The Spanish Chest Part 15

"And have you had tea, Uncle?" Max inquired. "We haven't, and I could do nicely with a cup."

"With all those gallons of tea on the lawn, it is a pity if an able-bodied young gentleman couldn't secure one cup," said the Colonel smiling. "Now you mention it, I believe I have had none either. Ring the bell by all means and order it. I was absorbed in verifying some points of old Norman law," he added to Win. "Our islands have an interesting history."

"Win is pleased that Prince Charles has left his mark on Jersey,"

observed Max, giving the bell-pull a vigorous twitch. "Tell him, Uncle, about his stopping here."

"Such is the legend handed down from father to son," replied the Colonel. "The story goes that the prince was brought to the Manor immediately after landing in Jersey. Just where he landed and how he was conveyed here is not known, but his stay was short. The owner of the Manor at that date, another Richard Lisle,--he whose portrait hangs in the library,--was an ardent Royalist who would have risked everything to serve his prince. Authorities agree that Charles spent the period of his stay in one of the castles, some say Orgueil, others Elizabeth. Probably the Manor roof sheltered him but for a few hours. I should very much like to see the legend of his stop in this house authenticated beyond question. Max tells me you are fond of books," the speaker continued. "After tea, I will show you some of our special treasures."

Win's face, already alight with interest, grew even more responsive to this offer, yet as the tea came, he felt unaccountably stupid and idiotic. Utter disgust with himself filled his mind to think he couldn't get to the point then and there of telling his kind host about that letter he had discovered.

Max noticed that Win was ill at ease, attributed it to shyness or perhaps awe of the Colonel, who was, as Max put it, "a bit impressive till a fellow knew him," and tried to help matters by talking nonsense that amazed Win and evidently amused the Colonel.

Gradually, as he saw that Max was not in the least afraid of the dignified owner of the Manor, Win began to feel less tongue-tied.

Presently came a sound of gay voices, a tap at the door and Constance, the girls, and Roger entered.

"The tea-party is gone and in its place is peace," said Connie.

"Daddy dear, I want you to meet Frances and Edith. And this is Roger. Max, why didn't you have tea with us and the kiddies?"

"Because of buns," said Max. "My bun-eating days are past."

"Not so long past!" retorted Constance with a mischievous smile.

"Not so many years ago that I bribed you with a penny bun to steal a tooth for me out of a skull in the Capuchin church! He did it, too," she added to the girls, laughing delightedly at this charge.

"You haven't been in Rome? The Capuchin monks have a church there with some holy earth brought from Jerusalem. Years ago,--they don't do it now, because modern sanitary laws have invaded Rome,-- the monks who died were buried in this earth. Only of course as the centuries pa.s.sed, there wasn't room for them all, so the monks longest buried had to get up and give place to others. Their bones were arranged in nice neat patterns on the walls, and the skulls heaped in piles. It was a tooth from one of these skulls that I fancied. Max ate the bun and stole the tooth for me, but Daddy wouldn't let me keep it and made Max put it back."

"Oh, how could you ever want such a thing, Miss Connie!" exclaimed Edith, shuddering with horror.

"I wonder, why did I?" said Constance reflectively. "It certainly doesn't appeal to me now. Mother was shocked; she disinfected everything that tooth had touched. Are you through tea, Daddy? I want to take the girls into the library."

Once again in the old book-room, Win recovered his self-possession in admiration of its treasures of illuminated missal and ma.n.u.script. His interest pleased his host, who ended by cordially inviting the boy to visit the Manor library whenever and as often as he chose to come. Win's genuine delight over this permission touched the Colonel, who from his own physical handicap, guessed that life was not always smooth for Win.

Win's pleasure arose not merely from the enjoyment of the library itself but because he would surely grow better acquainted with the Manor family and have a more favorable opportunity to show his discovery in the old Psalter.

He was very quiet on the way home and scarcely spoke while Fran was giving her mother a graphic account of the afternoon. Win hardly knew she was talking until his attention was caught by a dramatic remark.

"Miss Connie told us something so exciting, Mother," Fran was saying. "Roger asked her if there was a ghost. He blurted it right out and I was quite mortified, because you know if they did have one and were sensitive, it would have seemed impolite. But Miss Connie said right away that the Manor had all modern improvements, including a well-behaved and most desirable ghost. Then she and Mr. Max looked at each other and laughed. She said the haunted room was above the library and promised to give us a chance to investigate some day. I wanted dreadfully to ask about secret stairs,--you remember what that boy at Orgueil said--but perhaps when we are looking for the ghost there will be a chance to speak of the stairs."

"Indeed, you've had a most interesting afternoon," agreed Mrs.

Thayne, "the discovery of a haunted room at the Manor being not the least."

"And what have you done all by yourself, _poor_ Mother?" said Frances, suddenly sympathetic and affectionate.

"Part of the afternoon I was out and since then I have been talking with Estelle. If she only felt she could, it would be so much better for her to go more among people, for the constant effort to be brave when she is so much alone, is very wearing. She seems so pathetically grateful that we chanced to come to her this winter instead of other less congenial lodgers. Sometime I hope she will speak frankly of just how they are situated and whether she has plans beyond this season, for I might be able to further them. And I hope, too, I shall succeed in placing the something familiar that always strikes me in Estelle. Have you ever noticed it, Fran? To my surprise, Win said the other day that Estelle reminded him of some one."

"No," said Fran. "I never noticed it. But I might ask Edith whether they have any relatives in the United States."

"That could do no harm," a.s.sented Mrs. Thayne thoughtfully. "Since Win spoke of it also, the resemblance must be to some one we know over there."

Frances and her mother went away but Win sat thinking for some moments. The mention of secret stairs recalled to him, though he could not say why, that odd dream twice experienced since he came to Jersey, of a search in a narrow unfamiliar pa.s.sage, with unknown companions, for something unspecified.

With a start he finally roused himself and went upstairs. Before going to bed he read again the copy of Richard Lisle's letter.

"There's more to this than just the coming of the prince," he thought. "That's a fact, but if that 'safe place' can be discovered, I'll warrant we shall find the Spanish Chest and whatever 'relicks' Richard and his 'Sonne' put into it."

CHAPTER XI

THE MANOR CAVE

A few days after the school treat, Maxfield Hamilton was sauntering slowly across the Manor grounds. The January sky above shone blue as in a New England June, gay crocuses starred the short green gra.s.s, snowdrops and bluebells were already budded.

From heights unknown floated the song of a skylark; in the holly hedge sat an English robin.

Max heard the skylark but did not notice the robin as he stopped at the gates to look down to the sea, stretching to s.h.i.+ning horizons under the afternoon sun. His face was thoughtful and rather sober.

The robin gave a little cheep and Max turned to discover the bird almost at his elbow, a tiny sc.r.a.p of olive feathers and bright red breast, considering him with soft wise eyes, head on one side.

"h.e.l.lo, old chap," Max remarked. "What do _you_ think of this world?"

From the tone, the robin might have inferred that the speaker's opinion was anything but favorable. Considering him for a second, he concluded him inoffensive and began to peck at the glowing holly berries.

Max wandered slowly through the gates and across the Manorhold to the sh.o.r.e, distant at this point about a quarter of a mile. Two or three stone cottages with picturesque straw-thatched roofs lay near the cliffs, property of the Manor and usually occupied by employees.

With the thoughtful expression still on his face, Max pa.s.sed the cottages to stop on the edge of the cliffs already showing yellow with gorse. Should the tide serve, he had it in mind to revisit a haunt of his boyhood. A moment's scrutiny showed him right in thinking that the tide was on the ebb and he started rapidly down a rough, rather slippery path. As he rounded an outlying rock he came full on Roger Thayne.

Sprawled flat on the sloping cliff, Roger was watching so intently the doings of a spider that he did not look up until a shadow fell squarely across the web.

"That you, Roger?" said Max. "Alone? Where are Win and the girls?"

"I don't know," replied Roger, flus.h.i.+ng uncomfortably. "That is, I don't know where the girls are."

"Win's not ill, I hope?"

"No, he isn't." Roger rolled over to look at his visitor. The young face wore a pleasant smile and the gray eyes were friendly, but somehow Roger had a suspicion that Mr. Max wasn't the sort to approve outright truancy.

"Win's all right," he added evasively. "He's studying or something."

A queer little expression crossed Max's lips. "Then since you have a holiday,--well-deserved, no doubt,--come on exploring with me."

Roger was on his feet in a second, the arrow of reproof glancing off unnoted. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Oh, just down here a few rods. We may have to hold up for the tide. It won't be low water for some time yet."

The faint path presently ended in piles of red granite, still wet from the sea, in places slippery with vraic, as the Jerseymen call the seaweed used as fertilizer for their land.

"We shall have to stop a bit," said Max, after a short steep descent. As he spoke he sat down and began to crush a bit of vraic between his fingers.