The Inside Story
In the end Madge decided that the easiest way to help Miss Swenster would
be to disregard propriety and descend boldly upon her. Accordingly, the
next morning, which was a school holiday, she and Cara Wayne dressed in
their old clothes and armed with brooms and dust cloths, presented
themselves at the back door of the mansion.
“We’re here to help,” they announced blithely. “Please say we may, for we
want an excuse to see your dishes and the lovely heirlooms.”
They were not certain how this blunt approach would be received, but
after the first look of astonishment, Miss Swenster smiled.
“Why, how very thoughtful of you both. I’ll be delighted to have you
help. Goodness knows there is enough to be done.”
They followed her inside. Miss Swenster had straightened the living room
but had made no attempt to put other rooms to rights. The girls attacked
the work with vigor. It progressed slowly for there was a great deal to
be done and they frequently stopped to examine some object which struck
their fancy.
“It’s a shame this house has to be sold,” Cara declared to her chum.
“Miss Swenster doesn’t say much about it but you can tell it makes her
fairly sick to think of it.”
“I know,” Madge agreed in an undertone. “I wish we could really do
something for her, but I’m afraid we can’t.”
It was impossible for the girls to work side by side with Miss Swenster
and not learn more of her fine character and interesting history. Soon
they caught themselves telling her about Skull and Crossbones and Cara’s
weird experience in connection with the midnight initiation. Miss
Swenster expressed an interest in the secret society and did not appear
in the least annoyed because they had trespassed. Nor did she seem
disturbed to learn of the stranger who prowled about the garden.
“I have no idea who it could have been,” she declared. “Perhaps it was
only a tramp.”
“He was much too well dressed for that,” Madge returned. “We thought
possibly he might be digging for some treasure that had been hidden on
the estate.”
Miss Swenster studied the girls quizzically. Her eyes twinkled.
“Dear me, I only wish there were a lost treasure! I am afraid you girls
have been listening to wild stories. The Swensters were never as wealthy
as townfolks thought.”
“Then it wasn’t true about the pearl necklace?” Cara asked in
disappointment.
“I’m not sure. I never saw the pearls myself, but according to the family
legend, they did exist. I suppose you know the story?”
The girls shook their heads, waiting eagerly. At last they were to hear
the true account of what became of the famous pearls!
“I’m not sure that I believe this myself,” Miss Swenster warned, “but at
least the story was handed down to me. As you may know, the pearls were
willed to my mother, Rose Swenster. That was her maiden name, of course.
She married young and was divorced soon after my birth. She took back her
maiden name and I always used it too.
“But to return to the pearls. My mother never had them. Her sister,
Florence, felt that she had been cheated in the will. She was so beside
herself that she actually hid the pearls, saying that if she could not
have them, they should never be worn by my mother.”
“How mean!” Cara exclaimed.
“Perhaps the story isn’t true,” Miss Swenster smiled. “My mother never
mentioned the pearls to me. I learned the tale from the nursemaid who
cared for me after Mother’s death.”
“And Florence never told where she hid the pearls?” Madge probed.
“No, a short time later she fell ill. When she realized she could not get
well, she tried to tell what she had done with the pearls, but failed.”
“No one had the slightest hint what became of them?” Cara questioned.
“According to the story, I believe an old Negro caretaker was supposed to
know something about it. His name was George Andrew Jackson. He must have
been seventy at the time Florence died. At any rate he was very forgetful
and either would not or could not tell what became of the pearls.”
“Was a search never made?” Madge inquired.
“Oh, dear me, yes. Every inch of the house was gone over and the grounds
were carefully searched. As a child, I used to think perhaps I could
restore the Swenster fortunes. ‘Hunt the pearls’ was our favorite game.”
It struck Madge and Cara that their interest in the lost necklace was not
very original. They harbored secret hopes of locating the pearls and had
even been guilty of trying to connect Miss Swenster’s loss with the
mysterious excavations of the midnight prowler. They were unwilling to
believe that the story was pure legend. And the fact that two generations
of Swensters had failed to recover the pearls, could not entirely daunt
them.
“I had forgotten the matter until you girls reminded me of it,” Miss
Swenster remarked. “Years ago, when my John was a little boy—”
She broke off, coloring. Then, apparently thinking that some explanation
was expected, she finished lamely:
“John was my adopted son. As a boy, he was interested in the pearls too.”
It was the first time she had mentioned the name of her son. The girls
realized that Miss Swenster had not intended to speak of him. The words
had slipped out unbidden. Even to think of him seemed to distress her,
for she quickly changed the subject.
The girls remained for luncheon, helping Miss Swenster prepare it. They
worked through to four o’clock and as they left for their homes, asked if
they might come again.
“Of course,” she assured them, “although I can’t see what fun you get out
of working. If I could pay you—”
The girls hastily explained that they did not want pay. They really had
enjoyed the day for it was fun to browse about the old mansion.
“And do you mind if we look around for those pearls?” Madge inquired. “In
sorting out things we might stumble upon them.”
Miss Swenster smiled at her enthusiasm.
“Search anywhere you wish, but don’t be too disappointed if you fail.”
The girls had a great deal to talk over as they walked slowly toward
their homes. They were very tired but the day had been a highly
satisfactory one. The prospect of roaming over the old mansion at will
was very alluring. Already Madge had several places in mind where she
thought possibly they might find the missing pearls.
“How fine it would be if we could find the necklace before the mansion is
sold,” Cara mused. “Then Miss Swenster could go on living there.”
“Perhaps she wouldn’t care to. When she left here eight years ago, she
must have had a reason other than financial for closing up the house. I
suppose it was on account of her adopted son.”
“What do you imagine he did that turned her against him?”
“I have no idea. He must have done something disgraceful. I’d like to
know what it was, but of course, we must never ask.”
The girls had every intention of returning to the old mansion the next
night after school. In planning their search for the missing pearls, they
did not overlook the garden.
“I feel there’s something valuable buried near the fountain, or the
sundial,” Madge declared. “It may not be the pearls but at least it’s
worth investigating. So tomorrow bring your father’s spade and we’ll do a
little digging of our own!”