ABOUT THE SPANISH CHEST
Roger's state of mind at finding himself destined to be the sole object
of Bill Fish's ministrations that afternoon was laughable. He vowed to
Frances that he also would take French leave and bitterly denounced Win
for absconding, declaring it a "put up job."
"Perhaps Mr. Fisher won't come," consoled Frances. "The storm has
really grown much worse since morning."
"Indeed he will," said Roger darkly. "Fishes like water. I only hope
he'll wipe his fins when he comes in. The last rainy day he dripped all
over the room. I was 'most drowned before we finished. But it was mean
and sneaky of Win to go up to the Manor this morning. He might have
known that I wanted help with my arithmetic."
"Perhaps I can help," offered Frances. Luncheon just over, the
unwelcome Mr. Fisher was due in twenty minutes.
"Oh, you may try," conceded Roger ungraciously. "But if Win stays up
there all night, I'll pay him out."
"Mother thinks from Miss Connie's note that they were doing something
very interesting and she really wanted him," Fran said lazily, her face
pressed against the pane. "How angry and gray the water looks."
"I've a great mind to bunk," said Roger gloomily. "It's not fair for me
to work alone all the afternoon."
"Edith and I have been at school all the morning," said the
peace-making Frances. "And Win does work when he can; he never really
shirks, Roger."
"He _likes_ to study," grumbled Roger. "I don't."
"There are so many things you can do that Win can't," reminded his
sister.
"Don't preach," retorted Roger, but Fran's comment recalled to his mind
the conversation with Max in the cave. Boy-like, Roger would not admit
even to himself any repentance for his short-comings on that occasion,
but the recollection served to smooth his present ruffled feelings. Win
had worked alone with Bill Fish all that afternoon and Roger remembered
most distinctly how Mr. Max looked when he said he was going back to
Paris and waste no more time.
"Win is having fun, I'm sure," said Fran at length. "Miss Connie
promised Edith and me that we shall come up and sleep in the haunted
room some night if we like."
"What's it haunted by?" demanded Roger.
"She wouldn't tell us. Says if we know, we'll be sure to see things.
But she is going to have a bed put up for herself and come in with us,
so I'm sure it's nothing very dreadful. I'm so glad we came to Jersey
just so we could know Miss Connie."
"Some girl," admitted Roger. "But she can't hold a candle to Mr. Max.
He's a corker."
"He is nice," Frances agreed. "But show me your arithmetic. And would
you like me to sit in the room? Perhaps Mr. Fisher won't be so fierce
if I am there."
"I would not," was her brother's concise reply. "He isn't fierce
either; he's merely flappy. I tell you he _is_ a fish. He looks exactly
like one of those flatfish we catch down in Maine. Eyes both on one
side."
Nothing more unlike the tall, angular Scotch tutor could possibly have
been mentioned, but Fran suppressed a laugh as she inspected Roger's
problems in mathematics.
"Me doing arithmetic!" he groaned. "And Win having the time of his life
at the Manor!"
If not exactly experiencing such bliss, Win was thoroughly enjoying
himself. After luncheon in the charming old Manor dining-room with a
cheerful fire dispelling all gloom caused by the rain on the windows,
the three adjourned to Colonel Lisle's study, where Win placed upon the
table his discovery. The Colonel read it with great interest.
"Well, that is a valuable document, Win," he admitted. "It is evidently
a page from a letter that Richard Lisle, fourth, wrote to some one and
never sent. I am the ninth Richard, so you see how far back that was.
Of course it refers to the Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles II of
England. It is a curious fact in the history of the Channel Islands
that Guernsey sided with the Parliament in its dispute with the king,
while Jersey remained royalist to the core. I am under great
obligations to you for discovering this paper, for it proves beyond
doubt the legend that I have always wished to see substantiated, that
Prince Charles came to Laurel Manor."
"Don't you make out, Daddy, that they gave him other clothes and took
him to the castle?" asked his daughter.
"Without doubt. Orgueil, or possibly Castle Elizabeth. I believe that
the consensus of opinion now favors Elizabeth as having been the
prince's refuge."
"What do you make of the rest of it, sir?" asked Win, who was still
beaming with happiness over the Colonel's appreciation. "It says in so
many words that they put something in a chest and hid it until the
trouble was over."
"That much is plain," replied his host thoughtfully. The paper was
spread upon his desk and the young people sat on either side. Win's
attention was distracted for a moment by his view of the Colonel's
distinguished face, the face of an high-bred English gentleman. With
all the impetuosity of his American birth and training, Win felt the
charm of this gentleman of other race and another generation. He
admired the Colonel's complete repose, his courteous ways and softly
modulated voice. They were not in the least effeminate and the empty
sleeve and the little bronze Victoria cross bore witness that the
Colonel was a very gallant officer.
"I think," began Constance, "that Great-great-grandfather Dick and his
'Sonne' put the prince's clothes and perhaps some other things in a
chest and hid them. Dad, did you ever know of anything answering to the
description of 'ye Spanish chest'?"
The Colonel thoughtfully smoothed his gray mustache. "There is the box
that came from the Armada," he remarked. "But that cannot be the one
referred to, since that belonged to your mother, my dear, and comes
from her side of the house."
"Mummy was Irish," Connie explained to Win. "I'll show you that box. It
really was washed up on the coast of Ireland and has been in her family
for centuries. No, of course, it couldn't be that."
"A Spanish chest does not necessarily mean a relic of the Armada," went
on the Colonel. "There might possibly be a box of Spanish workmanship,
but I know of none in the Manor to which that description could be
applied. That big black oak chest in the upper hall is English. The one
in my room is Flemish."
"Oh, those are both too big, anyway," declared Constance. "Even men in
a hurry wouldn't take a box as big as those to pack a suit of clothes
in. No, it was something that could be easily carried and concealed. It
takes four servants to move those great arks."
"Then, if there isn't anything in the Manor that answers the
description, don't you believe the chest and the things in it are still
hidden?" Win asked rather shyly, but with keen interest.
The Colonel smiled kindly. "Sorry to quench your enthusiasm, Win," he
said, "but I doubt it. Prince Charles landed in Jersey in 1646 if my
memory serves. Subtract that date from this year of our Lord. I'm
afraid that chest, whatever it was, has long since emerged from its
hiding-place. According to the document here, it was concealed only
till 'happier times should dawne.' Prince Charlie came to his own
again, you remember. This Richard Lisle died somewhere where about
1675. He lived to see the Restoration, so surely he or his son brought
to light again the things that there was no longer reason to conceal."
"But, Daddy," said Constance quickly, noticing the look of
disappointment on Win's expressive face. "People forget. Let's think of
all the possibilities. It says some place outside the walls. And they
needed a lantern."
"There is the cave, daughter, at the edge of the Manor estates, but you
know all about that. Why, I know that cave myself, I was going to say,
every grain of sand in it."
"That's true," admitted Connie. "And of course in all the centuries,
numbers of people have been there."
"Considering the brisk trade in smuggling that was done in Jersey
during the 1700's, I think the chances of finding anything in the Manor
cave are very small," agreed her father. "There is one thing, though,
we might look at."
As he spoke, he rose and produced his keys. Swinging back a portrait on
hinges, he disclosed a small safe built into the wall. Win was silent
through interest in this novel way of concealing a strong-box, but
Constance jumped up.
"What are you looking for. Daddy? Oh, the plans of the Manor."
"You see," said the Colonel to Win as he sat clown again, a discolored
roll of papers in his hand, "the original Manor house has been added to
from time to time. Let us see what it comprised in the days when
Richard Lisle read his Psalter and wrote his letter. It is possible
that something then outside the wall may now be inside the house."
"There's a number of queer things about this old place," said Connie,
sharing Win's look of expectation. "Max and I have run a good many of
them to earth, but there may be something yet. Certainly we never
stumbled on any Spanish chest."
The two young people helped the Colonel spread the plans and arrange
paper-weights to keep them flat.
"This comprises not only the house itself but the grounds," he began.
"They run as you see to the cliffs of the bay. The cave is there."
"I never knew that," said Win. "Is it large?"
"Nothing like Plémont or even La Grecq," Constance replied. "Those are
the show caves of Jersey. There are many as big as ours. It's a rather
rough walk, Win, and the cave is accessible only at low tide. I did say
something about it once to Edith and Frances, but they didn't
understand, and after they were caught by the tide, I thought it would
be better for them not to know of it. You see one can get shut in till
the next low water. There's no danger because the vault is so high that
the tide doesn't fill it. In fact, Max deliberately stopped there once."
"Was he shut in?" asked Win.
"No," said the Colonel smiling. "He was annoyed with me and took that
method of expressing his displeasure. I fancy he was a trifle surprised
that no fuss was made over his exploit. You see, I knew he was
perfectly safe. Connie, I think that path is possible for Win some day
when the weather and tide both serve. Well, this is the extent of the
original house. It includes this wing where we are and the main
portion. These shaded partitions show distinctly where later additions
have been made."
"What is this tiny dotted line across the grounds?" Win inquired.
"That? It is a footpath toward the shore and the gardener's cottage. I
should say that the present path curves more, but that is its direction
in general."
Win was puzzled by this explanation. Why should only one of the Manor
paths be marked? That it was the sole one existing at the time the
plans were drawn seemed scarcely possible.
"That 'safe place,' if it was outside the walls in those days would
probably have been somewhere underground," commented Connie, after the
map had been exhaustively discussed. "That might mean that it is now in
the cellars somewhere. Dad, have we your permission to explore all the
subterranean caverns?"
"If there are any that you haven't already investigated," said the
amused Colonel. "I didn't suppose there was a square inch of the place
that you and Max hadn't by heart."
"I thought so, too," said Constance, "but if Win's theories are
correct, there must be something we have overlooked. What do you say
about an exploration, Win?"
"Oh, I should like nothing better," said Win eagerly. "It will be great
sport to hunt for that chest. And it's so interesting to look around a
house that has been in the same family for centuries."
"There has been a Richard Lisle of Laurel Manor for over four hundred
years," said the Colonel rather sadly. "I am the last of a long line."
"The only solution," said Constance quickly, "is for your unworthy
daughter to marry some perfectly insignificant person, who will as a
part of the marriage contract, take the name of Lisle."
"The man who marries my daughter," replied the Colonel with gentle
dignity, "will have an honorable and, I trust, an honored name of his
own to offer her."
"Else he will never get her," commented Connie with charming
impertinence. "Daddy dear, if I could find a man one half as nice as
you are, I'd marry him on the spot! Win, we'll arrange to head an
exploring expedition. It's too cold and spooky in the cellars to do it
this afternoon. We'll plan for a time when Roger and the girls can
share the sport. I wish Max was here, too. He would simply dote on it."
"I wish he was!" sighed Win. "I was dreadfully disappointed when I
heard he had gone. I think he's about right."
A sudden very charming smile broke over Connie's face. Up to that time,
it had been rather serious. "If we don't solve the problem before the
Easter holidays," she said, "Max will be keen on running it down. I
hope he can come then. He took so long at Christmas that I'm afraid
they'll dock him at Easter, and I shall be completely desolated if that
happens."
"I think he will come," said the Colonel. "In fact he told me he might
be able to get away for an occasional week-end. With a fast car it is
not so far to Granville or even St. Malo and he need waste no time
waiting for the steamer."
Constance suddenly sat up straight. "Max mustn't neglect his duties,"
she declared. "Either he has a very indulgent chief or he is hedging."
Her attitude was so comically severe that Win laughed, and her father
looked up with a smile.
"I can't be responsible for what Max tells his chief," he remarked,
"but I know enough about the diplomatic service to feel sure he is
giving satisfaction."
Constance still looked stern. "It's all right, of course, if he really
earns his week-end," she conceded, "but I won't have him shirking. In
October he was so serious and quiet that I didn't know what to think of
him, but at Christmas he was the same dear boy he used to be. Didn't
you think he was just like his old self?"
The Colonel thus appealed to, returned her smile. "There were moments,"
he gravely replied, "when I doubted whether either one of you was more
than sixteen."