threatened.
Jack doesn't know what a conniption fit is, not having been brought up
in an American nursery, but lest it might be something appalling, he
asked how I should like to go out in the car for a short spin. By this
time Hiawatha had been brought home by our chauffeur; and the moon was
soon due to rise, so it seemed an attractive prospect that Jack held
out.
"I'll tell you what let's do!" said I. "Go over to Patty's. If there's a
light in the drawing-room windows we'll ring. If not, we'll just spin
round outside the wall to the side gate, and go into the grounds for a
look at the moon from the Point of the Pines."
In fifteen minutes we were off. And as I've told you, it's only a short
spin to Kidd's Pines. There was a light in the drawing-room, so we did
ring, and Pat was thankful for the excuse to get out of doors. Larry had
gone to town--on "business," he had said, and Mrs. Shuster was sulking
as if she doubted the statement. The Boys had been over from some weird
inn, not far off, where they are lurking now, in order to rally round
their goddess, but luckily Pat had sent them away just before we
arrived. They would have been too noisy to please the moon! Patsey had
been playing the piano at Mrs. Shuster's request, while the latter
forlornly knitted impossible socks for Brobdinag-footed soldiers.
Of course we politely asked Mrs. S. to join our expedition, at the same
time intensely willing her to refuse. Will prevailed. Mrs. Shuster said
she "must write to the poor dear Senator, and send him good wishes for a
lecture he is to deliver in New York." So she was disposed of; and we
three went out into the fragrant night. I suppose she calls her Senator
"poor dear" as a delicate way of letting us guess that she has refused
him.
Have I told you about the Point of the Pines, I wonder? I feel sure I
must have done so. The Pines are those under which Captain Kidd is
supposed to have buried some of his treasure--the pines which have given
the place its name. There is a narrow slip of land on which the
principal members of this pine family grow. Instead of stretching
straight out into the water, it curves toward the lawn, as if the back
of your hand and your four fingers composed the lawn, and your thumb,
slightly but not far extended, were the Point of the Pines. There are
only a few trees, for the Point is small; they're seven in number and
they reach beautifully toward the Sound, like running dryads holding
out eager arms to the sea. They aren't ordinary pines, such as you may
see almost anywhere on Long Island, but are of the "umbrella" sort, like
those of Italy, just as beautiful if not nearly so large as those at
Rome in the Pincian gardens, or at Naples, where their branches seem
sketched in straight, horizontal black lines against the blue background
of sea and sky. Shelter Island has one such pine, under which also
Captain Kidd is supposed to have deposited a sample of treasure. I think
there are no more in our part of the world.
Well, you can imagine that it's wonderful to sit by the water, lapping
and whispering as it mumbles to the shore with toothless baby mouths; to
sit there and wait for the moon to come up behind those dark umbrella
pines.
None of us three felt like talking. There wasn't much to say which
interested us just then, and at the same time went well with the
exquisite romance of the place. Besides, it was lovely to listen to the
water.
We grouped together, sitting on the grass, Jack with his back against a
big chestnut tree, I leaning against his shoulder, and Patsey reclining,
with her elbow in my lap. Far away a clock musically struck the
half-hour after eleven, and as the sound died away a creamy light began
to run along the sky. We sat very still, knowing what was coming to
pass. In a minute more we saw a ruddy rim rise out of purple dusk; and
with that almost incredible quickness in which the miracle is
accomplished, the whole moon was up, red and slightly concave, for it
was past the full.
Then the thing we had come out to see, happened. We saw the molten lamp
directly behind the biggest of the seven pines out on the Point. The
tree, black as ink, looked suddenly like a gigantic suit of armour, with
an immense heart-shaped jewel--perhaps that magic carbuncle from the
hidden pool of the White Mountains--suspended in its breast.
While we looked something else happened: a small rowboat with a man in
it skimmed into sight, and slowed down at the Point of the Pines. Silent
as a water bird it glided into the tiny cove between the point and the
wide stretch of lawn, stopping dead under the moon-illumined tree.
By common consent we were as still as statues. Where we sat at a
distance from the shore, and under the big chestnut, we were invisible
to the man in the boat. We thought we should see him climb onto the
bank, where his figure would be silhouetted against the moonlight; but
he didn't appear.
"Perhaps it's a rendezvous of sweethearts," I whispered. "Presently
another boat will come with the girl."
"Perhaps," Patsey whispered back. "Yes, it must be that. There is
nothing he can do with the cave."
"Cave!" echoed Jack, interested as a boy. "Is there a cave?"
"It is only a little one," said Pat. "Not a nice cave. I have been in it
when I was small. One gets there if one slides down a bank from the
Point, just as well as from the water. I would run away from my nurse,
and she would scold and call out, but she would not come after me,
because it is a very low roof. To get to the very end, one must go on
the hands and knees, but I _liked_ that the best of all. I tried to find
the treasure of Captain Kidd, which Larry told me about. But that was
only a child's thought. He would _nevaire_ have hidden it where one had
only to push through some bushes, then to crawl in and pull it out."
"No," said Jack, who had never put much faith in the treasure's tale,
much as he would have enjoyed doing so. "All the same, a cave's a big
attraction. Lots of people must have tried their luck exploring, in the
hope of some secret hidie-hole."
"Not so many know of the cave, that it is there," said Pat. "Some bushes
grow in front and hide the mouth. If not, you would have seen it
yourself. But Larry told all the people who came to stay this spring. He
thought it would amuse them to look for the treasure. And it was
promised--if there had not been the fire!--that when we came home from
our trip we would give a party to dig under the pines. Each one was to
have a spade; and it would be allowed to dig down some feet, but not
enough to hurt the pines. The gardeners were to decide on that. Larry
thought it would be fun. But I am not sure if _Mistaire_ Caspian would
not have persuaded him to forget the plan. He told me, if there were a
treasure, it would be best to keep it for ourselves."
"All in the family," said I. And to myself I added, "Catch him giving
something for nothing!"
"Shall I take a peep at that fellow down there?" suggested Jack. "He has
no right trespassing anyhow, whether he's prospecting for treasure or
waiting for his girl."
"Let's all three go and stare at him with calm reproach," I said. "The
moonlight will shine on our faces and turn us into accusing spirits."
We got up and walked across the lawn, threading our way among trees till
we came to the bank where we could look down to the water and straight
across to the Point. There was the boat, tethered to a bush, but the man
had vanished.
"By Jove! He _must_ be in the cave!" said Jack. "I'll go----"
"No, you won't!" I cut him short fiercely. "If you do I'll scream at the
top of my voice and yell for help. He may be a murderer!"
"Xantippe!" Jack retorted; but he couldn't help laughing when Pat and I
both seized his dinner-jacket.
"Look!" whispered the girl at that instant. "Just there! A light--a
little faint light--behind the bushes."
"The fellow's coming out," said Jack.
"Oh, then we can all stand behind this tree and watch," I proposed.
"When he's getting into his boat Jack can challenge him. He'll probably
be so scared he'll fall into the water."
The tree I meant was a large-waisted willow, of the weepiest variety,
with girth enough and tears enough to hide us all, especially as Pat and
I were darkly dressed--she in green and I in gray.
We hadn't many minutes to wait; indeed, it was but half an hour since we
came out, for the clock we had heard struck again: midnight. We felt
deliciously creepy! Of course I hadn't wanted Jack not mended yet from
the trenches to go crawling on all fours into perfectly irrelevant caves
with no Orders of Merit or Victoria Crosses attached to them. At the
same time, we were keyed for comedy, and just excited enough to forget
the skeletons in our closets at home: Caspians, and Shusters, and
money-lenders, and unpleasant things like that.
It was just as the clock finished striking that the light in the cave
(if you can call a gleam like an exaggerated glowworm a light) went out,
or in Jack's words "dowsed its glim." This meant, we surmised, that the
man had finished his mysterious (probably ridiculous) errand, and could
now get along with no lamp but the moon. There was a faint rustle,
rustle among the bushes which discreetly veiled the opening, and from
behind them came a man. For a second or two he stood up straight as if
he were stretching himself and taking a full breath. The moon shone
behind him, outlining his figure; and, Mercedes, if you were here I
would bet _anything_ you couldn't guess who it was. As it is I can't
hope to win money from you. I must just tell you, and have done with it!
The man was Peter Storm.
We recognized him in time for Jack not to give that challenge we had
planned. Whether J. decided not to give it because the man was Peter, or
because he was dumbfounded, I didn't know then, but he told me afterward
that he instantly decided to keep still for Peter's sake. He knew, of
course, whatever Peter was up to there was nothing mean or underhand
about it, and as it was evidently meant for a secret expedition it would
annoy Peter to be caught. I had exactly the same impression myself; and
Pat said later that she would have "cr-r-umpled all up" if Jack had
called out.
We hardly breathed while Peter was getting into his boat and untying the
painter that had moored it to a bush. Even then we had to wait before
coming back to life, for he sat still a minute or two, with his hands
on the sculls, and looked our way, as if he were gazing at us. Of course
we knew we were safely concealed from sight, and that he was only
staring past trees and shrubbery at the dark, distant house. From that
point of view there wasn't a twinkle of light to be seen through a
blind; and if Jack and I hadn't taken the unusual whim into our heads to
motor over from home, Patty would have been in bed and perhaps fast
asleep for an hour.
I never realized before how hard it is, with the best intentions, to
keep utterly, absolutely still: except once when I was a little girl and
a nurse I had took me to a Quaker meeting. It was a silent one. I
thought something awful would be done to me if I moved; and I tell you I
could hear my _ribs creak_ when I breathed! So I could again now,
huddled behind the tree. And I thought I could hear Patty's hair curl.
When Peter had rowed away, and he and his boat had disappeared round the
Point, we all three drew a deep sigh of relief. Then we looked at each
other.
"Jiminy _Christmas_!" said I.
"Exactly!" said Jack.
Only Pat said nothing. Then she clasped her hands on an inspiration. "Do
you know what I think?" she exclaimed. "Yes--it _must_ be that! There is
nothing else which can explain. Mr. Storm is ver-ry sorry for us, Larry
and me, because once more we are in ruin. Not even Marcel can do us good
now! But if it were true about the tr-reasure of the Captain Kidd, it
would be ours. It would save me from--I mean, it would save us from all
the trouble we are in. Don't you see, Molly and Jack, that is it? He
went into the cave to search. If he would find the tr-reasure, he would
tell us we were rich."
While she was talking, explaining her theory, my mind worked fast. What
she said put an idea into my mind. It was different from her idea,
because I had a clue--when I came to think of it--that she didn't
possess. As it turned out, Jack's brain was working in the same
direction as mine, at the same moment. I guessed this, before he told
me, from what he said in answer to Pat.
"Perhaps you're right," he told her. "I'm afraid Storm must have been
disappointed, though, if he was looking for Captain Kidd's treasure to
give you. He came out with empty hands. Maybe, though, now you've got
the inspiration you'll be more lucky, you and your father. I agree with
Caspian on this subject: you'd better not invite too many people to your
treasure-hunting bee. In fact, I think it had better confine itself to
members of the family."
"No use," sighed Pat. "There's not a hole nor a corner of that cave I
didn't search like a needle for a haystack--I mean the othaire way
round--when I was petite."
"Do you give me leave to explore?" asked Jack.
"Yes, indeed," said Pat. Yet I thought she hesitated before she spoke.
"When will you like to go?"
"I must dress for the job, I suppose," said Jack. "Shall we say
to-morrow at ten o'clock in the morning, with you and Molly and nobody
else in a stage box to watch the performance?"
Pat agreed, laughing, yet there was something peculiar--an _arriere
pensee_--in her laugh. She had suddenly become absent-minded--or else
she was sleepy; and I reminded Jack that it was growing late. We took
the girl back to the house, into which she disappeared with a dreamy,
"la Somnambula" air; and for once I was glad to see the last of the dear
child. I was _dying_ to talk to Jack. But I'm not going to inflict our
discussion upon you. Instead, I'll tell you what happened in the morning
(that's to-day!). We got up early and Jack sported a shocking old suit
of knickerbockers, just right for an up-to-date cave man. You see, he
really meant to keep his engagement. If he found anything, as he thought
quite probable, it would bear out his theory and save unsuspecting Peter
the trouble of working the Moore family up to an interest in the cave.
We were just attacking our coffee and rolls, however, at eight-thirty,
when Pat appeared, hovering at the end of the vine covered pergola which
we use for a breakfast-room.
"Come to remind me of my promise?" laughed Jack, jumping up. But as she
drifted slowly in, we saw that, whatever her errand might be, for her it
was no laughing matter.
"I have to confess a thing to you both," she said. "I have been in the
cave. Even before you went away, I made up my mind I would go in. I did
not sleep too much. I got up when it was light. I put on a bad dress. I
slid down the bank like when I was a little one. I creeped into the
cave, with a candle, the way I used to do. It is not distant to the end,
where one can squeeze. I looked all over, everywhere, as always when I
was small. I remembered a hole far at the back--not a big hole--where I
used to put pretty pebbles and play I was Captain Kidd with my pockets
full of diamonds. The hole was there, but stuffed up with stones. I
pulled them all out. And behind I saw a box--a queer old oak box. But
oh, Molly, I have seen that box before, it was only a few days ago!"
"Not _possible_!" I cried, anxious to defend poor Peter and his quixotic
plot.
"You would say not. Yet it is so. I saw the box--or its twin box--at
that dear old Robinson house which is made into a curiosity shop at
Bennington."
"You must have been dreaming," said Jack, backing me up.
"No. I saw it. But Mr. Storm did not know I saw it, because he did think
I was not in the room where it was. He thought I was always with Mr.
Caspian. And so I was, except for a minute. I went to look for you, in a
back room. You were not there. You must have gone upstairs----"
"I did, to see a table Miss Robinson spoke of," I admitted.
"Only Mr. Storm was in the back room. He had in his hand the box, with a
large date carved in the wood. If he bought it I am not sure, for I went
away quickly when I saw he was alone. And after, there was nothing in
his hand. But maybe when he wanted an old box with a date of 1669--yes,
that _particular_ date of _all_ others!--he remembered, and went back to
Bennington--or sent."
"Good gracious, but why a box of that 'particular' date?" I wanted to
know. Which was stupid of me. I ought to have recalled at once the fact
that Captain Kidd was supposed to be burying treasure in 1669.
"It was the year of Captain Kidd!" Pat reminded me; and went on, as if
in desperation: "In the hole of _our_ cave, to-day, was _that_ box, from
Miss Robinson's house in Bennington. There was no lock to it; and I
suppose Mr. Storm could not wait to have one made. He was in a hurry. I
understand why, but I cannot tell you that. All I can tell is, _it was
there_. I pulled it out from the hole--it was not so heavy!--and not
more than thirty centimetres long. Inside was sand, and mixed up with
the sand many, many jewels--oh, a fortune in jewels. I know, because I
took the box to my room--nobody was up, so no one saw me. I spread on
the floor a bed-coverlet and poured out the sand on it. Then I could
count the beautiful stones without the fear they would roll away. There
are a hundred pearls, oh, but large ones, big as peas; and some rubies,
and diamonds in the dozen--emeralds, too. I do not know too much of such
things, but they must all have cost ten, twenty, or maybe more thousands
of dollars."
As she finished, breathless, Pat looked from one to the other of us. And
Jack and I dared not look at each other, or our eyes would have said,
"Told you so!"
"He put these things to make us rich, where we would think they were
_ours_," the girl went on. "It was noble. He would never have
confessed--never let us know what we owed to him. If you and me had not
seen him last night--and if I had not known the box--we should have
believed. We should have sold the jewels and paid our debts. And I--but
what use to think of what I could have done? What I _must_ do, is to
tell him I _know_--yes, the _minute_ he comes back to our house. It will
be to-day, for now we can guess what has kept him so busy. He has
somehow got these jewels--not set, so they may seem to be very old. But
how--_how_ did he get them--a poor man like him?"
"However he got them, it's all _right_," Jack soothed her.
"I am sure!" she said proudly. "He was to try and find money. He told me
that at Bretton Woods. He finds it. But he does not keep. He gives it to
me, like this! Of course it does no good. Of course I cannot take. I
wish I could see him _here_ at this house, with you to help me talk of
last night."
Well, so it was arranged, according to her wish: that we should send
over to his "diggings," as he calls them, and see if Peter had arrived.
The car was despatched with the chauffeur and a hasty note from me; and
Patty waited with us for news. But there was no news. Mr. Storm had not
come, and his landlady, the village dressmaker, knew nothing of his
movements.
There, my dear, I must leave my story. About this episode you now know
as much as I do, or any of us. But doesn't it make you love Peter? When
he told me his _secret_, he never breathed a word of this intention.
If only one chance in a million hadn't placed his best girl and two of
his best friends within spying distance, the poor fellow's plan would
have been a brilliant success. No doubt his idea was to propose (as if
jokingly) to Larry a search for Captain Kidd's alleged treasure, to
replenish the family fortunes after the fire. They would have been
indebted to no one for what the cave might yield. A rich Larry and Patty
could have arisen like a pair of phoenixes hand in hand from their own
ashes, and flown high above Caspian and Shuster level!
The thing is now to let Peter know his plan has failed before he begins
talking about buried treasure. We must manage it somehow. By the
pricking in my thumbs, I feel he'll come this afternoon! And luckily, if
all is well, the treasure troving won't be his only errand.
To-morrow I shall perhaps be able to let you into the whole secret. If
he but realizes that time is the great object now!
Your MOLLY IN SUSPENSE.
P. S. I _do_ think it was fun about the box from Miss Robinson's, don't
you?
XXXIII
MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCEDES LANE
_Awepesha._
DEAREST:
I believe that, next to the day Jack proposed to me at Taormina, and the
day we were married in London, this has been the most exciting day of my
life. I expected excitement, but nothing to what we have had!
I wrote you yesterday morning, after Pat went home to the boxful of sand
and jewels which not even Larry was to know about. The note I wrote to
Peter Storm had been left at his lodgings, so when he returned he would
know that he was wanted at our house. The trouble was, we had no idea
_when_ he would return; and that poor child Pat was trembling in her
extremely high-heeled shoes (she never wears boots to tremble in) lest
Caspian should reappear upon the scene. I hardly dared hope that the
letter Jack had sent to Mr. Strickland's office would reach Peter; but
it was that which did the trick. Mr. Strickland _was_ the lawyer he had
been consulting about his complicated affairs, and when the note
arrived, Mr. S. knew where to send it. No sooner was it read, than Peter
bolted from New York to Long Island, and had the happy thought of coming
to see us, to pick up the latest news from the front. I was so pleased
to see him walk in, I could almost have kissed him! But I didn't stop
to talk long. I ordered Hiawatha, and dashed off to fetch Pat. I was
afraid if I merely _sent_ for her, something might happen to keep the
girl at home, or Caspian might have turned up, and insist on coming with
her.
As it happened, I wasn't far wrong. Caspian _had_ indeed turned up,
bringing a strange man with him, and both were closeted with Larry. I
whisked Pat away before she could be called into the council chamber.
The poor child insisted on carrying the "Captain Kidd" box, wrapped in a
silk tablecloth from Como! She wanted to place it in the hands of its
owner and donor without delay, and Peter and she were to be given some
moments alone together, Jack having prepared the mind of P. S.
meanwhile.
The two men were in the library when I opened the door and walked in
upon them. Jack had finished telling the tale of the night, and I felt
pity as well as affection for Peter. He doesn't show his emotions
easily, but I could see that he was pained and humiliated by the failure
of his romantic scheme. I said not a word to him about it, but mentioned
that Patsey was in my boudoir. "I think she has something to say to
you," I added.
"I'll go to her at once, if I may!" he exclaimed.
"You not only may but must," I enjoined; then stopped him at the door.
"I hope you're ready to tell her everything now?"
"I'm ready, yes," he answered promptly. "But is it the best time----"
"It's the only time there is!" I cut him short.
"She's right," Jack backed me up.
"Very well," said Peter. "If you both say it's the supreme moment, it
is. But I shall have to go through with what she's got for me first."
With that, he went out and shut the door. And I confess to you,
Mercedes, I should have liked to be a fly on the wall in my boudoir
during the scene between those two. A fly has no conscientious scruples
against eavesdropping, which is fortunate for it, as nature has equipped
it so well for indulgence in that pursuit. As I couldn't be a fly on a
ceiling, looking at Peter and Pat upside down, I went and sat on Jack's
lap.
"Dearest," said I, "you tell me what _you'd_ say if you were Peter, and
I'll tell you what _I'd_ say if I were Pat."
"I wouldn't say anything," replied Jack without an instant's hesitation.
"I should just take you in my arms, and hug you hard. I should also kiss
you. And one kiss leads to another, you know."
"I do know," I admitted. "By experience. You taught me that. It's one of
the lessons of life."
"I'll bet Patricia Moore is learning it at this instant," Jack remarked
thoughtfully. And we kissed each other in sheer vividness of
imagination.
"But she's still engaged to Ed Caspian," I reminded him.
"Damn Caspian!" said Jack; and then jumped, staring at something over
the back of my head.