BOB SOLVES ANOTHER MYSTERY
"I'VE got it!" he cried. "I've found the—but it can't be a very big treasure done up in so small a package," he added in a disappointed tone.
That which had attracted his attention was a metal box about six inches in length which had been set into the chimney so skilfully that a person passing would be unlikely to observe it. The box fitted the niche so nicely that Stevens was obliged to use his knife to pry it out. The box was locked. He found no key and was about to attempt to pry open the cover with his knife when he paused.
"No. I won't do it. That wouldn't be fair. Miss Thurston is the real discoverer. She shall open the box, or I will open it in her presence unless Mr. Presby wishes to do so himself." Saying which, Bob Stevens pocketed his curiosity as well as the little metal box. The rope now being at hand, he slipped the loop about his waist, reached up and grasped the lower rung of the ladder, drawing himself up easily until the lower rung was beneath his feet. From that point on he climbed rapidly to the platform. From there he was obliged to use the rope in place of the missing section of the ladder. A few seconds later he was standing in the garret.
"How is Miss Mollie?" were his first words.
"Just coming to," answered one of the hands. "Miss Ruth was just up here to see if you had gotten up yet. She wishes to see you."
"Hold up the lantern. I want to look at this wall a moment." Bob had found the maul lying on the floor in the gable. He returned it to the garret. He now recalled the crash that had followed his final chopping. Since then the young man had reasoned out what he thought was the mechanism that had caused all the trouble.
Stevens pushed gently on the panel against which he had originally struck so hard a blow. To the amazement of the onlookers, the panel fell into the gable with a mighty crash.
"I thought so," he nodded. The others had leaped to the far side of the room. Mr. Presby came hobbling up, fearing that still another disaster had fallen upon the house.
"Please look here, Mr. Presby," called Bob. "Here is the secret. See that narrow panel? It is a little wider than a man's body. It is hinged at the bottom. Attached to it were ropes running over pulleys in wooden tunnels. At the ends of these ropes are heavy weights. So nicely balanced were the weights that the pressure of a few pounds from this side would throw the panel inward. Any person leaning against it on this side would be dumped into the other room so quickly that unless he understood the mechanism, he would not know what had occurred."
"Wonderful," breathed the owner.
"It was evidently intended to afford a quick get-away in case the occupants of the house found it necessary to leave hurriedly. You will find the remnants of an old mattress in the gable there. I presume that was originally so placed that the person going through would slide from the smooth panel to the mattress without the least danger of injury. The instant his body left the panel the weights would pull the panel into place with a great bang. When the weights struck their foundation—the floor—another crash would be heard. Were I an Indian, I think I would run if I heard all that crashing and smashing. However, I have cut the ropes. You will have no recurrence of to-day's accident. The trap was open and both the young women fell into it while groping about in the dark in there. Is Miss Mollie seriously hurt?"
"One wrist is sprained and she is somewhat bruised. I do not believe it will prove to be anything serious," answered Mr. Presby. "Bob, I thank you," he added, giving the young man's hand a hearty grip.
"May I go down there now?" piped Tommy.
"You may not, sir," returned his father sternly. "You will keep away from that place entirely. I shall have the opening nailed up to-morrow. By the way, Robert, what did you find at the bottom?" questioned the master eagerly.
"A caved-in passage. I also found this. I intended to give it to you in the presence of Miss Thurston. However, it belongs to you."
Mr. Presby turned the metal box over in his hand reflectively.
"Open it, Robert. I decline to become excited."
"May I call Miss Barbara?"
"Certainly."
Tommy fairly flew downstairs for Bab, who returned with him on the run. Stevens showed her the box. Her eyes glowed.
"How is Miss Mollie?" asked the young man.
"I don't think there is very much the matter with her except the shock and the fright. She must have been unconscious down there for quite a time. Please open the box. I am dying of curiosity."
He broke open the box with the stove poker with which he had sounded the walls. All necks were craned to see what was in the box. To their wonderment, not unmixed with disappointment, Bob Stevens drew out a tarnished gold watch, on the back of which had been cut the letters "T. W. P." It was of English make and very old.
Mr. Presby regarded it solemnly.
"That is my ancestor's watch. It can mean but one thing, finding it as we have. He left such of his worldly possessions as he could—this watch. And to think we have dug up half of the estate for a treasure that did not exist! It was his silent message to us that this was all he had to leave in case he did not return." Mr. Presby's voice held a note of keen disappointment. Even up to now he had not fully lost hope that by some fortunate circumstance the treasure might yet be found.
"He may have returned and taken the rest of it," reflected Bob. "But if that were so, why should he have gone to all the pains of leading us to believe there was more?"
"How so?"
"This find means more than appears on the surface, sir."
"May I look at it?" asked Barbara.
A Slip Of Paper Fluttered To the Floor.
Mr. Presby handed the watch to her. She opened the case and gazed long at the face of the timepiece. She closed the case with a snap, then turned to the back, first studying the initials, next trying to open the back case. Bob Stevens assisted her with his pocket knife. The case came open suddenly. A slip of paper fluttered to the floor at Bab's feet.
"Oh!" she cried, snatching it up. She started to unfold the paper, then flushing, handed it to Mr. Presby. He shook his head.
"Look at it, my dear. There need be no secrets here."
Barbara did so, her hands trembling with excitement. A little furrow of perplexity appeared between the eyebrows. What she saw on the paper was a crude drawing of a toadstool with a slight point rising from the centre of the toadstool. In the background was what appeared to be a forest, but so awkwardly drawn that it was not possible to say positively that a forest was what the artist had intended. Below the picture of the toadstool was some writing. Stevens held the lantern closer, at her suggestion. "'The span of a minute is sixty seconds,'" read Barbara Thurston. "Now, what in the world does that mean?"
"I think it was your little golden-haired sister who expressed the opinion that my ancestor was not in his right mind," said Mr. Presby. "I am inclined to that belief myself. I wash my hands of the whole affair! Come, let us go below. This air here suffocates me."
Bob Stevens took the paper and, holding the lantern in the crook of his left arm, studied the bit of paper on his way downstairs, but made nothing out of it.
"I am not certain that it means anything at all, Miss Thurston," he said. "Perhaps the girls may discover some meaning. As for myself, I give it up."
"Thank you," answered Barbara. "I will show it to them. I know it must mean something, unless—unless the original Mr. Presby were crazy in fact."
"I am beginning to think we are all crazy," laughed Stevens.
After having again inquired for Mollie, and shaken hands with Barbara and Ruth, Bob went home. Barbara had stuffed the slip of paper into the pocket of her blouse on her way to Mollie's room. Mollie now lay wide awake. Her face was pale. There was a livid mark on her forehead, where she had come violently in contact with the chimney side on her tumble into the hole in the gable floor.
"Oh, Mollie, dear," soothed Bab, throwing her arms about her sister. "It had to be you who got the worst of the bump. Were you leaning against the wall, too?"
Mollie nodded weakly.
"What happened?" she asked.
Barbara explained as well as she could from the brief description of the panel mechanism that Mr. Stevens had given to her, to which Mollie listened wide-eyed.
"You dear 'Automobile Girls,'" cried Ruth. "Will you never stop picking up horseshoe nails with all four tires?"
"But we manage to wriggle our way through the broken glass, don't we, Molliekins?"
Mollie nodded and smiled. The wind was still howling without. In the pause of conversation the girls listened. Suddenly Ruth sprang up.
"I have forgotten two things," she exclaimed. "I must go out and put the storm curtains on Mr. A. Bubble and telephone father that Bubble must go to the shop."
"You didn't have another accident?" inquired Barbara anxiously.
"No. I blew up the two rear tires and came in on the rims. Oh, girls, I wish you might have been along. No, I don't, either. I'm afraid the car wouldn't have stood up under that additional weight. It was great!"
"Did—did you go some?" questioned Mollie.
"Did we? Ask Tom! I'll wager that young man's head is whirling still. I never thought we should make it, but I was bound not to set back the spark a single notch until I either turned turtle in the ditch or got Mr. Stevens here to help find you, Bab. We made it, didn't we, Tommy boy?" Tom had just entered the room to see what was going on.
"You bet we did," answered Tom.
"Would you like to ride so fast as that another time?" questioned Ruth merrily.
"Well, maybe in a railroad train," answered Tommy.
"I'll take you out again when the car is repaired," said Ruth.
"Not when I'm awake you won't."
"You say you came home on the rims?" wondered Barbara. "I should have thought it would have crushed them. Yours is a heavy car, Ruth."
"It would have crushed them, only the rims didn't touch the ground till we got in the drive here," observed Thomas wisely, whereat the girls laughed merrily.
Ruth started to go down and put on her storm curtains. Bab ran after her to assist.
"Oh!" cried Barbara, as an icy blast smote her in the face the moment she stepped out into the open.
"You had better run back and put something over your head," advised Ruth.
For answer, Barbara pulled out her handkerchief, binding this over her head. The two girls, after no little effort, succeeded in putting the curtains up, though the wind made their task doubly difficult. Finishing, they ran into the house with benumbed fingers and cheeks aflame. They rushed to the nearest fireplace, to which they pressed closely until the odor of scorching cloth warned them to beware. Olive and Grace had come downstairs, for dinner was on the table. A tray had been taken up to Mollie, but she did not care to eat, and had soon after fallen into a restful doze.
"You haven't told us what you found in that great, deep hole," urged Olive, after they had been seated for some little time.
"Oh, I forgot," answered Barbara. "Everything has been moving so rapidly that I haven't had time even to think. I found—I mean Mr. Stevens found something. But I am afraid it doesn't help us much."
"Bob found something?" cried Olive. "Oh, tell us about it."
"Yes, he found a metal box in the chimney. In it there was a watch that belonged to your scalped ancestor—I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said that. Your father has the watch. Well, inside the back case was a tiny slip of paper with the funniest picture you ever saw. There was some writing beneath the picture. I'll show it to you. I believe it means something, but I can't understand it at all."
"All rubbish," observed Mr. Presby. The master of the house already had shown the watch to Mrs. Presby, and had explained the manner of its finding by young Stevens.
Bab was searching through her pocket for the slip of paper. She had her handkerchief in her hand, together with some other articles that the pocket had held. Going clear to the bottom, she groped with eager fingers. Her face grew a shade paler.
"You haven't lost it?" begged Ruth.
"Oh, I am afraid I have!" gasped Barbara, turning her pocket wrong side out. "I—I must have dropped it in the garret. May I be excused while I go up to look for it?"
Receiving permission, the girl ran hurriedly up the garret stairs, first having snatched up one of the lanterns. She searched the garret floor, paying especial attention to the spot where they had been standing when discussing the find. She found no trace of the missing slip. Next Barbara examined every inch of the stairs, then entered Mollie's room on tip-toe, but with no better success. Every nook and corner where she could remember to have been on both floors was searched in vain.
"I think I can tell you where you lost it," volunteered Ruth Stuart "You took out your handkerchief to put over your head when we were outside covering the car. You must have pulled the paper out with the handkerchief."
"Then I must go outside and look for it," wailed Bab. "I simply mustn't lose that paper. It may mean everything to you all. Oh, I must find it."
"Silly! You won't find the paper if it has been dropped out of doors. On a night like this it has probably blown far away," interposed Olive. "Don't worry. It isn't worth it. Hunting for the Treasureholme treasure brings nothing but tears. Forget it all and be your own bright little self."
Barbara Thurston struggled with her emotions for a few heart-breaking seconds, then burst into tears.