Part 15 (2/2)

”Here,” Rupert took it from her, ”let me see it.”

He scanned the faded lines of writing. ”Val! Ricky!” He looked up, his face flushed with excitement. ”Listen!”

”Gatty has returned from the city. The raiders calling themselves the 'Buck Boys' are headed this way. Gatty tells me that Alexander is with them, having deserted the plantation a week ago. Since his malice towards us is well known, it is easy to believe that he means us open harm. I am making my preparations accordingly. The valuables now under this roof, together with the proceeds from the last voyage of the blockade runner, _Red Bird_, I am putting in that safe place discovered by me in childhood, of which I have sometimes spoken. Remember the hint I once gave you--By Our Luck.

Having written this in haste, I shall intrust it to Gatty--”

”That's the end; the rest is gone.” Rupert stared down at the sc.r.a.p of paper in his hand as if he simply could not believe in its reality.

”Richard wrote that.” Ricky touched the note in awe. ”But why didn't Gatty give it to Miles when he came?”

”Gatty was probably a slave who ran when the raiders appeared,”

suggested Rupert. ”He or she must have hidden this in here before leaving. We'll never know.”

”But we've got our clue!” cried Ricky. ”We knew that the hiding-place was in this hall, and now we have the clue.”

”'By our Luck.'” Rupert looked about him thoughtfully. ”That's not the most helpful--”

”Rupert!” Ricky seized him by the arm. ”There's only one thing in this room that will answer that. Can't you see? The niche of the Luck!”

Their gaze followed her pointing finger to the mantel above their heads.

”I believe she's right! Wait until I get the step-ladder from the kitchen.” Rupert was gone almost before he had finished speaking.

”Oh, if it's only true!” Ricky stared up like one hypnotized. ”Then we'll be rich and--”

”Don't count your chickens before they're hatched,” Val reminded her, but he didn't think that she heard him.

Then Rupert was back with the ladder. He climbed up, leaving the three of them cl.u.s.tered about its foot.

”Nothing here but two stone studs to hold the Luck in place,” he said a moment later.

”Why not try pressing those?” suggested Charity.

”All right, here goes.” He placed his thumbs in the corners of the niche and threw his weight upon them.

”Nothing happened.” Ricky's voice was deep with disappointment.

”Look!” Val pointed over her shoulder.

To the left of the fireplace were five panels of oak, to balance those on the other side about the door of the unused drawing-room. The center one of these now gaped open, showing a dark cavity.

”It worked!” Ricky was already heading for the opening.

There behind the paneling was a shallow closet which ran the full length of the five panels. It was filled with a collection of bags and small chests, a collection which appeared much larger when it lay in the gloom within than when they dragged it out. Then, when they had time to examine it carefully, they discovered that their booty consisted of two small wooden boxes or chests, one fancifully carved and evidently intended for jewels, the other plain but locked; a felt bag and another of canvas, and a package hurriedly done up in cloth. Rupert spread it all out on the floor.

”Well,” he hesitated, ”where shall we begin?”

”Charity thought about how to open it, and it was her cat that found us the clue--let her choose,” Val suggested.

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