CHAPTER XVIII
THE OLD CHIMNEY-PIECE
But Sinclair's search for the old mason in Leicester was absolutelyunsuccessful. He learned that Martin Campbell had died many years ago,and had left no direct descendants. A cousin of the old mason toldSinclair all this, and said, too, that there were no books or papers oraccounts of the dead man left in existence.
So Sinclair returned home, disappointed but not entirely discouraged.
"We'll find it yet," he said to Patty. "We have proof of a hiding-place,now we must discover it."
"We will!" declared Patty. "But it's so exasperating not to know whetherthe old mason built that 'pocket' indoors or out."
"Out, I think," said Sinclair. "It's probably a sunken bin or vault ofbrick, made water-tight, and carefully concealed."
"Yes, it's certainly carefully concealed," Patty agreed.
Sinclair was entitled to a fortnight's vacation from his law studies, andhe arranged to take it at this time. For now that the interest wasrevived, all were eager to make search all the time.
"Let's be systematic about it," said Bob, "and divide the estate up intosections. Then let's examine each section in turn."
This sounded well, but it was weary work. In the wooded land, especially,it was hopeless to look for any indicatory mark beneath the undergrowthof forty years. But each morning the four young people started out withrenewed determination to keep at it, at any rate.
On rainy days they searched about the house. Having found one secretpanel, they hoped for more, and the boys went about tapping the walls orcarved woodwork here and there, listening for a hollow sound.
Bob and Patty went on searching the books. But though a number of oldpapers were found they were of no value. Incidentally, Patty wasacquiring a store of information of various sorts. Though too eager inher work to sit down and read any book through, she scanned many pageshere and there, and learned much that was interesting and useful.Especially did she like books that described the old castles and abbeysof England. There were many of these books, both architectural andhistorical, and Patty lingered over the illustrations, and let her eyesrun hastily over the pages of description.
One afternoon she sat cross-legged, in Turk fashion, on the libraryfloor, absorbed in an account of the beautiful old mansion known as"Audley End." The description so interested her that she read on and on,and in her perusal she came to this sentence:
"There are other curious relics, among them the chair of Alexander Pope,and the carved oak head of Cromwell's bed, converted into a chimney-piece."
Anything in reference to the headboard of a bedstead caught Patty'sattention, and she read the paragraph over again.
"Sinclair," she called, but he had gone elsewhere, and did not hear her.
Patty looked around at the mantel or chimney-piece in the library, but itwas so evidently a part of the plan of wall decoration, that it could notpossibly have been anything else.
Patty sighed. "It would have been so lovely," she thought to herself, "ifit only had been a bedhead, made into a mantel, for then that botheringold man could easily have tucked his money between it and the wall."
And then, though Patty's thoughts came slowly, they came surely, and sheremembered that in the great hall, or living-room, the mantel was amassive affair of carved oak.
Half bewildered, Patty dropped the book, jumped up, and went to the doorof the hall. No one was there, and the girl was glad of it, for if shereally was on the eve of a great discovery she wanted to be alone atfirst.
As she entered the room, the lines came to her mind:
"Above the stair, across the hall, Between the bedhead and the wall,"
and she noticed that the chimney-piece stood on a sort of wide platform,which extended across that whole end of the hall. Could it be that Mr.Marmaduke had meant above this platform, calling it a stair, which ranacross the great hall? For years they had taken the direction to mean "upthe staircase," and "across the corridor," or hall which led to thebedrooms.
Slowly, almost as if afraid, Patty crossed the hall, stepped up on theplatform, and examined the old chimney-piece. She couldn't tell,positively, but surely, surely it looked as if it _might_ once have beenthe headboard of an ancient bed. It certainly was different in itsworkmanship from the wood carving that decorated the apartment.
The top of it was well above her head, but might it not be that the oldrhyme meant between _this_ bedhead and the wall?
Here they had never looked. It must be that it was not generally knownthat this mantel was, or had been, a bedhead.
Still, as if in a daze, Patty went and sat in a chair facing the oldchimney-piece, and wondered. She intended to call the others in a moment,but first she wanted to enjoy alone the marvel of her own discovery.
As she sat there, scrutinising every detail of the room, the lines keptrepeating themselves in her brain:
_"Above the stair, across the hall, Between the bedhead and the wall."_
If the secret pocket was between that bedhead and the wall, it wascertainly above the stair across the hall! Why had that stair or platformbeen built across the hall? It was a peculiar arrangement.
This question Patty gave up, but she thought it might well have been donewhen the bedhead was set up there, in order to make the chimney-piecehigher and so more effective.
Patty had learned something of architecture in her library browsings.
Above the high mantel was a large painting. It was a landscape and showeda beautiful bit of scenery without buildings or people. In the foregroundwere several distinct trees of noble proportions.
"They're firs," said Patty to herself, for she had become thoroughlyfamiliar with fir trees.
And then, like a flash, through her brain came the words:
_"Great treasure lieth in the poke Between the fir trees and the oak."_
The secret was revealed! Patty knew it!
Beside the bedhead evidence, it was clear to her mind that "Between thefir trees and the oak," meant between these painted fir trees and the oldcarved oak mantel. Grasping the arms of her chair, she sat still a minutetrying to take it all in, and then looked about for something to stand onthat she might examine the top of the old mantel-shelf.
But her next quick thought was, that that was not her right. Those towhom the fortune belonged must make the investigation themselves.
"Sinclair," called Patty, again; "Mabel, Mrs. Hartley, where are youall?"
Bob responded first, and seeing by Patty's excited face that she haddiscovered something important, he went in search of the others.
At last they were all gathered in the great hall, and Patty's sense ofthe dramatic proved too strong to allow her to make her announcementsimply.
"People," she said, "I have made a discovery. That is, I think I have. IfI am right, the Cromarty fortune is within your grasp. If I amwrong--well, in that case, we'll begin all over again."
"Tell us about your new find," said Sinclair, selecting a comfortablechair, and sitting down as if for a long session. "Is it another mason'sbill?"
Nobody minded being chaffed about searching or finding, for the subjectwas treated jocosely as well as seriously.
Patty stood on the platform in front of the carved oak chimney-piece, andaddressed her audience, who listened, half laughing, half eager.
"What is this on which I stand?" she demanded.
"A rug," replied Mabel, promptly.
"I mean beneath the rug?"
"The floor."
"No, it isn't! What is this--this construction across the room?"
"A platform," put in Bob, willing to help her along.
"Yes. But what else could it be called? I'm in earnest."
"A step," suggested Sinclair.
"Yes, a step; but couldn't it be called a stair?"
"It _could_ be," said Bob, "but I don't believe it is one."
"But suppose your erratic uncle chose to call it that."
"Oh," laughed Bob
, "you mean the stair in the poem."
"I do. I mean the stair across the hall."
"What! Oh, I say, Patty, now you're jumbling up the sense."
"No, I'm not. I'm straightening out the sense. Suppose Mr. Marmadukemeant 'above the stair across the hall,' and meant this stair and thishall."
"Yes, but go on," said Sinclair; "next comes the bedhead."
"That's my discovery!" announced Patty, with what was truly forgivabletriumph.
"This carved oak chimney-piece is, I have reason to believe, theheadboard of some magnificent, ancient bed."
"Patty Fairfield!" cried Sinclair, jumping up, and reaching her side withtwo bounds. "You've struck it! What a girl you are!"
"Wait a minute," said Patty, pushing him back; "I'm entitled to ahearing. Take your seat again, sir, until I unfold the rest of the tale."
Patty was fairly quivering with excitement. Her cheeks glowed, and hereyes shone, and her voice trembled as she went on.
Mabel, with clasped hands, just sat and looked at her. The elder ladieswere plainly bewildered, and Bob was trying hard to sit still.
"I read in an old book," Patty went on, "how somebody else used a carvedheadboard for a chimney-piece, and I wondered if this mightn't be one.And it surely looks like it. And then I wondered if 'above the stairacross the hall' mightn't mean this platform across this hall. And Ithink it does. But that's not all. My really important discovery isthis."
Patty's voice had sunk to a thrilling whisper, and she addressed herselfto Mrs. Cromarty, as she continued.
"I think the other rhyme, the one that says the fortune is concealed'between the fir trees and the oak,' refers to this same place, and meansbetween the painting of fir trees, which hangs over the mantel, and--theoak mantel itself!"
With a smiling bow, Patty stepped down from the platform, and taking aseat by old Mrs. Cromarty, nestled in that lady's loving arms. The twoboys made a spring for the mantel, but paused simultaneously to graspboth Patty's hands in theirs and nearly shake her arms off. Then theyleft the heroine of the hour to Mabel and Mrs. Hartley and began toinvestigate the chimney piece.
"'Between the fir trees and the oak'!" exclaimed Bob. "Great, isn't it!And here for thirty-five years we Cromarty dubs have thought that meantreal trees! To think it took a Yankee to tell us! Oh, Patty, Patty, we'lltake down that historic painting and put up a tablet to the honour ofSaint Patricia. For you surely deserve canonisation!"
"'Between the bedhead and the wall,'" ruminated Sinclair. "Well, heregoes for finding an opening."
Clambering up on stools, both boys examined the place where the mantelshelf touched the wall. The ornate carvings of the mantel left manyinterstices where coins or notes might be dropped through, yet they wereby no means conspicuous enough to attract the attention of any one notlooking for them.
"Crickets!" cried Bob. "There's a jolly place for the precious poke to belocated. I'm going down cellar to see if I can find traces of thatmason's work. Come on, Clair."
The two boys flew off, and the ladies remained discussing the wonderfuldiscovery, and examining the old chimney-piece.
"I can see it was a bedhead now," said Mabel; "but I never suspected itbefore. What a splendid mantel it makes. Didn't you ever hear itshistory, Grandy?"
"No, dear. It must have been put there when the house was built, I think.Though, of course, it may have been added later. But it was all before mytime. I married your grandfather Cromarty and came here to live in 1855.The building and decorations then were all just as they are now, exceptfor such additions as Marmaduke made. He may have had that mantel set upin earlier years--I don't know. He was very fond of antique carvings."
Back came the boys from the cellar.
"The whole chimney is bricked up," Sinclair explained. "We couldn't getinto it without tearing it all down. And do you know what I think,Grandy? I think it would be wiser to take away the chimney-piece up here,and do our investigating from this end. Then, if we find anything, itwill all be in this room, and not in the cellar, where the servants canpry about."
"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Cromarty, "and I put the whole matterin your hands. You and Robert are the sons of the house, and it is yourright to manage its affairs."
"Then I say, tear it down at once," cried Bob. "We needn't damage thecarving itself, and all that we break away of plaster or inner woodworkcan easily be repaired, whatever our success may be."
"Shall we begin now?" asked Sinclair, doubtfully. He was not so impetuousas Bob, and would have been quite willing to study over the matter first.
"Yes, indeed!" cried his impatient brother. "I'm not going to waste aminute. I'm glad I'm a bit of a carpenter. Though not an expert, I cantear down if I can't build up."
"But we must take it down carefully," said Sinclair. "These screws mustcome out first." But Bob had already gone for tools, and soon returnedwith screw-drivers, chisels, gimlets, and all the paraphernalia of acarpenter's well-appointed tool-chest.
"Here goes!" he cried, as he put the big screw-driver in the first screw."Good luck to the Cromartys and three cheers for Uncle Marmaduke andPatty Fairfield!"