"That much is plain," replied his host thoughtfully. The paper was spread upon his desk and the young people sat on either side. Win's attention was distracted for a moment by his view of the Colonel's distinguished face, the face of an high-bred English gentleman. With all the impetuosity of his American birth and training, Win felt the charm of this gentleman of other race and another generation. He admired the Colonel's complete repose, his courteous ways and softly modulated voice. They were not in the least effeminate and the empty sleeve and the little bronze Victoria cross bore witness that the Colonel was a very gallant officer.
"I think," began Constance, "that Great-great-grandfather Dick and his 'Sonne' put the prince's clothes and perhaps some other things in a chest and hid them. Dad, did you ever know of anything answering to the description of 'ye Spanish chest'?"
The Colonel thoughtfully smoothed his gray mustache. "There is the box that came from the Armada," he remarked. "But that cannot be the one referred to, since that belonged to your mother, my dear, and comes from her side of the house."
"Mummy was Irish," Connie explained to Win. "I'll show you that box. It really was washed up on the coast of Ireland and has been in her family for centuries. No, of course, it couldn't be that."
"A Spanish chest does not necessarily mean a relic of the Armada," went on the Colonel. "There might possibly be a box of Spanish workmanship, but I know of none in the Manor to which that description could be applied. That big black oak chest in the upper hall is English. The one in my room is Flemish."
"Oh, those are both too big, anyway," declared Constance. "Even men in a hurry wouldn't take a box as big as those to pack a suit of clothes in. No, it was something that could be easily carried and concealed. It takes four servants to move those great arks."
"Then, if there isn't anything in the Manor that answers the description, don't you believe the chest and the things in it are still hidden?" Win asked rather shyly, but with keen interest.
The Colonel smiled kindly. "Sorry to quench your enthusiasm, Win," he said, "but I doubt it. Prince Charles landed in Jersey in 1646 if my memory serves. Subtract that date from this year of our Lord. I'm afraid that chest, whatever it was, has long since emerged from its hiding-place. According to the document here, it was concealed only till 'happier times should dawne.' Prince Charlie came to his own again, you remember. This Richard Lisle died somewhere where about 1675. He lived to see the Restoration, so surely he or his son brought to light again the things that there was no longer reason to conceal."
"But, Daddy," said Constance quickly, noticing the look of disappointment on Win's expressive face. "People forget. Let's think of all the possibilities. It says some place outside the walls. And they needed a lantern."
"There is the cave, daughter, at the edge of the Manor estates, but you know all about that. Why, I know that cave myself, I was going to say, every grain of sand in it."