The Spanish Chest Part 26

There followed a second of silence and then Max gave a low whistle. "I'm on," he announced. "Clever reasoning, Win."

"There's another thing, too," said Win, lying flushed and pleased against his pillows. "I spent a lot of time on that dividing part.i.tion wall. I'm sure there is no s.p.a.ce in it unless it is so thick that even a hollow place wouldn't sound any different. But after I looked again at the plans, I saw that what I should have put my time on wasn't that wall at all, but the northern one, indicated here as parallel to the dotted line. Mr. Max, I'm quite certain that the old original cellar extends farther to the north than this newer part. I mean that the north wall of the new cellar isn't on a line with the old one, not in reality, though here it is intended to look so."

"You mean," said Max, bringing intelligent brows to bear on this explanation, "that this was an underground pa.s.sage rather than a surface path and that its northern side is the one flush with the original cellar?"

"That's exactly it," said Win. "I think there is a pa.s.sage running along outside that northern wall down to the cave and the beach.

There seems a s.p.a.ce on the plan that isn't accounted for in any other way, and that explains why this dotted line runs inside the foundations."

"But, old chap," said Max kindly, "I know that cave from top to bottom. Truly there is no exit. I've spent hours in exploring the place."

"But when I was on the ledge at the back, there was a draught of fresh warm air from somewhere," Win pleaded. "And Roger said he noticed it when you took him there. Behind the ledge is a big pile of stones and rubble. Couldn't that air get in somehow?"

"It must, since you felt it," agreed Max sensibly. "If I can possibly manage it, I'll make an investigation. But I am booked to sail on Tuesday morning. It may have to stand over until the Easter holidays. I will take a squint at the cellar though this very evening. Did you sound that north wall?"

"No, I didn't," Win admitted. "I spent all my time on the west one. Not until I studied the plans again, did it fully dawn on me that perhaps that line was a pa.s.sage instead of a path. If that is true, it is the other wall that will bear investigation."

Max still surveyed the plans, his fine young face intent on this problem. He glanced up to meet a very wistful look from Win.

"On the whole, let's wait until Easter," he suggested. "Then you'll be feeling more fit and can come down in the vaults with me."

"I wish you'd inspect that wall," Win replied. "If you find it does sound hollow, will Colonel Lisle let us punch a hole?"

"Sure," said Max encouragingly. "I know jolly well he will. Uncle d.i.c.k will be game for any investigation. Only he'll have to be convinced that I'm not pulling his leg. If that north wall resounds like a tomb, I'll tow Uncle down to hark for himself.

Why, man, we're getting on swimmingly! That was a mighty clever idea of yours about the dotted line. Connie'll be keen on it too, and anyway she owes me one after getting me into such a beastly mess as she did to-day. I didn't even use unkind language about it either. If the sea is decent tomorrow, I'll trot her down to the cave to see where your fresh air comes from."

"Perhaps it can be felt only when the wind is from a certain direction," observed Win.

"That's more than likely. Yesterday it was south, wasn't it? Very probably it takes a south wind to strike in there. I'm afraid we can't hope for that to-morrow because there seems a storm brewing, on purpose probably to give me a rough trip on Tuesday."

"Weren't you glad of the chance to come?" asked Win.

"I was," said Max expressively, "not only because I always like to get back to the Manor, but because I was pleased with myself to think I'd scored with this especial bit of work, a job of smoothing down an elderly a.s.s who was inclined to be a trifle footy. You see when I decided to go in for the diplomatic service, Dad told me that he would use his influence only to get me an appointment, a try-out. After that it was up to me; if I received promotion it would be because I earned it, not because I was his son. He makes me an allowance because one really couldn't manage on the salary of an attache, but so far as my profession goes, I stand absolutely on my own merits. So Max is feeling proud of himself just now!" he added whimsically. "So's my Dad, if my telegram reached him."

"He must be proud of you," said Win rather soberly. "I so much hope that Roger will condescend to go to Annapolis. You see I can't, and Dad would like one of us in the navy."

"Roger will wake up to a sense of his privileges some day," said Max. "Do you know, Win, some of the finest work in the world has been done by the fellows who were handicapped. Prescott, for instance, writing all his histories, blind in one eye and sometimes half crazed by pain; Milton, too, dictating to his daughters, and Scott, producing so much when he was old and burdened with grief and trouble. And Stevenson, who was ill half his life."

"But they were geniuses," said Win.

"They were also too courageous in spirit to yield to circ.u.mstances. To come down to more ordinary people, I think Uncle d.i.c.k is mighty fine. He is crippled, useless for the work he expected to grow old in; he saw his only son die for England. You have seen enough of him to know what he is and what he means not only to Laurel Manor but to the Island. I respect and admire him tremendously and I shall owe much of whatever success I score, to him as well as to Dad. There are careers open to you, Win. You are clever and have a fine mind. Roger defers to your opinion. Through your influence, he may accomplish far more than he might alone."

"I don't amount to very much with Roger. Still, I did make him square things with Fisher that day he played truant and went off with you," admitted Win with the ghost of a smile. "Mother only lectured him for bunking, but I persuaded him to apologize and to put in the next Wednesday doing the work he skipped."

"Good for you!" said Max cordially. His gray eyes were very kind and friendly as he rose to leave.

"I hope you'll feel more fit to-morrow," he said, shaking hands.

"If I possibly can, I'll run in and make a report; if not, I'll drop a line when I get home to the lurid lights of Paris."

"Shall you drive back with the Emba.s.sy insignia on your car?"

inquired Win smiling. He looked much brighter and happier than before his visitor came.

Max laughed. "I fancy not," he said as he gathered hat, gloves and riding-crop. "I'm rather anxious to be on my good behavior. No, I'll let Jean drive which will be prudently slow, and I'll meditate about your hidden chest and the dotted path and other things back at the Manor."

"I believe Mr. Hamilton did you more good than the doctor,"

declared Mrs. Thayne, entering Win's room after his caller had mounted Saracen and ridden away. "You look fifty per cent brighter."

"He's a crackerjack," said Win briefly. "He's promised to do some investigating on his own account and I feel sure that he can induce Colonel Lisle to let us try an experiment if it is needed.

But, Mother, there's something I've been meaning to tell you all day, not about the Spanish chest or anything to do with it. You know we spoke once of how Miss Estelle reminded us of some one at home. This morning instead of sending a servant with my breakfast, she brought it herself, and when she was arranging things, I remembered whom it is she looks like. It is your friend, Mrs.

Aldrich."

"Win, you're right," said Mrs. Thayne suddenly. "Estelle _is_ like Carrie Aldrich, and not in looks alone, but in manner. Now how can that possibly be? Of course it is only a chance resemblance but it must exist since you notice it, too. I wonder whether Fran ever carried out her intention of asking Edith whether they had any relatives in the United States. She spoke of doing so."

"What good would that do, if Mrs. Aldrich is the person Estelle resembles?" asked Win. "Haven't you known her all her life?"

"I met her at school," replied his mother, "when we both were young girls and then knew her intimately. Of later years, we have seen less of each other, though we have always kept up the friends.h.i.+p. There seems no possible connection between Carrie Aldrich and Estelle and the likeness must be only in our minds.

They say, you know, that every person in the world has a double somewhere."

"I'd like mighty well to be Mr. Max's double if I could only choose," muttered Win to himself.

CHAPTER XVIII

ROGER THE MAROONED

No word came from the Manor the next day, only a big bunch of fragrant lilies for Win and some jelly of which Paget alone knew the secret recipe. Early Tuesday morning Max's prophesied storm arrived in earnest and the young people at Rose Villa saw the Granville boat leave her pier amid sheets of driving rain. Her decks looked dreary and deserted, for all the pa.s.sengers were inside.

"I suppose Mr. Max is on board for he was obliged to go," observed Frances, as the steamer disappeared in low-hanging banks of fog drifting continually nearer sh.o.r.e.

"Yes," agreed Win, who was dressed and about, though still looking ill. "There will be some word when he gets back to Paris. It stormed so yesterday that he probably couldn't go into the cave as he planned."

"Life seems very tame after all the interesting things that happened last week," sighed Frances, gathering her French grammar and other school books. "Rain or no rain, there will be school, and English rain seems somehow _wetter_ than American. You'd better eat that jelly, Win. According to Nurse, it is the elixir of life and warranted to cure every ill known to man."

Win smiled as he watched his sister and Edith down the steps, and waved a listless hand as they turned inquiring faces under bobbing umbrellas at the end of the terrace. He looked enviously after Roger, a tall slim clothespin in black rubber coat and boots, sou'wester pulled firmly over his head, tramping st.u.r.dily toward the beach, evidently on some definite errand. Win would have liked mightily to be swinging along with him through the storm, but the fun of facing a tempest was not for Win.

For a few moments he stood idly by the window, wondering whether Connie knew what Max had possibly discovered in his inspection of cave and vaults. Then he turned with a sigh, reminding himself that with the weather what it was, and in this land of few telephones, there was no chance of hearing anything from the Manor.

Gradually the stormy morning pa.s.sed, somewhat dully for Win, who still felt unfit to study or even to occupy himself with a book, and lay upon the couch while his mother read aloud.

Frances returned from school, ravenously hungry and quite rosy with the rain that had beaten in her face.

"Mother, I am nearly starved!" she announced.

"Why, it is time for luncheon," said Mrs. Thayne, awakening to a realization of that fact. "But where is Roger? He can't have taken the whole morning just to deliver that message for Estelle."

"He could easily, Mother," said Win. "Why, if I had a chance to get out in this storm, I feel sure it would take me forever to do the simplest errand. He'll come home when he's hungry."