IN WHICH A STORY IS TOLD.
The moon had risen quite high by the time the man with the black straw
hat had entered the grounds of Hyson Hall, but the roadway near the
house was overshadowed by large trees, making the light very dim and
uncertain.
As the man walked up this dusky avenue, he was revolving in his mind
various ways of opening his intended interview with Phil. He did not
care to explain his business to a boy, and in fact it was only with Mr.
Godfrey Berkeley that he could take any decisive steps in the matter,
but he thought it was of no use for him to stay any longer in that part
of the country, unless he could find out something in regard to the
business on which he came.
He had heard that Phil was a very sensible, straightforward fellow, who
frequently did business for his uncle. Such a boy could certainly give
him some points which would be of service in the future.
The revolutions in the man’s mind, as well as his onward progress, were
suddenly arrested by the appearance of a tall person, who stepped out
from behind a tree, and who, holding a large stick in front of him in
his right hand, cried, peremptorily,--
“Halt!”
The man halted as promptly as if he had run against a fence.
Chap stood squarely up before him, his legs spread out a little, and
his knotty stick resting carelessly on his left arm.
“Well,” said he, “here you are again.”
When Chap spoke, the man knew him to be a boy, and supposed him to be
Phil, of whom he had not taken any particular notice on the evening he
saw him.
“Yes,” he answered, “I am here again. How are you to-night?”
“Now, look here!” said Chap. “I rather suspected you’d be along again,
and I came out to have a word with you. I want you to understand one
thing. This is a free and open country, and when a man has anything to
say he ought to come out boldly and say it in broad daylight, and not
glide in under cover of the night.”
The man was about to speak here, but Chap did not allow himself to be
interrupted, and went on,--
“As I said before, this is a free country, and if a person has anything
to say, he has a right to be heard. Now, have you anything to say? If
so, I am ready to hear it. There’s no need of any mystery, or darkness,
or unusual clothes. All you have to do is to stand right up and speak
out.”
The man did not like Chap’s manner at all, but he was a prudent person,
and had taken a long walk in order to get some information that might
be of advantage to him, so he resolved not to get angry, and answered,
very politely,--
“Yes, there are some things I’d like to speak to you about.”
“All right,” said Chap; “just step with me a little farther down the
road, so as to be out of ear-shot of the house, and then you can unload
your mind.”
“That suits me,” said the man, with a smile, “but it does not agree
with what you just now said about having everything free and open, you
know.”
“Oh, what I meant,” said Chap, “was that a person should be free and
open to the one he is talking to. There is no use shouting private
affairs into servants’ ears, and having them tooted all over the
country through a horn.”
The man smiled, but made no answer. He followed his companion down
the roadway, thinking that this Philip Berkeley was certainly a very
curious fellow.
Pausing at a wooden bench, between two trees, Chap remarked,--
“We can sit down here, and if you notice any listeners, just you give
a low whistle, and I’ll pounce on them with this club. I’ll keep a
lookout, too. Now you can begin to unveil your secret mission. My
friend Phil has commissioned me to attend to you and find out the
meaning of your nocturnal errands to this place.”
“You don’t mean to say,” said the man, in surprise, “that you are not
young Philip Berkeley?”
“I mean to say that very thing,” replied Chap. “But you can tell
your secret just as freely to me as to him. I am Chapman Webster,
his particular friend. He’s pretty heavily loaded down with
responsibilities and bothers just now, and I’m taking part of them off
his shoulders.”
“And I suppose my affairs fall to your share,” said the man.
“Yes,” replied Chap, “we divided things up, and I took you. I have
the greatest fancy for working out hidden clues, and all that sort
of thing. It’s something connected with the Berkeley family you came
about, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the other, “it is.”
“Well, then,” said Chap, “just begin at the very beginning of your
story, and tell it straight through; and don’t leave out any of the
points. I’m just the fellow to help you straighten out things, if
you’ve got them a little crooked.”
The man reflected a few moments. He had nothing on earth to say to
Chap Webster; and yet he thought this boy might be as able to answer
the few questions he wished to put as Philip Berkeley would be, and it
was likely that he would be much more willing to do so. But Chap had
evidently prepared himself for some business of thrilling interest,
and it would not do to put him off with a few apparently unimportant
remarks.
The man took off his black straw hat, looked at it, then put it on
again. Then he began:
“About the close of the war of 1812----”
“By Jupiter!” cried Chap. “Was it about a ship?”
“Yes,” said the other, “it was a ship.”
“You don’t mean this river?” asked Chap, getting very much excited.
“Yes, I do,” said the man, “this very river. Perhaps you know the story
yourself?”
“No, I don’t,” said the boy. “At least, only part of it. All I know is
that a British ship was chased up this river, and ran aground right
down there on this bank; and that all the people on board got ashore,
and scattered, nobody knows where; and that there’s a lot of treasure
on board of her,--at least, there’s every reason to believe there
is,--and that nobody has ever come to claim it or dig it up.”
“Yes, that is the very ship,” said the man. “I see you are pretty good
in following out a clue.”
“I’ve practised it,” said Chap, with much satisfaction. “There’s
nothing like practice in these things.”
“But perhaps you did not know,” said the other, “that there were three
brothers on board.”
“No, I did not know that,” said Chap.
“Well, there were,” continued the man. “They came over from England to
found a family. You know that each of our distinguished families were
founded by three brothers, who came over from England.”
“Yes,” said Chap, “I’ve heard that; but they generally came over
sooner,--in the last century, anyway.”
“Yes,” said his companion, “but these three brothers couldn’t come any
sooner. They weren’t born early enough, for one thing, and there were
other reasons for delay. But they came as soon as they could, and they
brought with them all the wealth they possessed.”
“And did they scuttle out of that ship and leave it there?” cried Chap.
“You must have heard this story before,” said the man.
“Never,” replied Chap. “But now tell me one thing. Was one of these
brothers the ancestor of this Berkeley family?”
“Certainly he was; and not very far removed, either.”
“Why, just think of it!” cried Chap. “That treasure, or part of it,
which we have been talking about so much, actually belongs to the
Berkeleys. Why, I sometimes used to think that if we got it out, the
British crown or our government might claim it. But here it is really
the property of Phil and his uncle. This is the most splendid thing I
ever heard of! And isn’t it strange, too, that the ship should have run
ashore on the very land the Berkeleys were afterwards to own?”
“Perhaps,” said the man, in a half-whisper, “the land was bought
because the ship was known to be there.”
“Look here,” cried Chap, springing to his feet, “if you can get some
dynamite and an electric battery, I’ll go into this thing with you, and
we’ll get that money. We won’t wait for anybody else. Phil doesn’t
warm up a bit about it,--though I don’t mind his coming in if he’ll
take hold lively,--and there’s no knowing when his uncle is coming
back. I don’t want anything but the fun for my share, but I know the
family will be willing to pay you well for your secret.”
The man smiled.
“We must not be too hasty,” he said. “I shall be willing to do nothing
in this matter without the co-operation of the family.”
“You mean you want to wait till Mr. Godfrey Berkeley comes back?” said
Chap.
“Yes, I mean that,” replied the other. “You are acquainted with Mr.
Berkeley, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes,” said Chap, “I know him very well. He’s a tip-top fellow.”
“He is of a free and generous disposition, isn’t he?” asked the man.
“Yes, indeed!” replied Chap; “our folks say too much so.”
“He must possess a handsome property,” said the other.
“I expect he’s as rich as blazes,” replied Chap. “At any rate, he buys
everything he wants.”
“And yet I suppose he’d like to make more money,” said the man.
“Oh, yes,” said Chap; “I know he’s all the time trying to make more
money with improved stock and lots of other things which a good many
people laugh at. And I can tell you this, if he knew there was treasure
belonging to him in that old wreck, he’d just spend any amount of money
to get it out.”
“Now, then, Mr. Webster,” said the man, rising, “we know each other. Do
not reveal what I have told you, and when the proper moment arrives,
count on me. In the mean time, I have one thing to ask of you. As soon
as Mr. Berkeley arrives, let me know of it. Here is a postal-card with
my name and address on it. All you have to do is to write on the other
side the words, ‘He has come,’ and then mail it. Will you do this?”
“Certainly I will,” said Chap, putting the card in his pocket.
“Now we understand each other perfectly?” said the man with the black
straw hat, extending his hand.
“Perfectly,” said Chap, giving the hand a vigorous shake.
“Now good-by for the present!” said the other.
And he walked rapidly away.
[Illustration]