Under Padlock and Seal

"Would you prefer to ask him on some half-holiday, when you can spend the afternoon together?" asked Mrs. Ormond.

"Oh no, mother! I'd rather have him on my birthday. We'll do our prep. work as soon as ever we come back from school, and then we shall have the whole evening free."

"What shall we do?" asked Ida. "Play games?"

"Yes, I suppose so; but we shan't play any baby games like 'Snap,' or 'Hunt the Slipper,'" answered Guy loftily. "I think I'm going to invent a game specially for the occasion."

The following day Guy returned home in high spirits. He said he had been talking the matter over with Naylor, and the two, between them, had planned out a game which would be simply "ripping." Having thus aroused every one's curiosity, the boy refused to say any more, and, in answer to numerous questions, merely answered, "Wait till to-morrow evening, then you'll see."

Guy was greatly pleased with his presents, which included a chest of carpenter's tools, the gift of his father and mother, a book from the girls, and an air-pistol from Brian. He was full, too, of mysterious hints as to the new game, but refused to enter into explanations till the time arrived for giving it a trial. The boys were home early, and got through their lessons for the next day before a ring at the bell announced the arrival of the guest.

Naylor was a small boy, with rather a deep voice. He wore a spotless turn-down collar, his hair was carefully brushed, and he evidently had on his "company manners," which seemed to fit him rather badly, like ready-made clothes. He spoke to Brian in quite a deferential manner, calling him Seaton, and he was evidently shy of Elsie and Ida.

"Hullo, Nails, old chap!" cried Guy, seizing hold of his guest, rumpling his hair, and giving him a slap on the back which made him stagger. "Have you come prepared for a good feed?"

"Shut up, Ormond," murmured the unfortunate Naylor, glancing in the direction of the girls, and flushing crimson. "Why can't you leave a fellow alone?"

"You look so jolly tidy," laughed Guy. – "He's usually all over ink – isn't he Brian? – and goes about with only the lining of a cap on his head."

"It got torn," explained Naylor, in an apologetic tone. "But I only wear it in the playground. I've got a better one."

"I'm sure you needn't talk, Guy," put in Ida. "You're untidy enough. I don't know what state your clothes would get into if you lived away from home."

"Oh, fiddles!" answered her brother. "Have you brought your bicycle lamp, 'Nails'? Yes? That's all right, then! Because if you hadn't I should have sent you back again to fetch it, so it's lucky you remembered. It's for the game we've invented," he continued. "No, I shan't tell you what it is now. I'll explain it after tea."

Brian had left the room, and Guy rushed away to ask him something. Master Naylor, left unceremoniously alone with the two girls, drew a long breath, and nervously twisted his steel watch-chain. No one would have supposed that that very morning he had been sentenced to a term of extra drill for riotous behaviour in the classroom; but "Nails" had inherited the instincts of a gentleman, and he made a heroic attempt to enter into conversation.

"You – er – you know Seaton?" he began.

"You mean Brian, I suppose," answered Ida, smiling. "He's our cousin."

"Oh, of course," answered the visitor. "I remember now. Ormond – that is, your brother – told me so. Seaton is a fine chap; he plays in our football team."

"Yes, I know," chimed in Elsie, who always liked to hear Brian praised. "He's 'inside right.'"

The visitor began to feel more at home with the girls.

"The best of Seaton is he doesn't stick on side," he continued. "You know what I mean – isn't conceited. Most fellows are when they get their cap. I wonder if I shall ever play in the first team."

"I expect you will, some day," answered Ida kindly.

"D'you really think so?" inquired Master Naylor. "I'm not very big," he continued, surveying himself in a neighbouring looking-glass, with rather a wistful look; "but I'm growing," he added with more confidence.

At that moment Mrs. Ormond entered the room, and a few minutes later the company sat down to tea.

"Mother, may we go out to the garden?" asked Guy.

"Why, it's quite dark outside," was the reply. "Can't you play indoors?"

"But it's our new game," said the boy. "It's meant to be played in the dark. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt us; it's not been raining, and the paths are quite dry."

"Well, if you wrap up warm, I don't suppose it would hurt you to go out for a bit," answered Mrs. Ormond, smiling. "What is the new game? Don't you think it's time you let us into the secret?"

"Shall we tell them, 'Nails'?" asked Guy.

Master Naylor's mouth was full of cheesecake, but he nodded to show his consent.

"All right; I'll explain," continued Guy. "It's going to be just like 'I spy,' only it's played with bicycle lamps – that is, there will be two to seek, and the rest will hide, and the seekers will have a lamp each, so that they can find people in the dark. They'll shout out, 'I spy So-and-So,' and then run back to the den. If the person who's found can get home first, then he's safe; but if he doesn't, then he's got to be one of the seekers next time."

"Only one person seeks in 'I spy,'" said Ida.

"But it'll be more difficult to find people in the dark," returned her brother, "and much easier to hide."

"Take care you don't set fire to anything with your lamps," said his father.

"Mind you don't get oil on your clothes," added Mrs. Ormond.

"No fear," answered Guy. "We shall be all right. Will you excuse us, mother?"

"Yes. Let me see you're well wrapped up, and don't stay out longer than half an hour."

The night was still and dark. The two rather grubby bicycle lamps were at length induced to burn, and the little party made their way into the garden.

"Now," said Guy; "this summer-house shall be 'home.' You know the rule; Ida and Naylor shall seek first. Count fifty slowly, to give us time to hide."

Brian, Guy, and Elsie scuttled away into the darkness, while the two whose duty it was to search for them began a monotonous chant of "One – two – three!" ending with a triumphant shriek of "Fifty!" and a warning cry of "We're coming!"

The game was a great success. There was plenty of fun in finding hiding-places, and then crouching down watching breathlessly as the lamps went flashing up and down the paths, now coming dangerously near, and then moving off again. Nor was it less exciting, when seeking, to creep about, sending beams of light into dark corners, as a policeman might when hunting for a burglar. Then would come the shout of "I spy!" followed by the mad rush back to the summer-house, finder and found not infrequently arriving at the den at the same moment.

There was no end of critical moments and hair-breadth escapes; with one searcher it would have been comparatively easy to work round and get to the den unseen, but with two lamps flashing like miniature search-lights in the darkness it was more difficult. Once Guy nearly fell into the pond, while a little later on Brian, blindly attempting to force his way into the midst of a thick holly bush, gave a yell which discovered his whereabouts to the enemy.

Warming up with the game, Naylor came out in a manner which surprised the girls, who had hitherto thought him rather quiet. He rushed about, and seemed in all parts of the garden at once. No one was safe when he was seeking, and where he managed to find such secure hiding-places was a thing only known to himself. Once only did he find himself in difficulties.

"I spy 'Nails'!" shouted Guy. "Why don't you run?" he added a moment later, as no one stirred.

"I can't!" was the plaintive reply heard in the darkness.

"Why not?" demanded the searcher, coming back a few paces, and directing his lamp towards his chum.

The redoubtable Naylor was seen crouching awkwardly in a gap in the hedge at the bottom of the garden.

"I say," he remarked in accents of distress, "this beastly barbed wire has hooked my trousers leg and the back of my coat, and I can't stir."

Guy roared with laughter, and proceeded to set his friend at liberty. The half-hour would soon be up, and the duty of seeking devolved on Elsie and Brian. Ida was soon found, Naylor was discovered up a tree this time, but Guy seemed to have disappeared from off the face of the earth.

"I wonder where the fellow has got to," said Brian.

"He may be somewhere in the yard," answered Elsie, "though he said that it was out of bounds."

She ran off, followed by her cousin. There was no Guy behind the pump, and she made straight for the tool-house. Lifting the latch, and standing just inside the door, the light from her bull's-eye fell on the old familiar objects. There was the grindstone, there the iron-bound box, and there —

Suddenly the lamp dropped from Elsie's hand, and fell with a clatter on the stones. With a shriek of terror she turned and rushed across the yard.

"What's the matter, Elsie?" cried Brian, who had been exploring the coal-hole, and now ran after his little cousin, catching her up as she arrived at the glass door of the house.

"I saw it! I saw it!" panted the child, hardly knowing what she said. "Let me go in!"

"Saw what?" asked the boy, endeavouring to soothe her. "What's the matter? Are you frightened?"

"Yes," answered Elsie, catching hold of his arm, and looking over her shoulder. "But – but don't tell any one, Bri. You won't, will you?"

"Well, tell me what you thought you saw. I won't make fun of you."

Elsie, however, would give no reply, but refused to play any more, and went indoors. Brian went across to the tool-house, flashed his lamp up and down, but could see nothing beyond what was to be found there any time.

The half-hour being up, and Guy having disclosed his whereabouts, which turned out to be a snug retreat between the back of a cucumber frame and the wall, the party returned to the house, and spent the rest of the evening till supper time playing indoor games.

"I don't think Elsie's quite well," said Mrs. Ormond later on, when Master Naylor had departed, and the children had gone upstairs to bed. Brian happened to be still in the room.

"I think she was frightened at something she imagined she saw in the dark, when we were playing 'I spy,' aunt," he remarked.

"What a nervous child she's getting!" was the reply. "I can't understand it. She used to be brave enough, and now she's as timid as a kitten."

CHAPTER IX.

A FRESH DISCOVERY

Saturday had come round again, and as the children started for school that morning not one of them guessed what an eventful day it was going to prove. Meeting in the road outside the Pines on their return, they passed together through the gate, and along the drive.

"Hooray!" exclaimed Guy, swinging his bundle of books round and round at the end of the strap. "No more work till Monday! I thought I should have been kept in for Cæsar to-day, but I just happened to get an easy bit with words I knew."

"It's a wonder you ever know anything," remarked Ida, who was rather fond of reproving other people. "You are always drawing, or cutting up pen-holders with your knife, or doing something of that kind, when you ought to be preparing your work. Elsie's getting just the same. She sat staring at the wall all yesterday evening, and the consequence was that this morning she got both lessons returned. She's getting such a little funk, too, that she won't go up to bed alone, but waits on the stairs till I come."

"Oh, what a cram!" exclaimed Elsie, rather feebly.

"It's not a cram," returned her sister. "You know it's perfectly true, and you look under the bed too, expecting to find a hidden robber, I suppose."

In a playful manner Brian caught hold of Elsie by the back of the neck, much in the same way as he might have done a small boy at the Grammar School, but with perhaps a lighter touch.

"Come, what's the matter with you?" he asked. "You never used to be afraid of the dark; you were as bold as brass. What have you done? Murdered somebody?"

"No," answered Elsie, laughing. "I'm only – only a bit silly."

She looked up with a smile as she spoke. No one ever doubted Brian's pluck, and the fact that he did not think her a coward encouraged Elsie to be brave. Brian knew that something really had frightened the child on the previous Thursday evening, but he had not mentioned the matter to any one except Mrs. Ormond, for which Elsie was in her heart devoutly thankful to him, as she knew what a "roasting" she would receive from Ida and Guy if once they got hold of the story.

But though Brian forbore to tell what he knew, or even to question her further, yet the incident had been constantly in his mind. He wondered greatly what could have been the cause of his cousin's alarm, and why she should refuse to explain this when hitherto he had always been in her confidence. On Friday, without saying anything to anybody, Brian made a careful examination of the tool-house, hoping to find some clue to the mystery; but his search proved fruitless.

There was nothing in the place calculated to alarm the most timorous of mortals; and as the boy glanced round he saw simply just what he had seen there many times before – the grindstone, Uncle Roger's box, some gardening tools, and sticks for rose-trees and other plants, a quantity of matting stuff which had been wrapped round some plants and shrubs when they came from a nursery, some old hampers, and a short wooden bench on which the new boy, Henry, cleaned the knives and boots. There was certainly nothing here to cause any one to drop a lamp and run screaming into the house.

Still, Brian was not satisfied. He was perhaps rather pleased to think that there was some mystery connected with the tool-house; it was like trying to solve a very interesting puzzle.

"If only I had a clever detective here, like Sherlock Holmes!" he said to himself. "I suppose he'd just look round and find some clue which would explain the whole matter. I must confess I can't see anything. Now that's what began it all," he continued, as his eye rested on the grindstone. "I believe Elsie really did hear some one turning that stone, and it's my opinion that he, or she, whoever it might have been, was grinding the carving-knife; but there the story stops short, and doesn't seem to go any further. Besides, that doesn't explain what frightened Elsie the other evening. I wish she'd tell me, but I'm afraid she won't."

Brian went over and began carelessly working the grindstone with his left foot on the treadle. "I know what I'll do," he thought. "Each night I'll come out and tie the crank of this thing to the stand with a piece of thin black cotton; then I shall soon find out if any one comes and works here at night, for if they do, the thread will be broken in the morning."

Without saying anything to the others, he slipped out on Friday evening and set his trap; but when he went to examine it on the following morning the cotton was still unbroken, though it snapped at once the moment he pressed down the treadle. Nothing daunted by his failure, Brian made up his mind to try the same thing several nights running, and with this determination had hurried away to join his cousins as they started for school.

"Where's father?" inquired Ida, as the family assembled at the dinner-table.

"He's gone to Ashvale on business," answered Mrs. Ormond. "He won't be back before this evening."

"There's no football this afternoon, is there, Brian?" asked Guy.

"No practice game," was the answer. "There's a second-eleven match, but I don't think I shall go to the field. It's too cold to stand doing nothing."

"Then look here," continued Guy, "I'll tell you what well do; we'll make a target, and try my air-pistol. I know where there's a piece of board that'll do, and we can mark it out with rings and a bull's-eye with your compasses."

"By the way, Guy," said Mrs. Ormond suddenly, "I knew there was something I wanted to speak to you about. You remember the cork that was inside Uncle Roger's box? Well, I've found where it came from."

There was an exclamation of interest from the two girls as they raised their heads to listen.

"Have you, mother?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Ormond, with a half-smile on her face. "It came out of cook's methylated spirit bottle. You may remember that some little time ago she found it standing empty."

"But how could the cork have got into the box?" cried Ida.

"It seems to me," answered her mother, "that it must have been dropped by accident into the chest by the person who emptied the bottle, and therefore that same person must have been helping us when we opened the box."

"I know what you're driving at, mother," exclaimed Guy. "You think I used the spirit, and I've told you heaps of times I didn't. How does cook know it's the same cork? There may be hundreds of corks exactly the same size, and you couldn't tell one from another."

"There was no mistaking this one for another," was the answer. "It had once been stuck in a bottle of red ink, and the end was stained."

"Well, I don't know anything about it," said Guy. "Perhaps," he continued, struck with a bright idea – "perhaps father cribbed the spirit to fill that thing he lights his pipes and cigars with, and he may have dropped the cork into the box. You'd better ask him when he comes home."

There was a laugh, in which Mrs. Ormond joined. "I don't think your father is the culprit," she answered. – "Of course, if Guy says he hasn't touched the bottle, we must believe him. – Ida, did you or Elsie use the spirit for anything?"

Both girls shook their heads, and Brian also declared himself innocent.

"It's a rum thing how it came to be inside the chest," he remarked. "It's just like a conjuring trick."

"It certainly seems very funny," replied his aunt; "but, like most conjuring tricks, I dare say the explanation would be very simple if it were ever given."

Guy was impatient to test the power and accuracy of his birthday present. He painted a bull's-eye on a piece of board, with rings numbered 1, 2, 3, each about two inches wide, and then the question was to find a suitable place for practice.

"It's a beastly cold wind outside," he said; "I know what we'll do. We'll hang it up in the tool-house. Come on, Ida and Elsie; we'll all have a try."

The elder sister responded readily, but Elsie hung back, made some excuse, and went off in another direction.

"What a little noodle she's becoming!" remarked Ida to Brian, as Guy proceeded to hang up the target. "I believe, for some reason or other, she's taken it into her head to be afraid to go inside this tool-house. She won't go near it, not even in broad daylight."

"Let's go and bring her," suggested Guy.

"Oh, I shouldn't," answered Brian. "You'll never cure her that way. The best thing is to leave her alone, and take no notice. She'll get over it in time."

The air-pistol was great fun. Ida proved as good a shot as either of the boys, and it was difficult to decide which could lay claim to being the best marksman of the three.

"We'll have six shots each, firing in turn," said Guy. "Ida shall begin, and I'll put down the scores on this bit of paper."

The contest was an exciting one. Ida, unfortunately, missed the target twice, and so got behind the others, but Brian and Guy were so close together that it remained for the last shot to show which had won the first place. Brian fired, and the little steel dart struck close to the bull's-eye.

"Now, then!" cried Guy, reloading the pistol. "I must take extra good aim this time and get a bull. Oh, bother!"

He had been standing looking at the target as he spoke, and holding the pistol with the muzzle pointing upwards. Incautiously his finger had tightened on the trigger, with the result that the little weapon suddenly went off.

"O Guy, you should be more careful!" exclaimed Ida. "You might have hurt somebody."

"Hang it all!" muttered her brother. "Now I've lost the dart."

"There it is," said Brian – "straight over your head."

He pointed as he spoke to a little red tuft that showed the dart was firmly embedded in one of the beams which supported the roof.

"Good business!" cried Guy. "We'll soon have it down. Ida, drag over that old chest, and if Brian will stand on it with me hoisted on to his shoulders, I believe I can reach it right enough."

The experiment was tried, but the beam was still just out of reach of Guy's hand.

"I'll tell you what we can do," he said; "turn the chest up on end, and that'll make it higher."

As Guy moved the box into the required position there was an audible rustle and bump.

"Hullo, there's something inside!" he exclaimed.

CHAPTER X.

ELSIE'S CONFESSION

"Something inside!" exclaimed Ida, as the trio stood for a moment staring at Uncle Roger's box.

"Yes," answered her brother. "Didn't you hear it move? You listen; I'll do it again."

There was not the slightest doubt that the chest was no longer empty.

"But it's locked," said Ida, "and has been ever since the evening when it was first opened; and father has the keys of the two padlocks."

"Well, it's not empty now," returned her brother. "I say, I wonder what on earth it can be? Let's go in and ask mother if she put anything inside."

The air-pistol was forgotten, and the party at once adjourned to the house to make further inquiries. They found Mrs. Ormond in the dining-room, but she was unable to throw any light on the subject.

"Neither your father nor I put anything into the box," she said. "It was locked up and taken straight out into the tool-house. Of course, he may have put something in since, but I think it hardly likely."

"But what can it be then, mother?" exclaimed Ida anxiously.

"I'm sure I don't know," was the answer. "You'll have to wait till your father returns before you can find out, for he has got the keys of the padlocks on his bunch."

"When will he be back?"

"Not before seven o'clock, I expect."

"Oh, bother!" cried Guy. "Fancy having to wait all that time!"

There was no alternative but to curb their impatience as best they might, and the young people strolled back to the tool-house to have another look at the chest.

"Listen while I turn it up," said Guy, "and see if we can guess what's inside."

It was impossible to determine the contents of the box in this manner.

"I should think it was a parcel of some kind," said Ida. "You'd better not do that any more, Guy. It may be something that will break if it's rolled and banged about."

"Whatever it is," remarked Brian, "I expect uncle put it inside before he locked the box again."

"But mother said he didn't," persisted Guy. "I do believe the old thing is bewitched. First, after it's been locked and sealed up for twenty years, and was supposed to contain all kinds of precious things, it was found to have nothing at all in it but a cork (which doesn't count); and now, when every one declares it was put away empty, there's something inside."

No further discovery was likely to be made by simply lingering about staring at the outside of the chest, so, having recovered the air-pistol dart with the aid of a pair of steps, the trio dispersed, and went their several ways.

Brian strolled off down the garden, but had not gone far when he heard some one running after him, and turning round saw Elsie.

"O Bri!" she cried, "is it true that there's something in Uncle Roger's box?"

"It seems so," was the answer.

"Well, how can it have got there?" cried the child, her eyes growing rounder with excitement. "Isn't it wonderful? D'you think it's anything valuable?"

"I think we'd better not make any more guesses about that box until we see it opened," answered the boy, laughing; "though if you like to come and listen I'll turn the chest over. You'll then hear the hidden treasure moving inside, and can decide whether it sounds like a bundle of bank-notes, silver-plate, or bags of money."

If he had proposed a visit to the dentist, Elsie could not have shown greater reluctance to accept the invitation.

"I shan't go near that old tool-house again," she said slowly.

"Why not?"

"Will you promise you won't say anything? I wouldn't tell any one else but you, because I know they would only laugh at me, and say I was a coward."