In Her Own Right

The two men halted, and looked around.

“Somewhere near here, possibly just where your horse is standing, is the treasure,” said Macloud. “Can’t you feel its presence?”

“No, I can’t!” laughed Croyden, “and that appears to be my only chance, for I can’t see a trace of the trees which formed the square.”

“Be not cast down!” Macloud admonished. “Remember, you didn’t expect to find things marked off for you.”

“No, I didn’t! but I thought you did.”

“That was only to stir you up. I anticipated even more adverse conditions. It’s amazingly easier than I dared to hope.”

“Thunder! man! we can’t dig six feet deep over all of forty acres. We shall have the whole of Annapolis over to help us before we’ve done a square of forty feet.”

“You’re too liberal!” laughed Macloud. “Twenty feet would be ample.” Then he sobered. “The instructions say: seven hundred and fifty feet back, from the extreme tip of Greenberry Point, is the quadrangle of trees. That was in 1720, one hundred and ninety years ago. They must have been of good size then – hence, they would be of the greater size, now, or else have disappeared entirely. There isn’t a single tree which could correspond with Parmenter’s, closer than four hundred yards, and, as the point would have been receding rather than gaining, we can assume, with tolerable certainty, that the beeches have vanished – either from decay or from wind storms, which must be very severe over in this exposed land. Hence, must not our first quest be for some trace of the trees?”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Croyden, “and, if the Point has receded, which is altogether likely, then we are pretty near the place.”

“Yes! – if the Point has simply receded, but if it has shifted laterally, as well, the problem is not so simple.”

“Let us go out to the Point, and look at the ruins of the light-house. If we can get near enough to ascertain when it was built, it may help us. Evidently there was none erected here, in Parmenter’s time, else he would not have chosen this place to hide his treasure.”

But the light-house was a barren yield. It was a crumbling mass of ruins, lying out in water, possibly fifty feet – the real house was a bug-light farther out in the Bay.

“Well, there’s no one to see us, so why shouldn’t we make a search for the trees?” said Croyden.

“Hold my horse!” said Macloud, dismounting.

He went out on the extreme edge, faced about, and taking a line at right angles to it, stepped two hundred and fifty paces. He ended in sand – and, for another fifty paces, sand – sand unrelieved by aught save some low bushes sparsely scattered here and there.

“Somewhere hereabout, according to present conditions, the trees should be,” he said.

“Not very promising,” was Croyden’s comment.

“Let us assume that the diagonal lines drawn between the trees intersect at this point,” Macloud continued, producing a compass. “Then, one hundred and ten paces North-by-North-East is the place we seek.”

He stepped the distance carefully – Croyden following with the horses – and sunk his heel into the sand beside a clump of wire grass.

“Here is the old buccaneer’s hoard!” he exclaimed, dramatically.

“Shall we dig, immediately?” Croyden laughed.

“You dig – I’ll hold the horses; your hands are tougher than mine.”

“I wonder who owns this land?” said Croyden, suddenly.

“We can ascertain very readily. You mean, you would try to purchase it?”

“Yes, as a site for a house, ostensibly. I might buy a lot beginning, say one hundred and fifty yards back from the Point, and running, at an even width of two hundred yards, from the Severn to the Bay. That would surely include the treasure.”

“A fine idea!” Macloud agreed.

“If the present owner will sell,” appended Croyden – “and if his price isn’t out of all reason. I can’t go much expense, you know.”

“Never mind the expense – that can be arranged. If he will sell, the rest is easy. I’ll advance it gladly to you.”

“And we will share equally, then,” said Croyden.

“Bosh!” Macloud answered. “I’ve got more money than I want, let me have some fun with the excess, Croyden. And this promises more fun than I’ve had for a year – hunting a buried treasure, within sight of Maryland’s capital. Moreover, it won’t likely be out of reach of your own pocketbook, this can’t be very valuable land.” He remounted his horse. “Let us ride around over the intended site, and prospect – we may discover something.”

But, though, they searched for an hour, they were utterly unsuccessful. The four beech trees had disappeared as completely as though they never were.

“I’m perfectly confident, however,” Macloud remarked as they turned away toward town, “that somewhere, within the lines of your proposed lot, lie the Parmenter jewels. Now, for the lot. Once you have title to it, you may plow up the whole thing to any depth you please, and no one may gainsay you.”

“I’m not so sure,” replied Croyden. “My knowing that the treasure was on it when purchased, may make me liable to my grantor for an accounting.”

“But you don’t know!” objected Macloud.

“Yet, I have every reason to believe – the letter is most specific.”

“Suppose, after you’ve paid a big price for the land, you don’t find the treasure, could you make him take it back and refund the purchase money?”

“No, most assuredly, no,” smiled Croyden.

“Mighty queer doctrine! You must account for what you find – if you don’t find it, you must keep the land, anyway. The other fellow wins whatever happens.”

“It’s predicated on the proposition that I have knowingly deceived him into selling something for nothing. However, I’m not at all clear about it; and we will buy if we can – and take the chances. But we won’t go to work with a brass band, old man.”

At the top of the hill, beyond the Severn, there was a road which took off to the left.

“This parallels the road by the Marine Barracks, suppose we turn in here,” Macloud said. “It probably goes through the Academy grounds.”

A little way on, they passed what was evidently a fine hospital, with the United States flag flying over it. Just beyond, occupying the point of land where College Creek empties into the Severn, was the Naval Cemetery.

“Very fitting!” Croyden laughed. “They have the place of interment exceedingly handy to the hospital. What in thunder’s that?” he asked, indicating a huge dome, hideously ornate with gold and white, that projected above the trees, some distance ahead.

“Give it up!” said Macloud. “Unless it’s a custard-and-cream pudding for the Midshipmen’s supper. Awful looking thing, isn’t it! Oh! I recollect now: the Government has spent millions in erecting new Academy buildings; and someone in the Navy remarked, ‘If a certain chap had to kill somebody, he couldn’t see why he hadn’t selected the fellow who was responsible for them – his work at Annapolis would have been ample justification.’ Judging from the atrocity to our fore, the officer didn’t overdraw it.”

They took the road along the officers’ quarters on Upshur Row, and came out the upper gate into King George Street, thereby missing the Chapel (of the custard-and-cream dome) and all the other Smith buildings.

“We can see them again!” said Croyden. “The real estate agent is more important now.”

It was the quiet hour when they got back to the hotel, and the clerk was standing in the doorway, sunning himself.

“Enjoy your ride, sirs?” he asked.

“It wasn’t bad,” returned Croyden. Then he stopped. “Can you tell me who owns Greenberry Point?”

“Yes, sir! The Government owns it – they bought it for the Rifle Range.”

“The whole of it?”

“Yes, sir! – from the Point clear up to the Experiment Station.”

Croyden thanked him and passed on.

“That’s the end of the purchase idea!” he said. “I thought it was ’most too good to last.”

“It got punctured very early,” Macloud agreed.

“And the question is, what to do, now? Might the clerk be wrong?”

Macloud shook his head. “There isn’t a chance of it. Titles in a small town are known, particularly, when they’re in the United States. However, it’s easy to verify – we’ll hunt up a real estate office – they’ll know.”

But when they had dressed, and sought a real estate office, the last doubt vanished: it confirmed the clerk.

“If you haven’t anything particularly pressing,” said Macloud, “I suggest that we remain here for a few days and consider what is best to do.”

“My most pressing business is to find the treasure!” Croyden laughed.

“Good! then we’re on the job until it’s found – if it takes a year or longer.” And when Croyden looked his surprise: “I’ve nothing to do, old chap, and one doesn’t have the opportunity to go treasure hunting more than once in a lifetime. Picture our satisfaction when we hear the pick strike the iron box, and see the lid turned back, and the jewels coruscating before us.”

“But what if there isn’t any coruscating – that’s a good word, old man – nor any iron box?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic —think we’re going to find it, it will help a lot.”

“How about if we don’t find it?”

“Then, at least, we’ll have had a good time in hunting, and have done our best to succeed.”

“It’s a new thing to hear old cynical Macloud preaching optimism!” laughed Croyden – “our last talk, in Northumberland, wasn’t particularly in that line, you’ll remember.”

“Our talk in Northumberland had to do with other people and conditions. This is an adventure, and has to do solely with ourselves. Some difference, my dear Croyden, some difference! What do you say to an early breakfast to-morrow, and then a walk over to the Point. It’s something like your Eastern Shore to get to, however, – just across the river by water, but three miles around by the Severn bridge. We can have the whole day for prospecting.”

“I’m under your orders,” said Croyden. “You’re in charge of this expedition.”

They had been passing numerous naval officers in uniform, some well set-up, some slouchy.

“The uniform surely does show up the man for what he is,” said Macloud. “Look at these two for instance – from the stripes on the sleeves, a Lieutenant-Commander and a Senior Lieutenant. Did you ever see a real Bowery tough? – they are in that class, with just enough veneer to deceive, for an instant. There, are two others, opposite. They look like soldiers. Observe the dignity, the snappy walk, the inherent air of command.”

“Isn’t it the fault of the system?” asked Croyden. “Every Congressman holds a competitive examination in his district; and the appointment goes to the applicant who wins – be he what he may. For that reason, I dare say, the Brigade of Midshipmen contains muckers as well as gentlemen – and officers are but midshipmen of a larger growth.”

“Just so! and it’s wrong – all wrong! To be a commissioned officer, in either Army or Navy, ought to attest one’s gentle birth.”

“It raises a presumption in their favor, at least.”

“Presumption! do you think the two who passed us could hide behind that presumption longer than the fraction of an instant?”

“Don’t get excited, old man! I was accounting for it, not defending it. It’s a pity, of course, but that’s one of the misfortunes of a Republic where all men are equal.”

“Rot! damn rot!” Macloud exclaimed. “Men aren’t equal! – they’re born to different social scales, different intellectualities, different conditions otherwise. For the purpose of suffrage they may, in the theory of our government, be equal – but we haven’t yet demonstrated it. We exclude the Japanese and Chinese. We have included the negro, only within the living generation – and it’s entirely evident, now, we made a monstrous mistake by doing it. Equal! Equal! Never in this world!”

“How about the next world?” asked Croyden.

“I don’t know!” laughed Macloud, as they ascended the steps of the hotel. “For my part, I’m for the Moslem’s Paradise and the Houris who attend the Faithful. And, speaking of houris! – see who’s here!”

Croyden glanced up – to see Elaine Cavendish and Charlotte Brundage standing in the doorway.

VIII

STOLEN

“This is, truly, a surprise!” Miss Cavendish exclaimed. “Who would ever have thought of meeting you two in this out-of-the-way place.”

“Here, too!” replied Macloud.

“When did you return, Geoffrey?” she inquired.

“From abroad? – I haven’t gone,” said Croyden. “The business still holds me.”

She looked at him steadily a moment – Macloud was talking to Miss Brundage.

“How much longer will it hold you?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know – it’s difficult of adjustment. – What brings you here, may I inquire?”

“We were in Washington and came over with the Westons to the Officers’ Hop to-night – given for the Secretary of something. He’s one of the Cabinet. We return in the morning.”

“Oh, I see,” he answered; the relief in his voice would have missed a less acute ear. “Where are you going now?”

“To a tea at the Superintendent’s, when the Westons join us. Come along!”

“I haven’t acquired the Washington habit, – yet!” he laughed. “A man at a tea fight! Oh, no!”

“Then go to the dance with us – Colin! you’ll go, won’t you?”

“Sure!” said Macloud. “I’ll follow your voice any place. Where shall it be?”

“To the Hop, to-night.”

“We’re not invited – if that cuts any figure.”

“You’ll go in our party. Ah! Mrs. Weston, I’ve presumed to ask Mr. Macloud and Mr. Croyden to join our party to-night.”

“The Admiral and I shall be delighted to have them,” Mrs. Weston answered – “Will they also go with us to the tea? No? Well, then, to-night.”

Macloud and Croyden accompanied them to the Academy gates, and then returned to the hotel.

In the narrow passage between the news-desk and the office, they bumped, inadvertently, into two men. There were mutual excuses, and the men went on.

An hour or so later, Macloud, having changed into his evening clothes, came into Croyden’s room and found him down on his knees looking under the bureau, and swearing vigorously.

“Whee!” he said; “you are a true pirate’s heir! Old Parmenter, himself, couldn’t do it better. What’s the matter – lose something?”

“No, I didn’t lose anything!” said Croyden sarcastically. “I’m saying my prayers.”

“And incidentally searching for this, I suppose?” picking up a pearl stud from under the bed.

Croyden took it without a word.

“And when you’ve sufficiently recovered your equanimity,” Macloud went on, “you might let me see the aforesaid Parmenter’s letter. I want to cogitate over it.”

“It’s in my wallet!” grinding in the stud – “my coat’s on the chair, yonder.”

“I don’t find it!” said Macloud, searching. “What pocket is it in?”

“The inside breast pocket!” exclaimed Croyden, ramming the last stud home. “Where would you think it is – in the small change pocket?”

“Then suppose you find it for me.”

“I’ll do it with – ” He stopped. “Do you mean it isn’t there?” he exclaimed.

“It isn’t there!” said Macloud, holding up the coat.

Croyden’s fingers flew to the breast pocket – empty! to the other pockets – no wallet! He seized his trousers; then his waistcoat – no wallet.

“My God! I’ve lost it!” he cried.

“Maybe you left it in Hampton?” said Macloud.

Croyden shook his head. “I had it when we left the Weston party – I felt it in my pocket, as I bent to tie Miss Cavendish’s shoe.”

“Then, it oughtn’t to be difficult to find – it’s lost between the Sampson Gate and the hotel. I’m going out to search, possibly in the fading light it has not been noticed. You telephone the office – and then join me, as quickly as you can get into your clothes.”

He dashed out and down the stairs into the Exchange, passing midway, with the barest nod, the Weston party, nor pausing to answer the question Miss Cavendish flung after him.

Once on the rear piazza, however, he went slowly down the broad white steps to the broad brick walk – the electric lights were on, and he noted, with keen regret, how bright they made it – and thence to the Sampson Gate. It was vain! He inquired of the guard stationed there, and that, too, proving unavailing, left directions for its return, if found.

“What a misfortune!” he muttered, as he renewed the search. “What a misfortune! If any one reads that letter, the jig is up for us… Here! boys,” to a crowd of noisy urchins, sitting on the coping along the street, “do you want to make a dollar?”

The enthusiasm of the response, not to mention its unanimity, threatened dire disaster to Macloud’s toilet.

“Hold on!” he said. “Don’t pull me apart. You all can have a chance for it. I’ve lost a wallet – a pocketbook – between the gate yonder and the hotel. A dollar to the boy who finds it.”

With a shout, they set to work. A moment later Croyden came down the walk.

“I haven’t got it,” Macloud said, answering his look. “I’ve been over to the gate and back, and now I’ve put these gamins to work. They will find it, if it’s to be found. Did you telephone the office?”

“Nothing doing there!” Croyden answered. “And what’s more, there won’t be anything doing here – we shall never find the letter, Macloud.”

“That’s my fear,” Macloud admitted. “Somebody’s already found it.”

“Somebody’s stolen it,” Croyden answered.

“What?”

“Precisely! – do you recall our being jostled by two men in the narrow corridor of the hotel? Well, then is when I lost my wallet. I am sure of it. I wasn’t in a position to drop it from my pocket.”

Macloud’s hand sought his own breast pocket and stopped.

“I forgot to change, when I dressed. Maybe the other fellow made off with mine. I’ll go and investigate – you keep an eye on the boys.”

Presently he returned.

“You’re right!” he said. “Mine is missing, too. We’ll call off the boys.”

He flung them some small coins, thereby precipitating a scramble and a fight, and they went slowly in.

“There is just one chance,” he continued. “Pickpockets usually abstract the money, instantly, and throw the book and papers away. They want no tell-tale evidence. It may be the case here – they, likely, didn’t examine the letter, just saw it was a letter and went no further.”

“That won’t help us much,” said Croyden. “It will be found – it’s only a question of the pickpockets or some one else.”

“But the some one else may be honest. Your card is in the wallet?”

“With Hampton on it.”

“The finder may advertise – may look you up at the hotel – may – ”

“May bring it back on a gold salver!” Croyden interjected. “No! No! Colin. Our only hope is that the thief threw away the letter, and that no one finds it until after we have the treasure. The man isn’t born who, under the circumstances, will renounce the opportunity for a half million dollars.”

“Well, at the worst, we have an even chance! Thank Heaven! We know the directions without the letter. Don’t be discouraged, old man – we’ll win out, yet.”

“I’m not discouraged!” laughed Croyden. “I have never anticipated success. It was sport – an adventure and a problem to work out, nothing more. Now, if we have some one else to combat, so much greater the adventure, and more intricate the problem.”

“Shall we notify the police?” Macloud asked. “Or isn’t it well to get them into it?”

“I’ll confess I don’t know. If we could jug the thieves quickly, and recover the plunder, it might be well. On the other hand, they might disclose the letter to the police or to some pal, or try even to treat with us, on the threat of publicity. On the whole, I’m inclined to secrecy – and, if the thieves show up on the Point, to have it out with them. There are only two, so we shall not be overmatched. Moreover, we can be sure they will keep it strictly to themselves, if we don’t force their hands by trying to arrest them.”

Macloud considered a moment. “I incline to your opinion. We will simply advertise for the wallets to-morrow, as a bluff – and go to work in earnest to find the treasure.”

They had entered the hotel again; in the Exchange, the rocking chair brigade and the knocker’s club were gathered.

“The usual thing!” Croyden remarked. “Why can’t a hotel ever be free of them?”

“Because it’s a hotel!” laughed Macloud. “Let’s go in to dinner – I’m hungry.”

The tall head-waiter received them like a host himself, and conducted them down the room to a small table. A moment later, the Weston party came in, with Montecute Mattison in tow, and were shown to one nearby, with Harvey’s most impressive manner.

An Admiral is some pumpkins in Annapolis, when he is on the active list.

Mrs. Weston and the young ladies looked over and nodded; Croyden and Macloud arose and bowed. They saw Miss Cavendish lean toward the Admiral and say a word. He glanced across.

“We would be glad to have you join us,” said he, with a man’s fine indifference to the fact that their table was, already, scarcely large enough for five.

“I am afraid we should crowd you, sir. Thank you! – we’ll join you later, if we may,” replied Macloud.

A little time after, they heard Mattison’s irritating voice, pitched loud enough to reach them:

“I wonder what Croyden’s doing here with Macloud?” he remarked. “I thought you said, Elaine, that he had skipped for foreign parts, after the Royster smash, last September.”

“I did say, Mr. Mattison, I thought he had gone abroad, but I most assuredly did not say, nor infer, that he had skipped, nor connect his going with Royster’s failure!” Miss Cavendish responded. “If you must say unjust and unkind things, don’t make other people responsible for them, please. Shoulder them yourself.”

“Good girl!” muttered Macloud. “Hand him another!” Then he shot a look at his friend.

“I don’t mind,” said Croyden. “They may think what they please – and Mattison’s venom is sprinkled so indiscriminately it doesn’t hurt. Everyone comes in for a dose.”

They dallied through dinner, and finished at the same time as the Westons. Croyden walked out with Miss Cavendish.

“I couldn’t help overhearing that remark of Mattison’s – the beggar intended that I should,” said he – “and I want to thank you, Elaine, for your ‘come back’ at him.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back harder,” said she.

“And if you prefer me not to go with you to the Hop to-night don’t hesitate to say so – I’ll understand, perfectly. The Westons may have got a wrong impression – ”

“The Westons haven’t ridden in the same motor, from Washington to Annapolis, with Montecute for nothing; but I’ll set you straight, never fear. We are going over in the car – there is room for you both, and Mrs. Weston expects you. We will be down at nine. It’s the fashion to go early, here, it seems.”

Zimmerman was swinging his red-coated military band through a dreamy, sensuous waltz, as they entered the gymnasium, where the Hops, at the Naval Academy, are held. The bareness of the huge room was gone entirely – concealed by flags and bunting, which hung in brilliant festoons from the galleries and the roof. Myriads of variegated lights flashed back the glitter of epaulet and the gleam of white shoulders, with, here and there, the black of the civilian looking strangely incongruous amid the throng that danced itself into a very kaleidoscope of color.

The Secretary was a very ordinary man, who had a place in the Cabinet as a reward for political deeds done, and to be done. He represented a State machine, nothing more. Quality, temperament, fitness, poise had nothing to do with his selection. His wife was his equivalent, though, superficially, she appeared to better advantage, thanks to a Parisian modiste with exquisite taste, and her fond husband’s bottomless bank account.

Having passed the receiving line, the Westons held a small reception of their own. The Admiral was still upon the active list, with four years of service ahead of him. He was to be the next Aide on Personnel, the knowing ones said, and the orders were being looked for every day. Therefore he was decidedly a personage to tie to – more important even than the Secretary, himself, who was a mere figurehead in the Department. And the officers – and their wives, too, if they were married – crowded around the Westons, fairly walking over one another in their efforts to be noticed.

“What’s the meaning of it?” Croyden asked Miss Cavendish as they joined the dancing throng. “Are the Westons so amazingly popular?”