The Lightning Conductor Discovers America

We hardly breathed while Peter was getting into his boat and untying the painter that had moored it to a bush. Even then we had to wait before coming back to life, for he sat still a minute or two, with his hands on the sculls, and looked our way, as if he were gazing at us. Of course we knew we were safely concealed from sight, and that he was only staring past trees and shrubbery at the dark, distant house. From that point of view there wasn't a twinkle of light to be seen through a blind; and if Jack and I hadn't taken the unusual whim into our heads to motor over from home, Patty would have been in bed and perhaps fast asleep for an hour.

I never realized before how hard it is, with the best intentions, to keep utterly, absolutely still: except once when I was a little girl and a nurse I had took me to a Quaker meeting. It was a silent one. I thought something awful would be done to me if I moved; and I tell you I could hear my ribs creak when I breathed! So I could again now, huddled behind the tree. And I thought I could hear Patty's hair curl.

When Peter had rowed away, and he and his boat had disappeared round the Point, we all three drew a deep sigh of relief. Then we looked at each other.

"Jiminy Christmas!" said I.

"Exactly!" said Jack.

Only Pat said nothing. Then she clasped her hands on an inspiration. "Do you know what I think?" she exclaimed. "Yes – it must be that! There is nothing else which can explain. Mr. Storm is ver-ry sorry for us, Larry and me, because once more we are in ruin. Not even Marcel can do us good now! But if it were true about the tr-reasure of the Captain Kidd, it would be ours. It would save me from – I mean, it would save us from all the trouble we are in. Don't you see, Molly and Jack, that is it? He went into the cave to search. If he would find the tr-reasure, he would tell us we were rich."

While she was talking, explaining her theory, my mind worked fast. What she said put an idea into my mind. It was different from her idea, because I had a clue – when I came to think of it – that she didn't possess. As it turned out, Jack's brain was working in the same direction as mine, at the same moment. I guessed this, before he told me, from what he said in answer to Pat.

"Perhaps you're right," he told her. "I'm afraid Storm must have been disappointed, though, if he was looking for Captain Kidd's treasure to give you. He came out with empty hands. Maybe, though, now you've got the inspiration you'll be more lucky, you and your father. I agree with Caspian on this subject: you'd better not invite too many people to your treasure-hunting bee. In fact, I think it had better confine itself to members of the family."

"No use," sighed Pat. "There's not a hole nor a corner of that cave I didn't search like a needle for a haystack – I mean the othaire way round – when I was petite."

"Do you give me leave to explore?" asked Jack.

"Yes, indeed," said Pat. Yet I thought she hesitated before she spoke. "When will you like to go?"

"I must dress for the job, I suppose," said Jack. "Shall we say to-morrow at ten o'clock in the morning, with you and Molly and nobody else in a stage box to watch the performance?"

Pat agreed, laughing, yet there was something peculiar – an arriere pensée– in her laugh. She had suddenly become absent-minded – or else she was sleepy; and I reminded Jack that it was growing late. We took the girl back to the house, into which she disappeared with a dreamy, "la Somnambula" air; and for once I was glad to see the last of the dear child. I was dying to talk to Jack. But I'm not going to inflict our discussion upon you. Instead, I'll tell you what happened in the morning (that's to-day!). We got up early and Jack sported a shocking old suit of knickerbockers, just right for an up-to-date cave man. You see, he really meant to keep his engagement. If he found anything, as he thought quite probable, it would bear out his theory and save unsuspecting Peter the trouble of working the Moore family up to an interest in the cave. We were just attacking our coffee and rolls, however, at eight-thirty, when Pat appeared, hovering at the end of the vine covered pergola which we use for a breakfast-room.

"Come to remind me of my promise?" laughed Jack, jumping up. But as she drifted slowly in, we saw that, whatever her errand might be, for her it was no laughing matter.

"I have to confess a thing to you both," she said. "I have been in the cave. Even before you went away, I made up my mind I would go in. I did not sleep too much. I got up when it was light. I put on a bad dress. I slid down the bank like when I was a little one. I creeped into the cave, with a candle, the way I used to do. It is not distant to the end, where one can squeeze. I looked all over, everywhere, as always when I was small. I remembered a hole far at the back – not a big hole – where I used to put pretty pebbles and play I was Captain Kidd with my pockets full of diamonds. The hole was there, but stuffed up with stones. I pulled them all out. And behind I saw a box – a queer old oak box. But oh, Molly, I have seen that box before, it was only a few days ago!"

"Not possible!" I cried, anxious to defend poor Peter and his quixotic plot.

"You would say not. Yet it is so. I saw the box – or its twin box – at that dear old Robinson house which is made into a curiosity shop at Bennington."

"You must have been dreaming," said Jack, backing me up.

"No. I saw it. But Mr. Storm did not know I saw it, because he did think I was not in the room where it was. He thought I was always with Mr. Caspian. And so I was, except for a minute. I went to look for you, in a back room. You were not there. You must have gone upstairs – "

"I did, to see a table Miss Robinson spoke of," I admitted.

"Only Mr. Storm was in the back room. He had in his hand the box, with a large date carved in the wood. If he bought it I am not sure, for I went away quickly when I saw he was alone. And after, there was nothing in his hand. But maybe when he wanted an old box with a date of 1669 – yes, that particular date of all others! – he remembered, and went back to Bennington – or sent."

"Good gracious, but why a box of that 'particular' date?" I wanted to know. Which was stupid of me. I ought to have recalled at once the fact that Captain Kidd was supposed to be burying treasure in 1669.

"It was the year of Captain Kidd!" Pat reminded me; and went on, as if in desperation: "In the hole of our cave, to-day, was that box, from Miss Robinson's house in Bennington. There was no lock to it; and I suppose Mr. Storm could not wait to have one made. He was in a hurry. I understand why, but I cannot tell you that. All I can tell is, it was there. I pulled it out from the hole – it was not so heavy! – and not more than thirty centimetres long. Inside was sand, and mixed up with the sand many, many jewels – oh, a fortune in jewels. I know, because I took the box to my room – nobody was up, so no one saw me. I spread on the floor a bed-coverlet and poured out the sand on it. Then I could count the beautiful stones without the fear they would roll away. There are a hundred pearls, oh, but large ones, big as peas; and some rubies, and diamonds in the dozen – emeralds, too. I do not know too much of such things, but they must all have cost ten, twenty, or maybe more thousands of dollars."

As she finished, breathless, Pat looked from one to the other of us. And Jack and I dared not look at each other, or our eyes would have said, "Told you so!"

"He put these things to make us rich, where we would think they were ours," the girl went on. "It was noble. He would never have confessed – never let us know what we owed to him. If you and me had not seen him last night – and if I had not known the box – we should have believed. We should have sold the jewels and paid our debts. And I – but what use to think of what I could have done? What I must do, is to tell him I know– yes, the minute he comes back to our house. It will be to-day, for now we can guess what has kept him so busy. He has somehow got these jewels – not set, so they may seem to be very old. But how —how did he get them – a poor man like him?"

"However he got them, it's all right," Jack soothed her.

"I am sure!" she said proudly. "He was to try and find money. He told me that at Bretton Woods. He finds it. But he does not keep. He gives it to me, like this! Of course it does no good. Of course I cannot take. I wish I could see him here at this house, with you to help me talk of last night."

Well, so it was arranged, according to her wish: that we should send over to his "diggings," as he calls them, and see if Peter had arrived. The car was despatched with the chauffeur and a hasty note from me; and Patty waited with us for news. But there was no news. Mr. Storm had not come, and his landlady, the village dressmaker, knew nothing of his movements.

There, my dear, I must leave my story. About this episode you now know as much as I do, or any of us. But doesn't it make you love Peter? When he told me his secret, he never breathed a word of this intention.

If only one chance in a million hadn't placed his best girl and two of his best friends within spying distance, the poor fellow's plan would have been a brilliant success. No doubt his idea was to propose (as if jokingly) to Larry a search for Captain Kidd's alleged treasure, to replenish the family fortunes after the fire. They would have been indebted to no one for what the cave might yield. A rich Larry and Patty could have arisen like a pair of phoenixes hand in hand from their own ashes, and flown high above Caspian and Shuster level!

The thing is now to let Peter know his plan has failed before he begins talking about buried treasure. We must manage it somehow. By the pricking in my thumbs, I feel he'll come this afternoon! And luckily, if all is well, the treasure troving won't be his only errand.

To-morrow I shall perhaps be able to let you into the whole secret. If he but realizes that time is the great object now!

Your

    Molly in Suspense.

P. S. I do think it was fun about the box from Miss Robinson's, don't you?

XXXIII

MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCÉDES LANE

    Awepesha.

Dearest:

I believe that, next to the day Jack proposed to me at Taormina, and the day we were married in London, this has been the most exciting day of my life. I expected excitement, but nothing to what we have had!

I wrote you yesterday morning, after Pat went home to the boxful of sand and jewels which not even Larry was to know about. The note I wrote to Peter Storm had been left at his lodgings, so when he returned he would know that he was wanted at our house. The trouble was, we had no idea when he would return; and that poor child Pat was trembling in her extremely high-heeled shoes (she never wears boots to tremble in) lest Caspian should reappear upon the scene. I hardly dared hope that the letter Jack had sent to Mr. Strickland's office would reach Peter; but it was that which did the trick. Mr. Strickland was the lawyer he had been consulting about his complicated affairs, and when the note arrived, Mr. S. knew where to send it. No sooner was it read, than Peter bolted from New York to Long Island, and had the happy thought of coming to see us, to pick up the latest news from the front. I was so pleased to see him walk in, I could almost have kissed him! But I didn't stop to talk long. I ordered Hiawatha, and dashed off to fetch Pat. I was afraid if I merely sent for her, something might happen to keep the girl at home, or Caspian might have turned up, and insist on coming with her.

As it happened, I wasn't far wrong. Caspian had indeed turned up, bringing a strange man with him, and both were closeted with Larry. I whisked Pat away before she could be called into the council chamber. The poor child insisted on carrying the "Captain Kidd" box, wrapped in a silk tablecloth from Como! She wanted to place it in the hands of its owner and donor without delay, and Peter and she were to be given some moments alone together, Jack having prepared the mind of P. S. meanwhile.

The two men were in the library when I opened the door and walked in upon them. Jack had finished telling the tale of the night, and I felt pity as well as affection for Peter. He doesn't show his emotions easily, but I could see that he was pained and humiliated by the failure of his romantic scheme. I said not a word to him about it, but mentioned that Patsey was in my boudoir. "I think she has something to say to you," I added.

"I'll go to her at once, if I may!" he exclaimed.

"You not only may but must," I enjoined; then stopped him at the door. "I hope you're ready to tell her everything now?"

"I'm ready, yes," he answered promptly. "But is it the best time – "

"It's the only time there is!" I cut him short.

"She's right," Jack backed me up.

"Very well," said Peter. "If you both say it's the supreme moment, it is. But I shall have to go through with what she's got for me first."

With that, he went out and shut the door. And I confess to you, Mercédes, I should have liked to be a fly on the wall in my boudoir during the scene between those two. A fly has no conscientious scruples against eavesdropping, which is fortunate for it, as nature has equipped it so well for indulgence in that pursuit. As I couldn't be a fly on a ceiling, looking at Peter and Pat upside down, I went and sat on Jack's lap.