Audrey woke with a start. She could almost hear the echo of the last words in the air—"as tall as the chimney-piece." Was it a dream? "Oh, grandad, grandad!" she cried. "Could you but come back and let me be a little child once more. Never was there a girl so desolate in all the world!" The sweet dream of childhood had broken down her courage—and she burst into tears. And still the dream was with her. How vivid it had been! It seemed like reality. Could it be reality? Was it not a memory awakened by the sight of the old room? Yes—it must be a memory; it certainly had once happened. Forgotten for years, it came back to her now: how she had hidden under the table, and how she had cried when her grandfather had said the pearls must be locked up till she was a great girl, and how grandad had taken her on his knee and told her the tale of Tom Tit Tot, and she had forgotten all about the pearls, and set off next morning to hunt in the gravel pit for Tom Tit Tot and his wonderful spinning wheel.
She lay back lazily in the chair, smiling over the old memories, and her eyes wandered over the fire-lit room. It had been arranged differently in those days: grandfather's table stood by the window, and what cupboard was it he had opened? There was no room on that side for a great standing cupboard. It had been very big—big and black, like a closet. A closet! She started. Could it indeed not have been a cupboard, but a secret closet? What folly! If there had been a closet there she must have known of it! But the impression was so strong on her that she could not sit still. She lit the candles in the great pewter candlesticks and smiled as she stirred the logs to do so, and saw that her head just reached the carved chimney-board. "I am taller, by a head, than when I last lit a candle here," she thought. "Now I am indeed a big girl! But to reach just where grandfather's hand went, I shall need a stool and a tall one at that. Good, I reckon this will serve."
She mounted on the carved footstool, and candle in hand she surveyed the wall, drawing her finger carefully along the lines of the panelling, and pressing every little ornament that might conceal a spring. "I verily believe there was something here," she murmured. "Hereabouts he put his hand, and I have never thought on it from that day to this! It opened like a door," and as she said the words she thought the panel gave way a little, and her heart almost stopped beating. She pressed again, more firmly; there was a creak—the whole side of the room seemed swinging towards her. She sprang off the stool, and saw that a door had indeed opened before her. Audrey raised the candle and peered into the darkness within. The closet was indeed as large as a small room; opposite to her its back was panelled like the bedchamber, but on either side the walls were fitted with shelves and loaded with boxes, papers, and bunches of keys.
Audrey raised the candle and peered into the darkness. [page 135.
She stood gazing, the candle flickered, suddenly she caught sight of the well remembered red leather casket, and with a cry of delight she set down the candle and seized it. Here, indeed, was the long chain of pearls she had cried for so bitterly, and the curiously enamelled Tudor Rose hanging as a jewel from it.
"How strange that daddy knew not of this hiding-place," she cried; "yet, grandad never troubled him with such matters; he were likelier to have told me than daddy. This must be one of the priests' holes he often told me tales of, where the recusant gentlemen hid their priests, but he never said we had one in our own house! Doubtless here lies the record of how our money was lost, but I reck little of that now I have the Perrient pearls safe. Ah, but here is a purse of gold pieces! That will speed me well whether I escape Justice Tomkins' clutches, or he claps me up in jail! More wonders! Money bags! I shall lose my wits for wonder! Four bags! Five! Why 'tis a very treasure trove! And now for the papers. Alack what a many and how dusty! Why, to count them over would be half a night's work! And as for reading this crabbed hand, I doubt I shall make nothing of it, without I ask Master Reed's help, and that I am scarce like to do! Bills—more bills—they will not keep me long. List of ministers to deliver to the Triers, letters from Parliament men, news letters; why, what is this? "Note of monies lent to Master Vonsturm of Leyden," "Note of monies lent to Master Leyds of Amsterdam," "Note of half share in the ship Maria Dirk trading from Rotterdam." "That's where the money is!" she gasped. "Oh, cunning old grandad! You sent it over seas safe from both king and Parliament! Master—what's his name? Von Sturm, must have deemed us all dead! He'll be mightily disappointed! My faith, these papers must not lie hid here! Yet if they take me to jail, they may search me; the papers were safer here than in my pockets in that hazard. I must bethink me. But first I must needs rummage for more treasures. Here is my grandfather's great writing-box and his seal and pens; methinks I may find Master Tom Tit Tot himself next!"
Her smile faded as suddenly as if the imp she spoke of had appeared. In the desk lay only one paper, endorsed in trembling handwriting: "Draught of my letter to Major-General Harrison concerning the marriage of my granddaughter. February ye first 1659."
"My marriage! Grandad never said a word to me of marriage! I was but sixteen! I marvel whom he proposed to marry me to?" And with rather a pale smile she unfolded the letter.