“Oh, Mary! It all fits together!” cried Katy, clapping her hands. “Do have a look at that bust, dear! If it is your Will.”
“That’s just what I will do!” cried Mary, running to the mantelpiece, with Katy close behind her, and Caliban following them both.
The bust was a plaster one about six inches high, and it stood on a black marble block like a little pedestal. Mary had dusted it many times and she knew it was not fastened to the pedestal and that it was hollow. But was it also empty?
While the girls were looking at the bust, Caliban suddenly made two leaps, one to a chair, then to the mantelshelf which he reached without a slip. Then he took up his pose beside the bust of Shakespeare, and sat blinking wisely at them.
“Do look at Caliban!” cried Katy. “He certainly looks as if he knew secrets!”
“Perhaps he does,” said Mary. “Maybe there is a secret about this bust. I am going to see. If you please, Master Will S.”
She took down the bust and shook it gently. Nothing rattled inside. Nothing fell out. She poked with her finger as far as she could reach. There seemed to be nothing in the interior.
“Try again, Mary,” begged Katy, producing something from her pocket. “Here’s my folding button-hook.” Cautiously Mary thrust the hook up into the place where the brains of William S. would have been, were they not distributed about the library instead in the form of books.
Yes! There was something up in the head; something that was yielding to the touch of the steel; something that came out at last in her hand. It was a piece of soft chamois-skin, folded and tied with green silk cord like that on which hung the mysterious key.
“Oh, Mary!” cried Katy, holding her breath. “What is it?”