The Slipper Point Mystery (novella)/Chapter 4
CHAPTER IV.
BEHIND THE OAK PLANK
"Well, for gracious sake!" was all Sally could reply to this astonishing remark. And, a moment later, "How on earth do you know?"
But Doris' reply to this query was even more astonishing: "Don't ask me, Sally, at least not just yet. And I want to talk with your grandfather as soon as possible—this very afternoon." And, in response to an imploring look in Sally's eyes: "It was the little Sèvres vase that set me to thinking. I happen to know just a tiny bit about old porcelains, because my own grandfather is interested in them and has done quite a bit of collecting. It was that—and the way she spoke. Now do be a dear and not ask me to explain just now!"
And falling in with her wish, Sally was silent.
Two o'clock that same afternoon found the girls at the Landing, which was always deserted at that hour save for the presence of old Captain Carter, seated in his accustomed corner, his wooden leg resting on another chair. Flattered by an audience at that unusual time of day, he was only too ready to talk. After a desultory conversation on other matters, Doris suddenly made the following (apparently) unpremeditated remark:
"I wonder why some people about here keep a part of their houses all nicely fixed up and live in that part and let the rest get all run down and fall to pieces?"
The old sea-captain pricked up his ears.
"Who do that, I'd like to know?" he snorted. "I hain't seen any of 'em!"
"Well, I passed a place this morning, and it looked that way," Doris went on. "I thought maybe it was customary in these parts."
"Where was it?" demanded the captain, on the defensive for his native region.
"’Way up the river," she answered, indicating the direction of Slipper Point.
"Oh, that!" he exclaimed in patent relief. "That's only Miss Roundtree's, and I guess you won't see another like it in a month of Sundays."
"Who is she and why does she do it?" asked Doris, with a great (and this time real) show of interest.
And thus, finding what his soul delighted in, a willing and interested listener, Captain Carter launched into a history and description of Miss Camilla Roundtree. He had told all that Sally had already imparted, when Doris broke in with some skilfully directed questions.
"How do you suppose she lost all her money?"
"Blest if I know, or any one else either!" he grunted. "And what's more. I don't believe she lost it at all. I think it was her father and her brother before her that did the trick. They were great folks around here, 'high and mighty,' we called 'em. Nobody among us down at the village was good enough for 'em. This here Miss Camilla,—her mother died when she was a baby,—she used to spend most of her time in New York with a wealthy aunt. Some swell, she was. Used to go with her aunt pretty nigh every year to Europe, and we did n't set eyes on her once in a blue moon. Her father and brother had a fine farm and were making money, but she did n't care for this here life.
"Well, one time she come back from Europe and things did n't seem to be going right down here at her place. I don't know what it was, but there were queer things whispered about the two men-folks and all the money seemed to be gone suddenly, too. I was away at the time on a three years' cruise, so I did n't hear nothin' about it till long after. But they say the brother he disappeared and never came back and the father died suddenly of apoplexy or something, and Miss Camilla was left to shift for herself, on a farm mortgaged pretty nigh up to the hilt.
"She was a bright woman as ever was made, though; I 'll say that for her, and she kept her head in the air and took to teaching school. She taught right good, too, for a number of years, and got the mortgages off the farm. And then, all of a sudden, she began to get deaf like, and could n't go on teaching. Then she took to selling off a lot of their land lying round, and got through somehow on that for a while. But times got harder and living higher priced, and finally she had to give up trying to keep the whole thing decent, and just scrooged herself into those little quarters in the ell. She's made a good fight, but she never would come down off her high horse nor ask for any help nor let anyone into what had come to her folks."
"How long ago did all that happen?" asked Doris.
"Oh, about forty or fifty years, I should think," he replied, after a moment's thought. "Yes, fifty or more, at least."
"You say they owned a lot of land around their farm?" interrogated Doris, casually.
"Surest thing! One time old Caleb Roundtree owned pretty nigh the whole side of the river up that way, but he'd sold off a lot of it himself before he died. She owned a good patch for a while, though, several hundred acres, I guess. But she hain't got nothin' but what lies right around the house, now."
"Did n't you ever hear what happened to the brother?" demanded Doris.
"Never a thing. He dropped out of life here as neatly and completely as if he'd suddenly been dropped into the sea. And by the time I'd got back from my voyage, the nine days' wonder about it all was over, and I never could find out any more on the subject. Never was particularly interested to, either. Miss Camilla hain't nothing to me. She's always kept to herself and most folks have almost forgotten who she is."
As the captain had evidently reached the end of his information on the subject, Doris let the talk drift into other topics, and after a while the girls took their departure.
"Well, what did you find out?" demanded Sally, eagerly, as soon as they were out of earshot. "Anything?"
"Yes," said Doris, gravely. "I did. He told us enough to make me sure I'm right—almost sure, that is. Only one thing I can't seem to fit into it. I think Miss Camilla has had trouble in her family—awful trouble somewhere, probably connected with that brother who disappeared so mysteriously. Perhaps he did something wrong—stole or embezzled money or forged checks or something, and had to hide away, probably in that cave. And she knew all about it and kept him there till he could escape after the trouble blew over. And, if that's the case, Sally—" she stopped impressively for a second, "we ought never to enter that cave again or do another thing toward trying to find out the secret. It would n't be fair to Miss Camilla."
"Oh—Doris!" was Sally's protesting cry as she received this blow to all her treasure-hunting hopes.
"Wait a moment, though," went on Doris. "There's just one thing that makes me think I might be mistaken. It's that paper. I just can't seem to make it fit into things anywhere, if this is so. And just because it does n't seem to fit, I think we might give that plan of ours one try—saw out the corners of the cave, as we thought, and see if we find anything hidden there. If we don't, then the smuggler theory is all wrong, and the other right, and we 'll never go near it again. Do you agree?"
Sally did, most emphatically.
"Then we 'll go up to-morrow morning and try it out."
They set out on the following morning. Elaborate preparations had been made for the undertaking; and so that they might have ample time undisturbed, Doris had begged her mother to allow her to picnic for the day with Sally and not come back to the hotel for luncheon. As Mrs. Craig had come to have quite a high opinion of Sally, her judgment and knowledge of the river and vicinity, she felt no hesitation in trusting Doris's safety to her.
Sally had provided the sandwiches, and Doris was armed with fruit and candy and books to amuse Genevieve. In the bow of the boat, Sally had stowed away a number of tools borrowed from her father's boat-house. Altogether, the two girls felt as excited and mysterious and adventurous as could well be imagined.
"I wish we could have left Genevieve at home," whispered Sally, as they were embarking. "But there's no one to take care of her for all day, so of course it was impossible. But I'm afraid she's going to get awfully tired and restless while we 're working."
"Oh, never you fear!" Doris encouraged her. "I 've brought a few new picture books and we 'll manage to keep her amused somehow."
"CAPTAIN CARTER LAUNCHED INTO A HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF MISS CAMILLA ROUNDTREE"
Once established in the cave, and Genevieve settled with a hook, the girls set to work in earnest.
"I'm glad I thought to bring a dozen more candles," said Sally. "We were down to the end of the last one. Now shall we begin on that corner at the extreme right hand away from the door? That's the likeliest place. I 'll measure a space around it twenty-one inches square."
She measured off the space on the floor carefully with a folding ruler, while Doris stood over her, watching with critical eyes. Then, having drawn the lines with a piece of chalk, Sally proceeded to begin on the sawing operation with one of her father's old and somewhat rusty saws.
It was a heartbreakingly slow operation. Turn and turn about they worked away, encouraging each other with cheering remarks. The planks of the old Anne Arundel were very thick and astonishingly tough. At the end of an hour they had but one side of the square sawn through, and Genevieve was beginning to grow fractious. Then they planned it that, while one worked, the other should amuse the youngest member of the party by talking, singing, and showing pictures to her.
This worked well for a time, and a second side at last was completed. By the time they reached the third, however, Genevieve flatly refused to remain in the cave another moment, so it was agreed that one of them should take her outside while the other remained within and sawed. This proved by far the best solution yet, as Genevieve very shortly fell asleep on the warm pine-needles. They covered her with a shawl, and then both went back to the undertaking, of which they were now, unconfessedly, very weary.
It was shortly after the noon hour when the saw made its way through the fourth side of the square. In a hush of breathless expectation, they lifted the piece of timber, prepared for—who could tell what wondrous secret beneath it?
The space it left was absolutely empty of the slightest suggestion of anything remarkable. It revealed the sandy soil of the embankment into which the cave was dug, and nothing else whatever. The disgusted silence that followed, Doris was the first to break.
"Of course, something may be buried down here, but I doubt it awfully. I'm sure we'd have seen some sign of it, if this had been the right corner. However, give me that trowel, Sally, and we 'll dig down a way." She dug for almost a foot into the damp sand, and finally gave it up.
"How could any one go on digging down in the space of only twenty-one inches?" she exclaimed in despair. "If one were to dig at all, the space ought to be much larger. No, this very plainly is n't the right corner. Let's go outside and eat our lunch, and then, if we have any courage left, we can come back and begin on another corner. Personally, I feel as if I should scream if I had to put my hand to that old saw again."
But a hearty luncheon and, after it, a half-hour of idling in the sunlight above ground, served to restore their courage and determination. Sally was positive that the corner diagonally opposite was the one most likely to yield results, and Doris was inclined to agree with her. Genevieve, however, flatly refused to re-enter the cave, so they were forced to adopt the scheme of the morning, one remaining always outdoors with her, as they did not dare let her roam around by herself. Sally volunteered to take the first shift at the sawing, and after they had measured off the twenty-one inch square in the opposite corner she set to work, while Doris stayed outside with Genevieve.
Seated with a picture-book open on her lap, and Genevieve cuddled close by her side, she was suddenly startled by a muffled, excited cry from within the cave. Obviously, something had happened. Springing up, she hurried inside, Genevieve trailing after her. She beheld Sally standing in the middle of the cave, candle in hand, dishevelled and excited, pointing to the side near which she had been working.
"Look, look!" she cried. "What did I tell you?" Doris looked, expecting to see something about the floor in the corner to verify their surmises, the sight that met her eyes was as different as possible from that.
A part of the wall of the cave, three feet in width and reaching from top to bottom, had opened and swung outward, like a door on its hinges.
"What is it?" she breathed, in a tone of real awe.
"It's a door, just as it looks!" explained Sally, "and we never even guessed it was there. I happened to be leaning against that part of the wall as I sawed, balancing myself against it, and sometimes pushing pretty hard. All of a sudden it gave way, and swung out like that, and I almost tumbled in. I was so astonished I hardly knew what had happened."
"But what's behind it?" cried Doris, snatching the candle and hurrying forward to investigate. They peered together into the blackness back of the newly revealed door, the candle held high above their heads.
"Why, it's a tunnel!" exclaimed Sally. "A great, long tunnel winding away. I can't even see how far it goes. Did you ever?"
The two girls stood looking at each other and at the opening in a maze of incredulous speculation. Suddenly Sally uttered a satisfied cry.
"I know! I know, now! We never could think where all the rest of the wood from the Anne Arundel went. It's right here." It was evidently true. The tunnel had been lined, top and bottom and often at the sides, with the same planking that had lined the cave, and at intervals there were stout posts supporting the roof of it. Well and solidly had it been constructed in that long-ago period, else it would never have remained intact so many years.
"Doris," said Sally presently, "where do you suppose this leads to?"
"I have n't the faintest idea," replied her friend, "except that it probably leads to the treasure, or the secret, or whatever it is. That much I'm certain of now."
"So am I," agreed Sally; "but here's the important thing—are we to go in there and find it?"
Doris shrank back an instant. "Oh, I don't know!" she faltered. "I'm not sure whether I dare to—or whether Mother would allow me to—if she knew. It—it might be dangerous. Something might give way and bury us alive."
"Well, I 'll tell you what I 'll do," announced Sally courageously. "I 'll take a candle and go in a way by myself and see what it's like. You stay here with Genevieve, and I 'll keep calling back to you, so you need n't worry about me." Before Doris could argue the question with her, she lighted another candle and stepped bravely into the gloom.
Doris, at the opening, watched her progress nervously, till a turn in the tunnel hid her from sight.
"Oh, Sally, do come back!" she called. "I can't stand this suspense."
"I'm all right," Sally shouted back. "After that turn it goes on straight for the longest way. I can't see the end. But it's perfectly safe. the planks are as strong as iron yet. There is n't a sign of a cave-in. I'm coming back in a moment." She presently reappeared.
"Look here," she demanded, facing her companion. "Are you game to come with me? We can bring Genevieve along. It's perfectly safe. If you 're not, you can stay here with her and I 'll go by myself. I'm determined to see the end of this."
Her resolution fired Doris. After all, it could not be so very dangerous, since the tunnel seemed in such good repair. Forgetting all else in her enthusiasm, she hastily consented.
"We must take plenty of candles and matches," declared Sally. "We would n't want to be left in the dark in there. It's lucky I brought a lot to-day. You Genevieve, you behave yourself and come along like a good girl, and we 'll buy you some lollypops when we get back home."
Genevieve was plainly reluctant to add her presence to the undertaking, but, neither, on the other hand, did she wish to be left behind, so she followed disapprovingly.
Each with a candle lit, they stepped down from the floor of the cave and gingerly progressed along the narrow way. Doris determinedly turned her eyes from the slugs and snails and strange insects that could be seen on the ancient planking, and kept them fastened on Sally's back as she led the way. On and on they went, silent, awe-stricken, and wondering. Genevieve whimpered and clung to Doris's skirts, but no one paid any attention to her, so she was forced to follow on, willy-nilly.
So far did this strange, underground passage proceed, that Doris half-whispered: "Is it never going to end, Sally? Ought we to venture any further?"
"I'm going to the end!" announced Sally, stubbornly. "You can go back if you like."
And they all went on again in silence.
At length it was evident that the end was in sight, for the way was suddenly blocked by a stone wall, apparently, directly across the passage. They all drew a long breath and approached to examine it more closely. It was unmistakably a wall of stones, cemented like the foundation of a house, and beyond it they could not proceed.
"What are we going to do now?" demanded Doris.
"The treasure must be here," said Sally, "and I 've found one thing that opened when you pushed against it. May be this is another. Let's try. Perhaps it's behind one of these stones. Look! the plaster seems to be loose around these in the middle." She thrust the weight of her strong young arm against it, directing it at the middle stone of three large ones, but without avail. They never moved the fraction of an inch. Then she began to push all along the sides where the plaster seemed loose. At last she threw her whole weight against it—and was rewarded.
The three stones swung round, as on a pivot, revealing a space only large enough to crawl through with considerable squeezing.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" she shouted. "What did I tell you, Doris? There's something else behind here,—another cave, I guess. I'm going through. Are you going to follow?"
Handing her candle to Doris, she scrambled through the narrow opening. And Doris, now determined to stick at nothing, set both candles on the ground, and pushed the struggling and resisting Genevieve in next. After that, she passed in the candles to Sally, who held them while Doris clambered in herself.
And once safely within, they stood and stared about them.
"Why, Sally!" suddenly breathed Doris, "this is n't a cave. It's a cellar! Don't you see all the household things lying around? Garden tools, and vegetables, and—and all that? Where in the world can we be?"
A great light suddenly dawned on her. "Sally Carter, what did I tell you? This cellar is Miss Camilla's. I know it. I'm certain of it. There's no other house any where near Slipper Point. I told you she knew about that cave!"
Sally listened, open-mouthed. "It can't be!" she faltered. "I'm sure we did n't come in that direction at all."
"You can't tell how you 're going—underground," retorted Doris. "Remember, the tunnel made a turn, too. Oh, Sally! Let's go back at once, before anything is discovered, and never, never let Miss Camilla or any one know what we 've found. It's none of our business."
Sally, now convinced, was about to assent, when Genevieve suddenly broke forth.
"I won't go back! I won't go back—in that dark place!" she announced, at the top of her lungs.
"Oh, stop her!" whispered Doris. "Do stop her, or Miss Camilla may hear." Sally stifled her resisting sister by the simple process of placing her hand forcibly over her mouth—but it was too late. A door opened at the top of a flight of steps, and Miss Camilla's astounded face appeared in the opening.
"What is it? Who is it?" she called, obviously frightened to death herself at this unprecedented intrusion.
Huddled in a corner, they all shrank back for a moment, then Doris stepped forward.
'It's only ourselves. Miss Camilla," she announced. "We have done a very dreadful thing, and we had n't any right to do it. But, if you 'll let us come upstairs, we 'll explain it all, and beg your pardon, and promise never to speak of it or even think of it again."
She led the others up the cellar steps, and into Miss Camilla's tiny, tidy kitchen. Here, still standing, she explained the whole situation to that lady, who was still too overcome with astonishment to utter a word. And she ended her explanation thus:
"So you see, we did n't have the slightest idea we were going to end at this house. But, all the same, we sort of felt that this cave was a secret of yours and that we really had n't any right to be interfering with it. But won't you please forgive us, this time, Miss Camilla? And we 'll really try to forget that it ever existed."
And then Miss Camilla suddenly found words. "My dear children," she stuttered, "I—I really don't know what you 're talking about. I have n't the faintest idea what this all means. I never knew till this minute that there was anything like a cave or a tunnel connected with this house!"
And in the astounded silence that followed, the three stood gaping, open-mouthed, at each other.