my sister, and you and she my only surviving relatives. I shall
accordingly amuse myself by drawing up to-day a second will,
superseding the other and leaving the money to you.
"I have always held that woman is a frivolous animal. A woman
who pretends to be serious is wasting her time and spoiling her
appearance. I consider that you have wasted your time to a really
shocking extent. Accordingly, I intend to conceal this will, and
that in such a manner that you will certainly never find it unless
by the exercise of a sustained frivolity.
"I hope you will contrive to be frivolous enough to become the
heiress of your affectionate
"UNCLE MELEAGER."
"Couldn't we use that letter as proof of the testator's intention, and
fight the will?" asked Mary anxiously.
"'Fraid not," said Lord Peter. "You see, there's no evidence here that
the will was ever actually drawn up. Though I suppose we could find the
witnesses."
"We've tried," said Miss Marryat, "but, as you see, Uncle Meleager was
travelling abroad at the time, and he probably got some obscure people
in some obscure Italian town to witness it for him. We advertised, but
got no answer."
"H'm. Uncle Meleager doesn't seem to have left things to chance. And,
anyhow, wills are queer things, and so are the probate and divorce
wallahs. Obviously the thing to do is to find the other will. Did the
clues he speaks of turn up among his papers?"
"We hunted through everything. And, of course, we had the whole house
searched from top to bottom for the will. But it was quite useless."
"You've not destroyed anything, of course. Who were the executors of
the Primrose League will?"
"Mother and Mr. Sands, Uncle Meleager's solicitor. The will left mother
a silver tea-pot for her trouble."
"I like Uncle Meleager more and more. Anyhow, he did the sporting
thing. I'm beginnin' to enjoy this case like anything. Where did Uncle
Meleager hang out?"
"It's an old house down at Dorking. It's rather quaint. Somebody
had a fancy to build a little Roman villa sort of thing there, with
a verandah behind, with columns and a pond in the front hall, and
statues. It's very decent there just now, though it's awfully cold
in the winter, with all those stone floors and stone stairs and the
skylight over the hall! Mother said perhaps you would be very kind and
come down and have a look at it."
"I'd simply love to. Can we start to-morrow? I promise you we'll be
frivolous enough to please even Uncle Meleager, if you'll do your bit,
Miss Marryat. Won't we, Mary?"
"Rather! And, I say, hadn't we better be moving if we're going to the
Pallambra?"
"I never go to music halls," said Miss Marryat ungraciously.
"Oh, but you must come to-night," said his lordship persuasively. "It's
so frivolous. Just think how it would please Uncle Meleager."
* * * * *
Accordingly, the next day found the party, including the indispensable
Mr. Bunter, assembled at Uncle Meleager's house. Pending the settlement
of the will question, there had seemed every reason why Mr. Finch's
executrix and next-of-kin should live in the house, thus providing
every facility for what Lord Peter called the "Treasure hunt." After
being introduced to Mrs. Marryat, who was an invalid and remained
in her room, Lady Mary and her brother were shown over the house by
Miss Marryat, who explained to them how carefully the search had
been conducted. Every paper had been examined, every book in the
library scrutinised page by page, the walls and chimneys tapped for
hiding-places, the boards taken up, and so forth, but with no result.
"Y'know," said his lordship, "I'm sure you've been going the wrong way
to work. My idea is, old Uncle Meleager was a man of his word. If he
said frivolous, he meant really frivolous. Something beastly silly. I
wonder what it was."
He was still wondering when he went up to dress. Bunter was putting
studs in his shirt. Lord Peter gazed thoughtfully at him, and then
enquired:
"Are any of Mr. Finch's old staff still here?"
"Yes, my lord. The cook and the housekeeper. Wonderful old gentleman
they say he was, too. Eighty-three, but as up to date as you please.
Had his wireless in his bedroom, and enjoyed the Savoy bands every
night of his life. Followed his politics, and was always ready with
the details of the latest big law-cases. If a young lady came to see
him, he'd like to see she had her hair shingled and the latest style in
fashions. They say he took up cross-words as soon as they came in, and
was remarkably quick at solving them, my lord, and inventing them. Took
a £10 prize in the _Daily Yell_ for one, and was wonderfully pleased to
get it, they say, my lord, rich as he was."
"Indeed."
"Yes, my lord. He was a great man for acrostics before that, I
understood them to say, but, when cross-words came in, he threw away
his acrostics and said he liked the new game better. Wonderfully
adaptable, if I may say so, he seems to have been for an old gentleman."
"Was he, by Jove?" said his lordship absently, and then, with sudden
energy:
"Bunter, I'd like to double your salary, but I suppose you'd take it as
an insult."
The conversation bore fruit at dinner.
"What," enquired his lordship, "happened to Uncle Meleager's
cross-words?"
"Cross-words?" said Hannah Marryat, knitting her heavy brows. "Oh,
those puzzle things! Poor old man, he went mad over them. He had every
newspaper sent him, and in his last illness he'd be trying to fill the
wretched things in. It was worse than his acrostics and his jig-saw
puzzles. Poor old creature, he must have been senile, I'm afraid. Of
course, we looked through them, but there wasn't anything there. We put
them all in the attic."
"The attic for me," said Lord Peter.
"And for me," said Mary. "I don't believe there was anything senile
about Uncle Meleager."
The evening was warm, and they had dined in the little viridarium at
the back of the house, with its tall vases and hanging baskets of
flowers and little marble statues.
"Is there an attic here?" said Peter. "It seems such a--well, such an
un-attic thing to have in a house like this."
"It's just a horrid, poky little hole over the porch," said Miss
Marryat, rising and leading the way. "Don't tumble into the pond, will
you? It's a great nuisance having it there, especially at night. I
always tell them to leave a light on."
Lord Peter glanced into the miniature impluvium, with its tiling of
red, white and black marble.
"That's not a very classic design," he observed.
"No. Uncle Meleager used to complain about it and say he must have it
altered. There was a proper one once, I believe, but it got damaged,
and the man before Uncle Meleager had it replaced by some local idiot.
He built three bay windows out of the dining-room at the same time,
which made it very much lighter and pleasanter, of course, but it looks
awful. Now, this tiling is all right; uncle put that in himself."
She pointed to a mosaic dog at the threshold, with the motto, "Cave
canem," and Lord Peter recognised it as a copy of a Pompeian original.
A narrow stair brought them to the "attic," where the Wimseys flung
themselves with enthusiasm upon a huge heap of dusty old newspapers
and manuscripts. The latter seemed the likelier field, so they
started with them. They consisted of a quantity of cross-words in
manuscript--presumably the children of Uncle Meleager's own brain. The
square, the list of definitions, and the solution were in every case
neatly pinned together. Some (early efforts, no doubt) were childishly
simple, but others were difficult, with allusive or punning clues; some
of the ordinary newspaper type, others in the form of rhymed distichs.
They scrutinised the solutions closely, and searched the definitions
for acrostics or hidden words, unsuccessfully for a long time.
"This one's a funny one," said Mary, "nothing seems to fit. Oh! it's
two pinned together. No, it isn't--yes, it is--it's only been pinned
up wrong. Peter, have you seen the puzzle belonging to these clues
anywhere?"
"What one's that?"
"Well, it's numbered rather funnily, with Roman and Arabic numerals,
and it starts off with a thing that hasn't got any numbers at all:
"Truth, poor girl, was nobody's daughter;
She took off her clothes and jumped into the water."
"Frivolous old wretch!" said Miss Marryat.
"Friv--here, gimme that!" cried Lord Peter. "Look here, I say, Miss
Marryat, you oughtn't to have overlooked this."
"I thought it just belonged to that other square."
"Not it. It's different. I believe it's our thing. Listen:
"Your expectation to be rich
Here will reach its highest pitch.
That's one for you, Miss Marryat. Mary, hunt about. We _must_ find the
square that belongs to this."
But, though they turned everything upside-down, they could find no
square with Roman and Arabic numerals.
"Hang it all!" said Peter, "it must be made to fit one of these others.
Look! I know what he's done. He's just taken a fifteen-letter square,
and numbered it with Roman figures one way and Arabic the other. I bet
it fits into that one it was pinned up with."
But the one it was pinned up with turned out to have only thirteen
squares.
"Dash it all," said his lordship, "we'll have to carry the whole lot
down, and work away at it till we find the one it _does_ fit."
He snatched up a great bundle of newspapers, and led the way out. The
others followed, each with an armful. The search had taken some time,
and the atrium was in semi-darkness.
"Where shall I take them?" asked Lord Peter, calling back over his
shoulder.
"Hi!" cried Mary; and, "Look where you're going!" cried her friend.
They were too late. A splash and a flounder proclaimed that Lord Peter
had walked, like Johnny Head-in-Air over the edge of the impluvium,
papers and all.
"You ass!" said Mary.
His lordship scrambled out, spluttering, and Hannah Marryat suddenly
burst out into the first laugh Peter had ever heard her give.
"Truth, they say, was nobody's daughter;
She took off her clothes and fell into the water,"
she proclaimed.
"Well, I couldn't take my clothes off with you here, could I?" grumbled
Lord Peter. "We'll have to fish out the papers. I'm afraid they've got
a bit damp."
Miss Marryat turned on the lights, and they started to clear the basin.
"Truth, poor girl----" began Lord Peter, and suddenly, with a little
shriek, began to dance on the marble edge of the impluvium.
"One, two, three, four, five, six----"
"Quite, quite demented," said Mary. "How shall I break it to mother?"
"Thirteen, fourteen, _fifteen_!" cried his lordship, and sat down,
suddenly and damply, exhausted by his own excitement.
"Feeling better?" asked his sister acidly.
"I'm well. I'm all right. Everything's all right. I _love_ Uncle
Meleager. Fifteen squares each way. Look at it. _Look_ at it. The
truth's in the water. Didn't he say so. Oh, frabjous day! Calloo!
callay! I chortle. Mary, what became of those definitions?"
"They're in your pocket, all damp," said Mary.
Lord Peter snatched them out hurriedly.
"It's all right, they haven't run," he said. "Oh, _darling_ Uncle
Meleager. Can you drain the impluvium, Miss Marryat, and find a bit of
charcoal. Then I'll get some dry clothes on and we'll get down to it.
Don't you see? _There's_ your missing cross-word square--on the floor
of the impluvium!"
It took, however, some time to get the basin emptied, and it was not
till next morning that the party, armed with sticks of charcoal,
squatted down in the empty impluvium to fill in Uncle Meleager's
cross-word on the marble tiles. Their first difficulty was to decide
whether the red squares counted as stops or had to be filled in, but,
after a few definitions had been solved, the construction of the puzzle
grew apace. The investigators grew steadily hotter and more thickly
covered with charcoal, while the attentive Mr. Bunter hurried to and
fro between the atrium and the library, and the dictionaries piled upon
the edge of the impluvium.
[Illustration: blank puzzle]
Here was Uncle Meleager's cross-word square:
"Truth, poor girl, was nobody's daughter;
She took off her clothes and jumped into the water."
_Across._
I.1. Foolish or wise, yet one remains alone,
'Twixt Strength and Justice on a heavenly throne.
XI.1. O to what ears the chink of gold was sweet;
The greed for treasure brought him but defeat.
"That's a hint to us," said Lord Peter.
I.2. One drop of vinegar to two of oil
Dresses this curly head sprung from the soil.
X.2. Nothing itself, it needs but little more
To be that nothingness the Preacher saw.
I.3. Dusty though my fellows be,
We are a kingly company.
IV.3. Have your own will, though here, I hold,
The new is _not_ a patch upon the old.
XIV.3. Any loud cry would do as well,
Or so the poet's verses tell.
I.4. This is the most unkindest cut of all,
Except your skill be mathematical.
X.4. Little and hid from mortal sight,
I darkly work to make all light.
I.5. The need for this (like that it's cut off short)
The building of a tower to humans taught.
XI.5. "More than a mind discloses and more than men believe"
(A definition by a man whom Pussyfoot doth grieve).
II.6. Backward observe her turn her way,
The way of wisdom, wise men say.
VII.6. Grew long ago by river's edge
Where grows to-day the common sedge.
XII.6. One of three by which, they say,
You'll know the Cornishmen alway.
VI.7. Blow upon blow; five more the vanquished Roman shows;
And if the foot slip one, on crippled feet one goes.
I.8. By this Jew's work the whole we find,
In a glass clearly, darkly in the mind.
IX.8. Little by little see it grow
Till cut off short by hammer-blow.
VI.9. Watch him go, heel and toe,
Across the wide Karroo!
II.10. In expectation to be rich
Here you reach the highest pitch.
VII.10. Of this, concerning nothing, much--
Too often do we hear of such!
XII.10. O'er land and sea, passing on deadly wings,
Pain to the strong, to weaklings death it brings.
I.11. Requests like these, however long they be,
Stop just too soon for common courtesy.
XI.11. Cæsar, the living dead salute thee here,
Facing for thy delight tooth, claw, and spear.
I.12. One word had served, but he in ranting vein
"Lend me your ears" must mouth o'er Cæsar slain.
X.12. Helical circumvolution
Adumbrates correct solution.
I.13. One that works for Irish men
Both by word and deed and pen.
"That's an easy one," said Miss Marryat.
IV.13. Seven out of twelve this number makes complete
As the sun journeys on from seat to seat.
XIV.13. My brothers play with planets; Cicero,
Master of words, my master is below.
I.14. Free of her jesses let the falcon fly,
With sight undimmed into the azure sky.
X.14. And so you dine with Borgia? Let me lend
You this as a precaution, my poor friend.
I.15. Friendship carried to excess
Got him in a horrid mess.
XI.15. Smooth and elastic and, I guess,
The dearest treasure you possess.
_Down._
1.I. If step by step the Steppes you wander through
Many of those in this, of these in those you'll view.
"Bunter," said Lord Peter, "bring me a whisky-and-soda!"
11.I. If me without my head you do,
Then generously my head renew,
Or put it to my hinder end--
Your cheer it shall nor mar nor mend.
1.II. Quietly, quietly, 'twixt edge and edge,
Do this unto the thin end of the wedge.
10.II. "Something that hath a reference to my state?"
Just as you like, it shall be written straight.
1.III. When all is read, then give the world its due,
And never need the world read this of you.
"That's a comfort," said Lady Mary. "It shows we're on the right lines."
4.III. Sing Nunc Dimittis and Magnificat--
But look a little farther back than that.
14.III. Here in brief epitome
Attribute of royalty.
1.IV. Lo! at a glance
The Spanish gipsy and her dance.
10.IV. Bring me skin and a needle or a stick--
A needle does it slowly, a stick does it quick.
1.V. It was a brazen business when
King Phalaris made these for men.
11.V. This king (of whom not much is known),
By Heaven's mercy was o'erthrown.
2.VI. "Bid [Greek:'on kai mê 'on] farewell?" Nay, in this
The sterner Roman stands by that which is.
7.VI. This the termination is
Of many minds' activities.
12.VI. I mingle on Norwegian shore,
With ebbing water's backward roar.
6.VII. I stand, a ladder to renown,
Set 'twixt the stars and Milan town.
1.VIII. Highest and lowliest both to me lay claim,
The little hyssop and the king of fame.
"That makes that point about the squares clear," said Mary.
"I think it's even more significant," said her brother.
9.VIII. This sensible old man refused to tread
The path to Hades in a youngster's stead.
6.IX. Long since, at Nature's call, they let it drop,
Thoughtlessly thoughtful for our next year's crop.
2.X. To smallest words great speakers greatness give;
Here Rome propounded her alternative.
7.X. We heap up many with toil and trouble,
And find that the whole of our gain is a bubble.
12.X. Add it among the hidden things--
A fishy tale to light it brings.
1.XI. "Lions," said a Gallic critic, "are not these."
Benevolent souls--they'd make your heart's blood freeze.
11.XI. An epithet for husky fellows,
That stand, all robed in greens and yellows.
1.XII. Whole without holes behold me here,
My meaning should be wholly clear.
10.XII. Running all around, never setting foot to floor,
If there isn't one in this room, there may be one next door.
1.XIII. Ye gods! think also of that goddess' name
Whose might two hours on end the mob proclaim.
4.XIII. The Priest uplifts his voice on high,
The choristers make their reply.
14.XIII. When you've guessed it, with one voice
You'll say it was a golden choice.
1.XIV. Shall learning die amid a war's alarms?
I, at my birth, was clasped in iron arms.
10.XIV. At sunset see the labourer now
Loose all his oxen from the plough.
1.XV. Without a miracle it cannot be--
At this point, Solver, bid him pray for thee!
11.XV. Two thousand years ago and more
(Just as we do to-day),
The Romans saw these distant lights--
But, oh! how hard the way!
* * * * *
The most remarkable part of the search--or so Lord Peter thought--was
its effect on Miss Marryat. At first she hovered disconsolately on the
margin, aching with wounded dignity, yet ashamed to dissociate herself
from people who were toiling so hard and so cheerfully in her cause.
"I think that's so-and-so," Mary would say hopefully.
And her brother would reply enthusiastically, "Holed it in one, old
lady. Good for you! We've got it this time, Miss Marryat"--and explain
it.
And Hannah Marryat would say with a snort:
"That's just the childish kind of joke Uncle Meleager _would_ make."
Gradually, however, the fascination of seeing the squares fit together
caught her, and, when the first word appeared which showed that the
searchers were definitely on the right track, she lay down flat on the
floor and peered over Lord Peter's shoulder as he grovelled below,
writing letters in charcoal, rubbing them out with his handkerchief and
mopping his heated face, till the Moor of Venice had nothing on him in
the matter of blackness. Once, half scornfully, half timidly, she made
a suggestion; twice, she made a suggestion; the third time she had an
inspiration. The next minute she was down in the mêlée, crawling over
the tiles flushed and excited, wiping important letters out with her
knees as fast as Peter could write them in, poring over the pages of
Roget, her eyes gleaming under her tumbled black fringe.
Hurried meals of cold meat and tea sustained the exhausted party, and
towards sunset Peter, with a shout of triumph, added the last letter to
the square.
They crawled out and looked at it.
"All the words can't be clues," said Mary. "I think it must be just
those four."
"Yes, undoubtedly. It's quite clear. We've only got to look it up.
Where's a Bible?"
Miss Marryat hunted it out from the pile of reference books. "But that
isn't the name of a Bible book," she said. "It's those things they have
at evening service."
"That's all you know," said Lord Peter. "I was brought up religious, I
was. It's Vulgate, that's what that is. You're quite right, of course,
but, as Uncle Meleager says, we must 'look a little farther back than
that.' Here you are. Now, then."
"But it doesn't say what chapter."
"So it doesn't. I mean, nor it does."
"And, anyhow, all the chapters are too short."
"Damn! Oh! Here, suppose we just count right on from the
beginning--one, two, three----"
"Seventeen in chapter one, eighteen, nineteen--this must be it."
Two fair heads and one dark one peered excitedly at the small print,
Bunter hovering decorously on the outskirts.
"O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the covert of
the steep place."
"Oh, dear!" said Mary, disappointed, "that does sound rather hopeless.
Are you sure you've counted right? It might mean _anything_."
Lord Peter scratched his head.
"This is a bit of a blow," he said. "I don't like Uncle Meleager half
as much as I did. Old beast!"
"After all our work!" moaned Mary.
"It must be right," cried Miss Marryat. "Perhaps there's some kind of
an anagram in it. We can't give up now!"
"Bravo!" said Lord Peter. "That's the spirit. 'Fraid we're in for
another outburst of frivolity, Miss Marryat."
"Well, it's been great fun," said Hannah Marryat.
"If you will excuse me," began the deferential voice of Bunter.
"I'd forgotten you, Bunter," said his lordship. "Of course you can put
us right--you always can. Where have we gone wrong?"
"I was about to observe, my lord, that the words you mention do not
appear to agree with my recollection of the passage in question. In my
mother's Bible, my lord, it ran, I fancy, somewhat differently."
Lord Peter closed the volume and looked at the back of it.
"Naturally," he said, "you are right again, of course. This is a
Revised Version. It's your fault, Miss Marryat. You _would_ have a
Revised Version. But can we imagine Uncle Meleager with one? No. Bring
me Uncle Meleager's Bible."
"Come and look in the library," cried Miss Marryat, snatching him by
the hand and running. "Don't be so dreadfully calm."
On the centre of the library table lay a huge and venerable
Bible--reverend in age and tooled leather binding. Lord Peter's hands
caressed it, for a noble old book was like a song to his soul. Sobered
by its beauty, they turned the yellow pages over:
"In the clefts of the rocks, in the secret places of the stairs."
"Miss Marryat," said his lordship, "if your Uncle's will is not
concealed in the staircase, then--well, all I can say is, he's played a
rotten trick on us," he concluded lamely.
"Shall we try the main staircase, or the little one up to the porch?"
"Oh, the main one, I think. I hope it won't mean pulling it down. No.
Somebody would have noticed if Uncle Meleager had done anything drastic
in that way. It's probably quite a simple hiding-place. Wait a minute.
Let's ask the housekeeper."
Mrs. Meakers was called, and perfectly remembered that about nine
months previously Mr. Finch had pointed out to her a "kind of a crack
like" on the under surface of the staircase, and had had a man in to
fill it up. Certainly, she could point out the exact place. There was
the mark of the plaster filling quite clear.
"Hurray!" cried Lord Peter. "Bunter--a chisel or something. Uncle
Meleager, Uncle Meleager, we've _got_ you! Miss Marryat, I think
yours should be the hand to strike the blow. It's your staircase, you
know--at least, if we find the will, so if any destruction has to be
done it's up to you."
Breathless they stood round, while with a few blows the new plaster
flaked off, disclosing a wide chink in the stonework. Hannah Marryat
flung down hammer and chisel and groped in the gap.
"There's something," she gasped. "Lift me up; I can't reach. Oh, it
is! it is! it is it!" And she withdrew her hand, grasping a long,
sealed envelope, bearing the superscription:
POSITIVELY THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF MELEAGER FINCH.
Miss Marryat gave a yodel of joy and flung her arms round Lord Peter's
neck.
Mary executed a joy-dance. "I'll tell the world," she proclaimed.
"Come and tell mother!" cried Miss Marryat.
Mr. Bunter interposed,
"Your lordship will excuse me," he said firmly, "but your lordship's
face is all over charcoal."
"Black but comely," said Lord Peter, "but I submit to your reproof.
How clever we've all been. How topping everything is. How rich you are
going to be. How late it is and how hungry I am. Yes, Bunter, I will
wash my face. Is there anything else I can do for anybody while I feel
in the mood?"