"We don't want a scene, Lorian," I began. "Besides, it's just possible
you may be wrong."
"I agree," said Lorian. "Come up to his room, now."
Passing quietly upstairs, we paused before the door of the Turret Room.
A faint light showed under it. Lorian glanced at me--then knocked.
"Who's there?" came sharply.
"Lorian," answered my friend. "I want a chat with you about the secret
passage and the old treasure chest--_before speaking to the Colonel_!"
There was a long silence, then:
"Just a moment," came hoarsely. "Don't come in until I call."
We looked at one another doubtfully. A long minute passed. I could hear
a faint sound within. At last came Hulme's voice:
"All right. Come in."
As Lorian threw the door open, a faint _click_ sounded from somewhere.
The Turret Room was empty!
"By heaven! he's given us the slip!" cried my friend.
We glanced around the room. A candle burnt upon the table. And upon the
bed stood an iron-barred chest, with a sheet of notepaper lying on its
lid!
Lorian pounced upon the note. We read it together.
"Mr. Henry Lorian" (it went), "I realize that you have found me out. I
will confess that I had no time to open the chest. But as matters stand
I only ask you not to pursue me. I have taken nothing not my own. The
ring, and an interesting document which I picked up some years ago, are
on the table. Offer what explanation of my disappearance you please. I
am in your hands."
We turned again to the table. Upon a piece of worn parchment lay the
missing ring. Lorian spread out the parchment and bent over it.
"Why," I cried, "it is a plan of Ragstaff Park!"
"With a perfect network of secret passages!" added my friend, "and some
instructions, apparently, as to how to enter them. It bears the initials
'R. R.' and, in brackets, 'Capt. S.' I begin to understand."
He raised the candle and stepped across to the ancient chest. It bore
a roughly designed skull and cross-bones, and, in nearly defaced red
characters, the words:
"_CAPTAIN SATAN_."
"Captain Satan!" I said. "He was one of the most bloodthirsty pirates
who ever harried the Spanish Main!"
"He was," agreed Lorian; "and his real name was Roderick Reynor. He
evidently solved the riddle some generations earlier than Hulme--and
stored his bloodstained hoard in the ancient hiding-place. Also, you
see, he knew about the passages."
"What shall we do?"
"Hulme has surrendered. You can see that the chest has not been opened.
Therefore there is only one thing that we _can_ do. We must keep what we
know to ourselves, return the chest to its hiding-place, and proclaim
that we have found the missing ring!"
Down to the hall we bore the heavy chest. The square knob on the ring
fitted, as Lorian had predicted, into the hole half hidden among the
oak leaves of the design. Without much difficulty we forced back the
fastening (it proved to be of a very simple pattern), and slid the whole
panel aside. A small, square chamber was revealed by the light of the
candle--quite empty.
"As I had surmised," said my friend; "a Priest's Hole."
We carried the chest within, and reclosed the panel, which came to with
a sharp _click_.
* * * * *
The story which we invented to account for Hulme's sudden departure
passed muster; for one topic usurped the interests of all--the ghostly
box, with its piratical emblem.
"My boy," Colonel Reynor said to Lorian, "I cannot pretend to explain
what Sybil saw. But it bears curiously upon a certain black page in the
family history. If the chest had been tangible, and had contained a
fortune, I would not have opened it. Let all pertaining to that part of
our records remain buried, say I."
"Which determines our course," explained Lorian to me. "The chest is not
ours, and the Colonel evidently would rather not know about it. I regret
that I lack the morals of a burglar."