Chatterbox, 1905 Part 39

'What is that?' asked the short stranger, good-humouredly. 'I did not know there was such a thing as a cypher that could not be solved.'

'One of my pupils has invented one that no one has solved yet,' answered Herr Groos proudly.

'He should let me see it,' laughed the stranger. 'I would undertake to read it in half an hour.'

Then the master and the two strangers began to talk sociably together, and the conversation drifted to a discussion on the best place in the locality for the capture of b.u.t.terflies, especially swallow-tails.

Franz listened attentively, for he was firmly resolved that he would not return without at least one specimen to adorn Hugo's collection. Herr Groos was of opinion that the Kuhberg was the best place for them; but the strangers said, 'No, for every one found on the summit of the Kuhberg there are at least three on the sunny slopes of the Hirsch-felsen on the opposite side of the valley.'

But at last the train journey came to an end, and the boys arrived at the little inn which was to be their head-quarters. There they were soon devouring rolls and hot coffee, almost faster than the inn-keeper and his good-tempered wife could bring them out of the kitchen. Then, with their pockets and knapsacks full of rolls and German sausage, they started on their first day's expedition to a little lake at the foot of the Kuhberg. It was a lovely walk, and as they pa.s.sed now under the cool green pine-trees, and now along sunny slopes where the cows, with their tinkling bells, were almost buried in sweet-scented flowers, both botanists and b.u.t.terfly-hunters were busy. Finally, after two hours'

walk, they reached their halting-place at the edge of the forest lake.

(_Continued on page 130._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I took the locket from my waistcoat again."]

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Continued from page 119._)

Jacintha led the way up a path on the mound, and we all entered the summer-house, which was quite large, with seats round the sides and a table in the middle.

'Have you got the chocolates, d.i.c.k?' she asked, and at the same time began to unload her own pocket, which contained a bag with some preserved apricots in it, two oranges, and two pears. 'I often bring my dessert out here,' she explained, 'only to-day Auntie said she hoped I should not make myself ill.'

'Mind you don't,' said d.i.c.k.

'Have a pear, Everard,' she suggested, and accordingly I took one.

'Uncle has just started out with Auntie in the motor-car,' she continued, 'so I want you to begin at the beginning and tell us everything, you know--just everything.'

I looked at d.i.c.k, who was pinching an orange so as to make a hole in it to suck the juice, but he did not speak; so, having eaten a preserved apricot, I sat down next to Jacintha, wis.h.i.+ng she had not so hastily drawn away her white skirt, and began.

I cannot accuse myself of speaking a word that was not true that afternoon, but it must be confessed that the chief object was to impress d.i.c.k with the conviction that I was not what he might easily take me to be. Accordingly, I glossed over the character of Aunt Marion's household, and dwelt upon the wealth and importance of Captain Knowlton.

I brought tears to Jacintha's eyes when I told her of the loss of the _Seagull_, of his death and the difference in my treatment at the hands of Mr. Turton; but what seemed to have the greatest effect on her brother was the story of my encounter with the tramp who stole my money, and the other events of my journey.

'Still,' he said, being the first to speak when I ended the story, 'I don't see what you are going to do when you get to London.'

'Neither do I,' cried Jacintha.

'Oh, I shall do something right enough,' I answered with all the confidence I could a.s.sume.

'I tell you what I believe,' said d.i.c.k. 'I believe Captain Knowlton is not dead after all. You see if I am not right. You don't know really that he was drowned.'

'If he were not,' I answered, 'he would have sent a telegram, because he would know the _Seagull_ had been reported lost.'

'Still, you cannot tell,' d.i.c.k insisted, 'and if I were you, as soon as I got to London, I should go to his rooms in the Albany.'

But this was a point I had already considered.

'You see,' I said, 'very likely Mr. Turton has been there and told them to keep me----'

'I did not think of that,' d.i.c.k admitted. 'Still, I don't see what you will do in London. And, of course, I live there, though I'm going to a crammer's at Richmond next term.'

'Everard was going to be sent to Sandhurst, too,' said Jacintha quietly.

'What a lark,' he exclaimed, 'if Captain Knowlton should turn up, and you should be there at the same time.'

But this was more than my imagination at the moment was capable of. I felt very, very far from going to Sandhurst, and, indeed, a kind of sense that d.i.c.k and Jacintha belonged to a different world from mine was fast growing upon me.

'I say,' said d.i.c.k, presently, for his manner had now become all that I could desire, 'how much money have you got left?'

'One and twopence,' I answered, and he looked solemn at that.

'But still,' cried Jacintha, 'you forget the locket.'

'Why, of course, there is the locket,' said her brother; 'let us have a look at it, Everard.'

I took it from my waistcoat again, and holding it close to his nose, d.i.c.k at once looked for the hall-mark.

'It is gold right enough,' he added.

'You can sell it for quite a lot of money,' urged Jacintha, 'because you picked it up, and you can never find the real owner. I should think you would get a good deal for it.'

'If you don't mind my saying so----' began d.i.c.k, and pausing, he looked into my face.

'Cut along,' I said.

'Well, if you took it to sell, the chap might--he might think you had stolen it.'

'You see,' said Jacintha hastily, 'we could take you to the bath-room, and d.i.c.k could lend you some of his clothes; but Auntie would be certain to find out, and Uncle has kept Mr. Turton's card, and he said that if he saw you he should take you back to Castlemore.'

'Can't go back,' said d.i.c.k, in a tone of authority. 'I know!' he exclaimed, after a thoughtful silence.

'What?' demanded his sister.

'Look here, Everard,' he explained, 'there is a good shop in High Street, Foster's, where my people buy things. I know old Foster--a decent sort of chap. If I were to take the locket----'

'What would you say when he asked you where you got it?' asked Jacintha.

At that we all stared into each other's faces, and I felt disappointed at the suggestion. For I had judgment enough, after my experience in selling my watch and chain, to see that in my present untidy condition I could not myself deal with the trinket to the best advantage. A respectable jeweller would probably decline to buy it at all, whereas a less honest dealer would not give me a third of its value.

'I have it!' cried d.i.c.k, after a few minutes' pause. 'You drop the locket on the floor, Everard,' and with a glimmering of his purpose, I took it again from my pocket and let it fall on to the boarded floor of the summer-house. He immediately stooped.

'Now,' he said, 'I can tell old Foster I have picked up a locket and that I don't know whose it is, and I want to sell it. I will get my bicycle and ride into the town at once; but look here, old chap,' he added, taking my arm in quite a friendly way, 'you had better not wait here. Just hang about outside in the road, and don't let them see you if they come back first in the motor-car. I say, Jacintha, it will look better if you come to Foster's too.'