My relative’s face became stonier than before. “Take that cat out of
the house!” she ordered.
I took a deep breath and counted ten. Then picking up Daisy June, I
retreated to the side yard. Eve joined me there presently, carrying the
box of carpet rags we were sewing for Aunt Cal. “Eve,” I asked
solemnly, “what is to become of her?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I can’t believe that anything so
adorable wasn’t brought into the world for a purpose.”
We didn’t get much sewing done that morning for practically every time
we picked up a strip of cloth Daisy June was dangling on the end of it
and as fast as Eve wound the balls, the kitten unwound them. When we
went in for dinner, we left her sleeping peacefully in the box. She at
any rate had no misgivings about the future.
“I see somebody has been trampling the petunia bed,” remarked Aunt Cal,
dishing out lamb stew and dumplings. “But I suppose it’s no more than
is to be expected when one leaves things to take care of themselves!”
It was Eve who persuaded my aunt to go upstairs after dinner for a
rest. “After being up all night,” she urged, “it’s the only sensible
thing to do.” And though Aunt Cal declared stoutly that she did not
hold with naps in the daytime, she finally yielded.
After we had finished the dishes Eve carried out a saucer of milk for
Daisy June. To our dismay the kitten was gone. There was her bed of
carpet rags, still matted where her soft form had lain, but no sign of
its late occupant. We searched every corner of the yard, calling softly
so that Aunt Cal would not hear. But neither the yard nor garden
yielded any trace of her.
Could she have got through the hedge, I wondered? I went to look. And
there she was, big as life, sauntering up the path toward the Captain’s
back door. I beckoned to Eve. “Look,” I whispered, “for all the world
as if she was about to drop in on a friend for tea or something!”
I was about to pop through the hedge after her when the back door of
the house opened and the owner himself emerged. He was jauntily dressed
in immaculate white trousers and a nautical blue jacket. I wondered how
he managed, living alone as he did, always to look so spick and span.
He was descending the steps when he met the kitten. “Bless my boots!”
The words floated across the quiet air. “Now where in blazes did you
come from?”
Daisy June’s answer was to leap up the intervening step and begin her
accustomed twining movement about the Captain’s ankle. I hurried
forward. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I began, “we do have such trouble with our
cats!”
Daisy June continued to twine like a boa constrictor. The Captain
retreated and abruptly sat down in the big rocker which occupied the
center of the porch. Without hesitation the kitten jumped into his lap.
I thought for a second that he was going to push her down, but instead
he asked abruptly, “How’s your aunt this morning? Much upset, was she?”
I collected my thoughts. “Oh, you mean about Adam,” I was beginning,
when Eve came up behind me. “Aunt Cal wouldn’t allow herself to be
upset by so little a thing as that,” she said with one of her dazzling
smiles. “She’s much too—a—strong-minded.”
The Captain appeared as surprised as I was to hear this. “Well, well,
well,” he said, “I want to know!” Mechanically, it seemed, his hand
went out to stroke the kitten’s back and, thus encouraged, she reached
up one fat paw for the large gold chain that spanned his waistcoat.
“Hi, there, look at that now! Caliph allus used to go after that chain
when he was a kitten. Well,” he added, “I’m glad to hear your aunt
wasn’t upset. Old Judd Craven allus did say she was the only sensible
one in the family!”
“Judd Craven?” I repeated. “Who was he?”
“What? What’s that? Mean to say you ain’t never heard of Cap’n Judd?
Why, he was related to you in a sort of way.”
“Related to me? But how? Do you mean that he was related to Aunt Cal?”
“Mercy me, yes. He was her uncle. Cal’s mother was Susan Craven. Cap’n
Judd used to set great store by Cal when she was a young one, used to
bring her things every time he come back from a voyage.”
Eve dropped down on the step. “Do tell us about Captain Judd,” she
begged. “You see, we were up at the place they call Craven House the
other day, so we’re interested. Did he build it?”
The Captain shook his head. “No, it was an old house—dates back to the
early settlers. Cap’n Judd bought it and made it over. It was one of
the show places of the countryside in his day. He fixed it up for his
wife, Emily, who wanted to live inland out of sight of the sea. Emily
hated the sea. Besides that, Judd had a kind of notion he wanted to go
in for farming. It was the dream of his life to found a landed estate
like the ones he’d seen in England—handed down from father to son
like. But—well, it didn’t work out. Carter didn’t take to farming; he
was a restless chap, wanted to see the world.”
“Carter was his son?” I prompted.
“Aye, Carter was his only child.”
“It sounds quite like a story out of a book,” Eve commented.
The Captain chuckled. “Yeah, it would make good reading, I calculate,
if all the facts of Judd’s career was set down. A lively old bird he
was, full of funny ideas, allus getting himself talked about. Not in a
bad way, you understand, just odd—doing things different from the run
of folks.”
“Was it he who set up those statues and vases and things in the
garden?” I asked.
“Aye, that was one of the things. Those statues made a great stir.
Folks round here had never heard tell of statues in a garden. They used
to drive from all around just to see ’em.”
“But where in the world did he get them?” asked Eve. “They look awfully
old.”
“Uh-huh, they was meant to. Judd said he got ’em from a Greek temple,
but I guess more likely he picked them up in a second-hand shop in
Athens. Judd allus was one for a joke. There was one he called Mercury
and one Diana.”
“Diana—Mercury,” Eve repeated thoughtfully. “There wasn’t—wasn’t one
called Circe, was there?”
I held my breath. The Captain began to fill his pipe. “Circe? Well now,
there might have been at that; I can’t rightly tell all the names he
gave ’em.”
“Tell me,” Eve demanded, leaning forward with sudden eagerness, “did
Captain Craven leave any—any money—or valuables or anything?”
Captain Trout shook his head. “I guess Carter got most of the money
before the old man died. Judd used to say in his later days that all he
had in the world was the place. That and the blue emerald,” he added,
with a chuckle.
“The blue emerald?” I cried. “But how could an emerald be blue? I
thought they were green.”
“That’s what I never could figger out myself,” the Captain answered. “I
never saw it myself. Some said it was give him by a Rajah in India
’count of some service he done him. But the Cap’n allus was pretty
mysterious about it—liked to keep folks guessing. Me, I didn’t take
much stock in that Rajah chap. But most folks used to eat up the whole
story.”
“Did anyone ever see the emerald?”
“Never heard as they did. But then I was away for years. After the
Cap’n retired and built his house, I didn’t see him very often. But
every now and then when I’d come home, I’d hear talk about the blue
emerald and every time it was wo’th a little more. It sure had the
villagers mesmerized.”
“And Captain Judd’s son?” I asked hesitantly. “What became of him?”
The Captain puffed on his pipe and absently put down his hand to stroke
the kitten’s back. “Carter disappeared about a year after his father’s
death,” he said. “I ain’t heard tell of him since.”
“He didn’t,” inquired Eve, “take the blue emerald with him, did he?”
“Some said so,” Captain Trout answered. “But I reckon no one rightly
knows. But the house—that rightly belongs to your aunt, I was told.”
“To Aunt Cal!” I cried in astonishment.
“Aye. Judd promised her she should have it. But the will, they say, was
never found. Some say Carter didn’t want it should be, that he was
jealous of Cal for bein’ in the old man’s good graces. But that’s just
gossip, I reckon.”
“I think Captain Judd must have been a very interesting person,”
declared Eve. “I wish I’d known him.”
“Aye, he was a fine chap. Great loss to the community, his death was.”
“Thank you very much for telling us about him,” I said. I felt that we
ought to go back before Aunt Cal came downstairs. I got up, looking
doubtfully at the sleeping kitten. It seemed a pity to disturb her.
The Captain appeared to read my thoughts. “Better let her sleep,” he
said. “You can stop by for her later—if you want.”
As he uttered these words, I was conscious that another figure had
joined our group. Adam had come out of the open kitchen door. He stood
for a moment surveying us, advanced to the Captain, sniffed gingerly at
the object in his lap; then, without a word—as it were—turned and
walked down the steps.
“Caliph,” called the Captain, “where you going?” But only a wave of the
tail answered him.
When we got back to our house, a half emptied saucer of fish was on the
back porch and Caliph, alias Adam, was asleep on his cushion by the
stove.
“I feel,” I giggled, “a little dizzy with all this cat business!”
“To say nothing,” added Eve, “of blue emeralds!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
X
Where Is Circe?
MICHAEL was waiting for us at The Corners at five that afternoon. He
had left the horses tied there in order not to attract attention to our
visit to Craven House. “Haven’t seen anything more of Bangs, have you?”
was his first question.
Eve shook her head.
“Well, he’s left Trap’s,” Michael said. “I went in there just now and
inquired for him. They said he departed the day after he came and they
don’t know anything about him. Didn’t leave any address or say where he
was going.”
“Then he never got his letter back,” I said. “It must be at the Inn
now.”
“No, it isn’t, I’ve got it in my pocket. I just told old man Trap that
a friend of mine had mailed a letter to him and that, as long as they
didn’t know where he was, I thought this person would like to have it
back. So he just handed it out without a word and here it is.”
“Oh, I’m glad you got it,” exclaimed Eve. “For after what Captain Trout
told us this afternoon, I can’t help thinking maybe it is important.”
“So you’ve been talking to the Captain?” Michael queried.
“Yes, you see it was Daisy June’s doing,” Eve began.
“The kitten you left on our doorstep this morning,” I put in. “That was
a marvelous idea of yours, Michael!”
“Say, did it work?” he demanded eagerly. “Did your aunt really take to
it?”
“Aunt Cal? Not on your life! It was Captain Trout. We left Daisy June
asleep on his knee with every appearance of being settled for life. And
when Adam saw her, he just walked out—came back to us!”
Michael threw back his head and roared. We went on to tell him what
Captain Trout had told about Judd Craven and the blue emerald. He
nodded, “I guess everybody around here has heard of old Captain Judd,”
he said.
“But Aunt Cal has never mentioned him to us,” I said. “Though I did
fancy she looked sort of funny the other day when we told her about
being locked in the old house. I expect maybe she knows it well.”
“Wills make a lot of trouble, don’t they?” I went on. “Whether one
makes one or doesn’t, it seems to be always the same. Bad feeling of
some kind.”
Michael grinned at this. “Well, what would you do about it?” he
inquired.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess maybe it’s better not to have anything to
leave when you die. Then your relatives and friends will go on loving
you.”
“Yeah, or forget you entirely,” he retorted cynically.
We had been climbing the hill as we talked and had come once more to
the tumbling stone wall which bordered the Craven property. We climbed
over it and made our way through the tall grass and bushes to the spot
where we had found Mr. Bangs and his measuring tape two weeks before.
The grass was considerably trampled around the stone figure but, at
first glance, that was the only sign that anybody had been near the
spot.
Michael dropped on his knees and at once set to work examining the
ground. Presently he took a tape measure from his pocket and began
measuring. “You look,” remarked Eve, “quite like Mr. Bangs himself,
except that you’ve got more hair on your head.”
Michael paid no attention. He measured thirteen feet and six inches
south from the statue. Then, turning west at a right angle, counted off
another seven feet. “There,” he exclaimed at last, “that ought to be
the spot, if any!”
We were kneeling beside him now, all three of us, bent eagerly over the
matted grass. Suddenly Michael’s finger dug into the earth and he
lifted bodily forth a big square of ragged turf. “Why!” I stammered,
“how queer!”
“Golly!” cried Eve. “He’s dug here already! We—we’re too late!”
“You mean he fitted the turf back like that to cover his tracks?” I
cried with rising indignation.
“Looks like it,” returned Michael, gazing down at the newly disturbed
earth. “Naturally he didn’t want to leave traces of his operations for
anyone to see. Especially after you two came spying on him.”
“The old villain! What right has he got to Captain Judd’s treasure, I’d
like to know!”
Michael looked up with his quizzical grin. “Did you really expect to
find treasure buried here?” he asked.
“W-well,” I stammered, somewhat embarrassed by the amusement in his
gray eyes. “After what Captain Trout told us—I mean about the blue
emerald and all——”
“Oh, that!” returned Michael scornfully. “That story sounds pretty
fishy to me.”
“But there must have been something here,” put in Eve. “Or else Mr.
Bangs wouldn’t have been carrying around those measurements and all.”
“If you didn’t believe there was anything, why did you bother to come
up here and look?” I demanded a little hotly.
“Well,” he returned slowly, “I was curious to know what the fellow was
up to for one thing. Then,” he grinned again, “I knew you girls
wouldn’t sleep nights till you’d had a look.”
“Oh, is that so!” I retorted haughtily. “Of course, we’re just a couple
of weak, credulous females——”
Michael paid no heed to my ill temper. He had drawn the letter out of
his pocket and was studying it. “I’d give a lot,” he remarked, “to know
who wrote this!”
“What I can’t understand,” mused Eve, “is this: why, if Mr. Bangs found
what he was after, was he so anxious to get the letter back? Anxious
enough, in fact, to break into Aunt Cal’s house last night to look for
it?”
Michael shot her an approving glance. “That’s just the point that has
me guessing,” he said. “It rather looks to me as if the fellow’s
excavations didn’t prove successful after all.”
“But he had the measurements right—we’ve proved that, haven’t we?”
Michael nodded. He seemed to be thinking deeply.
Suddenly Eve got up and wandered over to the blackened stone figure.
She stood with her back to us for several minutes, examining it. At
last she turned around. “Suppose,” she said slowly, looking down to
where Michael and I were sitting, our backs propped against the bowl of
the fountain, “suppose this isn’t the statue of Circe after all!”
“What!” Michael was on his feet like a flash. “I say,” he cried,
“that’s an idea! Maybe the old fellow got the wrong statue!”
“You see,” went on Eve, “Captain Trout told us there were several
statues which Captain Judd brought home from his travels. He said there
was one of Diana and one of Mercury. And this statue, even though it is
so dingy and weatherbeaten, looks to me a lot more like Mercury than
anyone else. Look, you can see the places where the wings were broken
off on his back.”
“Gee, Eve, you’re dead right!” Michael cried appreciatively. “Pretty
dumb of me not to notice that myself!” It was the first time that
Michael had addressed either of us directly by our first names. I felt
that it was a tribute to Eve’s intelligence.
“We simply took it for granted that it was the right statue,” Eve
continued. “And, of course, our friend Bangs couldn’t be expected to
know a great deal about mythology. I suppose one statue looks pretty
much like another to a fellow like him.”
“Then the thing to do,” I burst in excitedly, “is to find the right
one—the missing Circe! She surely must be somewhere around.”
The garden, as I have said, was so overgrown with weeds, tall grass,
rambling rosebushes and every other variety of shrub that the space
around the fountain where Mr. Bangs had made his measurements was
practically the only clear spot in sight. But we now set to work to
make a thorough search of the entire place. But though we combed it
from one end to the other, startling toads from their lairs and
stirring up swarms of mosquitoes, we found not the slightest trace of
any other statue.
We were so absorbed in our search that none of us had noticed the
swiftly darkening sky till Eve exclaimed suddenly, “Goodness, it’s
going to rain.”
“Sure is,” Michael agreed, emerging from a thicket of blackberry
bushes, with a scratch across one cheek. “Guess Circe’ll have to stay
wherever she’s hiding for tonight. I’ll run on ahead and get the wagon
and meet you.”
The drops were already beginning to fall before we reached him. “Better
get in behind,” he ordered, “and put this blanket over your heads.”
It was pouring by the time we reached Fishers Haven. Michael did not
let us out at the farmhouse as he had done before but drove on to Aunt
Cal’s gate. There was no time for any further plans that night. We just
called out our thanks and made a dash for the house. But I was sure
that Michael would not be satisfied until he had fathomed the mystery
of the old garden, whatever it was. For my own part, I was determined
to go back and continue the search at the earliest possible moment.
------------------------------------------------------------------------