“Yes, I have a notion to go there tonight and watch. It would be fun to see if that man comes back.”
“Fun!” Cara snorted. “I have other ideas of amusement. Count me out!”
“Well, if you won’t come, I suppose I can get Jane or Enid,” Madge said shrewdly.
Cara visibly wavered. She had no desire to go near the Swenster mansion again, but neither could she bear to have Enid or Jane sharing in an adventure which was hers for the taking.
“All right,” she gave in. “If I can get away, I’ll come.”
“Meet me at the pine grove at nine o’clock,” Madge directed, as she shifted gears. “And don’t fail to come. Something exciting may break!”
Nine o’clock found Madge waiting at the pine grove which adjoined the Swenster Mansion. She stationed herself near a street lamp where Cara could not fail to see her. Ten minutes elapsed, then fifteen.
Glancing impatiently at her watch, Madge decided it was useless to wait longer for her friend. Slowly she walked on toward the mansion.
Suddenly she heard a shout from behind, and turned to see Cara running after her. She was out of breath by the time she caught up.
“Sorry to be so late,” she apologized. “I was afraid I’d not get away at all. Mother and Dad were going to an ice cream social and didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t go along. I’ll not dare stay out later than eleven.”
“Neither will I. Let’s hope something interesting happens before that.”
“Just what do you expect?”
“I don’t really expect anything, but I’d like very much to learn the identity of your strange ghost.”
The girls slipped into a side street leading to the rear of the mansion. They found the gate locked and since they were unable to work the trick catch, were forced to climb over again.
Under the soft, weird light of the moon, the Swenster mansion looked far different than by daylight. Even Madge was willing to admit there was something sinister about the place.
“I wonder if the spade is still here?” she thought aloud.
They found it under the lilac bush, but not in the exact place where they had left it on the previous visit.
“Someone has used it again!” Madge exclaimed. “Oh, I wish we had watched last night!”
“I’m glad we didn’t,” Cara said nervously. “I’m not keen on watching tonight either.”
Madge paid not the slightest attention to her friend’s gentle hints that they leave. She surveyed the garden, looking for a suitable hiding place. A huge rhododendron bush offered a possibility and she went over to examine it.
“This will serve nicely,” she decided. “We’ll be well hidden, and if necessary we can probably slip out the front way without being seen by anyone in the garden.”
Cara allowed herself to be dragged under the rhododendron although secretly she felt that it was a silly and undignified thing to do. She sank down on the ground gingerly, fearing to soil her silk frock.
“Better make yourself comfortable,” Madge advised cheerfully. “We’re likely to be here a long time.”
The prediction came true with a vengeance. Minutes dragged like hours. The girls talked for a time, but soon exhausted all topics of conversation. Their limbs became cramped and they shifted from one position to another. Cara yawned several times and once dozed off for a few minutes.
“Isn’t it most eleven?” she asked hopefully. “I must be home by that time.”
Madge looked at her watch which she could plainly see under the bright moonlight.
“We’ve been here only a little more than an hour,” she informed. “It’s too early to go home yet.”
Cara sighed and shifted to a new position. The adventure had lost all its original thrill and terror. It was deadly monotonous to lie there watching for something which likely never would come. Madge cheered her friend with good natured “kidding,” but she too was beginning to wonder if they had not wasted the evening.
“Let’s go home,” Cara said presently. “I don’t care what time it is, I’ve had about enough. Even the ice cream social would have been more fun than this. I’ll be surprised if I can walk in the morning—every muscle in my poor body is lame.”
“All right,” Madge gave in reluctantly. “I suppose we may as well call it a night. Not much chance—” she broke off, grasping Cara by the hand. “Look!” she whispered tensely. “Someoneiscoming!”
Cara turned her head to gaze toward the rear gate. Cold chills raced down her spine. A man was standing at the fence, and she was certain it was the same person she had seen on the night of the initiation. He wore a white sweater which evidently had been the one thing that had impressed her before. At the time she had been so frightened that it had registered upon her mind as “something white” and she had jumped to the conclusion that a ghost was abroad.
The man looked quickly about in all directions, then unfastened the gate and entered the yard.
“He’s been here before all right,” Cara whispered, “or he wouldn’t know how to get that gate open.”
“Sh!” Madge warned.
She had not taken her eyes from the man. He walked directly to the lilac bush and picked up the spade. He was still too far away for her to see his face plainly.
The girls watched breathlessly as he walked slowly into the garden, pausing a short distance from the sundial. They saw him gaze thoughtfully about, and then he began to turn up the earth with his spade.
“He’s not digging where he did before,” Cara whispered. “I wish he would turn this way so we could see his face.”
Again Madge warned her friend to be silent, and they crouched motionless, watching, for perhaps ten minutes the man spaded steadily. Then with an exclamation of impatience, he refilled the hole.
“Is he crazy?” Cara whispered, forgetting the admonition to remain silent.
Madge shook her head to show that the man’s actions were a complete mystery to her.
The man rested a few minutes, and with his back still toward the rhododendron bush, then began to excavate another hole, only a few feet from the first one.
“He’s searching for something,” Madge thought. “But what in the world does he expect to find?”
She was very curious to learn the identity of the stranger and waited patiently until he turned toward her. The light shone full on his face. She had never seen him before.
Madge glanced questioningly at her chum. Cara shook her head in bewilderment. The man was a stranger to her also.
It was growing late and in spite of their keen desire to learn all there was to know, the girls dared remain no longer. They decided to wait until the man’s back was turned and attempt to slip around to the front of the house.
“If we’re caught, it may not be so nice,” Cara whispered nervously.
They awaited their chance and softly crept from under the bush. Scarcely had they emerged than the man straightened, dropping his spade. It was too late to retreat. The girls could only freeze themselves against the foliage, praying that they would not be seen. And at that moment, he turned and looked directly toward the rhododendron bush!
Madge and Cara felt certain their presence in the garden had been noted, but to their relief, the man looked away again. He rested briefly, then picked up his spade and resumed digging.
“Now!” Madge whispered the instant his back had turned.
They moved noiselessly along the vine-covered wall until they were hidden behind the house.
“I surely thought we were caught that time,” Cara said nervously. “What can he be after anyway?”
“I wish I knew. Just our luck to have to rush home at the exciting time! He may not come here again.”
The front gate had been locked with padlock and chain, but the girls found a small opening in the side fence and slipped through. They breathed easier as they emerged on the street. It was after eleven o’clock so they ran nearly all the way to their homes.
Madge did not see her friend the following day which was Sunday. In spite of her vigorous protest, she was herded into a neighbor’s car and taken on a picnic which Mr. and Mrs. Brady had promised to attend earlier in the week. School opened as usual on Monday, but Cara failed to appear, and upon calling at the Wayne home that evening, Madge found her ill in bed with a cold.
“I must have caught it from sitting so long on the ground at the Swenster Mansion,” Cara declared. “I hope you’re not going there again tonight.”
Madge had thought that she might, but with Cara unable to accompany her, it scarcely seemed fair. Then too, the old house at night was not the most pleasant place to be alone. She readily promised her friend the little adventure would be postponed.
Cara came to school the following day but her cold had left her in no mood to expose herself to chilling night air. As several days elapsed, Madge’s own interest in the mansion waned.
And then on Saturday morning as she was walking to the store for a pound of sugar which Mrs. Brady had forgotten to order, she was startled to observe that the front gate of the Swenster Mansion stood ajar.
“That padlock didn’t come off by itself,” she thought alertly.
The temptation to investigate was too great to resist. She paused at the gate and looked inside the grounds. To her further amazement, she saw the front door open and a workman was removing boards from the downstairs windows.
“Good morning!” said a pleasant voice.
Madge jumped. Turning, she saw a middle-aged, white-haired lady, standing by a mock orange bush slightly to the left of the gate. She was regarding Madge with a kindly smile.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” the latter apologized in embarrassment. “I didn’t know anyone was at home. I—”
“I don’t wonder at your interest in the place,” the lady came quickly to her rescue. “The house has been closed for so many years that it must be a town curiosity. Won’t you come in?”
“Oh, I think not,” Madge murmured, yet aching to do that very thing. “I don’t like to intrude.”
“It will be no intrusion I assure you,” the other responded warmly. “I was wishing only a moment ago that someone would drop in to visit me. I suppose all my old friends are gone by this time.”
She sighed, and Madge saw an expression akin to sorrow cross her face. Immediately she smiled again and opened the gate wider.
“Do come in. The house and grounds are in frightful condition but within a few days I hope to have them in better shape. Perhaps you will help me with suggestions?”
Madge could not resist such an appeal. Actually, she desired nothing more than an opportunity to talk with the woman, perhaps learning what had brought her to Claymore.
“I’d love to come in,” she smiled, passing through the gate, “but I’m not very good at suggestions about gardening. You’re—you’re the owner, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am Agatha Swenster.”
Madge introduced herself. Miss Swenster knew how to place her at ease, and soon she lost all feeling of embarrassment. They wandered slowly about the ruined garden. Mrs. Swenster pointed out various things which she planned to have done.
“It must seem nice to be coming back to your old home,” Madge commented politely.
“Yes, in a way it does. A great many memories are associated with this house—some very pleasant, others less so. Now that I am here again I should like to remain. However, I fear it is impossible. I am merely putting the place in order before I sell it.”
Madge’s face disclosed her disappointment. She could not imagine the old mansion in the hands of a ruthless, modern owner who might tear down the shutters, do away with the old-fashioned garden and relandscape the grounds. It was definitely a house of the past, and Miss Swenster fitted perfectly into the picture.
“I’m not anxious to sell,” the owner confessed, “but I have no choice. I plan to hold an auction sale in a few weeks. The house is furnished with really lovely pieces of furniture. I should like to have you see my dishes sometime before the sale.”
“What a shame to auction off such valued possessions,” Madge said with honest regret. “Aren’t you holding anything back?”
“Very little. You see, I must raise money and this house is all I have left.”
Apparently realizing that she had paraded her personal affairs, Miss Swenster quickly changed the subject. They continued their tour of the garden, pausing near the sundial. Madge ventured to ask if it had been manufactured special for the Swenster Mansion.
“No, we made it ourselves,” she explained. “Father worked out the plans before his death, and an old Negro servant did the actual work later.”
She moved hurriedly on, as though not wishing to dwell upon a subject which brought back unhappy associations.
It had occurred to Madge to speak of the recent excavations which had been going on in the garden but after a moment’s consideration she decided to allow the matter to go unmentioned.
She was eager to learn if the man Miss Swenster had engaged to assist with the outside work was the same person she and Cara had observed during their prior visit to the mansion. As Miss Swenster paused to issue orders in regard to trimming the hedge, she had ample opportunity to study the workman’s face. She was certain he was not the man she had seen digging in the garden.
“The plot thickens,” she thought with quickening interest. “I’ll wager Miss Swenster doesn’t know any more about that digging than I do. Perhaps if I get a little better acquainted, I’ll ask her about it.”
Madge readily accepted an invitation to view the inside of the house. Nothing was in order and dust was everywhere. Miss Swenster lifted several white sheets to disclose that they protected really fine mahogany and oak pieces. She did not offer to show Madge the upstairs.
“You see, I have my work cut out for me,” she smiled. “I must go over everything, sort out the pieces I mean to keep, and get things generally in order before the auction.”
“If you need a woman to help you, I know of an excellent one,” Madge offered. “She did work for Aunt Maude.”
She noticed Miss Swenster’s embarrassed face and realized that she had been tactless.
“I’d like to hire help but I’m afraid I can’t afford it,” Miss Swenster said quietly. “I am quite strong and will be able to manage alone.”
Madge thought Miss Swenster looked frail and scarcely able to do heavy housework. She was tempted to offer her own services gratis but realized that unless she were very diplomatic, Miss Swenster would be certain to refuse.
“I’ll find some way to help her with the work,” she told herself as she departed a few minutes later. “I know Cara will be glad to do what she can too. And if we should happen to learn something pertaining to the lost Swenster pearls—well, there’s no harm in killing two birds with one stone!”
In the end Madge decided that the easiest way to help Miss Swenster would be to disregard propriety and descend boldly upon her. Accordingly, the next morning, which was a school holiday, she and Cara Wayne dressed in their old clothes and armed with brooms and dust cloths, presented themselves at the back door of the mansion.
“We’re here to help,” they announced blithely. “Please say we may, for we want an excuse to see your dishes and the lovely heirlooms.”
They were not certain how this blunt approach would be received, but after the first look of astonishment, Miss Swenster smiled.
“Why, how very thoughtful of you both. I’ll be delighted to have you help. Goodness knows there is enough to be done.”
They followed her inside. Miss Swenster had straightened the living room but had made no attempt to put other rooms to rights. The girls attacked the work with vigor. It progressed slowly for there was a great deal to be done and they frequently stopped to examine some object which struck their fancy.
“It’s a shame this house has to be sold,” Cara declared to her chum. “Miss Swenster doesn’t say much about it but you can tell it makes her fairly sick to think of it.”
“I know,” Madge agreed in an undertone. “I wish we could really do something for her, but I’m afraid we can’t.”
It was impossible for the girls to work side by side with Miss Swenster and not learn more of her fine character and interesting history. Soon they caught themselves telling her about Skull and Crossbones and Cara’s weird experience in connection with the midnight initiation. Miss Swenster expressed an interest in the secret society and did not appear in the least annoyed because they had trespassed. Nor did she seem disturbed to learn of the stranger who prowled about the garden.
“I have no idea who it could have been,” she declared. “Perhaps it was only a tramp.”
“He was much too well dressed for that,” Madge returned. “We thought possibly he might be digging for some treasure that had been hidden on the estate.”
Miss Swenster studied the girls quizzically. Her eyes twinkled.
“Dear me, I only wish there were a lost treasure! I am afraid you girls have been listening to wild stories. The Swensters were never as wealthy as townfolks thought.”
“Then it wasn’t true about the pearl necklace?” Cara asked in disappointment.
“I’m not sure. I never saw the pearls myself, but according to the family legend, they did exist. I suppose you know the story?”
The girls shook their heads, waiting eagerly. At last they were to hear the true account of what became of the famous pearls!
“I’m not sure that I believe this myself,” Miss Swenster warned, “but at least the story was handed down to me. As you may know, the pearls were willed to my mother, Rose Swenster. That was her maiden name, of course. She married young and was divorced soon after my birth. She took back her maiden name and I always used it too.
“But to return to the pearls. My mother never had them. Her sister, Florence, felt that she had been cheated in the will. She was so beside herself that she actually hid the pearls, saying that if she could not have them, they should never be worn by my mother.”
“How mean!” Cara exclaimed.
“Perhaps the story isn’t true,” Miss Swenster smiled. “My mother never mentioned the pearls to me. I learned the tale from the nursemaid who cared for me after Mother’s death.”
“And Florence never told where she hid the pearls?” Madge probed.
“No, a short time later she fell ill. When she realized she could not get well, she tried to tell what she had done with the pearls, but failed.”
“No one had the slightest hint what became of them?” Cara questioned.
“According to the story, I believe an old Negro caretaker was supposed to know something about it. His name was George Andrew Jackson. He must have been seventy at the time Florence died. At any rate he was very forgetful and either would not or could not tell what became of the pearls.”
“Was a search never made?” Madge inquired.
“Oh, dear me, yes. Every inch of the house was gone over and the grounds were carefully searched. As a child, I used to think perhaps I could restore the Swenster fortunes. ‘Hunt the pearls’ was our favorite game.”
It struck Madge and Cara that their interest in the lost necklace was not very original. They harbored secret hopes of locating the pearls and had even been guilty of trying to connect Miss Swenster’s loss with the mysterious excavations of the midnight prowler. They were unwilling to believe that the story was pure legend. And the fact that two generations of Swensters had failed to recover the pearls, could not entirely daunt them.
“I had forgotten the matter until you girls reminded me of it,” Miss Swenster remarked. “Years ago, when my John was a little boy—”
She broke off, coloring. Then, apparently thinking that some explanation was expected, she finished lamely:
“John was my adopted son. As a boy, he was interested in the pearls too.”
It was the first time she had mentioned the name of her son. The girls realized that Miss Swenster had not intended to speak of him. The words had slipped out unbidden. Even to think of him seemed to distress her, for she quickly changed the subject.
The girls remained for luncheon, helping Miss Swenster prepare it. They worked through to four o’clock and as they left for their homes, asked if they might come again.
“Of course,” she assured them, “although I can’t see what fun you get out of working. If I could pay you—”
The girls hastily explained that they did not want pay. They really had enjoyed the day for it was fun to browse about the old mansion.
“And do you mind if we look around for those pearls?” Madge inquired. “In sorting out things we might stumble upon them.”
Miss Swenster smiled at her enthusiasm.
“Search anywhere you wish, but don’t be too disappointed if you fail.”
The girls had a great deal to talk over as they walked slowly toward their homes. They were very tired but the day had been a highly satisfactory one. The prospect of roaming over the old mansion at will was very alluring. Already Madge had several places in mind where she thought possibly they might find the missing pearls.
“How fine it would be if we could find the necklace before the mansion is sold,” Cara mused. “Then Miss Swenster could go on living there.”
“Perhaps she wouldn’t care to. When she left here eight years ago, she must have had a reason other than financial for closing up the house. I suppose it was on account of her adopted son.”
“What do you imagine he did that turned her against him?”
“I have no idea. He must have done something disgraceful. I’d like to know what it was, but of course, we must never ask.”
The girls had every intention of returning to the old mansion the next night after school. In planning their search for the missing pearls, they did not overlook the garden.
“I feel there’s something valuable buried near the fountain, or the sundial,” Madge declared. “It may not be the pearls but at least it’s worth investigating. So tomorrow bring your father’s spade and we’ll do a little digging of our own!”
It was only natural that Madge and Cara, sharing their delightful secret, should seek each other’s company, somewhat to the exclusion of other friends. They did not mean to be aloof, but always there were many private matters which they wished to discuss. In school they passed a great many notes and one of these, which read: “Did you get the spade?” was accidentally intercepted by Enid Burnett who thought it intended for her. The message caused her considerable wonderment. At recess she managed to corner Madge.
“What on earth are you two up to?” she demanded suspiciously. “Have you gone in for gardening?”
“Oh, in a way,” Madge evaded.
Until they had a real story to relate, she and Cara preferred to keep the other members of Skull and Crossbones in the dark concerning their activities. To tell their friends immediately might subject them to an unmerciful teasing. Nevertheless, Enid and Jane were not to be hoodwinked so easily. They guessed that they were being excluded from some secret, and as school was dismissed, stationed themselves at the front door ready to waylay their friends.
Madge and Cara had been anticipating such a move, and quietly slipped out the back way.
“A secret isn’t a secret if too many are in on it,” Madge defended their action. “We can tell them later on, but for a few days let’s keep it to ourselves.”
Cara had hidden the spade in the high weeds of a vacant lot not far from the Swenster mansion. They rescued it and proceeded to their destination, not at all disturbed by the curious stares focused upon them by persons they met on the street.
After securing permission from Miss Swenster, they went immediately to the garden. They took turns digging, investigating all the filled holes near the fountain and sundial. Finding nothing, they carefully replaced all soil turned up.
“Well, you can’t make me think that man was digging just for the exercise,” Madge fretted.
“Perhaps he found what he was after,” Cara suggested pessimistically. “In that case we’re only wasting our time.”
Miss Swenster presently came out to watch the girls.
“Such ambition!” she marveled. “When you have finished, I want you to come inside and have some of the chocolate cake I baked this afternoon.”
After another fifteen minutes had elapsed, the girls decided they were doing entirely too much damage to the garden, and abandoned their project for the day. After such backbreaking work it was pleasant to sit in the comfortable living room, sipping hot chocolate and nibbling at Miss Swenster’s delicious cake.
“Nearly all the work is done now except that I must pack small articles in boxes,” their hostess told them. “The dishes must be sorted too.” She sighed. “It hurts to see everything go but I do hope the auction will be well attended.”
Madge and Cara eagerly offered to help with the packing, and after a polite protest, Miss Swenster agreed that they might. It was too late to work that afternoon but they promised to appear early Saturday morning.
The two intervening days passed slowly. At nine o’clock on the morning of the third, the girls presented themselves again at the mansion. They found Miss Swenster sorting out old photographs.
“It’s very trying to decide which ones I must throw away,” she told them. “I’d like to save them all but I can’t.”
The girls expressed interest in the photographs and Miss Swenster showed them the picture of her mother, and of Florence Swenster. In looking at the youthful, sweet faces of the two sisters, it was difficult for Madge and Cara to realize that they could ever have been jealous rivals. They rapidly ran through the other photos, laughing at ridiculous poses or dresses that were amazingly old fashioned.
After they had finished looking at pictures, they set to work packing dishes. It gave them a genuine thrill to handle the choice pieces of porcelain and china.
“I haven’t done anything to the study yet,” Miss Swenster told them a little later. “I must get at that room as soon as we finish the dishes.”
Presently she went upstairs on an errand. Before she returned, the girls packed the last dish. The study door was open and after waiting a few minutes they decided to see what must be done there.
They saw that the walls were lined with books which required packing. Coverings had not been removed from the furniture.
“Look!” Madge exclaimed suddenly.
Cara turned to see her chum regarding an object above the old secretary. It was a picture, and most strangely, its face was turned toward the wall!
“What do you make of that?” Madge whispered. “The other pictures aren’t this way.”
“Let’s see what it is!”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t.”
However, the temptation was too great. Cara turned the picture over. A handsome young boy with round, full cheeks, twinkling eyes and a cropped head of golden curly hair, gazed down from the frame.
“Who can it be?” Cara murmured.
Before Madge could reply, they heard footsteps on the stairway. A moment later, Miss Swenster entered the study.
“All through with the dishes?” she asked cheerfully. “My, but you are fast—” Her voice trailed off and her entire body seemed to stiffen. She had noticed the picture on the wall.
She murmured something which the girls did not catch. Crossing the room, she removed the picture from its hook, and carried it from the study. The girls heard her mounting the stairs.
For a moment they were too dumbfounded to speak. Then Madge exclaimed:
“That’s what we get for our ill bred curiosity! We’ve offended her terribly. It must have been her son.”
Cara nodded miserably.
“The only thing we can do is to apologize.”
They spent an unhappy fifteen minutes waiting for Miss Swenster to return. Madge was on the verge of suggesting that it might be better for them to leave, when she appeared. She smiled brightly as if nothing had happened, but they could see she had been crying.
“We’re terribly sorry,” Madge began contritely. “We didn’t mean to be prying. It was simply inexcusable of us to touch the picture.”
“I understand. It was nothing you did that affected me. Please, if you don’t mind, let’s not mention it again.”
Miss Swenster was especially nice to the girls after that but the incident could not be forgotten in an instant. She made no further mention of cleaning the study and Madge and Cara carefully avoided the subject. They could tell that Miss Swenster was still upset. A half hour later they made an excuse for leaving.
“Do come again,” she urged. “I know I’ve been very inhospitable. If you don’t come back I’ll feel that I’ve driven you away.”
The girls were rather silent as they walked thoughtfully along the street. It was as if a measure of Miss Swenster’s unhappiness had fallen upon their shoulders.
“I feel so sorry for her,” Madge said after a time. “She’s made an idol of that boy. And he’s brought her nothing but unhappiness.”
Cara glanced quickly at her friend.
“Do you know that for sure?”
Madge nodded.
“Yes, I intended to tell you the first thing today, but it slipped my mind. I found out through Uncle George what her son had done to disgrace the family. And when you hear the story, you’ll not blame Miss Swenster for turning his face to the wall!”
The girls had reached the Wayne home. It was nearly supper time but Cara would not allow Madge to escape without relating all there was to know concerning Miss Swenster’s adopted son. They sat down on the front steps.
“Last night I asked Uncle George if he knew why John Swenster left town,” Madge explained. “Of course, it was a wild shot in the dark, for I never dreamed he could tell me. Well, it seems he was one of the few persons in Claymore who really knew the inside story.”
“What luck! Tell me what he said.”
“It seems that the boy never did amount to a great deal. He must have had bad heredity. Anyway, Miss Swenster took him from an orphan’s home. She gave him every advantage, sending him away to school and later trying to establish him in business.”
“That’s probably where a lot of her money went,” Cara observed sagely.
“Yes, she wasted plenty on him. He never appreciated it. He was always getting into one scrape or another. Then one day he up and forged a check for over a thousand dollars! Uncle George was a director in the First National bank where the matter came up. That’s how he happened to know all about it.”
Cara looked aghast at the news.
“And did they send him to prison?”
“No, Miss Swenster offered to pay the amount of the forged check, and the person whose name had been used, agreed not to prosecute. Her son left town and soon after that Miss Swenster closed up the old mansion.”
“I suppose it broke her heart to have him turn out so badly,” Cara mused. “And when she was having financial troubles of her own it must have been hard for her to raise the money.”
“Yes, it was unfortunate all around,” Madge agreed, getting up from the steps. “I must dash home now or I’ll be late for supper. See you tomorrow.”
The girls did not go to the Swenster mansion the following day or the next. Their evenings were spent cramming for month-end examinations which always were a trial, even to Madge who stood high in her classes.
Then one day, the girls noticed a brief advertisement in the daily paper, announcing that on the tenth of October, the Swenster mansion and all its furniture would be sold at public auction. It reminded them that if they intended to make another search for the missing pearls, they must be about it.
Saturday morning found them on their way to the mansion. It was a crisp, fall day, the first really cold one of the season. Madge’s eyes were very bright and she was so gay that she fairly skipped along the street.
“What ails you?” Cara demanded. Then as she noticed a white envelope protruding from her friend’s sweater pocket: “Ha! I’ll bet a cent it’s from that ranger of yours up at Loon Lake! He writes you twice a week, doesn’t he?”
“He does not!” Madge denied, blushing furiously. “Jack has more important things to do than write letters.”
“Oh, you needn’t pretend, Madge Sterling. You know you like him. That’s why you’ll not even look at any of the boys here in Claymore.”
“Certainly I like Jack. Why shouldn’t I? He’s a good friend and—”
She looked somewhat nettled as Cara burst forth in a gale of exaggerated laughter.
“All right, laugh! But unless I’m most horribly mistaken I saw you in Rexall’s Drug Store last night lapping up a soda and listening moon-eyed while Fred King gave a running report of last week’s football game. You—who can’t be dragged near the stadium!”
“I only try to be a polite listener,” Cara said cheerfully. “Let’s call it quits.”
They smiled, and linking arms, hurried on to the mansion. Miss Swenster was delighted to see them again for she had begun to fear that she had offended them during their last visit.
“I’m so glad you came,” she greeted them. “After today, everything will be turned topsy-turvy since the furniture must be arranged for the sale.”
Miss Swenster spoke cheerfully of the approaching auction, but the girls realized that she was hiding her real feelings. In little ways, more by look and gesture than by words, she had disclosed that she disliked to see her old home sold.
There really was no immediate work to be done save dusting, which Miss Swenster declared unnecessary. However, the girls armed themselves with dust cloths and roamed about over the house.
“We’ll do more looking than dusting,” Madge assured Miss Swenster. “This may be our last chance to search for the pearls. Wouldn’t it be grand if we found them?”
“It would be marvelous! But I really have no faith that you’ll locate them. As I said before, I fear you’re searching for something that never existed.”
“There’s one place we haven’t looked,” Madge said, “and that’s the attic. May we go up there?”
“Of course. I was cleaning out some of the rubbish today, but the old furniture is still there. The pieces are really worthless and I doubt if I’ll even put them up at the sale.”
The girls were moving up the stairway, when Miss Swenster called them back.
“Oh, one thing more. Your prowler has returned. Last night I heard a noise in the garden. I went to the window just in time to see a man hurrying out the back gate.”
“Weren’t you afraid?” Cara asked.
Miss Swenster shook her head. “No, only curious. I can’t imagine what he can be after. If I see him again, I shall call the police.”
After asking a few questions, the girls went on upstairs to the attic. It was a large, roomy affair with only one small window high above their heads.
“Ug!” Cara emitted as she brushed against a cobweb. “I don’t care for this place.”
She became more enthusiastic as she noted an interesting array of boxes, old chests, and discarded furniture. It was fun to dig into things. Madge discovered a Paisley shawl which she insisted was a treasure and Cara found a beautiful woven coverlet stored away with old clothing. But there was not so much as a clue to the whereabouts of the Swenster pearls.
At last, grimy and tired, the girls returned to the living room, bearing their plunder.
“I had even forgotten I owned such things,” Miss Swenster declared when they showed her the shawl and the coverlet. “My grandmother wove that spread herself. And the shawl was brought over to this country so many years back that I’ve forgotten the exact date. Dear me, how I shall hate to dispose of them.”
“Must you?” Madge asked.
“I can’t very well keep them. I have saved out so many treasures now that I’ll not have places to store them. I know! You girls must accept them as gifts! I’ll give Madge the shawl and Cara the coverlet.”
Miss Swenster refused to listen to their protests. In the end they thanked her profusely for the generous gifts, promising they would take good care of them. Both were proud to own such treasures. They were eager to return home to display their prizes, but first they insisted upon doing the dusting which they had started hours before.
Miss Swenster again assured them it was unnecessary. Nevertheless, they went about it in business-like fashion, working vigorously. Soon only the study remained.
“Shall we dust in there?” Madge inquired, not wishing to repeat the mistake previously made.
“Why, yes, if you like,” Miss Swenster returned with only the slightest hesitation.
Entering the study, the girls looked with one accord toward the place where John Swenster’s picture had hung. A bright square of wallpaper marked the former spot. Miss Swenster had not replaced the picture.
“I wonder what she did with it?” Cara whispered.
Madge shook her head, raising a finger to her lips in mute warning that Miss Swenster could easily hear from the next room.
They silently went about the dusting, bent upon getting it done as quickly as possible. Cara directed her attention to the bookcases while Madge made an attack upon the paneled mahogany desk. She dusted the top and polished off the curved legs. Then her cloth swept across one of the panels.
Madge heard a sharp click. To her amazement, the panel dropped down, revealing a small opening!