“Well, I can’t exactly say,” the old lady responded, frowning thoughtfully. “She lived in Claymore until eight years ago and then closed up the place because she couldn’t afford to keep such a large house open. She went to another town, but where, I can’t say.”
“You say she’s the last of the Swenster line,” Madge prompted as Mrs. Grandale appeared to have ended her story. “She never married?”
“Not to my knowledge. She did have an adopted boy. Let me think—no, I can’t recall his name. He turned out badly. Agatha thought a lot of him and folks said it most broke her heart when he got into trouble.”
“What did he do?” Cara questioned curiously.
“I can’t tell you that. The Swensters always kept their troubles to themselves. I do know that it was something that turned Agatha against him. They separated, and after that she closed up her house. It may have been because of money or perhaps on account of the boy. At any rate, she’s having a hard time of it now like as not. She’s getting on in years and with no one to support her, it must be trying.”
“What do you imagine became of the pearls?” Madge asked suddenly.
The old lady smiled.
“I imagine they were sold years ago.”
The girls had learned all there was to know concerning the Swenster mansion and its former occupants, but they lingered a half hour longer, before saying goodbye to Mrs. Grandale. Before they left, her daughter appeared from the kitchen with fresh-baked cake and a cool beverage.
“Delightful people,” Cara observed as they drove away. “And did you ever hear anyone more talkative than Mrs. Grandale? She’s a walking encyclopaedia of Claymore’s history. Did you learn what you wanted to know, Madge?”