AN INTERRUPTED TREASURE HUNT
"Well," inquired Martyn, when Graham? had finished, "what is the
situation now?"
"First of all," struck in Madge, "how about the will?"
"As regards the will, I do not hesitate to say that it is as sound and
valid a declaration of the testator's wishes as has been admitted to
probate--Mr. Hurley's testimony removes all doubt upon that point. A
man has a right to do what he will with his own--and that is all Mr.
Ossington has done."
"How does it effect our right of search?"
"That is another question. The will gives neither you nor any one else
a title for the destruction of property. It simply conveys to the
finder the possession of certain things which are not specifically
mentioned. But it authorises no one to look for those things, still
less to do damage while looking."
"Then is our search barred? Aren't we to look at all?"
"I don't say that. My advice is to put the legal aspect aside, and to
regard the common-sense one only. The will says that certain things,
when found, are to become the property of the finder, and this house
with them. You have reason to believe that those things are concealed
within this house. Then it is for you to consider whether it is worth
your while to run the risk of becoming responsible for any damage you
may do in case of your failure to find those things. My opinion is,
that it is worth your while to run that risk--that it is worth any
one's while to run that risk."
Madge stood up, with resolute lips, and sparkling eyes. She struck her
hand upon the table.
"I'm sure it is! I know it is!"
Bruce Graham also rose.
"I am willing to share the risk if it is shareable--or to assume the
whole of it, for the matter of that. I incline strongly to your
belief, Miss Brodie, that there is something hidden well worth the
finding, and that its hiding-place is within the walls of Clover
Cottage."
Jack Martyn hammered his fist upon the table.
"Hear, hear!--bravo!--spoken like a man! 'Pon my word, I'm beginning
to think that there is something in it after all. A conviction is
creeping over me, slowly but surely, that in less time than no time I
shall be filling my pockets with the contents of Aladdin's Cave--and
as there is only a bent sixpence and two bad pennies in them at
present, there's plenty of room for more."
"The point is," said Ella, "where are you going to begin to look?"
"I am going to do what Mr. Nicholls wanted to do," declared
Madge--"tear the house to pieces."
"But, my dear, even if you set about the business in that drastic
fashion, you'll require method. How are you going to begin to take
the house to pieces--by taking the slates off the roof, and the
chimney-pots down?"
"And by taking the windows out of their frames, and the doors off
their hinges, and displaying the grates in the front garden! George!
you'll be improving the property with a vengeance if you do."
"I propose to do nothing so absurd. I simply wish you to understand
that before I give up the search the house will literally have been
torn to pieces--though I assure you, Ella, that I do not intend to
begin by taking off either the slates or the chimney-pots."
"Have you been able to make anything more of the writing which was
left behind by your burglarious visitor?"
The inquiry came from Graham. Madge shook her head.
"Let me try my hand at it," cried Jack. "I have brains--I place them
at your service. It is true I never have been able to solve a puzzle
from my very earliest hours, but that is no reason why I should not
begin by solving this."
The scrap of paper was given him. He spread it out on the table in
front of him. Leaning his head upon his hands, he stared at it, the
expression on his face scarcely promising a prompt elucidation.
"The first part is simple, extremely simple. Especially after Mr.
Graham's last night's lucid exposition. Otherwise I should have
described it as recondite. But the second part's a howler; yes, a
howler! 'Right--cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--left eye--
push!' The conjunction is surprising. I can only remark that if that
assorted collection of animals is bottled up somewhere in this house
all together, that alone would be a find worth coming upon. There will
be some lively moments when you let the collection out."
"Did you mention anything to Mr. Nicholls about the paper?" asked
Madge of Graham.
"Not a syllable. I gathered from what he said that the house was done
up before it was let--papered, painted, and so on, and that therefore
any former landmarks to which it might have been alluding have
probably disappeared."
"That's what I think, and that's what I mean by saying we shall have
to pull the house to pieces."
"Even if that is the case, as Miss Duncan puts it, where are you going
to begin? You must remember that you will have to continue living in
the house while it is being dismantled, and that you must spare
yourselves as much discomfort as possible."
"It seems that you have to begin by pushing the left eye," said Jack,
who still was studying the paper. "Though whether it is the left eye
of the entire assorted collection is not quite clear. If that is the
case, and that remarkable optic has to be pushed with any degree of
vigour, I can only say that I shall take up a position in the centre
of the road till the proceedings are concluded."
"Why not commence," asked Madge, "with a thorough examination of the
room which we're now in?"
"You yourself," said Ella, "admitted last night that it was hardly
likely that the treasure would be hidden in the same room which
contained the will."
Madge pursed her lips and frowned.
"I've been thinking about that since, and I don't at all see why we
should take it for granted. One thing's certain, the room is
honeycombed with possible hiding-places. There are hollows behind the
wainscot, the walls themselves sound hollow. That unhappy man can
hardly have found a part of the house better adapted to his purpose."
"See there--what's that?" Ella was pointing to a kind of plaster
cornice which ran round the room. "What are those things which are cut
or moulded on that strip of beading, if it is beading, under the
ceiling?"
"They look to me like some sort of ornamental bosses," said Graham.
"They certainly are neither cats or dogs," decided Madge.
"I'm not so sure of that; you know what extraordinary things they tell
you are intended to represent things which are not in the least bit
like them. Where's that paper? Jack, give me that paper."
Jack gave it her. She glanced at it.
"'Right'--I'll take up a position like you did last night, Mr. Graham,
to the right of the door; 'cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--'
now----"
"Well?" queried Madge, for Ella had stopped. "Now what?"
"I think," continued Ella, with evident dubitation, "that I'll again
do what you did last night, Mr. Graham, and cross right over; though
it says nothing about it here, but perhaps that was omitted on
purpose." She marched straight across the room. "Now we'll take the
first thing upon the beading, or whatever it is, to be a cat, and
we'll count them alternately--cat--dog--the fifth dog."
"Very good," said Graham, standing close up to the
wall and pointing with his outstretched hand,
"Cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--cat--dog--here you are."
"Now, 'left eye--push.'"
"Or shove," suggested Jack.
"But there is no eye--whether left or otherwise."
"That's a detail," murmured Jack.
"Let me see." Ella clambered on to a chair. From that position of
vantage she examined the protuberances in question.
"There really does seem nothing which could represent an eye; the
things look more like knuckle-bones than anything else."
"What's the odds? Let's all get hammers and whack the whole jolly
lot of them in the eye, or where, if right is right, it ought to be.
And then, if nothing happens--and we'll hope to goodness nothing
will--we'll whack 'em again."
"I'm afraid, Ella," put in Madge, "that your cats and dogs are merely
suppositions. I vote, by way of doing something practical, that we
start stripping the wainscot. You'll find hiding-places enough' behind
that, and it's quite on the cards, something in them."
"Certainly," assented Jack, "I am on. Bring out your hatchets,
pickaxes, crowbars, and other weapons of war, and we'll turn up our
shirt-sleeves, and shiver our timbers, and not leave one splinter of
wood adhering to another. Buck up, Graham! Take off your coat, my boy!
You're going to begin to enjoy yourself at last, I give you my word."
Ella, possibly slightly exacerbated by the failure of her little
suggestion, endeavoured to snub the exuberant Mr. Martyn.
"I don't know if you think you're funny, Jack, because you're only
silly. If you can't be serious, perhaps you'd better go; then, if we
do find something, you'll have no share."
"Upon my Sam!" cried Jack, "if that ain't bitter hard. If there's any
sharing going on, I don't care what it is, if there's any man who
wants his bit of it more than I do, I should like you to point him
out. Ella, my dearest Ella, I do assure you, by the token of those
peerless charms----"
"Jack, don't be silly."
"I think," insinuated Madge, "that you and I, Mr. Graham, had better
go and fetch a chisel and a hammer."
They went. When they returned, bearing those useful implements,
however the discussion might have gone, Mr. Martyn showed no signs of
being crushed.
"Give me that chisel," he exclaimed. "You never saw a man handle a
tool like me--and to the last day of your life you'll never see
another. I'm capable of committing suicide while hammering in a tack."
"Thank you, Jack," said Madge; "but I think carpentering may be within
the range of Mr. Graham's capacity rather than yours."
At least Mr. Graham showed himself capable of stripping the wainscot,
though with the tools at his command--those being limited to the
hammer and the chisel, with occasional help from the poker--it was not
so easy a business as it might have been. It took some time. And, as
none of the hoped-for results ensued--nothing being revealed except
the wall behind--it became a trifle tedious. Eleven o'clock struck,
and still a considerable portion of the wainscot was as before.
"Might I ask," inquired Jack, "if this is going to be an all night
job; because I have to be at the office in the morning, and I should
like to have some sleep before I start."
Graham surveyed the work of devastation.
"I will finish this side, and then I think, Miss Brodie, we might
leave the rest to another time--till to-morrow, say."
"I really don't see what's the use of doing it at all," said Ella. "I
don't believe there's anything hidden in this room; and look at the
mess, it will take hours to clear it up. And who wants to live in a
place with bare brick walls? It gives me the horrors to look at them."
Madge looked at her, more in sorrow than in anger.
"I think, Mr. Graham, that perhaps you had better stop."
He detected the mournful intonation.
"At any rate, I'll finish this side."
He continued to add to the uncomfortable appearance of the room; for
there certainly was something in what Ella said.
He had worked for another quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes, and
had torn off three or four more strips of wood--for they had been
firmly secured in their places, and took some tearing--and the others
were gathered round them, assisting and looking on, momentarily
expecting that something would come to light better worth having than
dust and cobwebs, of which articles there were very much more than
sufficient, when Ella gave a sudden exclamation.
"Madge! Jack!" she cried. "Who--who's this man?"
"What man?" asked Madge.
Turning, she saw.