WHEN Aunt Cal saw that letter and I watched that funny, almost
frightened look pass over her face, I knew of course that there was
nothing for it but to tell her everything. But I never am good in a
crisis and this time was no exception. Aunt Cal had picked up the
paper, as I have said, and now sat staring at it just exactly as if she
were seeing a ghost. “What is this?” she demanded again, and this time
I knew that somebody had to answer.
“It’s a paper we found in that suitcase,” I began. “I mean it dropped
out when we opened it to look for an address and found all those
bottles and afterward it got under the bed somehow but as we had
returned it by this time—though of course we could tell by the smell
where it had come from——”
“My dear Sandra,” Aunt Cal had regained some of her composure in the
face of my stumbling recital, “I am sure that I find myself quite
unable to follow you.”
“Perhaps I’d better tell it,” Eve put in quietly. Whereupon she gave
Aunt Cal the facts as they had happened in a few words, including the
evening visit of the mysterious Mr. Bangs on the night when Aunt Cal
had been absent in Old Beecham. Eve made no mention, however, of what
Captain Trout had told us of Aunt Cal’s own connection with the
Cravens, nor of the blue emerald. But she did tell about our search for
the missing statue.
When she had finished I waited breathlessly for what Aunt Cal would
say. Would she be very angry with us for keeping all this from her? But
I was to realize anew that evening that it was part of my aunt’s code
of life to conceal her emotions. And her only comment when Eve had
ended her recital was, “So that explains the condition of my bureau
drawers.”
“But we put everything back just——” I was protesting when a look from
Eve silenced me.
“We expected to tell you all about everything,” she said, “just as soon
as we found out something definite. You see we—we were afraid you
wouldn’t like to have us go out there at all if you knew—about Mr.
Bangs being a housebreaker and all.”
“You are quite correct in that,” returned my aunt severely. “After all
I am responsible for your safety.”
“But of course now,” I put in anxiously, “now that he has left, it is
different—I mean it can’t do any harm just to go out and—and look
around, I mean——”
“I doubt if your investigations will lead you anywhere,” she returned
frostily. “And now if you have quite finished with your extraordinary
revelations, I think I will go in. Here in the country as you
know”—she looked pointedly at Hamish—“we are accustomed to retire
early.”
Well so much for Aunt Cal’s connection with the mystery, I thought, as
we sat in silence and watched her spare, uncompromising figure with
Adam closely at heel disappear inside the kitchen door. Hamish, who had
kept silence for a longer period than I would have deemed possible, now
let out an explosive “Whew!” And added gloomily, “And she went and left
my present behind!” It was true; the combination mousetrap and insect
sprayer still lay in its wrappings on the bench. But the letter was
gone!
“Never mind, Hamish,” I said consolingly. “I think Aunt Cal really was
upset you know, though she didn’t show it. I’m sure nothing but great
stress of mind would have made her forget your lovely present!”
“Well, maybe,” he returned. “I suppose I’d better be going. Glad I made
a copy of that letter though!”
So Hamish had copied the “cryptic message” too. Well, there were plenty
of copies going around. Eve had one, and now Hamish, and I would not
have been surprised if Michael—for all his seeming indifference—had
one too. Besides that, Mr. Bangs apparently had the measurements in his
head, as he had proved. At this rate, all Fishers Haven might soon be
in the secret of the whereabouts of Captain Judd’s treasure.
“Eve,” I said, after we had locked the back door and gone up to bed,
“do you think Aunt Cal will do anything?”
Eve shook her head slowly. “I can’t make her out,” she said. “I’m as
sure as anything that she recognized the handwriting on that paper but
that’s absolutely all I am sure of. If Hamish thought he had pulled a
coup, he jolly well must have been disappointed.”
“What?” I demanded. “You mean Hamish dropped that letter on purpose?”
“Why of course he did,” returned Eve. “He wanted Aunt Cal to see it; he
thought he’d find out something.”
“But,” I protested indignantly, “didn’t we practically swear both him
and Hattie May to secrecy before we showed it to them!”
“They agreed not to say anything. They didn’t agree not to drop things
around apparently by accident.”
“That Hamish!” I cried; “somebody ought to—to sit on him so hard—well
hard enough to make him yell.”
“I warned you there’d be trouble,” said Eve, “just as soon as Hattie
May put her nose into this business.”
I was just ready for bed when I found that I had left my wristwatch
downstairs on the kitchen shelf. Slipping into my bathrobe, I was about
to steal down after it when I was surprised to see a light coming from
the front room below stairs. Had Aunt Cal gone down again, I
wondered—or was this another evening visitor?
For a second I hesitated there on the top step. If it was Aunt Cal I’d
better not go down, but if it was somebody else—Mr. Bangs perhaps,
returned to make another search for his missing property——. The
thought sent me creeping forward. My slippered feet didn’t make a sound
on the carpeted stairs. Over the banister I now had a clear view into
the lighted room below, and there, seated at the old-fashioned
secretary in the corner, was Aunt Cal. The desk was open and spread
with papers—letters by the look. And I had no doubt that Mr. Bangs’
mysterious document was among them.
As quietly as I had descended, I stole back to our room and told Eve
what I had seen. “I think she’s comparing the handwriting with some
she’s got, don’t you?”
“Perhaps,” Eve agreed. “I do hope she isn’t awfully upset by it all,”
she added. “If I thought we’d been the means of worrying her or
anything, I’d be sorry we ever found that letter, Sandy. I really
would.”
“Yes—of course,” I agreed. “Still we weren’t really responsible for
finding it—it isn’t as if we had meant to take it. And anyhow maybe
some good will come of it; you can’t tell.”
“If you mean finding treasure,” Eve shook her head. “No, I’m inclined
to agree with Michael about that. Don’t forget,” she added wisely,
“that we’re living in the twentieth century!”
“No-o, I won’t,” I said with a sigh. “Very likely you’re right,
Eve—very likely we’d better just drop the whole thing, forget about it
entirely. Still—there’s the letter! People don’t write down
measurements, do they, unless there’s something to measure?”
“Or unless they want to fool somebody!”
“Fool somebody?” Oh, that was a disconcerting thought! But fool who?
Mr. Bangs, or Aunt Cal—or us? No, the last two possibilities were
absurd. For our own possession of the letter had been purely
accidental, as, for the matter of that, was Aunt Cal’s. The more I
though of it in the light of Eve’s rather startling suggestion, the
more confused I became. And it was perhaps no wonder that, falling
asleep at last, I should dream that Daisy June’s eyes had turned into
blue emeralds but that, when I put out my hand to take them, it was
Adam’s green ones which I found coldly regarding me.
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