THE DISCOVERY IN THE ATTIC
But Sarah continued to circulate around the little tea-table, clattering
the cups, pouring the chocolate, and handing about the napkins and
plates. And all the while she was scanning Margaret's new visitor with
jealous and appraising eyes. Her ministrations seemed fairly interminable
to the impatient four, and during the whole time that she was serving
the refreshments not one of them uttered a word. So much of a contrast
was this silence to their usual volubility, that she delivered this
Parthian shot as she was at last taking her departure:
"Ye all seem mighty quiet, though ye were chatterin' hard enough when I
come up! I'm thinkin' ye must have guilty consciences!"
When she had disappeared, Corinne spoke up:
"You girls all seem rather afraid of your maid, if you'll pardon my
remarking it! But I think she seems very good-hearted."
"Why, it's this way," replied Bess. "You see, Sarah's more than just a
maid or a servant. She runs the whole house, really, because Mother's
away so much and just trusts her with everything. She's awfully good
to us children and would do almost anything for us. But she's very,
very particular about her work and her way of arranging things, and she
won't be interfered with the least bit. Why, Mother herself wouldn't
think of changing any of Sarah's arrangements, even if she didn't like
them, because Sarah wouldn't stand for it, and we couldn't do without
her. Jess and I tease her a lot, and she lets us have anything we want
to eat; but we mustn't on any account interfere with her in other ways,
or there'd be trouble!"
Bess did not enlighten Corinne, however, as to the real reason for
their consideration of Sarah. It was because of an episode that had
happened when she and her twin sister were several years younger. They
had rebelled one fine day at what they considered Sarah's tyranny,
and for twelve long hours had led her a life of excitement and angry
remonstrance. And then that night, just as their mother arrived home,
behold Sarah descending the stairs, dressed for departure, a huge
carpetbag in each hand. A stormy and tearful scene ensued in which
Sarah finally relented at the urgent importunities of the distracted
Mrs. Bronson. But she promised to remain only on condition that the
twins should obey her implicitly from that moment.
And in the privacy of their bedroom that night Mrs. Bronson had warned
the nine-year-old rebels that, should such a scene ever occur again,
she would give up their home, put Margaret in a sanatorium and the
twins in the strictest boarding-school she could find, and herself find
a place to live nearer to her business. The threat had its lasting
effect, and nothing of the kind had ever happened since. But this was
the true reason why the family lived in wholesome awe of Sarah. And, as
the twins were anything but proud of the episode, they never referred
to it.
"Sarah will probably do just as she threatened," added Jess, looking
meaningly at Corinne, "and lock up the attic. She's awfully particular
about that place! You'd think it was as important as the parlor!"
Suddenly Margaret, who could endure the suspense no longer, burst out:
"If some one doesn't tell me quick all about that mysterious thing you
found in the attic, I'll—I'll go _crazy_!" Then she dropped back in
her chair, overcome anew by shyness at having been so vehement before a
comparative stranger.
"Oh, tell her, right away!" cried Corinne. "I know just how she feels!"
"Well, it happened this way," began Jess, between a sip of chocolate
and a bite of drop-cake. "Corinne and I were looking at the
spinning-wheel—"
"Yes, and it's a beauty, too!" interrupted Corinne. "You ought to have
it down here."
"—and then we got to poking around, looking into some boxes and
talking about the funny old hooded cradle that Mother brought from her
home in Massachusetts. And all of a sudden Corinne spied that little
old hair-trunk,—do you remember it, Bess?—and she said she'd never
seen an old trunk like that before. I asked her if she'd like to look
into it. I really didn't remember, myself, what the inside was like or
what was kept in it. She said she would, so we started to haul it down.
It's rather small, and Sarah had it piled way up on that high shelf.
"Well, I guess we gave it too hard a jerk, for all of a sudden, down
it came—smash!—and flew open (you know it hasn't any lock now), and
everything in it was scattered all over the floor. Sarah had all our
winter flannels packed away in it, and you can imagine what a time
we had picking them up and trying to fold and get them back so she
wouldn't know what had happened!
[Illustration: "Corinne noticed that the bottom of the trunk seemed all
wrong"]
"But here's the queer part of it! Just after we'd collected all the
things and folded them nicely and were going to put them back,
Corinne noticed that the bottom of the trunk seemed all wrong. One
corner of it was humped up as though it had been knocked through in
falling. I tell you I was scared, for I thought Sarah'd just go wild
when she found it out! But when we turned the trunk upside down,—lo
and behold! the bottom of it was _all right_—just as tight as a trivet!
"If we weren't astonished! We just didn't know what to make of it! Then
we turned it back, and I put my hand under the part that was poked up,
gave it a pull, and—it came right out!—the whole bottom! And there,
if you please, was the _real_ bottom of the trunk, underneath! But
between the two was lying hidden—_this_!" Jess ran to the bookcase,
pulled out the mysterious object she had concealed there, and crossing
the room laid it in Margaret's lap. They all crowded about the chair.
"Why!" exclaimed Bess, in a tone of great disappointment, before
the others could speak, "it's only an old, dusty, disreputable
account-book with the back torn off. I don't see anything so wonderful
in that!"
"Wait till you've seen what's inside!" remarked Corinne, quietly.
Margaret, meanwhile, was fingering the crumbly leather cover, wondering
at its queer, mottled aspect. Then she opened it to the first page and
suddenly gave a big gasp.
"Well, of all things!" she murmured. "What in the world can it mean? I
never saw anything like it before!"
"Neither did I!" agreed Bess, now in a tone of real awe. The other two
only smiled, with a rather "I-told-you-so!" expression. Well might they
marvel over its strange contents. The pages were yellow with age and
mottled with curious brown stains, and some of them were torn. But the
writing was still visible, and this is what it looked like:—
[Illustration]
with similar characters all down the first page. A glance through the
rest of the long thin book revealed the same array of bewildering
symbols to the very last leaf, where the back cover was missing.
The four sat for a moment in silent astonishment, trying to make some
sense out of the riddle. Suddenly Margaret had an idea.
"I know! It's shorthand! I've read that that is writing with funny
curves and dots and wiggly lines."
"No," Corinne gently corrected her, "I don't think it's shorthand,
Margaret. I saw some shorthand that Father's stenographer wrote once,
and it was quite different from this. Besides, this seems quite old, as
if it were done many years ago, and shorthand's a comparatively modern
invention, I think."
"Well, then, it must be Chinese or Syrian or Russian or something like
that!" asserted Jess. "I've seen lots of signs over the stores of
foreigners that don't look so very different from this. Or—oh, I know
now! it's _Greek_!"
Corinne laughed. "No indeed, it isn't Greek!" she declared. "Father
taught me the Greek alphabet when I was a tiny girl, and made me learn
to know the letters. I'm going to study it when I go to college. This
is entirely different. I don't believe they're letters of any other
language, either."
She sat in frowning thought over the strange page for several minutes,
while the others watched her in breathless interest. They, having
no further solutions to offer, threw themselves unreservedly on her
greater resourcefulness. Jess, meanwhile, refilled the chocolate-cups,
and Bess passed the cake, while Margaret reveled in such excitement as
she had never before experienced. Corinne still remained thoughtfully
turning the pages. Suddenly she exclaimed:
"I have it!—at least, I _think_ so!"
"What? what? oh, quick!" they begged.
"I think some one has written all this in what they call a—a 'cipher.'
I've heard of such things. Father told me people often send messages
over the telegraph or cable in cipher—"
"But what is that? How?" demanded Margaret.
"Why, they have certain words or expressions which stand for other
words or even whole sentences. And you can't understand the message
unless you have the 'code' or explanation. For instance, a man may
cable just the words 'Pay Smith' to his broker, and that may mean 'Buy
me five thousand bushels of wheat to-day.'"
"Yes, but that isn't a bit like what's here," argued Margaret.
"No, but it's the same idea," Corinne declared. "I think in this case
some one has taken certain signs to represent the different letters of
the alphabet. First I thought that perhaps each sign might stand for
a different word. But that could hardly be, because there are so many
words, one could hardly find signs enough to go round. And besides, I
notice in looking through the book that there are comparatively few
signs, and they are constantly repeated." She fell to gazing silently
at the book again, while the others watched, still more fascinated by
the discoveries she was making. Presently she looked up again.
"I've found out something else, I think. Do you see that sign of the
triangle? Well, if you notice, that occurs more frequently than any of
the others. In the first five lines there are more than fourteen of
them, and no other sign happens as frequently as that. Now, if these
signs stand for letters, that couldn't be a letter, even if it were one
of the commonest, like 'a' or 'i' or 'e'—"
"What _can_ it be then?" whispered Margaret, in a voice so tense that
they all laughed.
"I think it means the _space_ between the words!" vouchsafed Corinne.
"You see, there'd have to be _something_ to indicate spaces. You
couldn't have the words all jumbled up together. It wouldn't make
sense!"
"Well, you are wonderful!" sighed Jess, sitting back on her heels. "I
never would have thought of it in a century!"
"Oh, no!" laughed Corinne. "There's nothing wonderful about that. It's
only common sense and puzzling it out like a riddle. Now see! If we
take it for granted that the triangle means a space between the words,
this sign of the dot between two triangles must be either the letter
'a,' 'I' or 'O,' for those are the only words of just one letter.
But you can't tell which it is till you've puzzled out some more.
And—after all, this idea may be all wrong. It may be something quite
different, for all we know!"
"But what can it all be about?" began Jess, going off on another tack.
"And how under the sun did the thing get hidden away in our old trunk
under a false bottom. It's awfully mysterious!"
"Tell you what I think," volunteered Corinne. "Whatever it is, it's
been in that trunk for years and years—hidden there, perhaps, when the
trunk belonged to some one else. Do you know where it came from—the
trunk, I mean?"
"No, I don't even know whether it was Father's or Mother's," answered
Jess. "But I can ask Mother. Maybe she'd know."
"I'd like to puzzle this thing out!" mused Corinne. "Who knows! Perhaps
we'd find it was something awfully interesting. It's simply full of
mystery and—and possibilities!" At this point, Margaret, who during
all the latter conversation had been fidgeting with impatience, began:
"Now, girls, look here! I've just had the most delightful idea! We've
made the discovery of something awfully interesting, probably, if we
could only find out what it's all about. Why not let's form ourselves
into a secret society—just we four—with the purpose of finding out
all about this mystery? We won't let another soul into the secret—not
even Mother. Oh, it'll be _such_ fun! Do, _please_!"
She looked imploringly at the twins, and for once they did not appear
to object—even looked a trifle interested. For it was the ambition of
Margaret's pitiful, limited little life to be the member of a "secret
society." She had read much of school fraternities and clubs, and the
fascinating idea had taken a firm root in her mind. Of course for
her—poor helpless little invalid that she was—there could be no
such thing as membership or participation in the real organizations.
In place of this, she was forever begging her sisters to form a tiny
society of their own, just the three, and have meetings and secrets and
all the paraphernalia of the big school "frats."
But the idea had never appealed to the twins. They had no interest in
any of the school clubs except the basket-ball and tennis teams. And
to have a make-believe one at home with no earthly or apparent object
was something they had never yet brought themselves to consider, much
as they loved their invalid sister. But here was something a trifle
different! Margaret, quick to see her advantage, hastened on:
"Oh, yes! _Do_ let's have one! Wouldn't it be a good idea, Corinne?
Think of the fun we'd have, meeting and puzzling out this queer old
book! Perhaps it might lead to something important, too. And I've even
thought of a name for it,—we could call it the _Antiquarian Club_!"
The latter idea captured Corinne. "That's a dandy name for
it,—'Antiquarian Club'! I _like_ that! And besides, it's true, too,
for if this isn't an antiquity, I'd like to know what is! Yes, let's
have the club!" Corinne was moved to accept the idea by two impulses.
The notion really did appeal to her, but even if it hadn't, she would
have pretended it did for the sake of the pathetic little figure in the
invalid-chair, who was rapidly taking a firm hold of her heart.
"Oh, goody! And you do like the idea, too, don't you, girls?" exclaimed
Margaret. The twins capitulated unreservedly.
"Yes, we do," said Bess. "I've always detested such societies because
they seemed so useless. But this thing is really worth having a club
for!"
Margaret, however, had something else on her mind. "Oh, just one thing
more," she added, a little shyly. "Could I—could I be—_president_?
All clubs have to have a president. I would so love to be!"
"Indeed you shall!" spoke up Corinne before either of the others had a
chance. "We elect you at once—unanimously—don't we, girls? And now,
Miss President, you can appoint the rest of us to other offices!"
Margaret flushed with pleasure. "I appoint you, Corinne, to be
secretary. There always has to be one of those. And there usually is a
treasurer, if there is any money to handle. But there won't be here,
for we won't have any dues. So I don't know what to call the others."
"Let's just be plain members, for the present," suggested Bess. "And
now, what are we going to do about this book, Miss President?"
"I think we ought to let Corinne take it home and see if she can puzzle
out any more of it before next meeting," decided Margaret. "That would
be all right, wouldn't it?" They all agreed.
"I'd like to show it to Father and ask him what he thinks—" began
Corinne, but Margaret hastily interrupted:
"Oh, no! You mustn't do _that_! You know it's a _secret_ society, and
we aren't going to tell any one about anything in it. And besides—"
"Yes, and besides," put in Jess, "if we tell _any one_ about this
book, it might somehow leak out and get back to Sarah what we'd done
in breaking the trunk, and then there might be _trouble_!" She looked
meaningly at Bess.
"Oh, no!" assented the latter hastily. "We mustn't tell a soul!"
Plainly the twins still lived in dread of the awful threat made so many
years ago. They knew that Sarah was even yet fully capable of putting
it into execution—under sufficient provocation!
"All right," agreed Corinne. "I won't breathe a word of this, then,
and I'll see what I can do to make head or tail of the thing. But,
mercy!" glancing at her watch, "it's nearly six o'clock, and I ought
to have been home long ago. I'll take the car at the corner, I guess."
She hurried into her wraps, gathered up the precious "find" with her
school-books, and bade the girls good-by.
"It's been a remarkable afternoon for me!" she declared as she kissed
Margaret. "I feel like a _real_ antiquarian now. Hurrah for the
Antiquarian Club! Let's have another meeting as soon as I've made some
progress with this!" She tapped the old account-book significantly and
hurried away.
"Oh!" sighed Margaret, blissfully, settling back in her chair, "this
is positively the most wonderful day I ever spent in my life! Can
I ever wait for the next meeting?" The twins stood by her chair,
looking thoughtful. They too were strangely stirred out of their usual
unimaginative selves.
"Well, I confess, I never dreamed of anything so queer happening in
_this_ old ranch!" marveled Bess. "It's all Corinne's doings."
That night Mrs. Bronson came home very late from business, but she
went in, as was her invariable custom, to peep at her little invalid
daughter before she herself retired. To her surprise, she found
Margaret still awake.
"Dear, you're not ill, are you?" she inquired anxiously. "You're
usually asleep at this time."
But Margaret only laughed a happy little laugh. "No, Mummy, I'm all
right,—only just too interested to sleep! Do you remember what you
once said about an _adventure_ turning up? Well, it has,—the loveliest
kind of a one! But I can't tell you about it, because it's a secret.
You won't mind, will you?"
Mrs. Bronson smiled. "No indeed, I won't mind! Just as long as you're
happy and contented, I don't mind a thing! Did the twins' new friend
come to see you to-day? And did you like her?"
At this, Margaret entered on such a vivid and enthusiastic account of
Corinne, that Mrs. Bronson heaved a sigh of thankfulness for the new
interest in her little girl's empty life.
An hour later Margaret fell asleep to dream, the night through, of
strange, hieroglyphic symbols, and all the weird things they might
stand for. But not a thing she dreamed of was as curious as the reality
that Corinne was soon to disclose!