"Indeed he will," said Roger darkly. "Fishes like water. I only hope he'll wipe his fins when he comes in. The last rainy day he dripped all over the room. I was 'most drowned before we finished. But it was mean and sneaky of Win to go up to the Manor this morning. He might have known that I wanted help with my arithmetic."

"Perhaps I can help," offered Frances. Luncheon just over, the unwelcome Mr. Fisher was due in twenty minutes.

"Oh, you may try," conceded Roger ungraciously. "But if Win stays up there all night, I'll pay him out."

"Mother thinks from Miss Connie's note that they were doing something very interesting and she really wanted him," Fran said lazily, her face pressed against the pane. "How angry and gray the water looks."

"I've a great mind to bunk," said Roger gloomily. "It's not fair for me to work alone all the afternoon."

"Edith and I have been at school all the morning," said the peace- making Frances. "And Win does work when he can; he never really shirks, Roger."

"He likes to study," grumbled Roger. "I don't."

"There are so many things you can do that Win can't," reminded his sister.

"Don't preach," retorted Roger, but Fran's comment recalled to his mind the conversation with Max in the cave. Boy-like, Roger would not admit even to himself any repentance for his short-comings on that occasion, but the recollection served to smooth his present ruffled feelings. Win had worked alone with Bill Fish all that afternoon and Roger remembered most distinctly how Mr. Max looked when he said he was going back to Paris and waste no more time.

"Win is having fun, I'm sure," said Fran at length. "Miss Connie promised Edith and me that we shall come up and sleep in the haunted room some night if we like."

"What's it haunted by?" demanded Roger.

"She wouldn't tell us. Says if we know, we'll be sure to see things. But she is going to have a bed put up for herself and come in with us, so I'm sure it's nothing very dreadful. I'm so glad we came to Jersey just so we could know Miss Connie."

"Some girl," admitted Roger. "But she can't hold a candle to Mr. Max. He's a corker."

"He is nice," Frances agreed. "But show me your arithmetic. And would you like me to sit in the room? Perhaps Mr. Fisher won't be so fierce if I am there."

"I would not," was her brother's concise reply. "He isn't fierce either; he's merely flappy. I tell you he is a fish. He looks exactly like one of those flatfish we catch down in Maine. Eyes both on one side."

Nothing more unlike the tall, angular Scotch tutor could possibly have been mentioned, but Fran suppressed a laugh as she inspected Roger's problems in mathematics.

"Me doing arithmetic!" he groaned. "And Win having the time of his life at the Manor!"

If not exactly experiencing such bliss, Win was thoroughly enjoying himself. After luncheon in the charming old Manor dining- room with a cheerful fire dispelling all gloom caused by the rain on the windows, the three adjourned to Colonel Lisle's study, where Win placed upon the table his discovery. The Colonel read it with great interest.

"Well, that is a valuable document, Win," he admitted. "It is evidently a page from a letter that Richard Lisle, fourth, wrote to some one and never sent. I am the ninth Richard, so you see how far back that was. Of course it refers to the Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles II of England. It is a curious fact in the history of the Channel Islands that Guernsey sided with the Parliament in its dispute with the king, while Jersey remained royalist to the core. I am under great obligations to you for discovering this paper, for it proves beyond doubt the legend that I have always wished to see substantiated, that Prince Charles came to Laurel Manor."

"Don't you make out, Daddy, that they gave him other clothes and took him to the castle?" asked his daughter.

"Without doubt. Orgueil, or possibly Castle Elizabeth. I believe that the consensus of opinion now favors Elizabeth as having been the prince's refuge."

"What do you make of the rest of it, sir?" asked Win, who was still beaming with happiness over the Colonel's appreciation. "It says in so many words that they put something in a chest and hid it until the trouble was over."

"That much is plain," replied his host thoughtfully. The paper was spread upon his desk and the young people sat on either side. Win's attention was distracted for a moment by his view of the Colonel's distinguished face, the face of an high-bred English gentleman. With all the impetuosity of his American birth and training, Win felt the charm of this gentleman of other race and another generation. He admired the Colonel's complete repose, his courteous ways and softly modulated voice. They were not in the least effeminate and the empty sleeve and the little bronze Victoria cross bore witness that the Colonel was a very gallant officer.

"I think," began Constance, "that Great-great-grandfather Dick and his 'Sonne' put the prince's clothes and perhaps some other things in a chest and hid them. Dad, did you ever know of anything answering to the description of 'ye Spanish chest'?"

The Colonel thoughtfully smoothed his gray mustache. "There is the box that came from the Armada," he remarked. "But that cannot be the one referred to, since that belonged to your mother, my dear, and comes from her side of the house."

"Mummy was Irish," Connie explained to Win. "I'll show you that box. It really was washed up on the coast of Ireland and has been in her family for centuries. No, of course, it couldn't be that."

"A Spanish chest does not necessarily mean a relic of the Armada," went on the Colonel. "There might possibly be a box of Spanish workmanship, but I know of none in the Manor to which that description could be applied. That big black oak chest in the upper hall is English. The one in my room is Flemish."

"Oh, those are both too big, anyway," declared Constance. "Even men in a hurry wouldn't take a box as big as those to pack a suit of clothes in. No, it was something that could be easily carried and concealed. It takes four servants to move those great arks."

"Then, if there isn't anything in the Manor that answers the description, don't you believe the chest and the things in it are still hidden?" Win asked rather shyly, but with keen interest.

The Colonel smiled kindly. "Sorry to quench your enthusiasm, Win," he said, "but I doubt it. Prince Charles landed in Jersey in 1646 if my memory serves. Subtract that date from this year of our Lord. I'm afraid that chest, whatever it was, has long since emerged from its hiding-place. According to the document here, it was concealed only till 'happier times should dawne.' Prince Charlie came to his own again, you remember. This Richard Lisle died somewhere where about 1675. He lived to see the Restoration, so surely he or his son brought to light again the things that there was no longer reason to conceal."

"But, Daddy," said Constance quickly, noticing the look of disappointment on Win's expressive face. "People forget. Let's think of all the possibilities. It says some place outside the walls. And they needed a lantern."

"There is the cave, daughter, at the edge of the Manor estates, but you know all about that. Why, I know that cave myself, I was going to say, every grain of sand in it."

"That's true," admitted Connie. "And of course in all the centuries, numbers of people have been there."

"Considering the brisk trade in smuggling that was done in Jersey during the 1700's, I think the chances of finding anything in the Manor cave are very small," agreed her father. "There is one thing, though, we might look at."

As he spoke, he rose and produced his keys. Swinging back a portrait on hinges, he disclosed a small safe built into the wall. Win was silent through interest in this novel way of concealing a strong-box, but Constance jumped up.

"What are you looking for. Daddy? Oh, the plans of the Manor."

"You see," said the Colonel to Win as he sat clown again, a discolored roll of papers in his hand, "the original Manor house has been added to from time to time. Let us see what it comprised in the days when Richard Lisle read his Psalter and wrote his letter. It is possible that something then outside the wall may now be inside the house."

"There's a number of queer things about this old place," said Connie, sharing Win's look of expectation. "Max and I have run a good many of them to earth, but there may be something yet. Certainly we never stumbled on any Spanish chest."

The two young people helped the Colonel spread the plans and arrange paper-weights to keep them flat.

"This comprises not only the house itself but the grounds," he began. "They run as you see to the cliffs of the bay. The cave is there."

"I never knew that," said Win. "Is it large?"

"Nothing like Plemont or even La Grecq," Constance replied. "Those are the show caves of Jersey. There are many as big as ours. It's a rather rough walk, Win, and the cave is accessible only at low tide. I did say something about it once to Edith and Frances, but they didn't understand, and after they were caught by the tide, I thought it would be better for them not to know of it. You see one can get shut in till the next low water. There's no danger because the vault is so high that the tide doesn't fill it. In fact, Max deliberately stopped there once."

"Was he shut in?" asked Win.

"No," said the Colonel smiling. "He was annoyed with me and took that method of expressing his displeasure. I fancy he was a trifle surprised that no fuss was made over his exploit. You see, I knew he was perfectly safe. Connie, I think that path is possible for Win some day when the weather and tide both serve. Well, this is the extent of the original house. It includes this wing where we are and the main portion. These shaded partitions show distinctly where later additions have been made."

"What is this tiny dotted line across the grounds?" Win inquired.

"That? It is a footpath toward the shore and the gardener's cottage. I should say that the present path curves more, but that is its direction in general."

Win was puzzled by this explanation. Why should only one of the Manor paths be marked? That it was the sole one existing at the time the plans were drawn seemed scarcely possible.

"That 'safe place,' if it was outside the walls in those days would probably have been somewhere underground," commented Connie, after the map had been exhaustively discussed. "That might mean that it is now in the cellars somewhere. Dad, have we your permission to explore all the subterranean caverns?"

"If there are any that you haven't already investigated," said the amused Colonel. "I didn't suppose there was a square inch of the place that you and Max hadn't by heart."

"I thought so, too," said Constance, "but if Win's theories are correct, there must be something we have overlooked. What do you say about an exploration, Win?"

"Oh, I should like nothing better," said Win eagerly. "It will be great sport to hunt for that chest. And it's so interesting to look around a house that has been in the same family for centuries."

"There has been a Richard Lisle of Laurel Manor for over four hundred years," said the Colonel rather sadly. "I am the last of a long line."

"The only solution," said Constance quickly, "is for your unworthy daughter to marry some perfectly insignificant person, who will as a part of the marriage contract, take the name of Lisle."

"The man who marries my daughter," replied the Colonel with gentle dignity, "will have an honorable and, I trust, an honored name of his own to offer her."

"Else he will never get her," commented Connie with charming impertinence. "Daddy dear, if I could find a man one half as nice as you are, I'd marry him on the spot! Win, we'll arrange to head an exploring expedition. It's too cold and spooky in the cellars to do it this afternoon. We'll plan for a time when Roger and the girls can share the sport. I wish Max was here, too. He would simply dote on it"

"I wish he was!" sighed Win. "I was dreadfully disappointed when I heard he had gone. I think he's about right."

A sudden very charming smile broke over Connie's face. Up to that time, it had been rather serious. "If we don't solve the problem before the Easter holidays," she said, "Max will be keen on running it down. I hope he can come then. He took so long at Christmas that I'm afraid they'll dock him at Easter, and I shall be completely desolated if that happens."

"I think he will come," said the Colonel. "In fact he told me he might be able to get away for an occasional week-end. With a fast car it is not so far to Granville or even St. Malo and he need waste no time waiting for the steamer."

Constance suddenly sat up straight. "Max mustn't neglect his duties," she declared. "Either he has a very indulgent chief or he is hedging."

Her attitude was so comically severe that Win laughed, and her father looked up with a smile.

"I can't be responsible for what Max tells his chief," he remarked, "but I know enough about the diplomatic service to feel sure he is giving satisfaction."

Constance still looked stern. "It's all right, of course, if he really earns his week-end," she conceded, "but I won't have him shirking. In October he was so serious and quiet that I didn't know what to think of him, but at Christmas he was the same dear boy he used to be. Didn't you think he was just like his old self?"

The Colonel thus appealed to, returned her smile. "There were moments," he gravely replied, "when I doubted whether either one of you was more than sixteen."



CHAPTER XIV

IN THE VAULTS

When Win finally appeared at Rose Villa, driven down in a closed carriage, the tale he related was of sufficient interest to banish from even Roger's mind the resentment he considered but just, after his long afternoon with Mr. Fisher. Those hours had been profitable, did Roger only choose to admit the fact, for the tutor had managed to galvanize into life the dry bones of an epoch in history. Roger would not acknowledge it even to himself, but on that stormy day he came rather near liking Bill Fish.

"That's a most exciting discovery, Win," said Mrs. Thayne when the tale was concluded. "But I'm afraid I agree with Colonel Lisle that the chances of finding anything are small, though you will have fun exploring. It is very kind of the Colonel and Miss Connie to permit such a troop to invade the Manor."

"I think they are just as interested themselves," Win replied. "The Colonel was immensely pleased to have that legend confirmed."

Mrs. Thayne looked at him rather wistfully, wondering how much of the interest displayed by the Manor family was due to sympathy with Win. No doubt they liked him, for people always did. Well, she was glad that this unusual experience was coming his way.

"I'm crazy to see that cave!" Frances was saying. "Don't you remember, Edith, when we first met Miss Connie on the beach, she said something about looking for caves? I suppose she was thinking of this one."

"I've been in it," Roger suddenly announced. "Mr. Max took me. It's a very decent cave but there's only one place where a box could be hidden, on a sort of ledge above the water. We climbed up and if there had been so much as a snitch of a chest about, it couldn't have escaped us."

"You've been in the cave?" demanded Frances, pouncing upon him. "When did Mr. Max take you? Where were the rest of us? Why didn't you tell us?"

Roger looked uncomfortable. He had never mentioned that expedition, not even to his mother during a very serious conversation on the sin of truancy.

"Oh, I met him on the cliff," he said evasively. "He showed me the cave and we went swimming. He is a corking swimmer."

"But why didn't you tell us about it?" persisted Frances.

Roger saw no way out. Being a truthful individual he blurted forth the facts.

"Because Mr. Max told me not to. He said it wasn't safe and he was afraid you girls would go fooling around and get caught by the tide. It isn't a fit place for girls, either!" he added largely.

"It is!" retorted the exasperated Frances. "If it wasn't, Miss Connie wouldn't have been there."

"I'd wager that Miss Connie did everything Mr. Max did," chuckled Win. "But the Colonel said to-day that the cave was out of the question so far as any hidden chest was concerned,—that it couldn't have escaped discovery all these years. I don't really expect to find anything, Mother, but it will be great fun to look. I've always wanted to search for hidden treasure, you know. And Miss Connie seemed as interested as I was. She has appointed next Wednesday afternoon to explore the vaults. We are all to come at three and stay for tea afterwards. At first she suggested that we have it in the cellars, said it would be nice and cobwebby and befitting a treasure hunt, but then she remembered that Yvonne was afraid of spiders and wouldn't fancy taking the tea things down," he ended with a laugh.

Win was tired that evening and went upstairs early. When Roger clattered into the adjoining room half an hour later, his brother called.

"Oh, you, Roger," he said, "come in here a jiff."

With a terrific yawn, Roger appeared in the doorway. Win was in bed, a lighted lamp on a table by his pillow.

"Could I get down to that cave?" he asked.

"You could get down," Roger remarked judicially. "It's rather steep but there's only one bad rock. Still," he added, "if you waited till the tide was even lower, yon could walk round that. When we came back from our swim, that bit of cliff was out of water. It would be some tug crawling up, but you could take it easy."

"I'd give a good deal to get down there," said Win thoughtfully. "How was it inside? Much climbing? Any place where a box could be tucked out of sight?"

Roger proceeded to describe the interior of the cave, arousing Win's interest still more.

"I don't suppose there's hide nor hair of that chest around," he admitted, "but all the same, I want to take a look. The tide is full every morning now and it will be the end of the week before we can get down. As soon as we can, I wish you'd do the pilot act."

"Oh, I'll show you," assented Roger, again yawning prodigiously. "I don't take any special stock in this hidden chest, but the cave is fine and I'll like to take a whack at the Manor cellars. Are you going to burn that lamp all night?"

"I am going to read for a while," said his brother, taking a book from under his pillows. "Shut the door into your room if it annoys you."

"It doesn't," answered Roger. "I can see to undress by it better than with my candle. Ridiculous to have only candles in bedrooms! Mother would give me Hail Columbia if I read in bed the way you do."

Win suppressed a sigh. "Mother knows I read only when I can't sleep," he said shortly. "You may not believe it, but I'd much rather sleep."

Wednesday afternoon found an expectant quartette walking up the Manor road, slowly because Win paused occasionally to regain breath, but there were so many lovely things to look at that no delay seemed irksome. To begin with were fascinating cottages with neat little box-edged gardens and straw-thatched roofs; curious evergreen trees with stiff jointed branches known locally as monkey-puzzles; there were pretty children, some of whom waved hands of recognition; there were skylarks singing in the blue above, their happy notes falling like musical rain; there were big black and white magpies and black choughs, rooks and corbies, now known to the young people by their English names. And always there were glimpses of the ever-changing, changeless sea.

Roger, who had gradually forged ahead, remained leaning over a low cottage wall until the others came up. In the yard sat a woman milking one of the pretty, soft-eyed Jersey cows, but what held Roger's fascinated attention was her milk-pail.

Instead of the ordinary tin receptacle familiar to Roger during country summers, she had an enormous copper can with a fat round body, rather small top and handle at one side like a bloated milk- jug. Over the top was tied loosely a piece of coarse cloth and on this rested a clean sea shell. Streams of milk directed into the shell slowly overflowed its edges to strain through the cloth and subside gently into the can.

"That's something of a milk pail," observed Roger approvingly.

"It's just like the hot-water jugs Annette brings in the morning," said Frances, "only ten times bigger. Wouldn't it be lovely for goldenrod and asters? I'm going to ask Mother to buy one."

"Pretty sight you'll be walking up the dock at Boston with that on your arm," jeered Roger. "It will never go in any trunk and you'll have to carry it everywhere you go. You needn't ask me to lug it, either."

"It can be crated and sent that way," said Frances calmly.

"Those hot-water jugs make me tired," Roger went on as they continued their walk. "I'm sick to death of having a quart of lukewarm water in a watering-pot dumped at my door every morning. Think of the hot water we have at home, gallons and gallons of it, steaming, day or night!"

Edith looked politely incredulous. "How can that be?" she asked. "Do you keep coals on the kitchen fire all night?"

"Coals!" snorted Roger. "All we have to do is to turn a faucet and that lights a heater and the water runs hot as long as you leave it turned on. No quart pots for us!"

"But surely," said Edith, "only very wealthy people can have luxuries like that."

"We're not made of money but we have it," retorted Roger. "Even workmen have hot-water heaters in their houses."

From Edith's face it was plain that she frankly didn't believe him and Win tried to make matters better.

"You see, Edith," he explained, "it is much more difficult in the United States to get satisfactory servants and so we have all sorts of clever mechanical devices that make it easier to manage with fewer maids."

Edith's brow cleared. "Oh, I see," she said. "I thought there must be some reason. Of course, if we needed them, we would have such arrangements in England."

"England," declared Roger bluntly, "in ways of living is about two hundred years behind the United States!"

"Roger!" exclaimed the shocked Frances.

"Cut it out!" ordered Win.

"It's true, anyway," retorted the annoyed Roger, "and there's another thing. We licked England for keeps in the Revolutionary War!"

"Only because you were English yourselves!" flashed Edith before Roger's scandalized family could remind him of his forgotten manners.

This retort disconcerted Roger and delighted Win.

"You've hit the nail on the head, Edith," he declared approvingly. "England could never have been beaten except by her own sons. And England's navy has always ruled the seas."

"How about Dewey wiping out the Spanish fleet at Manila?" demanded Roger still huffily,

"That reminds me," said Win coolly. "I believe it was an English admiral who backed Dewey up at Manila when the Germans tried to butt in. After that battle somebody wrote a poem about it and wrote the truth, too. This is what he said:

"'Ye may trade by land, ye may fight by land, Ye may hold the land in fee; But go not down to the sea in ships To battle with the free; For England and America Will keep and hold the sea!'"

As Win concluded, Edith's high color lessened and Roger looked less pugnacious. Presently, each stole a sly glance at the other, both were caught in the act and simultaneously laughed. So the party reached the Manor without disruption by the way.

Constance, with a soft green sweater over her frock, came to meet them.

"All ready for the fray? Leave your hats in the hall. You will need your woollies for we are going where sunlight never comes. There's good store of candles and two lanterns. Anything else needed, Win?"

"A hammer perhaps," suggested Win. "We may want to sound walls."

"A hammer there shall be," and Constance rang the bell to order it. "Dad says he will come down if we make any startling discovery, but being an elderly person, he's a bit shy of damp."

Provided with lights and the hammer, the gay party started, filing through a kitchen so fascinating with its red-bricked floor and shining copper cooking utensils that Fran found it hard to pass. Several maids and a jolly cook smiled on them as they vanished down the cellar stairs.

"I suppose you want to see the oldest part of the Manor vaults," Connie said to Win as she led the way with a candle in a brass reflector. "We shall come back through here."

To Edith and Frances it seemed that they traversed numberless dark rooms, dry but chilly, some stored with vegetables and barrels, while others were empty or showed dusky apparitions of old lumber. Constance stopped at last.

"We are under the library now, Win. This is the original cellar and you can see how much rougher the workmanship is than in the newer parts."

Walls were rough and floor uneven, indeed, a part of it was composed of an outlying ledge of the Jersey granite. Obedient to suggestion, Roger and the girls began to inspect the walls for traces of some former exit; Roger by himself, the girls, rather fearfully, together. Win stood looking at the ledge in the floor.

"That settles there being any hiding-place underneath," he remarked.

"Yes," said Connie, "but the paper said 'beyond the walls,' you know. So wouldn't it more likely be in one of the cellars not built at that time?"

"Well, probably," assented Win. "But I was looking at the way this rock runs." He produced a pocket-compass. "It's much thicker at this end and the direction is approximately north and south. What is to the east, Miss Connie?"

"Nothing at all. That wall is still the outer one."

"And the wall farthest from the water?" asked Win quickly.

Constance nodded.

"Then it is the western wall I want," said Win, turning toward it.

Somewhat mystified, Connie watched him make a minute examination, tapping with the hammer on its entire length.

"I suspect that it's frightfully thick," she said as he stopped, looking disappointed.

"What is on the other side?" he inquired. "Is this whole partition now included in the house?"

Constance led the way to the opposite side of the wall. There lay a large apartment, dimly lighted, but of better workmanship and finish. Win went immediately to the eastern side of this cellar and bestowed upon the partition stones the same minute inspection.

"This wall must really be several feet through," he observed to the watching Constance.

"Probably. But I don't see, Win, what you are trying to get at."

"I hardly know myself, Miss Connie. It's just an idea I had. This would have been the wall nearest the cave. You see I'm not used to having a cave as a sort of household annex, so I can't help thinking it may figure yet in this business."

Connie shook her head. "Perhaps it did once," she said. "Only that cave is more or less common property; many people know of it. We can be sure of one thing; that nothing will be found in it now. How about this floor?"

Win left the wall to inspect by aid of his lantern the huge, roughly-squared blocks forming the cellar floor. Damp, dark and numerous they showed under the light.

"It's possible that any one might conceal some cavity," said Connie. "But that one would surely differ in some way from the others. Let us spread out and inspect them. Anybody who finds a flag in any way peculiar, speak."

Constance herself began to peer at the stone flooring, not at all because she expected to find anything in the least unusual, but because she did not want disappointment to fall upon Win too quickly. If he really searched thoroughly, he would be better satisfied to acknowledge the quest as useless.

Among the many scenes those centuries-old walls had looked upon, it is a question whether they had witnessed so gay a sight as the five young people, wandering slowly up and down the uneven floor, looking for some stone raised higher or sunken lower than the others, more carefully fitted; perhaps, though this could scarcely be hoped, provided with an iron ring for a handle.

Nothing happened. No two of the many flags were alike, yet none seemed of sufficient distinction to mark it as worth further investigation. All looked as though they had never been moved.

The other and more recent cellars received scanty attention. Of lesser age, they were also cleaner, drier and better lighted.

"Our adventure seems fruitless" sighed Connie as they stood at last among bins and bottles near the kitchen stairs. "Why, where is Win?"

Both Frances and Roger started back, ashamed to have forgotten him if only for a moment. Suppose poor Win had had one of his attacks alone back there in that shadow-filled vault!

Win was found in the original cellar of the old Manor, not pacing the floor or tapping the stones, but meditatively staring at one of its walls, not the one he had devoted so much attention to, but the northern boundary.

"What luck?" asked Connie as they came in, relieved at sight of him.

"None," said Win, turning to her with curiously bright eyes. "But, Miss Connie, do you think your father would show me those plans again!"

"Why, of course he will. Has some idea struck you?"

"I don't quite know," said Win. "But I should like to see the plans and perhaps some other day, you'll let me come down here again for a few moments."



CHAPTER XV

THE HAUNTED ROOM

"There is a letter for you, Miss Edith," said Nurse as the girls came in from school, the next Saturday. "It is for Miss Frances, too."

"For us both?" exclaimed Frances. "Where from?"

"Pierre brought it from the Manor," replied Nurse.

"I can't get over there being no telephones in the houses here," remarked Frances, snatching off her hat. "Imagine having to send a man with a note instead of just taking down a receiver and talking. Not to have telephones is so very English."

"The English don't hold much with new inventions, Miss," Nurse agreed. "What was good enough for those before us does us very well."

"I know it!" sighed Fran, "but think of the convenience of a telephone."

Edith was holding a dainty square note bearing the inscription:

"Miss Edith Pearce, Miss Thayne, Rose Villa. A la main de Pierre."

"From Miss Connie, of course," said Edith delightedly. Each took a corner of the enclosed card and with several little squeals of amused pleasure, Frances read it aloud.

"Miss Lisle presents her compliments to Miss Pearce and Miss Thayne and requests them to grant her the favor of attending a meeting of the Society for the Suppression of Ghosts to be held in the haunted room of Laurel Manor this evening at ten.

Notes:

Dinner 7:30. Beds provided at 9:45 (Ghost not guaranteed to appear). Very best nighties because of looking pretty for spooks. Breakfast any old hour."

Screaming with delight, Edith ran to find Estelle, Frances for her mother.

"But I don't know that I want you to sleep in a room that has the reputation of being haunted, Edith," protested Estelle. "Will Mrs. Thayne permit Frances to go?"

"Oh, Sister, there's some joke about it," pleaded Edith. "There must be, because Miss Connie always laughs whenever the ghost is mentioned. And would her father let her sleep in that room if it was anything to frighten people? Oh, Star, it will be such fun!"

Up-stairs, Frances was besieging her amused mother. Two minutes later, the girls met in the hall, dancing with glee, for each might go were the other permitted.

"Dinner at the Manor, too!" sighed Frances. "What bliss!"

Neither Estelle nor Mrs. Thayne had much peace from then until it was time to start. Finally the hour arrived and the family assembled in the hall to see them off, Win interested and Roger openly envious. "I'd like a chance at that ghost just once," he vowed. "I'd settle him."

"Perhaps later, Miss Connie will invite you boys," said Edith. "Why, here's Pierre. Oh, he's come for our bags."

To have a servant sent for their light luggage again struck Frances as most charmingly English, and two very happy girls waved farewell to Rose Villa as they turned out of the terrace.

In the great hall of the Manor, Constance greeted them, ceremoniously enough, but with mysterious smiles and twinkles. In person she conducted them to a pretty guest-room near her own apartments.

"We won't invade the ghost's domain until time for bed," she announced gayly. "You'll find a bath adjoining and would you like Paget to do your hair or fasten your dinner frocks?"

"We will help each other," said Edith, as full of twinkles as Connie herself.

"Then I will dress and come for you in about half an hour."

"Isn't Miss Connie the dearest thing!" said Edith enthusiastically as the door closed. "I never saw anybody just like her before."

"Mother thinks her charming," replied Frances, brushing her curly hair. "Edith, do you suppose we shall ever know the truth about that story of the Italian prince?"

"It doesn't seem as though it were true," observed Edith. "Or at least, as though she cared very much if she had to break her engagement, for she is always so gay and happy."

The face that was looking just then from the mirror in Connie's room did not precisely correspond to these adjectives, but the young mistress of the Manor was the daughter of a brave soldier and the descendant of a long line of gallant gentlemen. Those slow weeks since Christmas that Constance crowded with gayety were bringing gradual healing. The heart under the fluffy frock she slipped on to-night was not so heavy as the one under the white gown worn that day when she stood by Win in the Manor library and watched the boat for St. Malo leave the harbor.

Frances and Edith were ready when she came for them, also prettily dressed in white.

"Nice little English flappers," Constance remarked approvingly. "Why, what is the matter with Frances?"

"I don't know what a flapper is," confessed Frances, sure however, that it could be nothing very dreadful.

Constance laughed and patted the brown cheek. "Merely a jolly little English school girl with her hair down her back. Yours is tidily braided but Edith looks the typical flapper."

She took a hand of each and three abreast they went down to the hall where Colonel Lisle was standing in a soldierly attitude before the fire. He greeted them with charming courtesy, offered Fran his arm and conducted her to the dining-room.

Both girls were supremely happy, Edith quietly so, Frances fairly radiating enjoyment in the stately room with its fine old portraits and windows open to admit the sweet odors of myrtle and daffodils.

"Don't think the Island winters are all as mild as this," the Colonel was saying as Yvonne removed the soup plates. "I have seen both snow and hail in Jersey and sometimes we have extremely cold weather. But you were asking, Frances, why French is the official language here. The Channel Islands came to the English crown with William the Conqueror, and have always remained one of the crown properties. So while the islanders are English they have French blood in their veins and each island has retained its peculiar historic customs, the official use of French being one. When Normandy was regained by France, the islands remained with England and though Jersey was frequently attacked and sometimes invaded by the French they never held more than a portion of it temporarily. Indeed, so much was a Norman or French invasion feared, that the islanders inserted in the Litany an additional petition: 'From the fury of the Normans, good Lord, deliver us!'"

"We have seen the tablet in the Royal Square, marking the spot where Major Pierson fell in the battle of Jersey," said Edith, who shared Win's liking for history.

"Ah, in 1781. That was the last French invasion. Speaking of the Royal Square," the Colonel went on, "there is a curious custom connected with the Royal Court there, that might interest you. Any person with a grievance relating to property has a right to come into a session of the court and call aloud upon Rollo the Dane. The Cohue Royale,—the Court,—must listen and must heed. That is a very ancient relic of Norman rule in the Island. Oh, no, it is seldom resorted to. One does not lightly call Prince Rollo to one's aid. That is the final appeal when all other justice fails."

Yvonne, who was waiting upon the table, reappeared from a brief absence with a beaming face.

"It is Monsieur Max who arrives," she said confidentially to Constance.

"Max!" exclaimed Connie. "Why, how nice! Sha'n't he come directly, Dad? Tell him not to dress, Yvonne."

"By all means, tell him to come as he is," said the Colonel, his face lighting with pleasure at this news.

"Pardon, m'sieur," said Yvonne. "Monsieur Max already hastens to his room and says the dinner shall not delay, that he shall be fast,—ver' queeck."

"Max can be fast," said Constance smiling. "Well, we will dawdle over our fish. I never thought of his coming," she went on, watching Yvonne as she deftly laid another place beside Frances. "This must be one of the week-ends he promised. I wonder why he didn't warn us?"

"I suppose there was no time to do so," said the Colonel. "Max knows he is welcome at any hour."

Max was "queeck." The fish was only just finished when he came quietly into the room, dressed for dinner and looking not in the least as though he had recently stepped from a steamer. Edith and Frances watched eagerly. If they were still in deep ignorance concerning Miss Connie's Italian prince, this was surely their chance to discover how matters stood between their adored little lady and Mr. Max.

Disappointment awaited them, for nothing could have been more commonplace than the greeting exchanged. Even the fancy of fourteen years could not construe Constance's "Hello, old boy!" and Max's nonchalantly offered hand into the slightest foundation for a romance. So far as outward appearances went Max was much more affectionate towards the Colonel, who did not disguise his marked pleasure at seeing him.

With gay words for both girls, the newcomer slid into his seat. "I'm as hungry as a hunter, Connie," he announced. "Soup, Yvonne? Anything and everything that's going. Oh, it was rather a rough crossing, but it merely gave me an appetite. Where are the boys? Couldn't they come to this exclusive dinner? Or am I butting in myself?"

"You are," replied Constance mischievously, "but for Dad's sake, we will forgive you. The boys are not here for the simple reason that they were not invited. Having fortified ourselves with strong meat, the girls and I are going to brave the Manor ghost to- night."

Darkness had fallen and with it a sense of the eerie over Fran. She was distinctly relieved to hear Max laugh at this announcement.

"Do you really want to see the ghost?" he asked, turning to her.

"Crazy to," was Fran's prompt reply. "I wouldn't dare stay alone in that room, but with Miss Connie and Edith, I sha'n't be afraid. Indeed, I want dreadfully to see the ghost."

"You know yourself, Max, that it doesn't materialize every time it is invoked," began Constance.

"I know it," said Max. "I only wanted to ascertain how keen the spook-hunters are. I slept in that room once for two weeks when the house was full and became much attached to his ghost-ship."

"So I told the girls," replied Constance with equal gravity.

Edith and Frances were looking at each other in puzzled bewilderment but Max suddenly changed the subject. His eye had fallen upon Grayfur, the big cat that had purred himself into the room in the shelter of Yvonne's skirts.

"Hello, old chap!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Do you like cats, Frances?"

"No," confessed Frances. "I love dogs. Edith is the one who likes pussies. She is always bringing stray kittens home."

For some reason this statement seemed to amuse Max. To the surprise of the girls, he and Constance exchanged a smile.

Ten o'clock struck before Edith and Frances found themselves, after a happy evening, again in the pretty guest-room.

"Miss Connie, I am afraid you weren't ready to come up," said thoughtful Edith. "Didn't you want to stop longer with your father and Mr. Max?"

"Max doesn't leave until Tuesday morning," Constance replied. "Dad will love to have him all to himself for a good talk and smoke, and if Max has anything especial to say to me, there will be plenty of opportunities. I'm quite glad to come up."

When she came for them, the girls were ready and the little procession started, three kimonoed figures each bearing a lighted candle along the echoing halls to the haunted room above the library. Electricity had not trailed its illuminating coils above the first floor of the house so the big apartment looked spooky and shadowy enough, the candles placed on the mantel, quite lost in immense distances. Three white cots stood side by side in its centre.

"First, we will fasten the door securely," said Constance, suiting the action to the word. "Then we will take this electric torch and look about a bit."

Careful inspection showed the room undoubtedly tenantless, the handsome old-fashioned furniture offering no hiding-place for any intruder. Like the library below, its walls were of paneled oak, with three large portraits set into the wood-work. One, a Lisle of Queen Elizabeth's time, looked down benignly, attired in doublet and ruff.

"Miss Connie, how shall we know what to look for or expect?" asked Frances when the three were settled in their beds, lights out and the room illuminated only by the moon.

"It wouldn't be wise to tell you," said Constance mysteriously. "All I'll say is that it is nothing at all disturbing or frightful. The few people who have seen or heard anything never knew at the time that it was a ghost."

"But you will tell us in the morning?" asked Edith.

"Yes," replied their hostess. "I will tell you then, whether you see anything or not, and very likely you will not. But if you want to have the creeps and would truly enjoy them, I'll tell you something that really happened to me once in Italy."

"Oh, do, do!" begged both girls in unison. "That would be simply perfect," added Edith, sitting up in bed, her fair hair floating about her shoulders and turning her more than ever into the likeness of an angel.

"Some years ago, when I was about your age," began Constance slowly, "Dad and Mother and I were traveling in southern Italy, and Max was with us. He was with us a great deal, you know. We stopped one night at an old hotel that had once been a monastery, though it was different from the usual monasteries because it was a place where sick monks came to be cured and to rest.

"The location was wonderful, on a cliff overlooking the sea and though the place had been altered for the purposes of a hotel, it was still a good bit churchly. The partitions between the cells had been knocked out and additions built, but the hotel dining- room was the old refectory with stone walls and floor, and the wonderful garden was much as the monks left it. Such roses you never saw and such climbing vines and flowering trees. Oh, there's no place like Italy!"

Constance stopped. The moonlight falling across her bed touched her face into almost unearthly beauty.

"We had connecting rooms that night," she went on. "Dad and Mother took the corner one with two beds. Next was a tiny room where I was to sleep and Max's was beyond mine. All were originally cells opening on a terrace, covered with roses and passion-flowers and looking down to the sea, which was shining with little silver ripples.

"We'd had an especially happy day and I was so keyed up with enjoyment that I couldn't go to sleep right away, but lay looking out at the flowers and the waves. Mother went through to see that Max was all right and then came back to kiss me. She closed the door into his room, but left open the one from mine into hers.

"I remember hearing Mother and Dad laugh a little about something and I suppose I went to sleep, because I woke very suddenly with a start, all awake in a minute."

Connie paused, this being the proper moment for a thrill. "What do you think I saw?" she asked impressively.

"Oh, I can't imagine!" gasped Frances, shivering in delighted anticipation. "Do go on!"

"Have you chills down your spine!" laughed Constance. "In the moonlight right beside my bed, I saw a monk, dressed in white, the usual robe of the Dominicans. He had a wise, kind face, with a pleasant expression, and as I looked at him, he took my wrist very gently, and put his finger on my pulse."

"Oh-h!" said Edith, pulling the covers about her more tightly. "Oh, Miss Connie, what did you do?"

"That frightened me," said Connie. "Up to that time, I noticed only his pleasant, gentle look, but it seemed as though a bit of ice touched me and I gave a scream that brought Mother and Dad up standing. Of course, when they came hurrying in, nobody was visible. I made a big fuss, presumably because I wanted to be petted and coddled.

"I told them about the monk and Dad at once thought that Max had been playing a joke on me. He stepped into Max's room, intending to be severe, but Max was sound asleep and besides, the door into his room squeaked so that he couldn't possibly have opened it without waking us all.

"Then they said I had the nightmare. Perhaps I did," said Constance with a smile, "but I can see yet the kindly face of that old monk. I didn't want to stay in my room, so Dad told me to go in with Mother and he'd take my bed. We all settled ourselves again.

"I was asleep or nearly so, feeling so comfy and safe in my bed close to Mother's when suddenly she sat up straight and said 'Richard!' in such an odd, startled tone. I woke and heard poor Dad piling out of bed again to come into our room. Mother sat there looking very troubled and holding one wrist in the other hand. She didn't say anything more,—neither of them did,—but I knew perfectly well that the old monk had been feeling her pulse."

"And what happened in the morning?" demanded Frances breathlessly.

"Nothing at all," said Constance cheerfully. "In the morning everything was beautiful and lovely as in no other country but Italy. Mother and I merely agreed that we had an odd dream. We did not stay a second night, for we were on our way back to Rome."

"Did you ever hear anything more about the monk?" asked Edith.

"Years after," said Connie dreamily, "we met some Americans in Switzerland who told us of a similar experience in this hotel. Later, I learned that Dad found out at the time that the place was reputed to be haunted by an old monk physician who turns up at intervals and feels people's pulses, and is often seen pottering about the garden in broad daylight. Monks are such a common sight in Italy that the hotel guests stop and converse with him, thinking him a gardener and never suspecting that he is a ghost."

"But the Manor ghost isn't like that?" asked Edith, who wanted reassurance.

"Not a bit," said Constance. "As for that, there was nothing so very frightful or repellent about the monk. Don't you think we should go to sleep now and give his spookship his innings?"

The girls agreed and silence fell over the big room with its three white beds. Outside the open casements a vine waved within Fran's line of vision, tapping gently against a window pane.

Presently a slight sound caught Fran's wakeful ear, as of steps on a somewhat unfamiliar stair where it was necessary to grope one's way. Touching Edith's shoulder, she sat up in bed. They had entered the haunted room by a door now locked, opening on a big stone staircase; these steps seemed upon muffled wood.

Next moment there came a sudden convulsive sneeze that sounded in her very ear. Frances gasped but Constance sat up laughing.

"No fair!" she exclaimed.

For a second there was absolute silence, then somebody laughed, extremely close at hand, though yet behind a partition. The laugh was followed by the soft sound of retreating footsteps.

"What happened, Miss Connie?" begged Edith.

"No ghost," said their hostess merrily. "I had forgotten. That was clever of Max."

Silence again followed for a period, succeeded by the sound of music in the garden below the windows, soft and very sweet.

"Oh, is that the ghost?" demanded Frances in great excitement.

"Your mother will bless me for letting you stop awake all night," said Constance. She sat up, wrapped a white robe about her and stuck her feet into slippers. Upon the music came the sudden unearthly miaow of a cat.

The noise sounded directly in the room and all three girls jumped. Constance laughed again.

"I might have known Max did not come into that passage for nothing," she sighed. "Where's that electric torch?"

Having turned on the flash-light, Connie approached the large oil painting set into one side of the gloomy room, its base about a foot above the floor. She touched a knob on its frame and the portrait became a door opening outward and revealing a narrow, dusty winding stair descending to the floor below. On its top step sat the big cat, just opening its mouth for another howl.

"Come in, Grayfur," said Constance. "Max brought you, didn't he? If he hadn't sneezed and given himself away, he'd have opened the door a crack and let you in."

"Is it a secret stair?" asked Frances, her eyes big with excitement. "Where does it go? Wouldn't Roger be crazy over it?"

"We will let him go up it," answered Connie, swinging the portrait into place again. "The passage comes out below in the library. Max thought he would provide one ghost anyway."

Putting the cat into the hall, she locked the door again and then stuck her pretty head from the window.

"Max," she said severely, addressing the unseen musician, "you are spoiling your fiddle and breaking your promise. You said you wouldn't be silly. Go to bed now like a good boy."

The fiddle responded with two ear-splitting squawks.

"Stop it!" commanded Constance. "There goes a string and it serves you quite right. You'll have the bobbies coming to investigate if you don't leave off."

The unappreciated serenader appeared squelched by this threat, for complete silence followed.

"Nothing more is at all likely to happen tonight," said Constance, coming back to bed. "And I hope Max will go properly to his room. Now go to sleep, girlies, and in the morning, I'll tell you how the Manor ghost disports itself."



CHAPTER XVI

THE MANOR GHOST

In spite of a firm intention to remain awake, Frances soon fell into quiet slumber and knew nothing more until the next morning. February dawns in England are dark, but when she finally opened her eyes, the room was faintly lighted by the coming sun and her watch told her that it was after eight.

Edith still seemed asleep, but from the bed at the left, Connie smiled back at her. For some reason known only to herself, their gay little hostess had decreed that Frances should take the centre bed.

"Awake?" she whispered. "How's Edith? Is she still off?"

As though she heard her name, Edith stirred, turned over and finally rose on one elbow.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Constance. "We needn't get up unless you like. When we are ready, Yvonne is to bring us breakfast in my sitting-room. We'll wash and put on boudoir caps and eat en negligee."

At this delightful programme both girls became wide awake in an instant.

"And you will tell us about the ghost?" asked Frances.

"I will," replied Constance, sitting up and gathering her pretty kimono about her, a lovely white Japanese crepe embroidered in gold with fire-eating dragons of appalling size. One stretched across the front as she fastened the folds. The girls also rose and put on their dressing-gowns. Unlocking the door, Constance looked into the hall.

"I'll just see that the coast is clear before the procession forms," she remarked. "Daddy's rooms are down-stairs but Max's is on our way. I'm quite sure though that he and Dad are already out, for Dad likes to attend early service and Max has probably gone with him like a dutiful young man."

As the three started, Edith turned to glance searchingly around.

"What are you looking for?" asked Frances.

"For the pussy," replied Edith, hurrying to overtake them. "I thought there was one in the room."

"Miss Connie put it out," said Frances, laughing. "Wake up, Edith!"

As Edith spoke, Constance stopped to look at her rather oddly, then went on quickly.

"When you are ready, come to my sitting-room," she said on reaching their door. "It is at the end of this hall."

When the girls appeared ten minutes later, Constance was yet invisible. In the sitting-room a table stood before a couch piled with pillows, and two cushioned chairs opened luxurious arms.

"Isn't this the dearest room," said Frances appreciatively as she settled herself. "I suppose this is Miss Connie's own especial place where no one comes without an invitation."

In some respects the room was very unlike the sanctum of the average girl. While not lacking in the daintiness bestowed by fresh flowers, gay chintz and white draperies, it contained a number of objects not often seen in a boudoir. On a teakwood stand in one corner, against the background of a valuable Oriental rug in shimmering greens and blues, sat a curious Indian idol. Constance's desk might once have been used by some Italian princess in the days of Dante, and above it hung a beautiful silver lamp that could well cause envy in the breast of Aladdin. Pictures and ornaments alike spoke of wanderings in distant lands and from their unusual individuality indicated a wide range of interest in their possessor.

The door into the adjoining bedroom opened and Constance came out attired in a lounging-robe that made both girls gasp with admiration.

"Oh, Miss Connie," Frances exclaimed, "what a beautiful kimono. And what color is it?"

"Guess," said Constance merrily. "For a long time I didn't know myself what to call it."

"It isn't blue nor gray," said Edith admiringly.

"Nor green nor violet," added Frances reflectively, "and yet it is all of them. I've seen something like it but I can't think what."

"I suppose only an Oriental artist could conceive such a combination," said Constance, ringing the bell for Yvonne and then curling into a little heap on the couch. "Dad brought it to me from Paris and I keep it for very special occasions. I couldn't make out what color it was but I loved it the minute I opened the box and I knew you girls would. I've thought very seriously of having it made into an evening coat, for it is too lovely to be used only in my room. But about its color. One day this Christmas vacation I was feeling a bit poorly, so I had tea up here and let Dad and Max come. I slipped on this robe to receive them in state and the minute Max saw it, he told me what it was like. The thing is in plain sight."

The girls glanced about the room. Edith's eyes lingered for a second on a brass bowl full of blue hyacinths, but passed on.

"I have it!" exclaimed Frances, noticing a slight inclination of Connie's fair head toward the open casement. "It's the color of the ocean!"

"Right!" said Constance. "The moment Max said so, I knew it. He did it very prettily, too, with some remark about the 'lady from the sea.' The silk really does change and shade as the water under storm and sun."

There came a tap and Yvonne, bearing a most tempting tray, entered with a smiling "Bon jour, mes demoiselles." Fruit, a fat little chocolate pot sending forth a delicious odor, and flanked by delicate china and shining silver, whipped cream, marshmallows, French rolls, sweet unsalted butter and raspberry jam, made the girls feel hungry at the mere sight. Dainty green and white snowdrops, tucked here and there by Yvonne's artistic fingers added the final touch.

"I think this is the greatest fun," said Frances. "Do you always have your breakfast this way?"

"Bless you, no," replied Constance. "This is an occasional Sunday morning indulgence. Every other day of the week, I am up, dressed and in my right mind to breakfast with my Dad. He'd think the world was coming down about his ears if his Connie wasn't there to pour his coffee. I warned him that we were going to have a debauch this morning and he won't care anyway, because he has Max. What did you mean, Edith, about a cat? Did you dream of Grayfur?"

"Why, no, it wasn't Grayfur," said Edith, dropping a marshmallow into her chocolate and watching it dissolve. "I thought Mr. Max succeeded in carrying out his joke. He must have come back much later and put another pussy in from behind the portrait. I woke some time in the night, oh, hours after, because the moonlight was 'way across the room, and sitting in it, washing its face, was the prettiest little half-grown kitten. It was a perfect beauty, white with a plumy tail. I spoke to it very softly so as not to wake either of you, and it looked at me and purred but would not come. I watched it chase its tail for a little and then it jumped in a big chair and curled itself up to sleep. I suppose it must have gone out when the door was opened this morning. May we see it again, Miss Connie? It was much prettier than Grayfur. But do tell us now about the ghost. We are in such a hurry to hear."

"You know practically all there is to know," said Constance whimsically.

Both girls stared at her. "What do you mean!" asked Edith. "Is it a joke? Isn't there any ghost?"

"You know better than I do," replied Constance, tasting her chocolate critically. "Did you have sugar, Frances? Why, you've seen the ghost, Edith, which is more than I can say."

Edith's face was a picture of surprise. "Seen it!" she repeated. "Why, I saw nothing at all."

"I told you, didn't I, that the people who saw the ghost never knew it at the time? This is the legend. About a century ago, the Richard Lisle, then owner of the Manor, married a very charming young wife. He was madly in love with her and was inclined to be rather jealous. The story runs that he couldn't bear to have her lavish affection on anything but him, was jealous of her dog and her horse and even of her flower-garden. Winifred Lisle had a very pretty white Persian kitten—"

Constance stopped, for Edith's spoon fell with a clatter. "You don't mean that darling purry little pussy was the ghost!" she exclaimed.

"Listen to the story," Constance went on smiling. "Dick Lisle objected to even this wee kit since it took some of his Winifred's time and attention and he gave orders that it was never to be admitted to the room where they spent the evening, presumably the library. The kitten disappeared and Winifred mourned for it. Months later, its little corpse was found on the secret stairs behind the portrait."

"Then Mr. Max didn't put a cat into the room?" asked Frances eagerly.

"I think not, unless he took the trouble to bring a white kitten with him from Paris. Max is quite capable of doing it for a joke, but he could not know, you see, that we were planning to sleep in that room last night. And there is no white kitten about the Manor."

"Isn't that the oddest story!" said Edith in deep interest. "Why, Miss Connie, I'm as sure as I am of anything that I saw that pussy playing in the moonlight. It was the sweetest little thing and I did wish it would come and cuddle by me in bed. Is it really a ghost? How do you account for it?"

"I don't account for it," said Constance. "You can consider it a pretty dream if you wish. I never saw it and I have a fancy that it is because I am not fond of cats. When Frances said she did not like them, I knew that she would not see the little ghost kit either, and so I wanted you to take the bed nearest the moonlight."

"That's the most interesting thing that ever happened to me," said Edith. "I'm so glad I saw it."

"Whether it is imagination or dream, I rather like to think of the kitten ghost playing so gayly with its tail on moonlight nights," said Connie. "No, only three or four people have seen it. The room is not often used, and like Edith, they supposed it a kitten that had somehow got in. Well, is the Manor ghost satisfactory?"

"I think it's the dearest thing I ever heard of," said Edith happily. "But do you suppose that Winifred's husband shut it in there deliberately?"

"We'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Cats are always poking about in odd places. The door in the library may have been open a crack and the kit gone in to investigate. Once I accidentally shut a kitten into a drawer in the linen closet. Luckily Paget happened to open it within an hour and she was surprised enough to find a pussy there. Now for the rest of the morning. I heard Frances say that she wanted to hear a church service in French just to see whether she could follow. If you like, I'll get Max to take us into town and we will find a French church to attend."

"That would be lovely," declared Fran enthusiastically. "I really believe I could understand quite a little now."

"Thank you, Miss Connie," said Edith. "I'm afraid I ought to go home. Fran can stay just as well as not, but Sister depends upon me to go to church with her. I always do, you know."

Edith colored and looked uncomfortable, feeling that perhaps she was being ungracious.

"You're a good little sister," said Constance quickly. "And you would not care so much as Frances because you have always spoken French. I imagine Dad will go to St. Aubin's and he'll take you home. I'll make Max go with us."

Max was perfectly willing to play escort, but looked dubious when Constance declared her intention of stopping at a tiny French church just inside the town of St. Helier's. "Have you ever been here?" he demanded.

"No," admitted Constance. "Of course we might go to the Convent of St. Andre. I forgot, though, they wouldn't let you in. Frances only wants to hear a sermon in French and this will answer very well."

Max still looked disapproving. "You won't like it," he said. "It's a queer, non-conformist sect of some kind. There's a place the other side of town where they have the Church of England service in French. Let's go there."

"Why not stop here?" persisted Constance. "More exciting when one doesn't know what's coming next."

"One may get more than one bargains for," commented Max. "Connie, I have a premonition that we'll land in some mess."

Connie made a delightful little face. "Come in," she said to Frances. "I was under the impression that we invited Max to escort us."

When Frances returned home from church, she was distressed to find Win in bed.

"He overdid yesterday," said Mrs. Thayne in reply to her anxious questioning. "I can't discover exactly what happened, but he and Roger were out together and Win walked too far. That's all he will admit. No, he isn't as badly off as sometimes, and says he only needs a rest. Come up in his room, Fran, to tell your adventures."

To Fran's eyes Win looked decidedly ill when she saw him lying against his pillows, but he evaded all inquiries and demanded to know about the Manor ghost.

"That wasn't the end of our experiences," Frances went on laughing, when the events of the night had been thoroughly discussed. "We had a funny time in that little church. Mr. Max didn't want to go there in the beginning, but Miss Connie insisted. Inside, it didn't look much like a church for it was a great bare room, with not many people present. The usher made us sit rather far front, so we had a good view of the minister, who was a little man with black hair that stood straight up, and his manner was very excited.

"The service seemed unusual for different people kept getting up and talking. I couldn't understand much and Mr. Max looked annoyed and Miss Connie amused. Finally a boy about my age began to speak. He wore the oddest vest and trousers of rose-pink sateen plaided with purple. We could see distinctly because the minister made him come out in front and face the people. Well, the clothes he had on were enough to make any one smile, but when he finished speaking, the minister bounced out of the pulpit and kissed him on both cheeks! He did, honest!" Fran insisted in answer to Roger's whistle of incredulity.

"I don't know what would have happened next, for the service was really very strange, but when the minister kissed that boy, Mr. Max gave a little grunt and took up his hat. I was sitting between them, and he leaned forward and said in such a disgusted tone, 'My word, Connie, will you come?'

"I think Miss Connie was trying not to laugh but I guess she'd had enough herself for she rose and we went out very quietly so as not to disturb anybody.

"When we reached the street," Frances went on, "Mr. Max was so funny. He didn't say a word, only stalked along looking quite cross. Miss Connie sat down on a wall and laughed till she cried. Then she told Mr. Max to smile and show his dimple. But he wouldn't. I don't see how he could help it when she was so pretty and sweet. Well, after she laughed some more, she begged him please to look affectionate.

"At that he couldn't help smiling, and then he asked Miss Connie if she was ever going to stop getting herself and him into scrapes. She called him 'old boy' and said she was sorry,—she wasn't really," Fran interpolated with a wise nod,—"and promised to stick to the Church of England service ever after. Mr. Max inquired how much I understood and when I told him only a little, he said it was lucky. That was certainly a very peculiar church," Frances ended reflectively. "I'm quite sure that Mr. Max wanted to come out long before we did, and that Miss Connie persisted in staying just to tease him."

Win was smiling over his sister's story, but though he evinced interest both in the Manor ghost and in the amusing experience Connie had furnished with her little French church, the point that most impressed him was Max's presence at the Manor.

"I wish I could see him," he observed. "I want so much to ask a question or two. Did Miss Connie tell him about the paper I found and how we explored the vaults and sounded the walls?"

"She did," assented Frances. "We talked about it after dinner. Mr. Max was as interested as could be and said he was going down himself to take a look."

"Mother," said Win suddenly. "I really need to see him. Don't you believe he'd come in for a minute if he knew I was used up so I couldn't get to the Manor?"

"Indeed, I do," assented Mrs. Thayne. "Write a note, dear. Roger shall take it for you."

Roger, who for some reason haunted his brother's room in a subdued mood not at all common to his usual attitude toward life, was very willing to act as messenger. Toward night, Max appeared at Rose Villa.



CHAPTER XVII

THE DOTTED LINE

"Sorry you are laid by, old man," Max said cheerfully as he was shown into Win's room. "Better luck soon."

"It's good of you to come," replied Win, grasping the hand so cordially offered and relieved to see that the pleasant young face bore no expression of the sympathetic pity Win so often read in older countenances.

"Well, my being here is as much of a surprise to me as to any one," said Max, sitting down by the bed. "On Friday I expected to spend my Sunday in Paris. But it chanced that I successfully engineered a rather ticklish job for the Embassy, and the Chief was pleased. As a figurative pat upon the head he gave me the week-end off. You should have seen the way my car went to Granville! Jean drove till we were clear of Paris and then I took the wheel and things began to hum. From the tail of my eye I could see Jean devoutly crossing himself whenever we hit the earth, but we made the boat and didn't so much as run down a hen. I did wonder that we weren't held up anywhere for exceeding the speed limit, but the mystery was explained when we reached the Granville pier."

Max stopped with a mischievous laugh. "The Embassy has several official machines," he explained, "and of course they are so marked they are easily recognizable. I always use my own car, and am authorized to sport the Embassy insignia when on official business. I forgot to remove it before starting and that was why not a single gendarme did more than salute as we tore past. Good joke, so long as it ended well, but if we'd come a cropper on the way, there'd have been rather a row and Max would have stood for an official wigging, to say the least. Lucky for us that nothing went wrong. What's done you up, old fellow?"

Win looked at him wistfully. "Just exploring the Manor cave," he said with a sigh. "I did so want to see it, and I made Roger take me. I managed to get down all right, but it took over an hour to climb the cliff. The kid is wild because he thinks he's half- killed me."

"Oh, say, that's a shame," said Max. "I wish I'd known that you wanted to go. Pierre and I could have rigged a rope somehow and helped you get back."

Win's face just then was pitiful. Max's eyes grew very gentle but he did not utter one word of sympathy. "I've been led a lively pace since I reached the Manor," he went on. "Between Connie's ghost hunt and the extraordinary church she chose to attend this morning and your discovery in the library, my existence hasn't lacked variety. Gay Paris is quiet beside this! But there's nothing in the world I'm so keen on as hidden treasure. I'm pretty sure I have a special talent for hunting it down. To be sure the only time I ever tried, I made a giddy ass of myself and got into a jolly mess, but I wonder will I succeed with this. Connie thinks you've the tail of an idea. Can't you put me on?"

"That was what I wanted to see you for," replied Win, his self- possession quite restored. "Please open the lower drawer of that desk. Right on top is a roll of tracing paper."

"Why, this is a copy of the Manor plans," said Max, as he spread out the thin sheet.

"Yes," said Win. "Colonel Lisle let me trace them. Tell me, does anything about them strike you as odd?"

Max considered the plan carefully. "I can't say it does," he admitted after a minute survey. "Give me a lead."

"That dotted line," said Win, pointing to it with Max's pencil, "according to Colonel Lisle, marks the path down to the cottages on the shore, only the path curves more now than it did when the plan was first made. Don't you think it strange that it was the only path put on the plans? Even the state driveway isn't indicated."

"That, I suppose, wasn't made then."

"But surely," persisted Win, "there was some driveway to the main road. Why should this especial path be marked? It couldn't have been the most important, even at that time."

"That does seem true," replied Max thoughtfully.



"Now look at the point where the dotted line comes to the house," Win went on, tracing its course as he spoke. "This is the very oldest vault of all, under the library, you know. On the plan, its northern wall is continued flush by the northern side of the addition made later, and this dotted line runs parallel to it, but—it runs inside the foundations."

"So it does," Max agreed. "But isn't that due to clumsy drawing? There's an axiom, you know, about it being impossible for two bodies to occupy the same space. Two lines couldn't occupy the same location on a plan."

"Yes," said Win, "but if this is a path, what is it doing inside the house?"

There followed a second of silence and then Max gave a low whistle. "I'm on," he announced. "Clever reasoning, Win."

"There's another thing, too," said Win, lying flushed and pleased against his pillows. "I spent a lot of time on that dividing partition wall. I'm sure there is no space in it unless it is so thick that even a hollow place wouldn't sound any different. But after I looked again at the plans, I saw that what I should have put my time on wasn't that wall at all, but the northern one, indicated here as parallel to the dotted line. Mr. Max, I'm quite certain that the old original cellar extends farther to the north than this newer part. I mean that the north wall of the new cellar isn't on a line with the old one, not in reality, though here it is intended to look so."

"You mean," said Max, bringing intelligent brows to bear on this explanation, "that this was an underground passage rather than a surface path and that its northern side is the one flush with the original cellar?"

"That's exactly it," said Win. "I think there is a passage running along outside that northern wall down to the cave and the beach. There seems a space on the plan that isn't accounted for in any other way, and that explains why this dotted line runs inside the foundations."

"But, old chap," said Max kindly, "I know that cave from top to bottom. Truly there is no exit. I've spent hours in exploring the place."

"But when I was on the ledge at the back, there was a draught of fresh warm air from somewhere," Win pleaded. "And Roger said he noticed it when you took him there. Behind the ledge is a big pile of stones and rubble. Couldn't that air get in somehow?"

"It must, since you felt it," agreed Max sensibly. "If I can possibly manage it, I'll make an investigation. But I am booked to sail on Tuesday morning. It may have to stand over until the Easter holidays. I will take a squint at the cellar though this very evening. Did you sound that north wall?"

"No, I didn't," Win admitted. "I spent all my time on the west one. Not until I studied the plans again, did it fully dawn on me that perhaps that line was a passage instead of a path. If that is true, it is the other wall that will bear investigation."

Max still surveyed the plans, his fine young face intent on this problem. He glanced up to meet a very wistful look from Win.

"On the whole, let's wait until Easter," he suggested. "Then you'll be feeling more fit and can come down in the vaults with me."

"I wish you'd inspect that wall," Win replied. "If you find it does sound hollow, will Colonel Lisle let us punch a hole?"

"Sure," said Max encouragingly. "I know jolly well he will. Uncle Dick will be game for any investigation. Only he'll have to be convinced that I'm not pulling his leg. If that north wall resounds like a tomb, I'll tow Uncle down to hark for himself. Why, man, we're getting on swimmingly! That was a mighty clever idea of yours about the dotted line. Connie'll be keen on it too, and anyway she owes me one after getting me into such a beastly mess as she did to-day. I didn't even use unkind language about it either. If the sea is decent tomorrow, I'll trot her down to the cave to see where your fresh air comes from."

"Perhaps it can be felt only when the wind is from a certain direction," observed Win.

"That's more than likely. Yesterday it was south, wasn't it? Very probably it takes a south wind to strike in there. I'm afraid we can't hope for that to-morrow because there seems a storm brewing, on purpose probably to give me a rough trip on Tuesday."

"Weren't you glad of the chance to come?" asked Win.

"I was," said Max expressively, "not only because I always like to get back to the Manor, but because I was pleased with myself to think I'd scored with this especial bit of work, a job of smoothing down an elderly ass who was inclined to be a trifle footy. You see when I decided to go in for the diplomatic service, Dad told me that he would use his influence only to get me an appointment, a try-out. After that it was up to me; if I received promotion it would be because I earned it, not because I was his son. He makes me an allowance because one really couldn't manage on the salary of an attache, but so far as my profession goes, I stand absolutely on my own merits. So Max is feeling proud of himself just now!" he added whimsically. "So's my Dad, if my telegram reached him."

"He must be proud of you," said Win rather soberly. "I so much hope that Roger will condescend to go to Annapolis. You see I can't, and Dad would like one of us in the navy."

"Roger will wake up to a sense of his privileges some day," said Max. "Do you know, Win, some of the finest work in the world has been done by the fellows who were handicapped. Prescott, for instance, writing all his histories, blind in one eye and sometimes half crazed by pain; Milton, too, dictating to his daughters, and Scott, producing so much when he was old and burdened with grief and trouble. And Stevenson, who was ill half his life."

"But they were geniuses," said Win.

"They were also too courageous in spirit to yield to circumstances. To come down to more ordinary people, I think Uncle Dick is mighty fine. He is crippled, useless for the work he expected to grow old in; he saw his only son die for England. You have seen enough of him to know what he is and what he means not only to Laurel Manor but to the Island. I respect and admire him tremendously and I shall owe much of whatever success I score, to him as well as to Dad. There are careers open to you, Win. You are clever and have a fine mind. Roger defers to your opinion. Through your influence, he may accomplish far more than he might alone."

"I don't amount to very much with Roger. Still, I did make him square things with Fisher that day he played truant and went off with you," admitted Win with the ghost of a smile. "Mother only lectured him for bunking, but I persuaded him to apologize and to put in the next Wednesday doing the work he skipped."

"Good for you!" said Max cordially. His gray eyes were very kind and friendly as he rose to leave.

"I hope you'll feel more fit to-morrow," he said, shaking hands. "If I possibly can, I'll run in and make a report; if not, I'll drop a line when I get home to the lurid lights of Paris."

"Shall you drive back with the Embassy insignia on your car?" inquired Win smiling. He looked much brighter and happier than before his visitor came.

Max laughed. "I fancy not," he said as he gathered hat, gloves and riding-crop. "I'm rather anxious to be on my good behavior. No, I'll let Jean drive which will be prudently slow, and I'll meditate about your hidden chest and the dotted path and other things back at the Manor."

"I believe Mr. Hamilton did you more good than the doctor," declared Mrs. Thayne, entering Win's room after his caller had mounted Saracen and ridden away. "You look fifty per cent brighter."

"He's a crackerjack," said Win briefly. "He's promised to do some investigating on his own account and I feel sure that he can induce Colonel Lisle to let us try an experiment if it is needed. But, Mother, there's something I've been meaning to tell you all day, not about the Spanish chest or anything to do with it. You know we spoke once of how Miss Estelle reminded us of some one at home. This morning instead of sending a servant with my breakfast, she brought it herself, and when she was arranging things, I remembered whom it is she looks like. It is your friend, Mrs. Aldrich."

"Win, you're right," said Mrs. Thayne suddenly. "Estelle is like Carrie Aldrich, and not in looks alone, but in manner. Now how can that possibly be? Of course it is only a chance resemblance but it must exist since you notice it, too. I wonder whether Fran ever carried out her intention of asking Edith whether they had any relatives in the United States. She spoke of doing so."

"What good would that do, if Mrs. Aldrich is the person Estelle resembles?" asked Win. "Haven't you known her all her life?"

"I met her at school," replied his mother, "when we both were young girls and then knew her intimately. Of later years, we have seen less of each other, though we have always kept up the friendship. There seems no possible connection between Carrie Aldrich and Estelle and the likeness must be only in our minds. They say, you know, that every person in the world has a double somewhere."

"I'd like mighty well to be Mr. Max's double if I could only choose," muttered Win to himself.



CHAPTER XVIII

ROGER THE MAROONED

No word came from the Manor the next day, only a big bunch of fragrant lilies for Win and some jelly of which Paget alone knew the secret recipe. Early Tuesday morning Max's prophesied storm arrived in earnest and the young people at Rose Villa saw the Granville boat leave her pier amid sheets of driving rain. Her decks looked dreary and deserted, for all the passengers were inside.

"I suppose Mr. Max is on board for he was obliged to go," observed Frances, as the steamer disappeared in low-hanging banks of fog drifting continually nearer shore.

"Yes," agreed Win, who was dressed and about, though still looking ill. "There will be some word when he gets back to Paris. It stormed so yesterday that he probably couldn't go into the cave as he planned."

"Life seems very tame after all the interesting things that happened last week," sighed Frances, gathering her French grammar and other school books. "Rain or no rain, there will be school, and English rain seems somehow wetter than American. You'd better eat that jelly, Win. According to Nurse, it is the elixir of life and warranted to cure every ill known to man."

Win smiled as he watched his sister and Edith down the steps, and waved a listless hand as they turned inquiring faces under bobbing umbrellas at the end of the terrace. He looked enviously after Roger, a tall slim clothespin in black rubber coat and boots, sou'wester pulled firmly over his head, tramping sturdily toward the beach, evidently on some definite errand. Win would have liked mightily to be swinging along with him through the storm, but the fun of facing a tempest was not for Win.

For a few moments he stood idly by the window, wondering whether Connie knew what Max had possibly discovered in his inspection of cave and vaults. Then he turned with a sigh, reminding himself that with the weather what it was, and in this land of few telephones, there was no chance of hearing anything from the Manor.

Gradually the stormy morning passed, somewhat dully for Win, who still felt unfit to study or even to occupy himself with a book, and lay upon the couch while his mother read aloud.

Frances returned from school, ravenously hungry and quite rosy with the rain that had beaten in her face.

"Mother, I am nearly starved!" she announced.

"Why, it is time for luncheon," said Mrs. Thayne, awakening to a realization of that fact. "But where is Roger? He can't have taken the whole morning just to deliver that message for Estelle."

"He could easily, Mother," said Win. "Why, if I had a chance to get out in this storm, I feel sure it would take me forever to do the simplest errand. He'll come home when he's hungry."

The gong for luncheon sounded and the three sat down to Annette's delicious scallops, daintily creamed in their own big shells, her French bread and perfect chocolate. Still Roger did not come.

Nurse took the plates, and brought dessert; fruit, clotted cream with plum jam, and a special glass of egg-nog for Win.

"Shall we put Mr. Roger's lunch to the fire?" she asked of Mrs. Thayne.

"I don't see why he doesn't come. He can't have gone to the Manor and if he had, they would have sent word if he were staying. No, you needn't keep it warm, Nurse. Unless he has some very good excuse when he comes, he may lunch upon bread and milk. It's really very naughty of him to go off like this when he had lessons to learn."

"It's queer where he can be," observed Fran. "He started on his errand just after Edith and I came out and saw Annette buying scallops of the fish-woman. He's crazy about them you know, and he asked particularly if they were for luncheon, and told her to be sure to get plenty."

"Oh, I don't suppose anything has happened," said Mrs. Thayne quietly, for she did not wish Win to worry.

When Roger was still missing half an hour later, Mrs. Thayne sought Estelle.

"Whatever can have happened?" said Estelle helplessly. "I can't think. Did he have any money?"

"Why, perhaps a few pence, not much anyway," replied Mrs. Thayne. "You think he went into St. Helier's and had to walk back? That's possible. Fran, it's not storming so hard now. Put on your rain- coat and run out to the end of the terrace. Perhaps with the field-glasses you can make out whether he is coming down the beach or is anywhere in sight."

Frances returned with the report that there was practically no beach, owing to the high tide, and no foot-farers on the narrow strip that was visible in the fog.

Neither Estelle nor Mrs. Thayne knew what was best to do. Estelle suggested the police and then the rector, but neither seemed to Mrs. Thayne likely to offer a solution.

"We will wait a while," she said with an anxious glance at the clock just striking two. "Don't do or say anything to let Win think I am worried, Fran. Let me take your coat. I'll go down to the beach myself. I really think that Roger should be punished for causing us such anxiety."

Had his mother only known, Roger was already enduring considerable self-inflicted penance for getting into a predicament which made it impossible for him to return.

Delivering Estelle's message at a cottage by the shore had taken but a few moments and with most of the morning before him, Roger set out along the beach, glorying in the force of wind and rain. True, there were lessons to be prepared for Bill Fish, who would come cheerfully swimming in at the appointed hour, but there was surely time for a stroll toward Noirmont Point.

The tide was far out and wet hard sand stretched in every direction, very pleasing to stamp over, and retaining little trace of any footprint. Only gray gulls and drifting fog banks distinguished the immediate surroundings.

As Roger tramped on, he noticed that the fog grew steadily thicker and that his path included occasional seaweed-covered rocks, but not until a black mass loomed up before him, did he realize that he had left the true beach and was walking straight out to sea. The bulk he had encountered was not the martello tower on Noirmont Point but the old castle of St. Aubin's, at high tide an island in the bay.

No thought of any danger in his position struck Roger. He had always intended to investigate that island but somehow had never yet done so. Here it lay before him.

Climbing the rocks upon which the castle stands, he made a careful survey of its outside and finally gained access to the interior, much disappointed to find nothing at all remarkable, though St. Aubin's castle is not wholly a ruin and was once rented and occupied for a season by an eccentric Englishman.

Nothing was now visible save swirling fog and for the first time, Roger realized what that fog meant. He hastily made his way to the little beach, where the tide, still out, would permit him to cross to the mainland. To start in the right direction was simple enough, for he very well knew which side of the castle faced the shore, but he had taken scarcely twenty steps down the sand when he saw that he had no certainty of keeping his bearings once the island was left behind.

Roger was only twelve, but he was possessed of common-sense and self-reliance. Though the youngest of the family he had been so thoroughly impressed with the necessity of considering "safety first" in regard to Win, that in an emergency of any kind he was usually level-headed. He stopped where he was, searching his pockets for the compass Captain Thayne had given to each of his three children.

Roger's pockets yielded a strange and varied assortment of objects, presumably of value, but no compass. He looked irresolutely behind where the castle was just visible as a darker spot in the fog. Nothing at all could be distinguished ahead.

From the lighthouse on the point came the tolling of a bell, but its warning tones were so scattered and disguised by the fog, that its sound was of no use as a guide.

For several moments Roger stood where he was. The distance to shore was not great if he was only certain of going straight ahead. To swerve from that direction meant wandering out to meet the cruel Jersey tide, presently coming in like a hunter on its prey. To remain where he was meant anxious hours for his mother and for Win, about whom Roger was already so much concerned.

Having weighed the alternatives, he took five steps forward and stood absolutely surrounded by the whirling mist. A sort of horror came over him, a keen realization of his helplessness before one of the great elemental forces of nature. The risk was too great! There was a chance that he might keep in the right direction with nothing to guide him, but it was only a chance. Worried as his mother would doubtless be, better that she endure a few hours of anxiety than lasting grief.

Turning squarely about, Roger retraced his footsteps, already faint, to the castle, where he perched forlornly on a high rock. A little later, he heard for he could not see, the low hiss and gurgle of the coming tide. Roger was a big, strong, brave boy, but at the sound, he could not suppress a few tears, and they were not wholly for his own plight.

Mrs. Thayne returned from her fruitless expedition to the beach, looking still more distressed.

"I can't imagine where Roger is," she said anxiously to Frances. "Of course, there may be some good excuse for this performance, but I don't see what it can be. He knows that he is not to go into town without permission and it seems as though he would have come home for luncheon unless he was in St. Helier's. If he really has been disobedient and played truant again into the bargain, I shall ask Mr. Fisher to punish him."

"Oh, Mother," said Frances, "Roger wouldn't deliberately frighten us, especially when he's been so upset over Win."

"But where is he?" said Mrs. Thayne again. "Thank goodness! Here's Mr. Fisher."

She hurried down to intercept the tutor at the door. Lingering at the head of the stair, Frances heard her name called from Win's room.

"Is Mother dreadfully troubled?" he asked as she entered. "I think Roger went back to the cave and has been shut in."

"Oh, I hope not," said Frances. "Mother's annoyed but it seems to me he must be all right. When he gets ready he will turn up with some wonderful tale of adventure."

"I suspect he's in some scrape," said Win. "Might not be such a bad idea to appeal to the police after all. I only wish I wasn't such a helpless stick," he added rather bitterly.

"Mr. Fisher has gone down to the beach," reported Frances from the window. "I'm glad he's come, for Mother will feel better to have him to consult."