THE BIBLE’S SECRET
I was introduced to the strange girl. But I don’t remember what I said
or what she said. For I was sort of confused.
Later on I came to realize how very pretty she was, with laughing black
eyes, saucy bobbed curls and pink cheeks. Her name was Frances Matson.
Her father, Mrs. Kelly told us, an only child of the puzzle maker’s,
had quarreled with his parent, the girl’s grandfather, and had run away
from home when he was nineteen. Since then, over a period of twenty
years, nothing had been heard of him until very recently.
“Just before the ould gintleman met with his awful death,” the woman
went on, “he came here, as though he had a premonition of what was
goin’ to happen to him, and told me for the first time about the
quarrel that had separated him from his son, Harry. He was wholly to
blame, he confessed, and cried about it, great, big tears, tellin’ me
how stubborn he had been and how sorry he was now. He wanted his son to
come home again. And he asked me, as his cousin, to write to all of our
relatives to learn if any of them knew anything about the missin’ one’s
whereabouts. He hadn’t kept track of his relatives, he explained, and
didn’t know where to write to, himself. Then he mentioned his advanced
age. He wasn’t likely to live much longer, he said. He had felt himself
breakin’ down of late. And he gave me a written order so that in case
of his sudden death. I would have a right to hold his furniture and
household goods until his son had been located. He trusted me, he said,
and depended on me. I told him, in sympathy, that I would do my best to
find his boy for him. He wanted Harry to heir his property, the brick
house that he lived in and the ould mill. He had money, too, he told
me, hidden away. In the event that his son wasn’t found within ten
years, the estate was then to be divided among his relatives, but no
part of it, he instructed bitterly, not so much as a penny or a pin,
was to go to the rascally twin brother, Peter.”
The speaker paused to get her breath.
“And he told me in conclusion,” she went on, “that I was to preserve
the family Bible and let no one have it except his son, least of all
the twin brother, who, accordin’ to his story, was the blackest black
sheep that ever disgraced a respectable family. And no sooner had he
said this than a wild look came into his eyes and away he ran, out of
the house and down the road, as though Satan himself was hot on his
heels, I knew then that the things that I had been thinkin’ about him
were true: He was the next thing to crazy. A week later I went to town,
stoppin’ at his house. He didn’t answer when I rang the bell. The door
was unlocked. I went in ... the kitchen floor was covered with
blood....”
“We know about the murder,” Scoop spoke up, “and about the vanished
body.”
Mrs. Kelly composed herself and proceeded:
“Later I went to the judge and showed him my order. He said it was
legal. And with his permission I moved everything out here, storin’ the
stuff in my barn, all except the Bible. Then I started writin’ letters.
Sure, I wrote more than a hundred letters. I wrote to all my relatives,
near and distant, and to many people who weren’t in the family, askin’
them did they know anything about the lost son. Finally, about a month
ago, I got word that Harry was dead. He had married in his twenties,
and the young wife was dead too. There was a granddaughter who had been
taken to raise by a family named Knobson. Before I could get around to
write to the Knobsons, I got a letter from Frances herself. She had
learned through one of her distant relatives that I was huntin’ for her
pa. And then——” The speaker broke off shortly and turned to the girl.
“But I will let Frances finish the story. For she can tell it better
than I can.”
“I wrote two letters to Mrs. Kelly,” the girl picked up, “and she wrote
back telling me about my grandfather, who had been dead for nearly two
years, and about his hidden money.”
“Hidden money?” cried Scoop, excited.
“Mrs. Kelly thinks,” the girl told us, “that there is money hidden in
my grandfather’s old mill. Having gotten her letters to that point, you
can imagine how anxious I was to come here. For the money, if it could
be found, was mine. But I didn’t dare to tell the Knobsons. No, indeed!
For they weren’t good to me. And I was afraid that if they knew about
the money they would come here, too, and take it away from me and keep
it. So I ran away from them last week. Since then I’ve been in hiding.”
“But I was told,” Scoop said, looking puzzled, “that your grandfather’s
money was stolen.”
“It was the general belief,” Mrs. Kelly spoke up, “that the ould
gintleman was killed for his hoarded money and that the money
disappeared from the house along with the body. But I have had an
entirely different opinion. What proof was there, I asked myself after
the murder, that the money was stolen? None. The ould gintleman had
told me that his money was hid. And I drew the sensible conclusion that
it was still hid. At one time I thought of goin’ to the judge with my
story. But I decided not to do that. For I realized that if the story
got out that there was money hid in the ould mill, every Tom, Dick and
Harry in Tutter would be there searchin’ for it. That would never do.
It would be best, I concluded, to keep my thoughts to myself until the
son had been found. Then he and I could search together for the hidden
fortune.”
Scoop looked at me.
“We’ve been wondering why the old soap man was living in the mill. I
guess we know now.”
“He has a double purpose in being there,” I said.
“Sure thing,” waggled Scoop. “He intends to stay there until he has
found the hidden money. And then he plans to make another clean-up by
stealing the talking frog for Gennor.”
“Talking frog?” repeated Mrs. Kelly. “What do you mean by that?”
We told about our new chum and about his father’s unusual invention.
“Our chum says,” Scoop concluded, “that the spy has been living in the
mill for the past two weeks.”
“He’ll get the money!” cried Mrs. Kelly, in sudden alarm.
“It’s very evident,” waggled Scoop, “that he knows there is money
there. For last night we heard him sounding the stone wall. We thought
he was drilling a hole in the wall. More probably, though, he was
searching for a possible hollow place.”
“Let’s hope,” I said, “that we find the money ahead of him.”
Scoop gave the granddaughter a quizzical look.
“Didn’t you know that the man was in the mill last night when you were
there?”
The girl blushed. I guess she was thinking about my pants.
“How did you know that I was in the mill?” she countered, embarrassed.
“Jerry and I saw you go in. And when you came out I followed you.”
“Oh!...” said Mrs. Kelly quickly, nodding her head in a knowing way.
“So that is why you came here! I’ve been wonderin’.”
Scoop grinned.
“I heard some one in the upper part of the mill,” the girl said. “But I
didn’t know or suspect that it was my wicked uncle.” She shivered. “He
might have grabbed me in the dark.”
Scoop gave her another quizzical look.
“Is it in order,” he queried, “for me to ask you why you went there?”
“I wanted to see if I could find out what ‘ten and ten’ means.”
“‘Ten and ten’?” repeated Scoop, staring.
“It’s in the Matson Bible,” Mrs. Kelly told us. “One day I came across
it. Queer, thinks I, squintin’ at it. Then it struck me all of a sudden
that the ould gintleman, in his love for puzzles, had put it there for
a hidden purpose.”
“‘Ten and ten,’” mused Scoop.
“Frances thinks,” said Mrs. Kelly, “that it’s a key to the money’s
hidin’ place. And if she is right, and we can find out what it means,
we’ll know where to look for the money.”
“Hot dog!” cried Scoop. “This is getting exciting.”
“I looked all over the first floor of the mill,” the girl said, “trying
to find something that would measure ‘ten and ten’ or was marked ‘ten
and ten.’ Failing to get a clew there, I started up the stairs. I
stumbled over something. It made an awful racket. Scared, I turned and
ran away as fast as I could.”
Scoop looked at me and laughed.
“Well, Jerry, we have one less mystery to solve.”
“What do you mean?” the girl inquired quickly.
“We’ve been wondering,” grinned Scoop, “who the strange boy was who was
running around in Jerry’s pants.”
“You must have been awfully close to me,” blushed the girl, “to have
seen how I was dressed.”
Scoop laughed again and told her about the patch.
“I thought it would be fun,” she explained, “to disguise myself.”
“One time we did that,” grinned Scoop, referring to our adventure in
solving the mystery of the whispering mummy, “and got into a peck of
trouble.”
Mrs. Kelly looked at me and smiled.
“Didn’t you know, Jerry, that your ma gave me your ould corduroy pants
to cut up for patches?”
I didn’t know it, and I told her so.
Scoop let his forehead go puckered.
“‘Ten and ten,’” he repeated, thinking. He looked at Mrs. Kelly. “Did
you say it’s in the Bible?”
The Book was still on the kitchen table. Mrs. Kelly turned to the tenth
chapter of Genesis. Under “Chapter” and “X” was a penciled line with
the ends turned up at right angles. And the same kind of a mark was
under the tenth verse. Like this:
| CHAPTER X |
-------------
| 10 And the beginning of his kingdom |
| was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, |
| and Calneh, in the land of Shinar. |
---------------------------------------
Mrs. Kelly then turned to Exodus, the Bible’s second book. Here the
tenth chapter and the tenth verse were marked in the same way.
“First,” she told us, “I thought that there was a hidden meanin’ to the
marked verses. But I could make no sense of it. Then I discovered that
it was ‘ten and ten’ all through the Book. It’s the ‘ten and ten,’ we
have concluded, that carries a hidden meanin’, and not the marked
verses themselves.”
“‘Ten and ten,’” murmured Scoop. “It’s another one of Mr. Matson’s
puzzles all right. No doubt about that. He was great on puzzles. Hiding
his money and making a puzzle of the hiding place was right in his
line.” He turned to me. “Remember the ten-ring puzzle, Jerry?”
I nodded.
“He offered ten dollars,” Scoop went on, “to anybody who could work the
puzzle. But no one earned the money. For no one could work it but
himself.” The speaker’s voice suddenly broke off. And he caught and
held my eyes with his own excited ones. “Gee-miny crickets!” he
exploded. “Don’t you tumble?” and he clutched my arm and almost pinched
it off. “Ten rings! Ten dollars! ‘Ten and ten!’ The puzzle has
something to do with the Bible key!”
Maybe you can imagine how excited we were. Oh, boy!
“This afternoon,” planned Scoop, “I’m going to call on old Deacon
Pillpopper. For he knows a lot about puzzles. In fact he and Mr. Matson
worked together on a number of puzzles. Maybe the old man will know
about the ten-ring puzzle and what ‘ten and ten’ means. I hope so. Boy,
won’t it be fun digging up the hidden money! Do you think we’ll get a
thousand dollars, Mrs. Kelly?”
“I’d sooner think,” said the woman steadily, “that we’ll get twenty
thousand dollars. For the ould gintleman was rich, let me tell you.”
“Wough!” cried Scoop, acting dizzy.
The clock struck ten, reminding us that it was time for us to start
back to town.
Mrs. Kelly followed us to the door.
“Beware of the ould shyster, boys. Watch him. And don’t go in the mill
nights. Sure, it’d break me all up if anything were to happen to either
of you, especially Jerry, whose ma has been so good to me.”
“Don’t you worry about us,” Scoop laughed. “The soap man may be a slick
old bird, but we’ve got a few wing-clipping tricks up our sleeves. Eh,
Jerry?”
“You said it,” I waggled.
Pausing on the porch, Scoop ran his fingers through his hair.
“‘Ten and ten.’ Um....” He raised his eyes. “If you find out what it
means,” he said to the two in the doorway, “telephone to us at the
brick house. And if we find out anything new we’ll telephone to you. In
the meantime we’ll keep a sharp eye on mister spy. He won’t get away
from us with the money. Be assured of that. Come on, Jerry.”