Chapter Twenty One.
We Make Preliminary Investigation.
“I thought buried treasure existed only in books!” I remarked, recollecting “Treasure Island” and other such romances. “Certainly I never anticipated that I should be actually engaged in a real treasure hunt.”
“Nor did I, until I saw the gravity of the whole thing, and how deeply in earnest are these people.”
“They have no idea that The Closed Book is again in my possession?” I asked.
“None whatever. The volume was stolen from Harpur Street, of course, and they are puzzled to know into whose hands it has fallen. All the chief dealers in manuscripts in London—Quaritch, Maggs, Tregaskis, Dobell, and the others—have been warned that if the Arnoldus is offered them it is stolen property.”
“Well, it is not very likely that any of them will have the offer,” I laughed. “It will be kept in a safe place now I have it in my possession again, you may depend upon that.”
Walter Wyman had turned over the many folios of my transcript, and was reading the portion concerning the hidden treasure of the Abbey of Crowland. I think the list of gold and silver objects so plainly set out appealed to him.
“We’ll go back to Peterborough tonight,” he said, “sleep at the ‘Angel,’ and visit Crowland, as it is now spelt, tomorrow. I’ve heard that the ruins of the abbey are very fine. It will be an interesting outing, if nothing else.”
“Before we go we had better take a tracing of the unnamed plan,” I suggested. “It may assist us, and yet it may, on the other hand, be a plan of an entirely different place. One thing, however, is certain—namely, that it had been drawn there with some distinct object, just as the plan marked ‘Treyf.’”