid of the dark; you were as bold as brass. What have you done? Murdered somebody?"

"No," answered Elsie, laughing. "I'm only – only a bit silly."

She looked up with a smile as she spoke. No one ever doubted Brian's pluck, and the fact that he did not think her a coward encouraged Elsie to be brave. Brian knew that something really had frightened the child on the previous Thursday evening, but he had not mentioned the matter to any one except Mrs. Ormond, for which Elsie was in her heart devoutly thankful to him, as she knew what a "roasting" she would receive from Ida and Guy if once they got hold of the story.

But though Brian forbore to tell what he knew, or even to question her further, yet the incident had been constantly in his mind. He wondered greatly what could have been the cause of his cousin's alarm, and why she should refuse to explain this when hitherto he had always been in her confidence. On Friday, without saying anything to anybody, Brian made a careful examination of the tool-house, hoping to find some clue to the mystery; but his search proved fruitless.

There was nothing in the place calculated to alarm the most timorous of mortals; and as the boy glanced round he saw simply just what he had seen there many times before – the grindstone, Uncle Roger's box, some gardening tools, and sticks for rose-trees and other plants, a quantity of matting stuff which had been wrapped round some plants and shrubs when they came from a nursery, some old hampers, and a short wooden bench on which the new boy, Henry, cleaned the knives and boots. There was certainly nothing here to cause any one to drop a lamp and run screaming into the house.

Still, Brian was not satisfied. He was perhaps rather pleased to think that there was some mystery connected with the tool-house; it was like trying to solve a very interesting puzzle.

"If only I had a clever detective here, like Sherlock Holmes!" he said to himself. "I suppose he'd just look round and find some clue which would explain the whole matter. I must confess I can't see anything. Now that's what began it all," he continued, as his eye rested on the grindstone. "I believe Elsie really did hear some one turning that stone, and it's my opinion that he, or she, whoever it might have been, was grinding the carving-knife; but there the story stops short, and doesn't seem to go any further. Besides, that doesn't explain what frightened Elsie the other evening. I wish she'd tell me, but I'm afraid she won't."

Brian went over and began carelessly working the grindstone with his left foot on the treadle. "I know what I'll do," he thought. "Each night I'll come out and tie the crank of this thing to the stand with a piece of thin black cotton; then I shall soon find out if any one comes and works here at night, for if they do, the thread will be broken in the morning."

Without saying anything to the others, he slipped out on Friday evening and set his trap; but when he went to examine it on the following morning the cotton was still unbroken, though it snapped at once the moment he pressed down the treadle. Nothing daunted by his failure, Brian made up his mind to try the same thing several nights running, and with this determination had hurried away to join his cousins as they started for school.

"Where's father?" inquired Ida, as the family assembled at the dinner-table.

"He's gone to Ashvale on business," answered Mrs. Ormond. "He won't be back before this evening."

"There's no football this afternoon, is there, Brian?" asked Guy.

"No practice game," was the answer. "There's a second-eleven match, but I don't think I shall go to the field. It's too cold to stand doing nothing."

"Then look here," continued Guy, "I'll tell you what well do; we'll make a target, and try my air-pistol. I know where there's a piece of board that'll do, and we can mark it out with rings and a bull's-eye with your compasses."

"By the way, Guy," said Mrs. Ormond suddenly, "I knew there was something I wanted to speak to you about. You remember the cork that was inside Uncle Roger's box? Well, I've found where it came from."

There was an exclamation of interest from the two girls as they raised their heads to listen.

"Have you, mother?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Ormond, with a half-smile on her face. "It came out of cook's methylated spirit bottle. You may remember that some little time ago she found it standing empty."

"But how could the cork have got into the box?" cried Ida.

"It seems to me," answered her mother, "that it must have been dropped by accident into the chest by the person who emptied the bottle, and therefore that same person must have been helping us when we opened the box."

"I know what you're driving at, mother," exclaimed Guy. "You think I used the spirit, and I've told you heaps of times I didn't. How does cook know it's the same cork? There may be hundreds of corks exactly the same size, and you couldn't tell one from another."

"There was no mistaking this one for another," was the answer. "It had once been stuck in a bottle of red ink, and the end was stained."

"Well, I don't know anything about it," said Guy. "Perhaps," he continued, struck with a bright idea – "perhaps father cribbed the spirit to fill that thing he lights his pipes and cigars with, and he may have dropped the cork into the box. You'd better ask him when he comes home."

There was a laugh, in which Mrs. Ormond joined. "I don't think your father is the culprit," she answered. – "Of course, if Guy says he hasn't touched the bottle, we must believe him. – Ida, did you or Elsie use the spirit for anything?"

Both girls shook their heads, and Brian also declared himself innocent.

"It's a rum thing how it came to be inside the chest," he remarked. "It's just like a conjuring trick."

"It certainly seems very funny," replied his aunt; "but, like most conjuring tricks, I dare say the explanation would be very simple if it were ever given."

Guy was impatient to test the power and accuracy of his birthday present. He painted a bull's-eye on a piece of board, with rings numbered 1, 2, 3, each about two inches wide, and then the question was to find a suitable place for practice.

"It's a beastly cold wind outside," he said; "I know what we'll do. We'll hang it up in the tool-house. Come on, Ida and Elsie; we'll all have a try."

The elder sister responded readily, but Elsie hung back, made some excuse, and went off in another direction.

"What a little noodle she's becoming!" remarked Ida to Brian, as Guy proceeded to hang up the target. "I believe, for some reason or other, she's taken it into her head to be afraid to go inside this tool-house. She won't go near it, not even in broad daylight."

"Let's go and bring her," suggested Guy.

"Oh, I shouldn't," answered Brian. "You'll never cure her that way. The best thing is to leave her alone, and take no notice. She'll get over it in time."

The air-pistol was great fun. Ida proved as good a shot as either of the boys, and it was difficult to decide which could lay claim to being the best marksman of the three.

"We'll have six shots each, firing in turn," said Guy. "Ida shall begin, and I'll put down the scores on this bit of paper."

The contest was an exciting one. Ida, unfortunately, missed the target twice, and so got behind the others, but Brian and Guy were so close together that it remained for the last shot to show which had won the first place. Brian fired, and the little steel dart struck close to the bull's-eye.

"Now, then!" cried Guy, reloading the pistol. "I must take extra good aim this time and get a bull. Oh, bother!"

He had been standing looking at the target as he spoke, and holding the pistol with the muzzle pointing upwards. Incautiously his finger had tightened on the trigger, with the result that the little weapon suddenly went off.

"O Guy, you should be more careful!" exclaimed Ida. "You might have hurt somebody."

"Hang it all!" muttered her brother. "Now I've lost the dart."

"There it is," said Brian – "straight over your head."

He pointed as he spoke to a little red tuft that showed the dart was firmly embedded in one of the beams which supported the roof.

"Good business!" cried Guy. "We'll soon have it down. Ida, drag over that old chest, and if Brian will stand on it with me hoisted on to his shoulders, I believe I can reach it right enough."

The experiment was tried, but the beam was still just out of reach of Guy's hand.

"I'll tell you what we can do," he said; "turn the chest up on end, and that'll make it higher."

As Guy moved the box into the required position there was an audible rustle and bump.

"Hullo, there's something inside!" he exclaimed.

CHAPTER X.
ELSIE'S CONFESSION

"Something inside!" exclaimed Ida, as the trio stood for a moment staring at Uncle Roger's box.

"Yes," answered her brother. "Didn't you hear it move? You listen; I'll do it again."

There was not the slightest doubt that the chest was no longer empty.

"But it's locked," said Ida, "and has been ever since the evening when it was first opened; and father has the keys of the two padlocks."

"Well, it's not empty now," returned her brother. "I say, I wonder what on earth it can be? Let's go in and ask mother if she put anything inside."

The air-pistol was forgotten, and the party at once adjourned to the house to make further inquiries. They found Mrs. Ormond in the dining-room, but she was unable to throw any light on the subject.

"Neither your father nor I put anything into the box," she said. "It was locked up and taken straight out into the tool-house. Of course, he may have put something in since, but I think it hardly likely."

"But what can it be then, mother?" exclaimed Ida anxiously.

"I'm sure I don't know," was the answer. "You'll have to wait till your father returns before you can find out, for he has got the keys of the padlocks on his bunch."

"When will he be back?"

"Not before seven o'clock, I expect."

"Oh, bother!" cried Guy. "Fancy having to wait all that time!"

There was no alternative but to curb their impatience as best they might, and the young people strolled back to the tool-house to have another look at the chest.

"Listen while I turn it up," said Guy, "and see if we can guess what's inside."

It was impossible to determine the contents of the box in this manner.

"I should think it was a parcel of some kind," said Ida. "You'd better not do that any more, Guy. It may be something that will break if it's rolled and banged about."

"Whatever it is," remarked Brian, "I expect uncle put it inside before he locked the box again."

"But mother said he didn't," persisted Guy. "I do believe the old thing is bewitched. First, after it's been locked and sealed up for twenty years, and was supposed to contain all kinds of precious things, it was found to have nothing at all in it but a cork (which doesn't count); and now, when every one declares it was put away empty, there's something inside."

No further discovery was likely to be made by simply lingering about staring at the outside of the chest, so, having recovered the air-pistol dart with the aid of a pair of steps, the trio dispersed, and went their several ways.

Brian strolled off down the garden, but had not gone far when he heard some one running after him, and turning round saw Elsie.

"O Bri!" she cried, "is it true that there's something in Uncle Roger's box?"

"It seems so," was the answer.

"Well, how can it have got there?" cried the child, her eyes growing rounder with excitement. "Isn't it wonderful? D'you think it's anything valuable?"

"I think we'd better not make any more guesses about that box until we see it opened," answered the boy, laughing; "though if you like to come and listen I'll turn the chest over. You'll then hear the hidden treasure moving inside, and can decide whether it sounds like a bundle of bank-notes, silver-plate, or bags of money."

If he had proposed a visit to the dentist, Elsie could not have shown greater reluctance to accept the invitation.

"I shan't go near that old tool-house again," she said slowly.

"Why not?"

"Will you promise you won't say anything? I wouldn't tell any one else but you, because I know they would only laugh at me, and say I was a coward."

"I won't say anything," answered the boy, smiling. "Come on – out with it! What's been the matter with you the last few days?"

Brian never broke his promises; his word was always to be trusted. It was with almost a sigh of relief that Elsie prepared to unburden herself of a secret which she had hitherto been keeping locked within her own bosom.

"I had an awful fright," she began. "You know when we were playing 'I spy' I went into the tool-house, and I – I saw something."

"Well, what did you see?"

"O Bri!" continued the girl, lowering her voice, and the startled look appearing once more on her face, "I saw William Cole!"

"Saw William Cole!" repeated Brian in astonishment. "What on earth d'you mean? Why, William, poor fellow, is drowned, and at the bottom of the sea, hundreds of miles from here."

"I know," gasped Elsie breathlessly. "But I saw him, all the same. The light of the lamp fell right on him. He was standing quite still, looking at me. I saw him as plainly as I see you now; and – O Bri," the child continued, covering her eyes with her hands, "I'm afraid to be left alone in the dark for fear I should see him again."

Brian felt sorry for his little cousin.

"Oh, nonsense, Elsie!" he said, taking her arm after the manner of a good comrade. "Don't go imagining that you've seen a ghost, because you haven't. It was all fancy. Look here; after you'd gone indoors I went myself and looked into the tool-house to see what had frightened you, and there was nothing there. You must buck up, and make up your mind you won't give way to your fears. Now come on with me, and we'll explore the tool-house together."

It cost Elsie a great effort, but she at length allowed herself to be persuaded; and, arm in arm, the two cousins made their way to the tool-house. There was certainly no sign of poor William, but that Elsie was firmly persuaded in her own mind that she had seen him was evident enough.

"He stood there," she whispered, pointing with her finger, and shivering at the recollection. "He never moved, and never spoke, and then I let the lamp fall and ran away. You won't tell any one, will you, Brian? Remember, you've promised."

"Oh, I won't tell," answered the boy good-naturedly; "but the sooner you get rid of these fancies the better."

The curtains had been drawn and the lamp lit; it was nearly tea-time, and Jane was then laying the table.

"There, now!" exclaimed Mrs. Ormond suddenly; "I've let Henry go home without asking him to leave word at Mrs. Budd's for her not to come on Monday. How forgetful I'm getting!"

"Is it anything I can do for you, aunt?" asked Brian.

"Oh no, my dear; thank you," was the answer. "I wanted Henry to tell Mrs. Budd, the washer-woman, not to come on Monday."

"Shall I take the message for you?"

"Oh no, Brian; she lives in Bridge Lane – right on the other side of the town. If it had been nearer I would have asked you to go."

"Oh, it wouldn't take me long, aunt," answered the boy. "I'll ride on my bicycle; the lamp is trimmed; and I can have my tea when I come back."

"It's very kind of you to offer," answered Mrs. Ormond, hesitating. "I almost think I will ask you to go, if you're sure you aren't tired. I don't want to bring the poor soul all this way on Monday morning for nothing."

Brian started off at once, saying he should be back in half an hour; and his aunt and cousins sat down to tea.

"I hope father won't be later than seven," said Guy, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. "I want to know what's in that chest."

"Brian's been longer than he said," he remarked when, at the end of the meal, he pushed back his chair and rose from the table. "I expect he hasn't been able to find the old woman's house, or perhaps his tyre's punctured. Hullo! There's father!"

The boy's quick ears had caught the rattle of a latch-key, and immediately there was a rush into the hall. Mr. Ormond entered with the collar of his greatcoat turned up.

"Phew! it's cold," he said. "Hullo! What's the matter now?" Guy and Ida were both speaking at once.

"Father, did you put anything in Uncle Roger's box? It isn't empty now; there's something inside!"

"What d'you mean? I don't understand."

Hurriedly Ida gave the necessary explanation.

"I never put anything into the chest," said Mr. Ormond, with a puzzled look. "I locked it up, and told Henry to carry it into the tool-house."

"Well, there's something in it now!" cried Guy. "Father, lend us your keys, and let us go out and open it at once."

"Oh, nonsense!" was the answer. "Wait until Monday."

"We've been waiting all the afternoon," pleaded Ida. "Do let us have the keys!"

"Very well," laughed her father, producing a bunch from his pocket. "These are the ones. If you take a light out, don't set the place on fire."

"Won't you leave it till Brian comes back?" suggested Elsie; but her brother and sister had already started off in the direction of the yard door.

Elsie had shuddered at the very thought of going near that tool-house in the dark; but, ghost or no ghost, she meant to see that box opened. As the saying goes, she took her courage in both hands, and ran quickly after Guy and Ida.