Colonel Brekenridge’s amazement increased as he learned that the bag had been hidden inside the chimney of the bank-owned dwelling.
“These coins are very valuable,” he assured the Cubs. “I am certain it was never my intention to give them away. As I said, they belonged to my son.”
“Can you explain how the bag came to be in the hiding place?” Dan questioned.
“When last I saw that bag it was reposing in a drawer of a desk upstairs,” Colonel Brekenridge replied. “But I might have a theory—yes, it amounts practically to a conviction.”
The invalid winked at the gardener. “We do have an archer in our family, I believe?”
“Aye, that we do,” the man admitted with a heavy sigh. “Many a time he’s nearly winged me with his arrows.”
Colonel Brekenridge requested the gardener to call his nurse.
A rustle of stiffly starched white uniform heralded her arrival a moment later. The young woman bore a glass of milk and two tablets on a tray.
“Oh, you have visitors, Colonel,” she observed somewhat disapprovingly. “Aren’t you afraid of over-exerting yourself?”
“Not in the least,” he rumbled. “Never felt better. I suspect I’ve been dying of boredom these last few months. What I need is more visitors.”