Both were silent for a moment, thinking of Roger, blunt, loyal, impulsive Roger, hoping that nothing serious had befallen him.

Presently Mrs. Thayne came, her face expressing a calm she did not feel. "Mr. Fisher thinks there is no cause for us to worry," she remarked placidly. "He is going to take what he calls a 'turn about the town.' Frances, suppose you go on reading to Win while I sew a little."

Frances took the book Win held out to her, and Mrs. Thayne's fingers twitched the needle through her embroidery, both ears alert for sound of returning steps. The clock struck three and then four. Nothing happened. Roger did not come and Mr. Fisher did not reappear.

Over on St. Aubin's tiny island, Roger watched the water creep steadily up the rocks, up and up until it broke almost at the foundations of the castle. Cruel, cold, and gray it looked and hungry and chilly was the boy who watched. Once a gull flew so close that he could almost touch it as it vanished like a ghost into the fog.

At intervals Roger inspected his watch, counting the moments till the tide should cease to make. At last the water stopped climbing the rocks, remained stationary, fell an inch. The next wave broke still farther below.

But unless the fog should lift, ebb tide would only duplicate Roger's predicament of the morning. Toward four he saw that the mist was gradually growing lighter; saw water visible fifty feet from the island. Presently a breeze sprang into being, the most welcome wind Roger had ever known. Before it the fog thinned, grew filmy, dispersed in shreds of trailing vapor. Noirmont Point and St. Aubin's village came gradually into distinct view, and with them a man walking along the sand.

Water ten feet deep and many wide still barred Roger from the shore and he could not make himself heard above the slow heave of the rollers lazily breaking on the beach. Was there no way to attract the saunterer's attention?

Finding a long branch, relic of some storm-wrecked tree, Roger tied his handkerchief to it and waved vigorously. After a time, the man on the beach noticed the flag and stood looking toward it.

A bright idea struck Roger. At home he had belonged to a troop of boy scouts and knew the signals. He would experiment on this stranger.

Just by chance, Mr. Fisher at one time had been a scout-master and instantly realized that Roger, marooned on St. Aubin's island, was trying to send a message. Hastily improvising a flag, he responded.

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Thayne, still nervously sewing, heard Mr. Fisher run up the steps and Estelle hurry to the door. A few brief seconds sufficed to give the explanation Roger had so painstakingly signaled.

"I didn't stop to rescue him, Mrs. Thayne," explained Mr. Fisher, "because his one thought was for you and Win, not to let you worry a moment longer."

"Can't you get a boat and row out for him?" asked Estelle, seeing that Mrs. Thayne was unable to speak. "Poor dear boy, he must be cold and famished."

"I'm off to Noirmont Point," replied Mr. Fisher briefly. "It shouldn't take long to pull over and back, provided that I pick up a boat quickly."

In spite of the tutor's best efforts, darkness had fallen before the marooned prisoner was returned to his anxious family, who sat around to see him eat everything pressed upon him. Roger was pale and very subdued. Strangest of all, he had come up Noirmont Terrace pressed close to the side of the obnoxious Bill Fish and not in the least resenting the hand that rested on his shoulder.

Having consumed all the food in sight, he yielded without protest to his mother's desire that he should go to bed in order to ward off possible chill. When Mr. Fisher, heartily thanked, had taken his departure, Mrs. Thayne started for Roger's room. On its threshold she stopped for the boys were talking.

"I hated it like time out there," said Roger, now reposing luxuriously in bed. "But I hated worse to have you and Mother worried. I didn't purposely go over to the island, Win."

"I know you didn't," said his brother. "I was sure that something you couldn't help had happened."

"It did," sighed Roger. "I guess I'll never again do anything that worries Mother, now I know how it feels to worry over somebody myself. And I say, Win, Bill Fish is all right! To think of his knowing the scout signals! And he pulled out for me himself in a heavy old dory that weighed a ton. Why, Bill Fish isn't so bad!"

"And have you just found that out?" asked Win laughing. "I've known it all the time."



CHAPTER XIX

AT CORBIERE

Not until Friday did Win receive the longed-for letter from Paris. He tore it open eagerly.

"DEAR WIN," it ran, "I've just arrived in town and am wishing I was back in Jersey. As the steamer sailed, I looked over at St Aubin's and thought of you. You couldn't see me of course, both for fog and because I was in the wheel-house with the pilot, Jim Trott, a fellow from Gorey village.

"Probably you thought that we didn't get into the cave on Monday on account of the weather. It was beastly, but I decided to try, and when Connie knew my plan, she insisted on going with me. Pierre came too, with a lantern and we went down without much trouble.

"Pierre and I tackled your stone pile at once and we pitched quantities aside, but couldn't finish because Connie, who was watching the tide, called a halt too soon. But we cleared enough rocks away to feel rather sure there is an opening of some kind beyond; just possibly the passage you are so keen on, more probably connecting with another cave. The Jersey cliffs are honey-combed with them. How's that for exciting news?

"Connie haled us out before there was really any need and of course the tide did not serve for us to go again. When I come at Easter, I'll finish the job if necessary. After playing ball with several tons of stone, we then explored the vaults, armed with a hammer and a long line.

"Well, old fellow, I pounded that north wall inch by inch and I can't conscientiously say I struck anything that sounded at all hollow. But still, it's not like tapping on plaster or wood; one couldn't reasonably expect the same result for the stone is probably some feet thick. And if the whole wall is the side of the tunnel, naturally it would all sound alike, so that test doesn't really prove or disprove anything.

"The discovery Connie and I did make, and to my mind it is rather important, is that you are right in thinking that there is a discrepancy between the walls of the oldest vault and the adjacent cellar. Outside the house, the foundation wall runs flush the length of the library and the wing beyond; inside, that same foundation wall doesn't jibe. According to our measurements, there is a difference of over a metre, almost four feet, in the length of the partition at right angles to the north wall as reckoned on either side. This certainly bears out your theory of a passage running along that wall.

"We looked very carefully but could not detect that there had ever been any opening, but all the masonry is so rough that perhaps we couldn't expect to find it.

"Uncle Dick is interested but sceptical, says the difference in measurement may be accounted for by walls built at different times. When he thinks it over a little, he will see that no Lisle in his senses,—and the Lisles possess sense,—would have put four extra feet of solidity into a wall which had no earthly reason to need such treatment. But he said that when I came at Easter, we may have a mason and knock a hole wherever we choose. Messing about in the cellar is a harmless amusement that may keep us out of mischief and provide employment for some deserving workman. Before that date, I trust you will succeed in getting Uncle Dick into a less doubting frame of mind. Easter is but a month away and if all goes well, I'll surely be back and we will hunt that Spanish chest to its lair.

"Had no adventures coming here. Jean seemed relieved when I told him to drive. When I reached my rooms, I found a note directing me to report for duty to-morrow prepared to show some important American from the western States the sights of Paris. That means a gay and giddy day. I only hope I sha'n't have to interpret while he buys hats for Madam and the young ladies at home. Once I was let in for that and it was pretty sickening. I've often wondered what the ladies thought of those hats. I also hope he won't be keen on climbing the Eiffel tower, for that's one of the things that's not done in Paris.

"I must go to bed for it is after two and my day to-morrow, or rather to-day, may include an evening as well.

"Till Easter then adieu, and all best wishes,

"M. R. HAMILTON."

This letter naturally afforded Win a great deal of satisfaction and his interest and pleasure were shared by the others. To wait a whole month to solve the mystery of the Spanish chest when so distinct a clue appeared already in his hand, was a trial of patience. Naturally Colonel Lisle would not be likely to go ahead in the matter until Max returned to inspire action by his youthful enthusiasm, and it was only fair that Max should be in at the finish. Win wondered whether Connie shared the Colonel's scepticism. This proved not the case, only that Connie and her father were going to London for a week or two and the little lady of the Manor had other ideas to occupy her pretty head.

"We may even run over to Paris," she announced during a farewell call at Rose Villa. "Max has been begging us ever since he was sent there, so it's possible we may cross for a few days and plan so that we come back together at Easter."

"Wouldn't it be jolly to go around Paris with Mr. Max," said Win almost enviously. "I haven't forgotten how dandy he was to me in Washington. Dad took me along when he was calling on some official and then found he was in for a morning's conference. The Secretary sent for a young man, who proved to be Mr. Max and told him to look after me. I was only fifteen, but Mr. Max took as much pains to give me a good time as though I'd been somebody really important."

"That's like Max," said Connie briefly, her eyes showing pleasure at Win's tribute. "I think he's detailed for service such as that more often than the other young men of the Embassy because he gets on so well with all sorts of people. It's a real gift and a very valuable one for a prospective diplomat. But you are celebrating one of your great national days this week, aren't you?"

"Yes, Washington's birthday," said Frances. "Luckily it comes on Wednesday, so we have a holiday. We were going to have a picnic at Corbiere and invite you, Miss Connie."

"Indeed, I wish I could be there," said Constance with genuine regret in her voice, "but I'll be in London. We'll keep up our spirits by remembering that it's only a brief time to Easter and then we are to start again on the trail of the Spanish chest."

Estelle consented to join the holiday celebration, and when the twenty-second dawned bright and sunny, Rose Villa was the scene of an animated flurry. In the dining-room, Edith, Frances and Estelle were putting up the lunch, while Win collected painting traps for the picture he hoped to sketch, and Roger departed to bring the pony and cart engaged for the day.

Corbiere Point was distant about four miles and all except Win and his mother proposed to walk, since the little carriage could take lunch baskets and wraps.

Roger appeared with a plump stubborn Welsh pony, attached to a funny little cart which he gayly informed them was a "gingle." Neither Edith nor Estelle, who were familiar with the term as used in Cornwall, thought it odd but Roger considered it most absurd.

Even the short legs of a tiny pony could cover the ground more rapidly than the walking party, and when the pedestrians reached their destination, no sign of Win, his mother, pony or gingle was visible.

"Oh, what a wonderful view!" exclaimed Estelle stopping short.

Before them lay Corbiere lighthouse, built on a bold rock, at flood tide an island, but at this hour approachable from the mainland by a causeway. In the foreground stretched an expanse of jagged red reefs and shining pools with a single martello tower rising in dignified grandeur. At the right lay a hill, its summit crowned by one stone cottage with a thatched roof, and down the hill a narrow road wandered to disappear in a cleft between two gigantic red granite boulders sprinkled with glittering quartz and partly covered with gray and bright orange lichens. Green grass and turquoise blue sea with a single white sail dipping to the horizon completed the color scheme. Near at hand hovered several of the sea-crows, corbieres, which have given the point its name.

Estelle's soft eyes grew wide and a pretty pink flush came into her usually pale cheeks as she gazed into the distance. Roger and the girls were looking for the rest of the party.

The thatched cottage seemed utterly without life, windows blank and no sign of any domestic proceedings.

"It must be deserted," said Edith as they strolled on.

"Here's a shed with something black in it," said Roger. "I can just see its head. It's a goat."

"It's a black stocking hung to dry," declared Edith.

"Stocking, nothing," replied Roger. "I know it's a goat."

The two hung over the gate and deliberately stared into the little shed. "No goat ever stopped still for so long," persisted Edith, when three full minutes had passed without motion in the shed.

"I'll go in and see," began Roger, about to climb the gate. A sudden exclamation from Frances deterred him.

"Goodness, here's a black cat! Where did it come from?"

Upon the doorstep now sat a perfectly motionless black cat.

"Look at the black hens!" added Edith, bursting into laughter.

At either corner of the stone cottage two coal black hens were visible, also like statues, and possessing bright yellow eyes.

"And a black dog in a barrel!" Frances fairly shrieked.

"Well, a dog has some sense!" said Roger, whistling and calling. Strange to say, the dog neither stirred nor lifted its head. Nose on its paws it remained absolutely still.

"This is a bum lot of animals," observed Roger. "I never saw a dog before that wouldn't at least bark at strangers."

"It's probably dumb as well as deaf," commented Frances.

"But it might at least move," expostulated Roger. "Perhaps it's paralyzed."

"Perhaps this cottage and everything about it is enchanted," suggested Edith. "Miss Connie said something, don't you remember, about a place where the Jersey witches hold their meetings?"

"That is 'way the other end of the island," retorted Roger, "down at St. Clement's."

There was something uncanny about that collection of dusky, motionless animals and the three were conscious of real relief when the two hens at last walked off in quite a hen-like, not to say human manner. But cat, dog and goat remained as though petrified.

"Mother's calling," said Frances. "Come along, Roger. Lunch!"

Roger postponed his intention of stirring up the dog to see whether it was stuffed or paralyzed, and they turned in the direction of the call.

Luncheon was already spread on the grass in shelter of a big rock, the Stars and Stripes forming the table decoration. At sight of the flag, Roger and Fran stopped and saluted gravely as their father had taught them.

"Mother!" exclaimed Roger, his eyes widening. "Is that a chocolate layer-cake? Where did it come from?"

"I made it," said Mrs. Thayne. "Miss Estelle said I might and Annette was quite pleased to watch me, and see how an American cake was constructed."

No doubt that the young people were frankly happy, though spending this holiday in so unusual a fashion. After luncheon, Win prepared to sketch the lighthouse and the other three proposed to visit it.

As they ran down the hill toward the causeway and the heap of picturesque red rocks bared by the water, Mrs. Thayne settled herself with her embroidery and Estelle produced her netting.

After a few moments spent consulting with Win as to the exact angle desirable for his sketch, Mrs. Thayne felt for her watch, remembered that she did not bring it and looked at Estelle.

"Will you tell me the time?" she asked. "Win's hands are full with his palette and block."

"Certainly," said Estelle. "It's just two."

As she replaced her watch, a sudden look of interest crossed Mrs. Thayne's face.

"What a curious chain you have, Estelle," she remarked. "Is it an old one? May I take it a moment?"

"It belonged to my grandmother, my mother's mother," replied Estelle, unfastening the chain and holding it out to Mrs. Thayne. "I think it is very old for I never saw another like it."

Mrs. Thayne examined the trinket carefully. It was hand-made, of pale yellow gold, and the links, instead of being round, were rectangular, yet so fastened in a series of three as to produce the effect of a round cable.

"It is an awkward thing to use," said Estelle, "because sometimes those links get turned and it is very difficult to work them into place."

Mrs. Thayne looked up, a curiously intent expression on her face. "Estelle," she said abruptly, "have you any relatives in America?"

"Not that I know of," Estelle replied, surprised by the sudden question, "though I suppose it is quite possible. Grandmother's sister married a young man who went out to the colonies, somewhere near Toronto, I think. We have known nothing of them since Grandmother died and that was before I was born. I think Mother completely lost touch with Great-aunt Emma. It is easy, you know, when one belongs to a different generation and has never seen one's aunt."

"Then you don't know whether your Great-aunt Emma had children?" asked Mrs. Thayne, twisting the odd chain reflectively between her fingers.

"Oh, yes," said Estelle. "I do happen to know that. There were two, a girl and a boy. Now I think of it, I recall that the girl married and went to the States. I do not know how one speaks of your counties, but it was not the city of New York,—perhaps New Yorkshire?"

"New York State," put in Win so abruptly that his mother jumped. To all appearances he had been completely absorbed in his painting.

"But you don't know the name of the man she married?" Mrs. Thayne asked.

"I do not," replied Estelle. "But I could find out, for it will be among Father's papers. I think he had a hazy idea of writing some time to Canada to get in touch if possible with Mother's relatives. But it was never done, and I should hesitate to do it, —especially now."

"Lest they might think you were seeking aid," Mrs. Thayne thought, with a tender appreciation of Estelle's proud independence, but she kept her inference to herself.

"Do you know whether your grandmother's sister who went to Canada also possessed a chain like this?" she asked.

"Why, yes," said Estelle, laying down her work and looking out to sea. "I know she did. Great-grandfather Avery once bought two just alike in Paris and gave one to each of his daughters. This came to me through Mother."

Mrs. Thayne started to speak but caught Win's eyes fixed upon her inquiringly. Something in their expression checked the words she was about to utter.

"After all, better be sure," she thought. "It is a very curious old trinket, Estelle," she said, returning the chain. "Some time when you think of it, I wish you would look in your father's papers and find the married name of that cousin who went to New York State."



CHAPTER XX

WIN WONDERS

"Mother," said Win solemnly, "I shook in my shoes this afternoon. Didn't you notice the lurid mixture of colors I was daubing on my block? And all because I knew you were having psychic thoughts and I was so afraid you would say what I thought you were thinking and startle Estelle. I wanted so much to know myself just what you were driving at with your watch-chains that I almost chewed my tongue off trying not to speak."

"I know it," said Mrs. Thayne. "I felt you quaking, Win, and decided to keep still. After all, the only sensible way was to find out definitely that name. Estelle is so proud and so reluctant to accept help that one must move carefully in trying to smooth her pathway."

The two were alone in Mrs. Thayne's room after the happy picnic at Corbiere. Through the open window floated the occasional sound of voices from the end of the terrace where Roger, Edith, and Frances stood watching the steamer for Southampton round Noirmont Point.

"And now that I do know the name, I am still uncertain what is best to do," reflected Mrs. Thayne. "But you asked about the chain, Win. The moment I saw that one of Estelle's I knew that I had seen a similar one in the United States. For a time I could not place it, and really it is a thing of unusual workmanship and not likely to be largely duplicated. Then it came to me in a flash that Carrie Aldrich often wears a chain like that and once told me that it had belonged to her mother."

"But I never knew that Mrs. Aldrich was English," said Win wonderingly. "I thought she'd always lived in Boston."

"I knew that she was a Canadian," replied his mother, "but she was educated in the United States and married an American. To trace her ancestry never occurred to me. She is so thoroughly and completely American that one would never think of her forefathers as being anything else.

"I can hardly keep silent," she went on. "When I think of Carrie alone in that huge house in Boston, with her big income and her still bigger heart and only her charities to fill it and to occupy her time, and then think of Estelle, so proudly trying to support herself and Edith in a land where self-support for women is not easy,—why, Win, it seems as though I must tell her on the spot. And yet, if I do, I am quite sure Estelle will just shut herself up in the armor of her pride and refuse to make herself known. Taking both the testimony of the chains and the very pronounced family resemblance, there can be no reasonable doubt of the identity."

"I think Estelle would refuse," said Win slowly. "She's foolishly proud. She thinks, Mother, that you pay more than the house is worth and so she does her level best to make it up to us in other ways."

"I believe I will write to Carrie," mused Mrs. Thayne. "She'd be interested and anxious to see the girls. I'm sure she doesn't realize that she has any cousins in England."

"Mother," said Win with deliberation, "why don't you ask Mrs. Aldrich to come over and visit us for a little? You'd like to have her and so would we. Probably she has nothing especial to keep her at home and might be glad to be let out of a month or two of winter."

"That's a bright idea, Win!" exclaimed his mother. "Only I suppose she has several pet charities that she will feel she can't leave at short notice."

"In that case," replied Win, "probably you'd better write her about the girls, only do tell her to come and see for herself. It strikes me that nothing but knowing each other would ever really bring them together."

"Win, you are so like your father," said Mrs. Thayne affectionately. "Your minds work alike. I find I'm growing to depend more and more upon your judgment."

In the dusk Mrs. Thayne could not see the flush that spread over her son's thin face. To be likened in any way to Captain Thayne was praise indeed for Win.

"I only wish I could take more off your shoulders, Mother," he said briefly, "instead of being a great lazy lump that the whole family has to take thought for."

"Here's Annette with letters," said Mrs. Thayne. "Why, I did not expect mail until tomorrow."

Some moments passed until Win was aroused from his own correspondence by a sudden surprised exclamation from his mother.

"Never say you don't believe in special providences. This seems almost incredible, but here is a note from Mrs. Aldrich, written from London! She's come over to attend some charity congress and wants me to run up for a few days."

"Then it is meant that you should, Mother," said Win, smiling. "That coincidence hasn't happened for nothing. You can tell her about the girls much more convincingly than it could be written, and bring her back with you to see them. It will all be natural and Estelle will never suspect."

"I'll do it," said Mrs. Thayne, but the next second a shadow crossed her face. Her sharp-eyed son instantly saw and interpreted.

"I'll not overdo, Mother," he said immediately. "Trust me to rival the sloth in idleness. I promise you that I won't stir one step out of my usual routine."

"But there's Roger," mused his mother.

"Oh, Roger is walking the straight and narrow path of virtue. Ever since ex-scoutmaster Bill Fish rescued him from a desert island, he's been meekness itself. Makes me smile to see his star-eyed devotion. This plan is too evidently designed, for you to give it the cold shoulder."

"It does seem so," agreed his mother. "Well, I'll go by Saturday's boat. Win, don't you think it would be best not to say anything to Fran and Roger? We will tell them after I have seen Carrie."

"I certainly do," Win declared. "Fran couldn't keep that secret one half day. It wouldn't interest the kid."

The absence of the family did not prevent Win's enjoyment of the Manor library and during his mother's stay in London, he paid it several visits. Evidently the servants had been instructed to expect and make him welcome, should he appear, for a smiling face answered his ring and the fire in the library was invariably lighted on his arrival. But Win's conscience would not allow him to neglect Roger even for these delightful hours of solitude, so this pleasure was only occasional.

With the pony and gingle they explored many of the lovely Jersey lanes and headlands, for driving seldom tired Win. Half a morning passed in this fascinating occupation left Roger ready to spend the time before luncheon in preparing his lessons. When they were over in the afternoon, Mr. Fisher usually suggested kicking football on the beach or led Roger a walk sufficiently strenuous to leave him disposed for a quiet evening. Estelle and Nurse both thought Roger "good as gold," and did not realize how much of his virtue was due to the forethought of brother and tutor.

One morning Estelle had errands in town and invited Roger to go with her. Hearing his joyful acceptance, Win as gladly betook himself to the Manor.

Spring was far advanced now, potatoes were being planted and other early vegetables already showing in green rows. Under the trees on the Manor grounds wild snow-drops starred the grass. Win wandered into the formal garden enclosed by a hedge of box so clipped as to form a solid wall with square pillars topped by round balls of living green. In the background posed two peacocks, also clipped from box. What patience, time and care had been required to bring that hedge to such perfection! Early roses were now plentiful and as Win sauntered through their fragrant mazes, he realized how much loving thought had been expended through the centuries on this old garden. Sad indeed that the present owner of Laurel Manor was the last Richard Lisle.

Win's reverie was broken by the passing of Pierre, with a pleasant "Bon jour, M'sieur," and a touch of his cap. Pierre carried a rope and crowbar, unusual implements for a gardener's assistant.

Win watched him idly down the laurel-bordered drive and then went into the library, followed by Tylo, who seemed depressed in the absence of his mistress.

About eleven, Win was visited by Yvonne, bringing a glass of milk and a plate of biscuit, which she placed beside him with a politely murmured "M'sieur labors so diligently!"

"Thank you, Yvonne," said Win. "It's good of you to bring that. Do you know when the Colonel and Miss Connie are expected?"

"No word since they arrived at Paris," replied Yvonne in her daintily accented English.

"It is Pierre who hears from M'sieur Max, a letter, brief indeed, but explicit, that certain matters may arrange themselves in readiness for the coming of M'sieur Max."

Win looked puzzled. For a second Yvonne stood regarding him, her head slightly on one side.

"Word will perhaps arrive on the morrow," she volunteered. "Is the milk to M'sieur's liking?"

"Very much. Thank you, Yvonne."

The trim little maid replenished the fire, replaced a daffodil fallen from a vase, patted Tylo, gave him a biscuit and vanished as noiselessly as she came.

Left alone, Win began to walk slowly up and down the library, wondering about the matters which were "to arrange themselves." The tools Pierre carried, the direction in which he was walking, to Win's alert mind suggested the Manor cave. Had Max told Pierre to complete clearing away that heap of stones and if so, why?

Never in his life had Win been so tempted to break his word. In spite of the voluntary promise to his mother to do nothing in the least unusual, it seemed as though he must go and see what was taking place in the cave.

"Pierre would help me up," he told himself.

"Yes," came the instant answer, "but Roger gave you all the help he could and yet you were in bed two days and felt ill for a week."

Win thought of questioning Pierre, but abandoned the idea as not quite on the level. A note from Max had come on yesterday's steamer presumably in company with the directions to Pierre. There was not a word in it about the cave and if the writer had wanted Win to know what was going on, he would have told him. No, Win's code of honor would not permit him to find out by asking Pierre. And yet two weeks until Easter!

Win gave a long whistle, looked wistfully down to the sea and again took up his book.

When he returned for luncheon at Rose Villa, he found Roger convulsing Frances by his account of the morning spent in town with Estelle.

"It's lucky I don't have to do the marketing for this family," he announced. "If you wanted cream now, where would you get it?"

"A dairy, of course, or a market," replied Frances.

"Wrong. Much cream you'd get! Try a fish-monger's."

At Roger's disgusted tone, Fran giggled, "Oh, I've learned a lot," he went on. "Where would you ask for one of those paper patterns to cut out a dress?"

"A dry-goods store," answered his sister.

"Do say a draper's if that is what you mean," continued Roger. "You would only waste time. Go to a book-shop."

"I will," said Fran. "Thanks for the tip."

"I wanted to get weighed," said Roger, "because I know I am becoming a shadow studying so hard. I asked Miss Estelle where to go and told her I didn't think the nickel-in-the-slot machines were very accurate—Well, what's wrong with that?"

Roger stopped for both Win and Frances were laughing at him.

"Here you are knocking English customs," said Win at last. "As though Miss Estelle knew what a nickel was, let alone a slot machine, although I have seen some of them."

"I don't see anything so funny," said Roger huffily. "Perhaps she didn't know, but she was polite enough not to laugh and said the place to get weighed was the hair-dresser's—"

"Oh, come off," said Win. "That's too much, even for us."

"Well, it is where we went and where the scales were," retorted Roger, "but there weren't any pounds to it, only what they call stones. I weigh exactly seven stone and I won't tell you how many pounds that is."

"Ninety-eight," said Win so promptly that Roger looked disconcerted.

"How did you know?" he demanded.

"From a book," replied his brother. "A little article that you don't yet value as highly as you might. What next?"

"Oh, that was about all," said Roger, "except that Miss Estelle told me I might choose some crackers, I mean biscuit, and to buy half a kilo. I forgot and asked for half a litre and the clerk grinned very disagreeably."

"Liquid measure instead of dry," commented Win in amusement. "After luncheon, Roger, permit me to introduce you to some parts of your arithmetic that you have evidently never examined. But go on."

"Then I stopped to look in a window and hurried to catch Miss Estelle and ran into a big fat man who was wearing stiff leather gaiters and a tam o' shanter. We came together rather hard," admitted Roger. "I didn't hurt myself much because he was quite soft, but his tam fell off and he said, 'Bless my soul, by George!"

"Roger, I can't stand any more," implored Frances.

"I don't follow the logic of that hair-dresser and the scales," mused Win, when he had stopped laughing. "Is it before and after a hair-cut or to see how much flesh the barber gouges out in a shave?"

"Give it up," said Fran. "There's the gong for luncheon and Edith bringing the mail. I hope there's a letter from mother."

"There is," said Edith.

"Please excuse me, Miss Estelle, if I read it now," begged Frances, settling into her seat at the table.

"Of course, dear," was the reply as Estelle took Mrs. Thayne's usual place, for she and Edith were having their meals with the young people.

"Now, Roger, pause," exclaimed Win, suddenly. "What are you going to do with that?" he added, as the attention of all was concentrated on the surprised Roger who sat with arrested hand suspending above his plate a spoon heaped with sugar.

"Whatever is he doing?" protested Estelle gently. "Such a mixture! How can he eat sugar on his eggs?"

"Thought it was pancakes," explained Roger, indicating the omelet before him, but relinquishing the sugar.

"Mother's coming on Wednesday," Frances announced happily. "And she's met a friend in London, Mrs. Aldrich, who's coming with her for a few days. Isn't that splendid, boys? You'll like her, Miss Estelle. She's sweet."

"I shall be glad to see any friend of your mother's," said Estelle cordially. Looking to see whether Roger was sufficiently supplied with butter, she did not notice the smile with which Win glanced at her.



CHAPTER XXI

THE TWO CHAINS

"Estelle, will you do me a favor?" asked Mrs. Thayne, following her young landlady into the hall. The travelers from London had just arrived and in the drawing-room, Mrs. Aldrich was expatiating to the boys upon the roughness of the trip.

"Why, of course I will! You don't need to ask," replied Estelle affectionately.

"You and Edith have been taking your meals with the children during my absence. Please keep on doing it. Let us all be one family for the rest of our stay."

"It is lovely of you to want us, Mrs. Thayne," said Estelle, her face flushing. "We stopped with the children because I thought it would be better and then I could personally see that they had all they wanted. But now that you have a guest—"

"I want you and Mrs. Aldrich to know each other," said Mrs. Thayne quickly. "And this will be one of the easiest ways to get acquainted."

"I think Mrs. Aldrich is charming," remarked Estelle. "Isn't it odd, how sometimes a likeness in a total stranger strikes one? For a second, just as you introduced us, she reminded me so much of my dear mother that I could hardly pull myself together to speak. She must have thought me quite awkward."

"I know she didn't," said Mrs. Thayne, with difficulty keeping her face under control. She had seen Estelle start and noticed her amazed expression when Mrs. Aldrich greeted her. So Estelle had not been conscious of Mrs. Aldrich's constrained manner! "Then you will have luncheon with us?" she added.

"I will since you wish it," replied Estelle, vanishing to give directions to Nurse.

"Now, what is there to do this morning?" Mrs. Aldrich was asking the boys. "I propose to stay in this island exactly one week. Your mother was seasick so she ought to lie down and rest but I feel as fit as a fiddle. Frances is at school, you tell me. No, I don't want to drive this morning. Suppose you take me for a short walk, Roger and Win, and show me what is to be seen on the beach."

"We might take you to Noirmont Point," suggested Roger as they stopped at the end of the terrace to look at the view which was never twice the same. "What are those big vessels over beyond Castle Elizabeth?"

"They are English warships," replied Mrs. Aldrich. "Coming into the harbor we passed close to them. The captain said it was a part of the Channel squadron, whatever that is."

"Oh, did you see their names?" demanded Roger eagerly, as he counted the great gray ships in the offing. "Fourteen, no, fifteen."

"Only a few. One was the Princess Royal and I saw the Thunderer, the Revenge, the Black Prince and the Camperdown."

Roger's eyes opened at this list of awe-inspiring names. "I wish we could get over to Elizabeth," he remarked. "We could see them better then."

"Tide's not right," said Win, casting a critical glance at the sea.

"What, to walk over to that island?" asked Mrs. Aldrich. "Is it ever possible?"

"We've been over," said Roger. "When the tide is 'way out, there is a raised causeway, quite smooth and easy."

"What is the place anyway?" asked Mrs. Aldrich, looking curiously across to the castle.

"Once it was an old abbey," Win explained, "dedicated to St. Elericus, the patron saint of Jersey. I suppose the town was named for him."

"How did the island itself get its name?" inquired Mrs. Aldrich. "The derivation of these charming old English names is a fascinating study."

"It was the old Roman Caesarea," said Win. "Jersey is a corruption of that. The ruined hermitage of St. Elericus is still over near Elizabeth, at least they call it that, though it's a kind of combination of a watch-tower and a cave. But the castle, as it stands, was built when Edward VI was king of England. There's a story to the effect that all the bells in the island except one for each of the twelve churches were seized by royal authority and ordered sold to help pay for building the castle. They were shipped to St. Malo and expected to bring a high price, but the vessel went down on the way and all the good church people thought it was because of sacrilege in taking those bells."

"What is the castle used for now?" inquired Mrs. Aldrich.

"Barracks," replied Roger. "The place is full of soldiers. It's no good now as a fortification, because Fort Regent up above St. Helier's—over there on the cliffs—could knock Castle Elizabeth and all those warships into fits in no time. Nothing can enter the bay if the Fort Regent guns don't approve. And that heap of rocks where Elizabeth stands is 'most a mile around,—it is, honest. Fran and Edith and I walked it."

"They say," said Win, "that the space between the castle and the town was once a meadow. For that matter, they also say that the whole channel between here and France was once so narrow that the Bishop of Coutances used to cross to Jersey on a plank."

"Tell that to the marines," protested Roger. "You do find the weirdest yarns in those books you're always grubbing in."

"Oh, I can tell a bigger one than that," said Win laughing, "but perhaps you'll swallow it because your friend Bill told it to me. He said that some time in the sixteenth century there was an abnormally low tide, lower than any one had ever known. Some fishermen who happened to be out between Orgueil and the coast of France came in and reported that they had distinctly seen down in the channel the towers and streets and houses of an old town, forty feet or more under water."

"There are stories like that in Brittany," said Mrs. Aldrich. "The fishermen declare that they can hear the tolling of the submerged church bells. Now, when legends like that exist on both sides of a channel, it stands to reason that there is likely some foundation in truth."

"Then why don't they send divers down to find out?" demanded Roger bluntly. "Any enterprising country would."

"We'll import a few Americans to do the investigating," laughed Mrs. Aldrich. "Is this Frances coming? Who is with her?"

"Edith," replied Win. "Miss Estelle's sister."

"Bless me!" murmured Mrs. Aldrich. "The other was startling enough but this resemblance is even stronger."

Win smiled. It was great fun to look on, knowing what he did of his mother's innocent little conspiracy, all the more fun because the other young people were unsuspecting.

At luncheon, where Estelle appeared with a pretty dignity, Win was supplied with still more secret amusement. Mrs. Aldrich talked a good deal, rather inconsequently at times, but continually looked from one sister to the other in a way that would have aroused suspicion had either the slightest idea that any plot was on foot. As it was, Win saw Estelle occasionally glancing at their guest in a puzzled manner as though trying to account for something she found unexpected. After the meal he waylaid his mother.

"What is Mrs. Aldrich going to do?" he asked laughingly. "I had hard work not to give myself away during luncheon. You looked so unnatural, Mother, that if you hadn't been seasick, Fran and Roger would have caught on. As it was, they thought you weren't quite rested."

"I don't know what she is going to do," replied his mother, "but it is working as we hoped. She is strongly attracted to the girls, and Estelle confided to me that our guest in some unaccountable way, reminded her of her mother. We have done our part in bringing Carrie here; it is for her to take the next step. I rather imagine that she won't be able to hold in very much longer, though I think she is enjoying the situation."

It was not until dinner of her third day in St. Aubin's, that Mrs. Aldrich made herself known. To please Win, who had ascertained that she chanced to have the old chain with her, she wore it when she entered the dining-room.

Win watched Estelle intently, disappointed that she did not immediately notice the ornament. Indeed, they were finishing dessert before anything happened. Perhaps purposely, Mrs. Aldrich looked at her watch and Fran in all innocence touched the match that fired the explosion.

"Why, how odd!" she exclaimed. "Miss Estelle has a chain just like that one, Mrs. Aldrich."

Win and his mother exchanged a glance; the others naturally looked at the chain.

"It's precisely like it, Sister," said Edith, who sat near Mrs. Aldrich. "Isn't that queer?"

"It's an old keepsake," said Mrs. Aldrich with deliberation. "It belonged to my mother. See, here are her initials on the slide, E. A. for Emma Avery."

Edith looked with interest but Estelle turned pale. Thoughtful Win pushed a glass of water within reach.

"Star's has initials too," Edith remarked innocently. "A. A., I think they are. Anyway, it was Grandmother's chain."

Mrs. Aldrich turned to Estelle, who perfectly colorless, was staring at her. "Child," she said rather peremptorily, "come up to my room and let us compare these old trinkets."

Still speechless, Estelle mechanically arose. Amid dead silence the two left the dining-room. Fran turned to her mother, amazed at the look of excited pleasure on her face. "What does it all mean?" she demanded. "Is it a secret?"

"Just a mild little conspiracy," replied Mrs. Thayne. "What it means, is that Mrs. Aldrich was your mother's first cousin, Edith, so she is your and Estelle's second cousin. Just by chance I guessed from Estelle's unusual chain that the one Carrie Aldrich wears came from the same source. When Estelle told me that her great-grandfather gave one to each of his two daughters, the whole thing flashed on me."

"But that," said Edith, with her sweet childish faith, "is a miracle."

"Perhaps," smiled Mrs. Thayne. "I only know that we shall leave St. Aubin's happier because you and Mrs. Aldrich have found each other out."

A shower of eager questions fell from Frances and Roger but a long time passed before anything was seen of Estelle and Mrs. Aldrich. When they reappeared to the group awaiting them in the drawing- room, Estelle had plainly been crying and Mrs. Aldrich's eyes looked suspiciously red.

"Come and kiss me, Edith," she said. "I want to be Cousin Carrie from now on. Yes, Estelle, she does look more like the Averys than you, though I saw the resemblance in your face also."

"Isn't the whole thing just like a story?" Frances confided to her mother at bed-time. "What do you think will happen now?"

"I don't know," admitted Mrs. Thayne. "Estelle is so very proud that it will be hard for her to accept help from any one, but Carrie will arrange things if it can be done. I know that Estelle has been dreadfully worried because some of the little money her father left her has been lost through an imprudent investment and that she has not felt sure she could manage to keep the house through another season. And yet she must find some way of supporting herself and Edith. Things will work themselves out, for Carrie is perfectly capable of inventing some very necessary work for Estelle to do, which will preserve her self-respect and let Carrie have her way. I think Carrie usually has some young person acting as secretary and Estelle could do that easily. I am not at all worried about the future since Estelle fortunately saw the resemblance to her own mother in Mrs. Aldrich. I imagine that will make it easier for her to consider whatever plan is proposed."

"Wasn't it lucky that we came here!" sighed Frances. "And doesn't it seem odd that we did come, just because Roger and I wanted to take that little train the first day and chanced to find Rose Villa? If it hadn't been for that, we might not have looked for lodgings in St. Aubin's at all, nor known Miss Estelle and Edith. Why, Mother!" she went on, with intenser surprise in her voice. "It's just like the House that Jack built. If we hadn't come here, we wouldn't have met the beach dog, nor known Miss Connie, nor visited the Manor, nor be hunting for the Spanish chest!"

Fran stopped, looking so comically aghast that Mrs. Thayne laughed as she kissed her.

"So much depended upon a passing wish to take that little train! It is remarkable on looking back, to realize how often life turns upon some apparently trivial incident, some insignificant choice."

"It's time though, that we went home, Mother," said Frances merrily. "While you were in London, Miss Estelle wanted change for half a crown, so I tipped the money out of my purse. One piece rolled on the floor and Roger picked it up, and said: 'Why, this isn't a shilling! What is it?' So I took it, and, Mother, both of us looked at it hard for several seconds before we realized that it was a United States quarter-dollar! Don't you think it is time that we went home?"



CHAPTER XXII

THE CHEST ITSELF

Mrs. Aldrich's stay did not exceed her limit of a week, but she left for London with Estelle's willing promise to come to her when the Thaynes returned to Boston and leaving behind her two girls with gladdened hearts. After her departure Win's interest was again concentrated on the coming of the Manor family and the search for the Spanish chest.

Twice as he came or went from his visits to the library, he saw Pierre in the distance, once actually disappearing over the cliff edge, but Easter was close at hand when Yvonne, bringing the usual lunch, volunteered the information that the Colonel, Miss Connie and Mr. Max were expected on Saturday's steamer.

Win reported this news with joy and when the day arrived the young people began to watch for the Granville boat hours before she could possibly arrive, hoping to distinguish familiar figures on the deck. To their disappointment, when the steamer was finally detected in the distance, dusk was at hand.

"I shall do it!" said Roger firmly. "There are three packages and we may not be in England on the Fourth of July. Besides I forgot it on Washington's birthday."

Fran and Win looked after him in amazement as he suddenly tore back to the house and rushed upstairs, spreading noise on his way and devastation in his room, where he jerked the very vitals out of his steamer trunk, scattering its contents to the four corners.

Nor was Edith enlightened when Roger reappeared with a pasteboard tube in one hand, and a box of matches in the other, but Win laughed and Frances gave a shriek of delight.

"Bed fire!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Roger, I never knew you had it. Do wait until the boat is a little nearer."

"It will be darker, too," Win advised. "Make more of a show if you wait."

"I only hope they will know it is for them," said Roger anxiously.

"They'll see where it comes from and perhaps they'll understand," said Win. "But don't expect the steamer to salute as one at home would."

At the proper second, a flare of red illuminated the end of Noirmont Terrace, greatly amazing not only St. Aubin's staid population but such inhabitants of St. Helier's as chanced to be on the water front, and affording Roger two full moments of complete and exquisite satisfaction.

"Real United States!" he said. "I suppose an English boat doesn't know enough to whistle—"

Roger stopped with his mouth open. From the Alouette came two distinct blasts of the steam siren.

"Oh, that's Mr. Max," burst out Win in delight. "He's been in America and understands the etiquette of red fire. And you remember he said he knew personally all the captains on the Channel boats. Probably he went up to the bridge and got somebody to acknowledge our salute! Isn't that simply corking of him?"

"That was surely meant for us," agreed the pleased Frances. "Oh, how long shall we have to wait before we see them?"

That very evening Pierre brought a note from Constance, expressing appreciative thanks for their fiery welcome, the source of which Max had guessed and which he had easily induced Captain Lefevre to acknowledge. The note ended with an invitation to tea on Monday and promised a solution of some kind to Win's theories concerning the Spanish chest.

"How nice of Miss Connie to set the very first possible day," said Frances. "I suppose we shall not see them before then."

"Not unless we go to the little old church tomorrow," replied her brother. "If you want to, and it's a still day, we might get up there."

But the travelers had returned on an evening of clouds and threatening winds. Easter Sunday dawned with Jersey in the grip of a terrific southeast storm. All day the rain beat on the panes of Rose Villa, all day the wind howled and snatched at the shutters, the house at times fairly quivering with its force. As dusk came, the gale increased to the proportions of a hurricane. Roger, going out to the pillar post-box, came struggling back with difficulty.

"I met one of the Noirmont fishermen," he reported. "He said it is the worst gale in thirty years and when the weather clears the surf will be worth seeing."

"Fisher told me that a southeast storm kicked up a fine sea," replied Win. "I only hope it won't stop our going to the Manor to- morrow."

All night the wind raged though the rain finally ceased. It seemed as though the reputed witches of Jersey were holding high carnival with the unloosed elements of air and water. Day broke, still without rain, but the violence of the wind was not lessened. Roger ran out to the end of the terrace and came hurrying back.

"Come out, everybody, and look," he shouted above the uproar. "The waves are coming over the breakwater. There isn't one inch of beach to be seen."

Roger's report was literally true. Though the sea wall protecting the town of St. Helier's rose twenty-five feet above the sands, the rollers were breaking beyond the wall on the esplanade itself, the white foam even running up some of the side streets. Only an inky howling mass of white-capped water stretched between the town and Elizabeth Castle.

Win, who had managed to make slow progress to a point of vantage, stood fascinated by the wild whirl of wind and water. The tide was at the flood and the spectacle at its finest. Just a few moments sufficed to lessen its grandeur as the waves, yielding to the law of their being, were dragged away from the land. Presently, instead of dashing over the wall, they broke against it, and then came a scene of different interest. The water, forcibly striking the masonry, was flung back on the next incoming roller, with a collision that sent spray forty feet into the air from the violence of the shock. This phenomenon was repeated as the rollers crashed down the curve of the wall, continuing for its full length, the flying spray looking like consecutive puffs of steam from a locomotive.

"Look, there comes the train from St. Helier's!" exclaimed Roger, dancing excitedly about. "Doesn't it look as though the ocean was trying to catch it?"

The little train had prudently delayed its starting until after the turn of the tide. As it crept slowly around the curve of the breakwater, great white tongues of foam constantly shot over the wall like fingers frantically trying to seize and draw it into the sea. But always the hands fell back baffled, to the accompaniment of a roar that sounded almost like human disappointment. The train reached St. Aubin's dripping with salt water.

"Five stones are torn out of the coping in the wall," reported Roger, coming back from his inspection of the adventurous little engine. "The guard says they are sweeping pebbles and stones by the ton out of the streets beyond the esplanade. And coming down here, he twice had a barrel of water slapped right at him. He is as wet as a drowned rat."

"The surf must be wonderful at Corbiere," said Estelle. "They say there is an undertow off that point which produces something this effect of the water flung back by the wall."

"Why, here's Miss Connie!" exclaimed Frances in excitement. Max and Constance on horseback were coming down the terrace.

"We've been half round the island," Connie announced after her first greetings. Well prepared for wind as they were, both looked disheveled. Connie's hair was braided in a thick club down her back, evidently the only way she could keep it under control; Max's was plastered back by wind and spray, for he had lost his hat, and their horses were blown and spattered with salt brine.

"Oh, but it is grand!" Constance went on. "Corbiere light is smothered in spray to the very top of the tower. We haven't had a storm like this since I was a tiny kiddie."

To talk above the uproar of the surf was difficult. Asking them to be at the Manor promptly by three, the two rode away.

"Why three?" asked Frances as they regained the shelter of the house.

"I think we are going down into the cave," said Win happily. "Mr. Max told me just now that we were to begin exploring there and that things would be arranged so that it would not be hard for me. I suppose he and Pierre have some plan."

"But you aren't going into the cave on a day like this?" exclaimed Mrs. Thayne, quite horrified at this announcement.

"Why, yes, Mother," said Win. "The tide will be as low as usual when it does ebb."

"Of course," assented his mother. "I forgot. But how about this wind? You must have the pony, Win."

"I will if it keeps up, but I imagine the gale will blow itself out by noon."

Win's prophecy proved correct. When the four started to keep their engagement, the wind was greatly abated and the only trace of the tempest was the ruined vines and gardens that marked their road. At the Manor gates, Colonel Lisle, Constance and Max met them.

"It is to be the cave," Connie said gayly. "Max has things all mapped out for us."

Arrived at the cliff, the party stopped. Marks of the storm were visible in one or two landslides and in a great amount of debris strewing the uncovered beach and rocks. Even large stones seemed to have been displaced.

Max looked rather serious as he saw so much change in conditions usually stable. "I think you'd better let me go down and report whether matters are as I expect," he said. "There seems to have been considerable doing in this vicinity last evening."

"Let us wait, Win," said Constance quickly. "No use in going down until we see how he finds things."

Colonel Lisle also elected to await the report, but Roger and the girls accompanied Max. They were gone almost half an hour and the watchers on the cliff were beginning to wonder what had happened. When they did appear, they called to the others not to come.

"'The best laid plans of mice and men!'" sighed Max as he reached the top of the cliff. "Uncle, the storm has picked up all the stones I had Pierre clear out of the tunnel and wedged them in tight again like a cork in a bottle."

"There was a passage and we can't get into it?" demanded Win eagerly, his face reflecting the disappointment visible on the faces of the other young people.

"There was," replied Max, looking at him sympathetically, "not merely into another cave but striking inland. Pierre cleared its mouth and reported it passable for fifty feet. Beyond that he did not go. Now, it is stopped as tight as ever. This shows, Uncle, how it came to be lost to the recollection of everybody about the Manor."

"Yes," said Colonel Lisle. "Very likely it was stopped by a similar storm a century or more ago. So far as I know there has never been a legend of any tunnel. But, Max," he added, "there is yet the cellar where you and Win have decided that the passage enters the house."

"May we knock a hole there?" Max asked quickly. Win had said nothing more but his disappointment was evident.

"Certainly, if you like," assented the Colonel, smiling. "Only be prepared for another disillusion when you get the wall down. The existence of the tunnel doesn't ensure that of the chest."

Max whistled, evidently a signal, for Pierre promptly appeared with a rope over his shoulder.

"We sha'n't need that now," said Max. He proceeded to add some rapid directions in French. Pierre nodded, grinned cheerfully and set off at a fast pace.

"I've told him to get another man and come to knock in the vault wall," Max explained as they started toward the Manor. "We may not get it down this afternoon, but that's all that's left to try. I'm beastly annoyed about that tiresome hole. Why should a ripsnorter of a storm come on the one day when it could spoil our plans?"

"It's provoking." agreed Win. "Do you suppose there is really anything in the passage?"

"Blessed if I know!" replied Max. "The one thing sure is that there is a passage. There must be since we located one end of it in the cave. If it hadn't been for that, we might not be permitted to tear down the wall, but even Uncle is convinced now that the tunnel exists."

"Come and have tea," said Connie as they reached the Manor. "It's a bit early, but we may as well begin, for nobody knows how long it will take to pierce the vault."

Max went down to show the men where to work and reported that the stone seemed soft and inclined to break easily. "This isn't going to be much of a job," he reported. "I told Pierre to send word as soon as he struck through."

"What do you suppose the chest will look like?" asked Frances. "Will it be silver?"

"No such luck," Max replied. "Possibly metal, probably wood, always provided that we find it."

"You mustn't throw cold water, Max," reproved Connie from behind the tea-table. "Since we have found the passage, why not the chest? Let's have it a gorgeous one while we are about it, gold studded with uncut rubies and the Spanish crown in diamonds."

Frances and Edith shrieked at thought of such sumptuousness and one by one each expressed an opinion as to what the box would resemble and its probable contents. Roger decided that the chest was of solid iron, fastened by seven locks of which they would have to find the seven keys and that inside would be discovered a complete suit of royal armor.

"I fear that Prince Charles would not have made good his escape from England clad in a clanking suit of mail," said the amused Colonel.

Just then Yvonne entered with her usual pretty air of importance. "It is Pierre who desires M'sieur to attend in the cellar," she said, addressing herself to Max.

The entire party rose, hastily placing tea-cups on any convenient article of furniture. Roger found the floor most accessible for his, but with prudent foresight took with him such easily conveyed articles as the jam sandwiches and plum cake upon his plate.

Down in the cellar, Pierre and McNeil, the Scotch gardener, stood facing the northern wall just where the newer wing joined the oldest Manor vault. Before them yawned a hole already two feet in diameter.

With a grin on his face, Pierre thrust his crowbar through and showed that a space not quite a yard wide intervened before the tool brought up against what was in reality the outer wall of the cellar. The partition itself was only a foot thick, but because it was of equal thickness throughout its length, Max had not been able to detect any difference in resonance.

"Bien, Pierre!" exclaimed Max eagerly. "En avant!"

Pierre and McNeil attacked the wall again, Pierre all smiles and gay glances over this remarkable whim of M'sieur Max, whose whims as a rule he found enjoyable; McNeil looking perhaps not grimmer than usual, but as though the whole affair was quite below his dignity. To knock a hole in a perfectly good stone partition which would require a mason to fill and put in proper shape again at an expense of solid Jersey shillings, struck his thrifty Scotch soul as folly. Still, if Colonel Lisle wished to indulge Mr. Max in this youthful eccentricity, it was not McNeil's place to protest.

After fifteen minutes a cavity yawned in the cellar wall, disclosing a passage leading to the left.

"That will do, McNeil," said the Colonel. "That's enough for the purpose. Go ahead, boys. It was through your efforts that the tunnel was located, so it is for you to see this out."

"Win shall be first," said Max. "Step in, old fellow."

Pale with excitement, Win took the offered lantern and approached the hole. Once inside the opening he found that he could stand erect for the passage ran straight along the cellar wall about three feet wide and over five feet high. It seemed dry and the air was not musty. Rough stones formed its floor and roof but the crude workmanship had been strong and only a few scattered stones had fallen during the centuries.

Max followed with another lantern, and Roger made the third explorer. The excited heads of the girls were thrust into the passage but only Frances actually stepped within.

Win went slowly down the gently sloping tunnel, and presently the eager watchers who could catch only glimpses of shadowy roof and walls in the fitful light of the lanterns, saw the three stop. In her excitement, Fran forgot her fear of the distance stretching before her and ran to them. The next second came a wild warwhoop from Roger.

"It's here!" Max called more quietly.

At this wonderful news the rest entered the passage, the Colonel as eager as the others. Fifty feet from the opening at one side of the tunnel was a rough niche or alcove and in it stood a box about two feet square. Upon its cover lay the dust of ages, and it was scarcely to be distinguished in color from the stones about it.

"We'll bring it out, Uncle," said Max. "No place to open it here. You hold the lanterns, Win. Lend a hand, Roger. Go easy; we don't know how much knocking it will stand."

His eyes almost starting from his head, Roger took one of the handles, the girls stepped back and in two minutes the party stood in the open cellar, looking at what was undoubtedly the Spanish chest.



"Is it heavy?" asked Fran breathlessly, while Pierre went for a brush to remove the silted dust.

"Rather," said Max, looking boyishly excited. "Ah, now we know the style of the chest. No gold box nor uncut rubies, Connie!"

Relieved of its heavy coating of dust, the box proved of dark wood, carefully finished and ornamented by plates and corners of steel. Upon its cover was inlaid a scroll engraved with the Manor arms and the name of Richard Lisle.

"Gracious, what great-grandfather bought that bit of bric-a-brac!" exclaimed Connie, seeing her father's eyes light with interested pleasure. "It must have been the original Richard himself. Is it locked?"

Max tried the lid. "No," he said, straightening up and looking at the Colonel. "It is your play, Uncle Dick. Only a Lisle of Laurel Manor should open Richard's chest."

The Colonel smiled, stepped forward and with his single hand lifted the lid. The excited group about him bent forward eagerly.

At first glance a roll of dark cloth was all that appeared. When Colonel Lisle lifted this, it unfolded into a long-skirted coat ornamented with many buttons. The fabric was stained and rotten, in places moth-eaten. Below the coat lay a pair of leather gloves with long wrists, stiff as boards, and two blackened bits of metal that proved to be spurs.

For a moment no one spoke. The young people were silent, impressed with the fact that long years ago these things had been the property of a prince of England.

With a smile the Colonel looked first at Max and then at Win. "Are you satisfied?" he asked. "Though the contents of the Spanish chest have no value in money, they certainly are rich in historical interest."

"Oh, it was the fun of finding it that I cared about," said Win quickly. "That was the point for me. And I am so glad there is something in it."

"Let's take it up-stairs," suggested Connie. "We can see so much better."

The boys and Max delayed to inspect the empty secret passage, following to the spot where it was blocked by its stopper of stone. Then they joined the group in the study. In bright daylight, the fine workmanship on the Toledo steel trimmings of the chest stood out in full beauty.

"The design on these buttons is very significant," remarked Colonel Lisle, who was inspecting the wreck of the once handsome coat. "And I suspect that they are of silver."

Examination showed on the tarnished metal the three ostrich feathers that have marked the badge of the Prince of Wales since the far-off days of Edward the Black Prince. Below was the motto, "Ich dien," and the single letter C.

"On my next new suit I guess I'll have buttons marked R," said Roger solemnly.

The others laughed. A feeling of real awe had been creeping over them to think that garment had once been worn by Prince Charles.

"Here's a loose button," said Max, picking it out of the box. "The whole coat is falling in pieces."

"The buttons will last indefinitely," said Colonel Lisle, regarding thoughtfully the one Max had just rescued. "Thanks to Win's clever brain, the Manor has acquired an unsuspected secret passage and a valuable antique; of especial value to me because of the name it bears. I want you to keep this button, Win, for I think you, almost more than any one I know, will appreciate it and what it stands for."

Win turned pale. To possess a silver button once the property of bonnie Prince Charlie rendered him speechless.

"Oh, Colonel Lisle," he said after a minute, "I oughtn't to take a thing of such value. It belongs here."

"I want you to have it, my boy," replied the Colonel kindly. "I really am indebted to you, for we have positive proof now that the Manor walls once sheltered the Prince."

"I should value that button above all things," said Win simply, "if you really wish me to have it. Only it seems as though Mr. Max had done much more toward solving the mystery."

"I merely followed the lead you gave me," said Max, who was looking at him with a very friendly expression. "You played a pretty fine game yourself, Win."

"As for that," said the Colonel smiling, "Maxfield may have a button too, if he cares for it."

"Thank you, Uncle Dick," Max replied promptly. "I do value it, but perhaps for the present, it would better stop with the others."

As Max spoke, he looked not at the Colonel but at Constance, leaning against the table beside him. Something in their attitude struck Win's always acute perception. For the first time he doubted whether the young people of the Manor had been as genuinely absorbed in that search as he supposed. About Max, half- sitting on the corner of the study table, about Connie, with her hands loosely clasped before her, there was a certain air of quiet detachment, as of those who politely look on at some interesting comedy, but who, as soon as courtesy permits, will return to affairs of more importance.

"You need not have the least scruple about accepting it, Win," the Colonel went on. "We hope this will not be your last visit to the island, but in any case, whenever you look at that old relic, you will have to give us a thought as well."

Win turned the tarnished button on his palm. Yes, the sight of it would always bring back memories of the green lanes, the red cliffs, the turquoise sea of Jersey, not least the hours in the library, the Spanish chest and the Lisles of Laurel Manor.

* * * * *



AFTERWORD

After the story was finished and the characters were going away, Max and Connie turned back.

"We have kept our promise?" they asked. "We have played quite nicely and haven't been silly?"

"You have really been very good," admitted the author. "If Max hadn't appeared just when he did to rescue Edith and Frances from the tide, probably the story must have stopped there. And Connie has been most helpful about lending the Manor house and the beach dog."

"May we play again?" Max asked.

"I think not," decided the author. "This is five months later. You really must be grown-up now and stay so."

"We have been all the time," said Connie. "We've pretended just to please you. But since you let us come into the story when we weren't expected nor invited, it is only polite to tell you what we are going to do now."

They looked at each other and smiled.

"Every girl who reads this story will want to know," Connie went on. "It would indeed be very diverting to be Princess Santo-Ponte, but somehow I think the chances of 'living happily ever after' are greater with Max. There's nothing at all romantic about marrying Max, but you might just mention that I'm going to do it."

THE END.