Part 10 (1/2)

”I'll bet he didn't say anything about the driftwood though.”

”No, he did not,” Moira admitted. So then and there I told her the tale.

”You can understand from that,” I concluded, ”that whatever he was typing had something to do with that piece of wood. Now when he had made up his mind to secrete the papers two words would be prominent in his thoughts.”

”I know,” she said with a flash of intuition.

”Tell me,” I smiled.

”'Sands' and 'wood,'” she said eagerly.

”'Wood' is one of them,” I answered, ”but I rather prefer to say 'bury'

for the other. Now the only place he could bury anything about here in such a way that it wouldn't be noticed is under the hearthstone; but, as it's cement in this case, I think we can leave it out of the question.

He wouldn't put them under the floor. For one thing it'd take too long, and the sweepers would be sure to notice if the carpet or the linoleum had been disturbed. So that brings us back to 'wood' again.”

”How about the wall? A secret panel, or something of the kind?”

”I don't think he'd select anything so obvious,” I said with a shake of my head. ”It had to be a place that we'd find, but that everyone else would miss. There's quite a lot of wooden articles here, Moira, so we'll go over them very carefully.”

I surveyed the furniture ruefully. ”Looks as if we'll have to chop a lot of things to pieces,” I remarked.

”Silly!” said Moira Drummond disgustedly. ”We're looking for something hollow, so why not tap?”

”Brilliant idea!” I said.

As I sit writing at this table in that very same room, the scene comes back to me with all the clearness of a well-developed photograph. In my mind's eye I see Moira and myself on our knees tapping every inch of the old mahogany and the newer imitation Chippendale, and I realise as I have realised a dozen times since to what needless trouble we went, when a little thought upon the lines that I have already mapped out would have led us just as easily, and perhaps a good deal quicker, to the very spot itself. But we were young then--though for that matter we are still--and to young people all motion is progress. It is only when one gets older and sees things in perspective that one realises.... But that wasn't what I set out to write about.

The long and short of it was that we tapped all the furniture most carefully, and at the end of it found that our persistence was still unrewarded.

”There's something wrong somewhere,” Moira said disappointedly.

”It seems as if there's been a mistake in our judgment,” I agreed.

”Still I fancy the table's the most likely place. You see he sat there always.”

”Suppose you sit in his place then, Jim.”

”Excellent idea, Moira,” I said, and at once proceeded to put it into practice.

”Now if I had just finished typing anything and was looking for a safe place to hide it, where would I naturally go?” I said out aloud. Moira dropped into a chair on the other side of the table and leaned forward, her chin resting in her hand, and regarded me with intense interest. I went on talking to myself. ”I'm thinking of wood, and the nearest wood to me is the table. Therefore I'd hide it somewhere about the table, not in or on it, but just about it.”

Moira's eyes glowed--I remember that particularly--and we both must have seized on the idea at one and the same instant.

”Oh, why didn't we think of it before?” she cried, and then the two of us were on our knees and groping under the table. It was a ma.s.sive piece of furniture in its way, with a large cross-piece running from side to side underneath. And on this cross-piece, so tied with string that it could not slip off, was a tiny packet of oil-skin.

”The safest place in the house,” I said, as I stood upright and held out a helping hand to Moira. ”No one would ever think of looking there. See how nearly we missed it.”

”Jim, Jim, let's have a look!” she begged.

My answer was to place the package in my pocket. ”Not here,” I said in explanation. ”You must remember that those murdering gentlemen aren't accounted for yet, and it'd be a pity to let them get hold of the very thing we've been keeping out of their clutches for so long.”

”I never thought of that,” she said with a crestfallen air. ”Of course you're right. But where'll we go?”