An Unexpected Development
Lindsay and Cicely had by no means forgotten either their quest for the
treasure or their curiosity about the lantern chamber. In spite of
several small efforts, nothing fresh had occurred to elucidate matters,
and they were almost beginning to despair of ever making any further
progress, when quite unexpectedly something important happened.
One afternoon, as they were sending tennis balls to each other along the
terrace, they heard a voice calling to them from overhead. They looked
up, and saw Merle Hammond, a second-form girl, leaning out of one of the
upper windows of the house and beckoning to them violently.
"Lindsay and Cicely, is that you?" she cried. "Come up here; I've made
such a discovery!"
"Where are you?" asked Cicely, for the old Manor had so many windows, it
was impossible to identify any particular one from the outside.
"In a room up a funny winding staircase, on the top landing. It's
empty, but there's a big kind of lamp hanging from the ceiling. Oh,
you'll never guess what I've seen!"
"The lantern chamber!" gasped both the girls, and, dropping their
rackets, they raced into the house in a state of the wildest excitement.
Were they actually on the brink of solving the mystery? How had Merle
found it out? It was good of her to call to them. Had she accidentally
come across the hiding-place? or was it some other secret still?
The answer to all these questions lay in that attic room, and they fled
upstairs as if their feet were wings.
They were halfway along the passage, and a few seconds more would have
seen them safely on the top landing, when (oh, the bad luck of it!) they
almost knocked down Miss Frazer, who emerged at exactly the wrong moment
from her own bedroom door.
"Gently, girls, gently!" she remonstrated. "Where are you going in such
a hurry?"
It was impossible to explain. How could they tell the teacher the nature
of their errand? They both stood still, looking very "caught" and
dismayed, and said nothing.
"As you have come indoors so early, you had better tidy your drawers,"
continued Miss Frazer dryly. "I looked at them just now, and found them
in terrible disorder. You will have nice time to do it before tea."
Could anything have been more aggravating? The poor girls were nearly
crying with vexation. There was no appeal, however. Miss Frazer escorted
them into their bedroom, and stood over them, giving directions, until
each pair of stockings or pocket-handkerchief was disposed according to
her ideas of neatness. They might chafe and fret inwardly at the delay,
but outwardly they were obliged to behave with due decorum.
The governess was certainly justified in her disapproval, for Cicely's
best coat and hat were lying jumbled together at the bottom of the
wardrobe, and Lindsay's belongings looked as if they had been stirred up
with a stick.
"If I notice any of your places in such a condition again, I shall be
obliged to give you each a punishment," she said gravely. "Wash your
hands now, and comb your hair. There's the first bell."
Would Miss Frazer never leave them alone? If only she would take her
departure at once, they could perhaps manage to rush up to the lantern
room before the second bell rang. Merle must be waiting for them, and
wondering why they did not come. And the secret was waiting too! Lindsay
looked at Cicely, almost meditating a bolt. Possibly the mistress read
her intention in her face; at any rate, she waited until both were
ready, then marched them downstairs to the dining-room like a female
policeman, without giving them the slightest chance to escape.
"Of all jolly sells this is the biggest!" whispered Cicely.
"I wish Miss Frazer had been at the bottom of the sea!" groaned Lindsay.
Merle came in rather late and took her place at table, looking a little
red and self-conscious. Lindsay tried to meet her eyes, but she avoided
the gaze, and went on stolidly with her bread and butter as if nothing
had happened. When Cicely made a like effort she fared the same. What
had Merle seen? How they longed for tea to be over, that they might hear
of her discovery! They hoped she would not reveal it to any of the other
girls first, and they looked on in quite a fever of anxiety whenever she
spoke to Elsie Ryder or Marjorie Butler, who sat one on either side of
her.
"She doesn't know what we suspect about Mrs. Wilson," whispered Lindsay.
"She may be letting out something it would be far better, for Monica's
sake, not to tell."
The moment the meal was finished the two girls followed Merle into the
garden, but, greatly to their surprise, she took no notice of them, and
began to play tennis.
"I expect she's waiting for a safer time. Of course it wouldn't do for
her to be seen talking to us so particularly. We'll stay here while she
finishes her set," said Cicely.
The game lasted until preparation, and then Merle walked away with such
an evident intention of escaping from them that the two were most
indignant.
"What does she mean?" burst out Lindsay.
"Do you think she's offended because we didn't go up at once?" returned
Cicely. "She doesn't know yet that Miss Frazer stopped us. We must
explain it as soon as we can."
They tried to get hold of Merle after supper, but she kept persistently
to Elsie Ryder's company, and would not give them any opportunity of
speaking to her in private, so they were obliged to go to bed in a
horrible state of suspense. Next morning things were just as bad. There
was no mistaking the fact that Merle wished to avoid them, and it was
only with the greatest difficulty that they succeeded at last in
catching her alone.
"What do you want?" she enquired abruptly. "Please don't go chasing me
about like this all over the school."
"We want to know what you saw in the lantern room, of course," replied
Lindsay.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."
"Not tell us!"
Lindsay and Cicely could scarcely believe the evidence of their own
ears.
"No, it's quite impossible."
"But why?"
"Simply that I can't."
"Were you offended, Merle, because we didn't come when you called us?"
asked Cicely.
"We were hurrying up as fast as we could, only Miss Frazer stopped us
and made us tidy our drawers. It wasn't our fault," added Lindsay
apologetically.
"No, I'm not offended in the least. I'm very glad you didn't come."
"But you shouted to us to be quick."
"I know I did."
"Was it something or somebody you saw in that room?"
"Please don't ask me."
"But look here, Merle, this is too bad," protested Lindsay. "You're
playing a very nasty trick upon us."
"It can't be helped. I've said I am sorry," returned Merle doggedly.
"Well, you are a fraud," cried Cicely. "I like people who keep their
promises."
"So do I," said Merle, in rather a significant tone. "It's exactly what
I intend doing, too."
"You don't mean to say you've promised not to tell!" exclaimed Lindsay.
"I didn't say anything at all."
"Have you told Elsie Ryder or Marjorie Butler?"
"Certainly not. I haven't mentioned the matter to anybody, and I hope
you won't either."
"But why shouldn't you whisper it just to Lindsay and me? We wouldn't
let a soul know," pleaded Cicely reproachfully.
"I can't explain why. Do let us drop the subject."
Here was indeed a deadlock. They had been afraid lest Merle should
betray her secret indiscreetly, but they had certainly never
contemplated being kept out of it themselves. The more they pressed her,
the more obstinately she refused, and neither scolding nor coaxing would
induce her to disclose even the least hint. They gave it up at last,
feeling very baffled and rather out of temper.
"We do know something about your old room, all the same," said Lindsay
crossly, as a parting shot.
"Oh, Lindsay, you don't really!"
There was an anxious note in Merle's voice.
"More than you think."
"Then, whatever it is, you had better keep it to yourselves, and not let
it go any farther."
Merle's extraordinary behaviour seemed to make the mystery even deeper
than before. She had evidently been exploring the Manor on her own
account and had made some discovery, which she undoubtedly had intended
to share with them when she called from the window. Then something must
have occurred afterwards which caused her to change her mind.
To whom had she given a promise of secrecy? Surely not to Mrs. Wilson?
That would be aiding and abetting one whom they strongly believed to be
Monica's enemy. If only Miss Frazer had not such a tiresome love of
tidiness, they might have reached the lantern room in time, and be now
in possession of the information they wanted. It was too tantalizing to
feel that they had been so near a solution of the problem, and had
missed it by a few moments.
Events never happen singly. For a whole fortnight they had been able
to find out nothing, yet on the very day following this disappointment
something occurred which seemed to add another link to their chain of
strange circumstances. They had managed to escape Miss Frazer's
vigilance, and were indulging in a surreptitious game of "tig" along the
forbidden ground of the picture gallery, when one of the bedroom doors
opened, and Mrs. Wilson appeared in the distance, carrying a pile of
clean towels in her arms.
"There's 'The Griffin'!" exclaimed Lindsay. "She mustn't catch us here,
on any account. She'll tell Miss Russell, and we shall each lose a
conduct mark. Quick! Let us hide somewhere till she's gone by."
The ancient arras seemed to offer a safe retreat. As fast as possible
they whisked behind it, and stood flattening themselves against the
wall, hoping Mrs. Wilson would notice nothing lumpy or unusual as she
passed.
At the same time came a sound of heavy tramping footsteps from the other
end of the gallery, and Cicely, peeping through a hole in the tapestry
which happened to be on a convenient level with her eyes, saw Scott, the
gardener, coming down the flight of stairs which led from the upper
landing. He met Mrs. Wilson exactly opposite the hiding-place where the
girls were concealed, and the two stopped to speak, quite unaware that
listening ears were eagerly following their conversation.
"Have you been in the lantern room?" began the old housekeeper uneasily.
"I'd no idea you were going up this afternoon."
"Thought I'd best take a look," returned Scott.
"There wasn't any need. I was there myself this morning, and things were
all right."
"I don't know what you may call all right," grunted Scott. "There was
far too much noise going on to satisfy me."
"You don't think there's any danger----?" burst out Mrs. Wilson, in an
anxious voice.
"No, no!" interrupted Scott quickly. "Not for the present, at any rate.
Don't upset yourself. Still, it needs care, especially with all this
crew in the house."
"Yes, it's that that's worrying me. I shan't breathe freely till they're
gone. And such an inquisitive, meddlesome set they are, too! You'd
scarcely believe the trouble they give me. Two of them took it into
their heads one day to go wandering on the upper landing. I actually
found them inside the lantern room!"
Scott gave an exclamation of something like alarm.
"That'll never do!" he said. "You mustn't let them go poking about
there; it would be most unsafe. Can't you lock the door?"
"No, the key's lost."
"I must try if I can find a padlock for it."
"I wish you would. It would take a load off my mind. By the by, I wanted
to warn you----"
But here one of the housemaids came along the landing, Mrs. Wilson's
voice sank to a whisper, and the only words audible were "Miss Monica",
"evening", and "wouldn't trust".
"I'll be extra careful," said Scott, as he clumped away.
Lindsay and Cicely waited several moments after the gallery was empty
before they ventured to emerge from behind the tapestry. They had the
great satisfaction of having learnt something. They now knew definitely
that there was a secret in connection with the lantern room which both
Mrs. Wilson and Scott were anxious to keep from them.
"What can it be?" speculated Cicely. "Did you notice what he said about
the noise? It must have been that dreadful groaning we heard."
"I've been thinking about that," replied Lindsay. "There may be a hidden
room, and someone shut up in it."
"As a prisoner, do you mean?"
Lindsay nodded.
"But who could it be?"
"I can't imagine, unless--could it possibly be old Sir Giles Courtenay?
Perhaps he didn't really die, after all. Don't you remember, in
_Ivanhoe_, how Athelstane of Coningsburgh was supposed to be killed, and
he was really only stunned; and the monks of St. Edmunds put an empty
coffin in the chapel, and kept him in a dungeon and pretended he was
dead, because they wanted his property? Mrs. Wilson may be doing the
same."
"How dreadful!" Cicely looked quite appalled at the idea. "I suppose she
goes up, then, to feed him. Scott must know too. I shouldn't have
thought it of Scott. I rather liked him. I expect they'll share the
money between them. I wonder what 'The Griffin' was warning him about. I
hope they're not hatching a plot against Monica!"
"It looks bad," said Lindsay, "decidedly bad. It's evidently something
shady, or they wouldn't want to keep it so quiet. It may be a very good
thing for Monica that we've taken the matter up."
"What shall we do?"
"We must stalk 'The Griffin' again, and try to follow her to that room,
and see what she does there."
"She's as wary as a weasel."
"Then we must be clever and outwit her. I'm positive she has some scheme
on hand that ought to be watched. One doesn't know how much may depend
upon it."
It was certainly very exciting to feel that dark deeds might be taking
place in the attic, and that they were the fortunate instruments
selected by fate for the purpose of bringing the wrongdoers to justice.
It gave them a delightful sense of superiority over the other girls,
whose heads were full of nothing but tennis and croquet, and who never
troubled themselves with a thought about the missing treasure.
"Merle is the only one who knows anything," said Lindsay, "and I verily
believe 'The Griffin' must have bribed her."
Mrs. Wilson evidently used the utmost precaution in her visits to the
top landing. In spite of the pains they took to watch her movements, it
was some days before they found the propitious moment. "All things come
to those who wait," says the old proverb, however, and it proved true in
this case.
One afternoon, through the chink of the bathroom door, they saw her walk
into the gallery as if she were going to the upper story. As stealthily
as Indians they crept after her. They tiptoed along the passages, and
just caught a glimpse of the tail of her skirts as she passed up the
winding staircase and entered the lantern room. Very quietly they
followed on to the little landing, and listened for a moment outside the
closed door.
"What is she doing?" whispered Cicely.
"That's what I want to find out."
They both tried to peep through the keyhole, and bumped their heads
together in the attempt.
"I can hear her moving!"
There was a slight noise inside, almost like the clicking of a latch,
then all was perfectly silent.
Lindsay could bear it no longer.
"Here goes!" she cried boldly, and flung open the door. To her utter
amazement, the room was absolutely empty. Mrs. Wilson had vanished as
completely as if she had been a ghost.