The young man returned with a small squat volume, much-worn, bound in a cutting from an ancient antiphonarium, and secured by a small bronze clasp.
“You will see that the book is full of useful recipes, domestic accounts, a calendar of saints’ days, and memoranda of all kinds. Among the latter is the entry to which I refer.” And he opened it at a page wherein a slip of paper had been inserted.
There, sure enough, was an entry in Latin, in the same well-known hand as that upon the envenomed pages of The Closed Book. Freely translated, the memorandum was as follows:
“I, Godfrey Lovel, now monk of the Certosa of Florence, and once a brother of the Order of St. Benedict, at Crowland, in England, am about to die, and have therefore written a full account of my life and adventures, and have also given full directions for the recovery of the abbey treasures, so that the secret shall not be altogether lost. I have plainly told also where the emeralds of my lady Lucrezia are concealed. All this will be found clearly written in my Arnoldus, which I have now concealed in a place of safety. Let him who seeks to know the secrets beware! He will grasp the hand of Death midway.”
There was nothing else, so the professor informed me: only that single entry—a few rough, ill-written lines which told that the treasures of the abbey were actually concealed, and that the secret of their whereabouts was contained in the Arnoldus that had so curiously fallen into my hands.
Was it any wonder that his curiosity was at once aroused, or that he sought to know what I really had discovered?
“It is true that I am in possession of the missing manuscript,” I said; “but, unfortunately, one folio of it is missing—the very folio which gives definite instructions for the recovery of the hidden treasure. At present I am unable to make investigations because I cannot find any plan of the abbey, the cloister court, and adjacent buildings. It is to ask your assistance in this matter that I’ve come to you today, although I would also ask you, as a favour, to regard the matter at present as entirely confidential, for I do not wish anyone to know that I’m engaged upon a treasure hunt.”
“I shall, of course, respect your confidence entirely, Mr Kennedy,” the professor said; “and if I can be of any assistance in the matter I shall be delighted. It would be a grand thing to recover the treasures of Crowland. There must be a good many valuable things among them, for the place was one of the wealthiest of the Benedictine houses.”
“Well,” I said, “do you happen to know of any existing plan or any written description of the monastic buildings?”
He reflected deeply, taking off his glasses and carefully wiping them.