CHAPTER XXII LITTLE LADY IN GRAY
"Read it! Read it aloud!" Vivian Carlson insisted as Jeanne still stoodstaring at the three magic words, SOME CONSIDERABLE TREASURE, that stoodout at the center of the note they had found in the ancient churn.
"Al--alright, I will." With considerable effort Jeanne pulled herselftogether. She was all atremble, as who would not be if he had succeededin unscrewing the fastenings of an ancient churn, lost half a century, tofind inside, as it seemed, a message from the dead?
"I, Josiah Grier," she read in a low, tense voice, "am obliged to leavethis cabin on the island. It is the dead of winter. I have but a smallboat. However, because wild creatures have consumed my supplies, I mustendeavor to reach the mainland. In this churn will be found a sample ofsuch copper as abounds on this island. Be it known to any who open thischurn that there is on the island _some considerable treasure_. It is tobe found on the Greenstone Ridge at the far side, in a grotto which maybe found by lining up the outstanding rocks off shore with the highestpoint of the ridge."
"Some considerable treasure!" Violet breathed softly. "Jewels and goldhidden there by lake pirates perhaps."
"Or old silver plate smuggled here from Canada," Jeanne suggested. Sheloved ancient dishes and silver.
"Probably it's nothing you'd ever dream of," said practical Vivian. "Acurious sort of treasure I'd guess, for this Josiah Grier, if I guessright, was a queer sort of chap. Think of hiding a piece of copper worthabout two dollars and a half in an old churn!"
"What time do you suppose he could have belonged to?" Violet askedthoughtfully. "Was he a trader when the Indians owned the island, or awhite copper miner of a later time?"
"Must have had a cow," Vivian suggested. "Churns go with cows. There werecows here in the copper days. Plenty of grass was planted for them. Thereis timothy and clover growing wild today, everywhere."
Needless to say the minds of the three girls were rife with speculation.There in the chilly seclusion of the museum they pledged one another tocomplete secrecy regarding the whole matter.
They screwed the churn's top back and replaced everything, leaving theplace just as Jeanne had found it that morning when she had gone in towork with kerosene on the rusty fastenings of the old churn.
"We'll surprise 'em," Violet whispered.
"Surprise them. Surprise them," the others echoed.
It was in the midst of the evening conversation about the roaring firethat, for the time at least, all thoughts of treasure were driven fromJeanne's mind.
"It's strange about that airplane, D.X.123," Sandy MacQueen, thereporter, drawled. "I had a sharp reminder of its disappearance only lastmonth. Sad thing it was, and rather haunting. A girl with an appealingface, not sixteen yet I'd say, came into the big room of our newspaperoffice. Happened I wasn't busy, so I asked her what she wanted. And whatdo you suppose it was she wanted?"
"What?" The moose-trapper sat up to listen.
"She said her father had gone way several years ago, when she was toosmall to remember much about him."
"What did she have to do with the disappearance of the D.X.123?" themoose-trapper drawled.
"Perhaps nothing," Sandy replied. "And yet, it is strange. The name ofone man who went in that apparently ill-fated plane was John Travis."
"John--John Travis!" Jeanne exclaimed.
"And you know--" Sandy turned to Jeanne. "That girl Florence gotinterested in--her name was Travis too."
"June Travis," Jeanne agreed.
"Of course," said Sandy, "it may be a mere coincidence. Yet I sort offeel that he might have been her father."
"The D.X.123. June Travis," Jeanne was thinking. "John Travis, D.X.123."Her mind was in a whirl. Springing to her feet, she seized Vivian by theshoulders. "Come on," she said in a strange tight little voice, "we'regoing for a walk."
Drawing on their heaviest wraps, the two girls went out into the night.The storm which had been raging all that day had passed. All about themas they walked was whiteness and silence. The stars were a milliondiamonds set in a cushion of midnight blue.
They took the trail that led across the narrow entrance to the frozenbay. From the shore a half mile away came a ceaseless roar. Lashed intofoam by the fury of the storm, the lake's waters were beating against thebarrier of ice that lay before it.
They walked rapidly forward in silence. Jeanne felt that she would burstif she did not talk; yet she said never a word. What she wanted to saywas, "Vivian, that girl June Travis is a friend of mine. Her father isdead. We must send a wireless message to her. I saw her father's airplaneat the bottom of that little lost lake. It must have been there foryears. He must be dead."
Strangely enough, she said never a word about the matter. An unseenpresence seemed to hover over her, whispering, "Do not say it! Do not sayit! It may not be true."
Was it true? Jeanne could not tell.
At last they came to a spot where they might mount to an icy platform andwitness the blind battling of mighty waters against an unbreakablebarrier.
The moon came out from behind a cloud. Water was black with night andwhite with foam. A cavern of ice lay before them. Into this narrow caverna giant wave rushed. Its black waters were churned into white foam. Itrose to stretch out a white hand and to utter a hiss that was like theangry spit of a serpent. In sheer terror Jeanne shrank back.
"It can't reach us!" Vivian threw back her strong young shoulders andlaughed.
"Vivian!" Jeanne suddenly gripped her companion's arm. "Do you see thatridge?" She pointed away toward the island.
"Yes."
"Vivian, tomorrow, whether it storms or not, you must go with me to thetop of that ridge and down on the other side."
"To find the treasure told about in the old churn?" Vivian asked.
"Oh, no! No!" Jeanne exclaimed in shocked surprise. "It is something moreimportant than that--far, far more important.
"And yet--" her voice dropped. "I may not tell you about it now, for,after all, it may be just nothing."
At that, with Vivian lost in a haze of stupefaction, she said with ashudder, "This is too grand--all this beauty of the night, all this surfline power. Come! We must go back."
And they did go back to the cheery light, the cozy warmth of thefisherman's home.
In the meantime, in the far-away city Florence was meeting with anexperience well calculated to make her believe in witches, fairies, andall manner of fantastic fortune telling as well. She and June Travis hadgone to visit the little lady in gray.
Florence had, after a considerable effort, contacted the little lady.
"Come to see me any time tomorrow," had been the little lady'sinvitation.
"Some time tomorrow," Florence had agreed.
So, ten o'clock next morning found Florence and June Travis in thevicinity of the mysterious little lady's home.
"It's strange," said Florence as they alighted from the car, "that anyoneinterested in telling fortunes should live in such a rich neighborhood."She allowed her eyes to take in three magnificent apartment buildings andthe smaller homes of pressed brick and rich gray stone that surroundedthem.
"But then," she added, "I suppose she gets a great many wealthy clients,and that's what really pays. And, of course, she may not be a fortuneteller after all."
"It's over this way," June said, paying little heed to her companion'stalk. She was eager to reach the little old lady in gray. Some kind fairyseemed to be whispering in her ear, "This is the one. You have searchedlong. You have traveled far. You have met with many disappointments. Buthere at last you are, face to face with reality."
"Here! Here it is!" she exclaimed in a low whisper. "Such a cute littlecottage, all in gray stone."
"And no sign on the door." Florence was puzzled more and more.
June's fingers trembled as she lifted a heavy knocker and let it downwith a bang that was startling.
For a short time there was no sign of life in the place. Then,
somewhereinside, a door opened and shut. The outer door opened, and there beforethem stood the Little Lady in Gray.
She was little--very small indeed, yet not really a midget. She was quitegray. And her dress was as gray as her hair.
"Won't you come in?" she invited. "I have been expecting you for anhour."
"That's strange!" Florence thought with a sudden start. "We didn't tellher when we'd come--just said sometime today."
"So you are June Travis!" said the little lady. They had been led intothe coziest sitting-room it had ever been Florence's privilege to see.The little lady looked June up and down, as much as to say, "How you havegrown! And how beautiful you are!" She did not say it.
Instead, she pointed to a chair, then to another as she suggested, "Ifyou will kindly sit there, and you there, I shall take this large chair,then we can talk. It is a little large," she looked at the chair that didindeed appear to have been made for a person three times her size, "butwith cushions it can be made very comfortable indeed."
Florence wondered in a dreamy sort of way why so small a person, whoapparently could have anything she wanted, should have chosen so large achair. She was destined to recall this wondering a long time after, andto wonder still more.
That the little lady _was_ very well off, Florence was bound to conclude.The curtains were of finest lace and the draperies of rich, heavymaterial. The rugs were oriental. The few objects of art--three vases,four oil paintings and a bronze statue in the corner--had cost a prettypenny; yet all this was so arranged that it appeared to harmonizeperfectly with the two swinging cages where four yellow canaries swayedand sang, with the reddish-brown cat that dozed on the narrow hearth, andwith the little lady in that big chair. It was strange.
"You have been wishing, my dear," said the little lady, "to hear somenews from your father--some good news, to be sure. I have it for you."
"Yes, I--" June leaned forward eagerly.
"But wait!" said the little lady, "I have omitted something." She toucheda bell. A tiny maid in a white cap appeared.
"The tea, Martha."
The little lady folded her hands.
Florence could see that June was tense with emotion. She herself wasgreatly excited. Not so the little old lady. She did everything, saideverything in the spirit of absolute repose and peace.
"And why not?" the girl asked herself. "What's the good of all thisjumping about like a grasshopper, screaming like a seagull, and livingall the time as if you were racing to a fire? Peace--that's the thing toseek, peace and repose."
"Ah, here is the tea." The little lady's eyes shone. "Do you have sugaror lemon? Lemon? Ah, yes. And you? Lemon also. That makes us three.
"And now--" she sipped the tea as if she were about to say, "I hadmuffins for breakfast. What did you have?"
What she did say was, "I heard from your father, my dear. It was only theday before yesterday. Oh, not by mail, nor by wire. Not even by radio. Heis rather far away and, for the moment, shut off. But I heard. Oh, yes,my dear, I heard--" she smiled a roguish smile.
June was staring, eyes wide, ears straining, taking in every expression,drinking in every word.
"He has been out of my circle of influence for a long, long time," saidthe little lady. "But now he is not so far. It is an island--that's wherehe is."
"Wha--what island?" June's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
"That, my child, it is strange!" The little lady smiled a curious smile."He does not know, nor do I. It is a very large island, this I know. Heis well. He is not alone. He is very short of food, but hopes to findmore presently. He will, in time, find his way off this island. He isconvinced of that. And so am I. And then, my dear, then--"
"I shall see him!" This came from June as a cry of joy.
"Then you shall see him."
"Wha--what is my father like?"
For a full moment the little lady looked at her without reply. Then shesaid, "He is short and rather stout. He is jolly."
"See?" Florence whispered in June's ear.
"He has always been well-to-do," the little lady went on. "Now he may berich. It is strange. His thoughts are clouded on that point. It is as ifhe had been rich, as if for the moment great wealth had escaped him, butthat in a short time he hoped to regain it.
"And now--" her words appeared to fade away. "Now I must ask you toexcuse me from further talk."
At that moment Florence experienced a peculiar sensation. It seemed toher that with the fading of the little lady's words she also faded. Sheseemed to all but vanish.
"Pure fancy!" Florence shook herself, and there was the little lady,bright and smiling as ever.
"No, no, my child!" she was saying to June, "Put up your purse. No moneyever is passed in this room. This place is sacred to loyalty andfriendship, beauty and truth."
A moment later the two girls found themselves once again in the brightsunshine of a winter's day.
"That," said Florence, "is the strangest one of them all. Or is she oneof them at all?"
"No," said June, "she is not one of them." She was thinking of MadameZaran, of the voodoo priestess and all the rest. "She--" she hesitated,"she is the spirit of truth. All she said is true. But how--" her facewas filled with sudden dismay. "How are we to find this large island?"
"Perhaps," said Florence with a broad smile, "we shall not be obliged tofind the island. It may find us, or at least your father may."