“Never mind, Hamish,” I said consolingly. “I think Aunt Cal really was upset you know, though she didn’t show it. I’m sure nothing but great stress of mind would have made her forget your lovely present!”
“Well, maybe,” he returned. “I suppose I’d better be going. Glad I made a copy of that letter though!”
So Hamish had copied the “cryptic message” too. Well, there were plenty of copies going around. Eve had one, and now Hamish, and I would not have been surprised if Michael—for all his seeming indifference—had one too. Besides that, Mr. Bangs apparently had the measurements in his head, as he had proved. At this rate, all Fishers Haven might soon be in the secret of the whereabouts of Captain Judd’s treasure.
“Eve,” I said, after we had locked the back door and gone up to bed, “do you think Aunt Cal will do anything?”
Eve shook her head slowly. “I can’t make her out,” she said. “I’m as sure as anything that she recognized the handwriting on that paper but that’s absolutely all I am sure of. If Hamish thought he had pulled a coup, he jolly well must have been disappointed.”
“What?” I demanded. “You mean Hamish dropped that letter on purpose?”
“Why of course he did,” returned Eve. “He wanted Aunt Cal to see it; he thought he’d find out something.”
“But,” I protested indignantly, “didn’t we practically swear both him and Hattie May to secrecy before we showed it to them!”
“They agreed not to say anything. They didn’t agree not to drop things around apparently by accident.”
“That Hamish!” I cried; “somebody ought to—to sit on him so hard—well hard enough to make him yell.”