Pamela's Secret
In her love-making with the Lavender Lady Avelyn had, truth to tell,
rather neglected Pamela. Their friendship had always been more or less
of a spasmodic character. They often met on the road on Monday mornings,
and travelled in the same compartment of the train, and they would
return from Harlingden together on Friday afternoons. Generally they
talked the ordinary schoolgirl chatter about Silverside doings. Pamela
rarely mentioned her own concerns. Very occasionally she would make some
reference to past adventures in America, but about her present home she
was extremely reserved. She seemed to shut up and freeze at once at the
slightest allusion to Moss Cottage.
Though she had accepted several invitations to Walden, she had never
asked Avelyn to tea for a return visit. There was an air of mystery
about her that increased rather than diminished with their further
acquaintance. To Avelyn she always seemed like a disinherited princess.
She was sure that Pamela brooded over the fact that the Lyngates estate
should have been hers. Her uncle's name was never mentioned between
them.
Since the evening when he had tried to cut down the barrier over the
brook at Walden, the Watsons had seen little of Mr. Hockheimer. He had
not again attempted to interfere with their property. He seemed to spend
a good deal of his time in London, but made flying visits every week to
the Hall. People in the neighbourhood gave him the cold shoulder. Though
he was generous in subscribing to local charities, he was certainly not
popular. The general feeling was one of mistrust. Nothing certain had
ever been brought against him, but the fact of his German nationality
remained. It was whispered that but for influence in high quarters he
would have been interned.
Whether Mr. Hockheimer was or was not aware of the rumours that were
being circulated in his disfavour it was impossible to tell. He never
came to church, seldom appeared in the village. He was more strict than
ever against trespassing in his woods, though other landlords in the
district had been lax in that respect since the beginning of the war.
The Watsons disliked him so much that they avoided him whenever
possible; if they saw him walking along the village street they would
dive down a side lane or run up into the churchyard. They thoroughly
pitied Pamela for being dependent upon him.
Since the memorable morning when she had climbed over the palings into
the garden, and had hidden inside the stable, Avelyn had never visited
Moss Cottage. She was sure that she had then almost surprised some
secret. Pamela, indeed, had been on the very verge of telling her. Her
friend's confidential mood had passed, however, and a wall of reserve
had taken its place.
One Saturday Avelyn, taking out her home work, made the horrible
discovery that she had left her history in her locker at school. To go
to Miss Thompson's class with an unprepared lesson meant trouble. The
only way out of the difficulty was to walk over and borrow from Pamela,
who, though in a lower form, used the same textbook for history.
This time she did not venture to climb over the palings, but knocked at
the door in orthodox fashion. It was opened by Pamela herself, who
beamed a welcome.
"Come in! I'm all alone. Mother's gone to the station. I was just
getting horribly tired of being by myself. It's perfectly lovely to see
you! My history? Yes, you shall have it, certainly. I've learnt my
lesson. But come in and have a chat. I was sitting in the garden. Shall
we go out there?"
Avelyn much preferred the garden to the rather dark little sitting-room.
The girls went to a shady corner under a tree, where Pamela had spread a
rug and cushions. They settled themselves down leisurely and began to
talk.
"What's this you've got here?" asked Avelyn presently, taking up a
Prayer Book that was lying on the rug, opened at the last page. "Are
you studying the Table of Articles? You surely don't have to learn that
in your Scripture lesson? We did the 'Book of Common Prayer' last term,
but we didn't take the Articles."
"I'm not looking at those," said Pamela. "I'm looking at the Table of
Kindred and Affinity. I want to find out whom a man may marry and whom
he mayn't. He mustn't marry his wife's daughter's daughter, or his
brother's son's wife, or his mother's brother's wife, but may he marry
his deceased wife's deceased brother's wife?"
"Goodness, child, I'm sure I don't know! Why do you ask?"
Pamela shut the Prayer Book with a bang.
"It's Uncle!" she said vehemently. "He's behaving in such an
extraordinary way! Oh, Ave! Do you know, I believe he's trying to make
up to Mother! Don't look so incredulous! I mean it! I must tell
somebody, or I shall burst! I've kept it all in long enough. Too long!
Ave, did the boys ever tell you about that letter they found inside the
Latin dictionary? I can see by your face that they did. Well, I brought
it home and laid it on the table, and, before Mother had time to look at
it, it disappeared. Uncle had been here, and I _know_ he took it! He
must certainly have done so."
"He did! I can tell you that," returned Avelyn, and she confided to her
friend what her brothers had witnessed in the wood, how Mr. Hockheimer
had been on the point of burning the paper when Spring-heeled Jack had
appeared and run away with it. Pamela listened with intense eagerness.
"That explains so much!" she gasped. "I don't know what was in the
letter, but I imagine it may have been my grandfather's will. If it was,
and he left the estate to Daddy, no wonder Uncle Fritz tried to burn it.
He didn't quite succeed, and this bogy-spectre-highwayman, or whatever
he is, has scooted off with it. Uncle knows it's still in existence, and
that any day it might be produced, and he might be turned out of the
Hall. He's trying to guard against that, and he's playing a very deep
game. He thinks that if he were to marry Mother, as he married poor Aunt
Dora, he'd secure the estate to himself a second time."
"Does your Mother like him?"
"Not really. I believe she's frightened of him. He makes her do anything
he tells her. You don't know how dreadfully worried I am about it. If I
had him for a stepfather I should run away. I'd rather join the gipsies
than live with him. Oh, if we could only get on the track of that paper!
Has nothing more been heard of Spring-heeled Jack?"
"Nothing at all since the autumn. He appeared just for a short time, and
then vanished again."
"And no one ever knew who he was?"
"Not a soul."
Pamela gave a long sigh.
"He has the secret--whatever it is. Who knows whether I'll ever find it.
Ave," here Pamela lowered her voice, "I've got a secret too! I've been
longing and yearning to tell it to you--a dozen times I've had it on the
tip of my tongue, and then I've felt afraid and stopped. I kept waiting,
hoping to find out more, but I can't find out by myself. I want help."
"What do you mean?"
"Come, and I'll show you. We have the place to ourselves to-day. Uncle
is in town. I saw him going to the station this morning, so he's not
likely to burst in and interrupt us."
Pamela rose and led the way down the garden to the stable where Avelyn
had surprised her before. It was locked, but she took a key from a
hiding-place under a stone, and undid the padlock. She motioned her
friend to go up the ladder, and followed her. The room above was a bare
loft. It was not quite empty, however, for in the corner stood a small
table, with an object on it that looked like the receiver of a
telephone.
"Come here!" said Pamela.
She took up the instrument and placed it on her friend's head. It had a
band which fitted across the forehead, and a receiver for each ear. A
cord connected it with the wall.
"Do you hear anything?" asked Pamela.
"Yes, a sort of humming."
Pamela smiled significantly, and put back the instrument on the table.
"What is it?" breathed Avelyn, rather awed.
"Wireless messages. Uncle spends hours here."
"Do you mean to say this is a wireless station?"
Pamela nodded.
"But they're not allowed."
"I know that perfectly well."
"If it were found out he could be arrested."
"He deserves to be. Sometimes I wish he were."
"Does your mother know?"
"No, I'm sure she doesn't. She never comes to the stable, and if she did
she wouldn't climb the ladder. Sometimes Uncle is very keen about the
messages. He makes me stay here, with the receiver on my head, listening
for them, while he sits in the cottage talking to Mother, and drinking
brandy which he brings in a flask. When I hear that humming noise I have
to go and tell him, and he flies down to the stable."
"Can you understand the messages?"
"No. It's something like ordinary telegraphy, I suppose, and I don't
know the code. I wish I did."
"I can't imagine how this wireless apparatus hasn't been discovered!"
"It's so well hidden. The poles go right up among the boughs of the
tree."
"I don't think you ought to keep this secret any longer, Pam."
"No more do I, but I've never dared to tell it to a soul before. Uncle
would kill me if he knew I'd brought you in here to-day. What must I
do?"
Avelyn hesitated.
"I'd like to ask somebody. Could you come home with me this afternoon?
Can you leave the house?"
"I'd lock the door and put the key under a stone, where Mother would
find it if she gets back first. Ave, I'm just about desperate! I'd do
anything to end the life I'm living now. There's treachery of some sort
going on, I believe, and I'm being wound up in it without my knowledge
and against my will. My father gave his life for his country. Is his
daughter to help to betray it? Never! Never in this world! I'd suffer
torture first. Oh, I wish I were braver! Sometimes I'm a terrible
coward, and I feel so horribly afraid of Uncle Fritz. You don't know how
he frightens me. My nerves are all on edge."
"Come home with me, dear," said Avelyn soothingly. "If you'll let me ask
Mother, I believe she'd know what we ought to do."
Pamela was very much upset, and seemed almost hysterical. Her hands
trembled, and she wiped tell-tale drops from her eyes. She climbed down
the ladder, padlocked the stable door again, went into the house for her
hat and the history book, locked the front door, hid the key in the
rockery, and pronounced herself ready to start.
Avelyn was glad to have persuaded her so easily. Her own mind was in a
whirl. To have found a wireless telegraphy installation in the old
stable was indeed a discovery which would very seriously implicate Mr.
Hockheimer. The responsibility of the knowledge was too great to be
borne only by two schoolgirls; it must be shared by some older and wiser
person.
The friends walked silently along the road. At the corner by the oak
wood they met David and Anthony. At sight of them the boys came running
forward in much excitement.
"We've just seen Spring-heeled Jack again!" they cried.
This was indeed a piece of news. Spring-heeled Jack, who had vanished
from the neighbourhood since the autumn! For the moment it even threw
wireless telegraphy into the shade.
"Where? When?" exclaimed the girls eagerly.
"Just a minute ago. We were up the bank there after a butterfly, and he
came bounding past and jumped into the wood."
"Which way did he go?"
Anthony pointed a stumpy finger to indicate the direction. Pamela set
her teeth.
"I'm going after him," she announced.
The Watsons stared at her amazed. Spring-heeled Jack had been the terror
of the village, and Pamela was not altogether conspicuous for courage.
"I must find him! I must!" she continued. "It's the only chance of
getting that lost paper!" And climbing over the palings she scrambled
into the wood among the bracken.
The Watsons were not a family to desert a chum. David and Anthony were
after her in half a second, and Avelyn followed as quickly as her
feminine skirts allowed. Her heart was beating violently. Whether the
object of their search was human or spectral he was equally a cause for
alarm. They could hear sounds higher up the wood. Pamela was running
fast and so were the boys.
There was a sudden, unearthly yell, and a dark, masked figure came
bounding towards them in a series of wild leaps. Man, monkey, or bogy,
it jumped with incredible speed. The boys set up a shout and dashed
towards it, but it gave an enormous leap and sprang past them. It would
have got clean away but for a tangled bramble bush that broke its
course. The next moment it was sprawling among the bracken. The boys
rushed upon it, and while David pinned it down Anthony tore off the
black mask. To their utter amazement it revealed the well-known features
of their friend, Captain Harper.
At the sight of their blank faces he burst out laughing.
"The game's up at last!" he hinnied. "I saw it was you kids, and I
couldn't resist giving you a scare. I don't know that I meant to let you
find me out, though. If I hadn't tumbled I'd have got off. What have I
been masquerading like this for?" He suddenly looked grave. "That's a
little business of my own. I wanted to find out something, and I thought
I'd raise a rumour that might keep the woods clear of ordinary
trespassers. How did I do it? Easy enough, some theatrical togs I had by
me, and springs on my heels."
"We've seen you before in this rig-out," volunteered Anthony.
"When?"
"When you pounced on Mr. Hockheimer and stopped him burning a letter."
"We were there watching," echoed David.
"Oh, have you got the paper still? It was mine!" cried Pamela
breathlessly.
It was Captain Harper's turn to be astonished.
"Yours! What had it to do with you?" he asked sharply.
Pamela and Avelyn explained between them. He took a cigarette from his
pocket and lighted it as he listened.
"This is quite another development," he commented. "Part of the paper
was burnt. I couldn't understand the drift of it."
"Have you got it still?" besought Pamela.
"No, I gave it to my superior officer. But if it is of such importance
as you say I could get it examined on your behalf. I'll speak to my
Colonel about it. It's worth investigating."
"Pam!" said Avelyn impulsively, bending her head and whispering in her
friend's ear, "do you know, I believe it would be the best thing in the
world to tell Captain Harper what you've told me this afternoon. He'd
know better even than Mother what you ought to do."
"You tell him--I daren't," faltered Pamela.
If Captain Harper had been astonished before, he was doubly amazed now.
"Great Scott! It's the very thing I've been on the scent of for this six
months!" he ejaculated. "We guessed there was a wireless somewhere over
here, but never could locate it. And to think I owe it to you kids!
Pamela, you're a true loyal little Englishwoman! I think you'll find
you'll pretty soon be rid of that precious uncle of yours."
"What must I do about it?" asked Pamela, who was half crying.
Captain Harper did not at once reply. He seemed cogitating. Then his
face cleared.
"Nothing at present," he replied. "I pledge you all on your word of
honour to mention this business to nobody. We'll leave the wireless
where it is, and get the messages if possible--that's our game! Pamela,
could you manage to learn the Morse code if I taught you?"
"I'd try."
"I'll undertake you'd soon learn it. Then what you've got to do is to
listen at the receiver and report to us. I can tell you, you may be
working an uncommonly important little bit of business. Don't cry,
child! The fellow is only your uncle by marriage. He's no blood relation
of yours. Think of your father! You're doing your duty by your country
as every true-born Britisher ought."