THE CHART
It was the belief of Saxe and his friends that the person guilty of
the outrage against them was none other than Hartley Masters. Now, at
last, Roy confided to his associates the adventure in the night, when
he had discovered the presence of the safe hidden within the wall.
The others flouted him as he had anticipated over his failure to
capture the intruder and his subsequent inability to learn the secret
of the spring in the wainscoting. They accepted without hesitation
his assurance that the night prowler had been Masters, and their
wrath flamed hot against the engineer, who in his later effort had
not scrupled to attempt the murder of five men. They determined to
take active measures against the fellow for the sake of their own
safety. Roy volunteered to wage a campaign against the enemy, to seek
out his whereabouts, to trail him, to get evidence against him, and
finally to make him prisoner. The others, meantime, would continue
their quest for further clues to the treasure. First of all, they
busied themselves with hunting for the concealed safe, after its
exact situation had been indicated by Roy, and three days passed in
fruitless experimenting on the intricacies of the carved wainscoting.
Roy visited the hamlet at the foot of the lake, where was situated
the hotel in which the engineer had been a guest. He learned, to
his disappointment, that Masters had taken his departure a week
before. He assured himself that this departure had been a real one by
inquiries at the station. Further questioning of residents elicited
the information that the engineer had thereafter been seen by none.
Nevertheless, Roy was far from being convinced by this information
that the engineer had actually taken himself off. He was, on the
contrary, almost, if not quite, certain that Masters had merely made
use of the train for an ostensible departure, in order to avoid
the possibility of his presence in the neighborhood appearing as
evidence against him in the event of any suspicion that might arise.
Afterward, as Roy imagined, he had returned to some out-of-the-way
place in the forest, where he could eat and sleep unmolested, and
thence spy out the land for the execution of his villainous projects.
Doubtless in his employment as an engineer, he had often lived
roughly, and the season of the year would make life in the open no
hardship. Roy, therefore, set himself to a search of the countryside,
hoping somewhere to chance on a trace of the enemy’s camp. In this,
he was unsuccessful. After two days of weary tramping, it occurred
to him that he could serve his purpose equally well by strolling in
pleasant paths with May Thurston at his side.
This improved method was adopted. Roy told the girl nothing as to his
desire of finding Masters, but he told her other things a-plenty; and
the two of them grew daily more content.
It was Margaret West who finally hit on the spring that moved the
wainscoting, for Saxe had let her know the story told by Roy, and she
had amused herself by seeking to master the mystery. Actually, beyond
her satisfaction in having succeeded where the others had failed,
nothing was accomplished, since the vault was empty, and no hint as
to the disposal of the gold could be gleaned from its bareness. Yet,
new knowledge of the secret was soon to come.
Billy Walker’s pride of intellect had been aroused to the utmost by
the difficulty of the task that confronted him. Hour after hour,
day after day, he pored over the manuscript, of which the cryptic
significance ever escaped all efforts of his ingenuity. It seemed to
him that he had, in fact, scrutinized every possible aspect in which
the writing might be viewed, and still the veil lay impenetrable over
the mystery. He would have been in despair, had he been of a humbler
mind, but his intellectual egotism would not suffer him to confess
defeat, even to himself. So, he persisted in the struggle to solve
this baffling problem--did indeed but strive the harder as the days
passed. The others admitted that the difficulties were too great for
their overcoming. Billy replied to their lamentations with braggart
boasting that he would yet conquer. Nevertheless, at the last, he
owed the hint he needed to Saxe.
The four men were lounging on the porch of a morning. The languor of
summer had grown within a few days, and the four were taking their
ease. Billy Walker was crouched in the deeps of a huge chair; David
sprawled on a heap of cushions; Roy stretched lazily in a hammock,
reminiscent of long siestas in the southland. Saxe alone showed any
evidence of alertness. He sat erect at the head of the steps, with
the manuscript of the gold song lying on his knees. Ostensibly, his
attention was fixed on the music. From time to time, he jabbed the
score impatiently with a pencil point. But often, he shot glances
of longing toward the stairway, by which, sooner or later, Margaret
West must descend. Silence had fallen on the group. A sense of
discouragement was in the air. The only sounds were the gossiping of
the English sparrows about the eaves, the faint rustling of leaves
when the breeze stirred them, the distressful grunt that accompanied
any change of position by Billy Walker, the whish of a match as
someone lighted a fresh cigarette.
The real activity was on the part of Billy, whose mind, while his
body lolled, was nimbly busy over the miser’s manuscript, which his
imagination held visible before him. Then, presently, he craved the
stimulus of a sight of the actual. He hoisted his cumbersome bulk
out of the chair, and went stiffly across the veranda to where Saxe
sat with the music. There, he stood for a minute looking down at the
notes. His beetling brows were lowering, a low rumble of displeasure
came from his heavy lips, he thrust a hand vehemently through the
rough shock of hair, his small eyes, with the whites tainted by
jaundice, fairly glared down at the elusive script wherein lay
knowledge of Abernethey’s gold.
Of a sudden, wonder grew on his face. Doubt, fear, hope, joy,
followed. He bent awkwardly, but swiftly, snatched the paper, and
immediately stalked off into the cottage and up the stairs to his
bedroom, without a word of explanation or apology. Saxe shrugged
his shoulders, and smiled whimsically. The others paid no attention
whatsoever.
It was a half-hour later when Billy returned to the porch. His
manner was wholly changed. He was radiant with a supreme triumph of
pride. The others did not look up, as he again seated himself in
the easy chair. But the man was so surcharged with exultation that
his mood sent its challenges vibrant to their souls. Presently, one
turned to stare at him, and then another, and then the third. He
met their gaze with eyes that were aglow, and a smile of delight
bent the coarse lips. He nodded slowly, as in answer to their mute
questioning, and spoke:
“Well, my dilatory friends,” he began genially, “your confidence
in me, which has enabled you to retain your calm while yourselves
accomplishing nothing, was not misplaced. After a considerable period
of unremitting toil over the manuscript left for our guidance by the
ingenious deceased--by the way, Saxe, that song of gold, as you call
it, is perfectly good music, isn’t it?”
The three were gazing on Billy Walker with wide eyes. Their
astonishment was so great that, for the moment, they did not question
the leisurely manner of the sage’s introduction. Instead, Saxe
answered the seemingly irrelevant interrogation obediently.
“It’s perfectly good music--in the sense you mean--yes.”
“Then,” Billy declared, “I take off my hat to the late Mr.
Abernethey. The reason for this burst of enthusiasm on my part lies
in the fact that out of a perfectly good piece of music, he has made,
also, a perfectly good chart--for our guidance to the treasure. As
to the chart, I myself speak as an authority, since I have found
it.” Billy regarded his friends with an expression of intense
self-satisfaction.
Roy was sitting up in the hammock now, with his jaw thrust forward
a little, and his eyes hard in the excitement of the minute. David
was goggling, with his mouth open in amazement over the unexpected
announcement. Saxe betrayed his emotion by the tenseness of his
features, the rigidity of his pose, the sparkle in his keen, gray
eyes.
It was evident that the successful investigator was hugely enjoying
the sensation he had created. He delighted in the importance of
his accomplishment, gloried in the stunning effect of it on his
companions. He smiled broadly, chuckled in a rumbling fashion of his
own, and finally lighted one of his black cigars with irritating
slowness. He rather hoped that someone might exclaim with impatience
against this wanton delay, but none did. They endured the suspense
in apparent calm, moveless, expectant. So at last, Billy deigned to
proceed with the account of his achievement in solving the mystery
contrived by the miser.
“I owe the final suggestion by which I won out to Saxe,” he declared
frankly, with an appreciative nod in his friend’s direction. “He,
however, really deserves no credit, since what he did was merely
by chance, without any intention, and would never have amounted to
anything, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I happened to see what
he had done, and to take advantage of it in an orderly and logical
way. Only, I wish it understood that he served as the unconscious
instrument of destiny in the matter, and as such unconscious
instrument he should be recognized. Probably, I should have arrived
at the fact in time without his aid, but to it I owe success on this
present occasion.”
“What in the world did I do?” Saxe demanded, in amazement.
“I’ll explain in a minute,” Billy replied. “I have in mind first
to exhibit this to you.” He held up a sheet of paper, which he had
drawn from his pocket. It was of about the size of that on which
Abernethey’s composition had been written. It showed two irregular
lines running across it, drawn by pencil. “Glance at this, if you
please,” he directed.
The others did so; but their bewildered expression showed that they
were still unenlightened as to the bearing of the scant diagram on
the revelation concerning the hidden gold. Billy chuckled again in
contemplation of their failure to comprehend. Then, he brought forth
a second sheet, and held it, also, for their inspection. In this
instance, the paper was turned with its greater length horizontal,
and the two lines of the other sheet had been joined, so that the one
irregular tracing extended over the full page.
David slapped his thigh with violence.
“By the Lord Harry, it’s a map!” he cried, in glee. “A regular map,
Billy, my boy!” His eyes bulged forth until they threatened to jump
from their sockets.
Roy’s jaw shot out a bit farther.
“Yes, it’s a map,” he agreed; and his voice was strangely gentle,
as it usually was in his moments of greatest excitement. “It’s a
map. Bully for Billy!” His face lighted with a charming smile, and
his eyes grew soft as he turned them to the rough-hewn face of the
discoverer, who appeared highly gratified.
Saxe took the sheet of paper out of his friend’s hand, and studied
it with eager eyes. For the first time in days, hope leaped in his
breast.
“Yes, it’s a map,” he declared, echoing the others. “But I don’t
understand. Tell us, Billy.”
Billy actually preened himself, in an ungainly manner peculiarly his
own, and assumed a most pedantic air, as he went forward with the
explanation:
“Saxe was sitting here, with his eyes fixed on the old man’s
manuscript, but with his mind elsewhere. I was here in my chair,
with all the power of my brain concentrated on that same manuscript,
trying to get some suggestion for working out the tangle. Was it
merely restlessness under repeated failure, or was it an instinct
that moved me, or just chance? Anyhow, I got up, and crossed over
to Saxe, and stood looking down at the music, although I had every
line of it clear in memory--as clear as the written page itself. But,
this time, in spite of the perfect recollection I had of it, I saw
something new. That’s how the thing started. It was Saxe’s doing.”
“Oh, do get on with the explanation,” Temple urged. “What was it I
did? I haven’t the shadow of an idea.”
“It’s simple enough,” Billy said. “Just absent-mindedly, you sat
there with a pencil in your hand, and made ticks over certain notes.
As I looked down at the sheet, my attention was especially caught by
these, for the excellent reason that they had not been there before.
Without any volition on my part, I stood there considering the pencil
marks. Within a half-minute, the great idea hit me. In the first
rush, I was sure it was the right one; but I wanted to be alone to
work it out. So, I just swooped down on the manuscript, and carried
it off to my room. Now, to present the case in orderly sequence, here
is what we may term Exhibit A.”
Billy took from his pocket a third sheet, which he gave to Saxe. This
proved to be the original manuscript of the music, with the pencil
markings made by Saxe. The heir of Abernethey examined the page
closely, but his expression of bewilderment did not pass. Roy and
David left their places to look over the other’s shoulder. For nearly
a minute, the three held their gaze curiously on the sheet. Then, of
one accord, they looked up, to meet the amused glance of Billy Walker.
“Well?” they demanded, in a single voice.
“You have observed the pencil marks?” came the question; and the
three nodded assent.
This is the manner in which the manuscript had been affected by the
absent-minded action of Saxe:
[Music]
“In pursuance of the idea that had come to me,” Billy continued, “I
next made a tracing. I took a piece of tissue paper, and laid it over
this manuscript. I could then see quite clearly, so that it was easy
to make the outline I wished. I started at the beginning, with the
notes checked by Saxe, from which I had received the hint as to what
to do. I started my pencil at the first top note in the first line
of the composition. Then, I drew the pencil straight to the second
top note, then on to the third, and so forth in order. Thus, I drew
an irregular line with the pencil, from one note to another, using
always the highest notes. In this manner, I drew the line indicated
by the first half of the music, and I liked that so well that I kept
right on, and made the second irregular line, as indicated by the
second half of the music. By the time this was accomplished, I was
sure that I had finally got the right idea, and that our victory
over the old man’s cunning would be won. It was, of course, obvious
that the two irregular lines I had secured should be joined in one.
You have seen the result. Consider Exhibit B.” Billy spread out the
two papers showing the outlines he had drawn, and pointed to that
containing two lines.
It had this appearance.
[Illustration]
Billy completed his account of the matter with no diminution in his
air of elation:
[Illustration]
“Here, then,” he said, waving aloft Exhibit C to emphasize his
meaning, “I present to you the chart which the late Mr. Abernethey
left us as a guide to the spot where the treasure lies secreted.
It is plain enough for even your eyes to read, I fancy. The pencil
outline is to serve us as a map, which we are to follow to the gold.
It represents--roughly, I take it--the sky-line of the country round
about. As I had only just completed the drawing before I came back to
you, I’ve had no time to compare it with the hills hereabouts; but
I’m certain none the less. It’s a matter of inference. There remains
now only the task of finding out what marks the precise point of the
hiding-place on this line. It seems to me that some one of you with
knowledge of music ought to work out that trifling detail. If not, of
course I can do it--in time.”