CHAPTER VI
JOYCE'S THEORY
"Cynthia, what's your theory about the mystery of the Boarded-up House?"
The two girls were sitting in a favorite nook of theirs under an old,bent apple-tree in the yard back of the Boarded-up House, on a sunnymorning a week later. They were supposed to be "cramming" for themonthly "exams," and had their books spread out all around them. Cynthialooked up with a frown, from an irregular Latin conjugation.
"What's a _theory_?"
"Why, you know! In Conan Doyle's mystery stories _Sherlock Holmes_always has a 'theory' about what has happened, before he really knows;that is, he makes up a story of his own, from the few things he hasfound out, before he gets at the whole truth."
"Well," replied Cynthia, laying aside her Latin grammar, "since you askme, my theory is that some one committed a murder in that room we can'tget in, then locked it up and went away, and had the house all boardedup so it wouldn't be discovered. I've lain awake nights thinking of it.And I'd just as lief _not_ get into that room, if it's so!"
Joyce broke into a peal of laughter. "Oh, Cynthia! If that isn't exactlylike you! Who but you would have thought of such a thing!"
"I don't see anything queer about it," retorted Cynthia. "Doesn'teverything point that way?"
"Certainly not, Cynthia Sprague! Do you suppose that even years andyears ago any one in a big house like this could commit a murder, andthen calmly lock up and walk away, and the matter never be investigated?That's absurd! The murdered person would be missed and people wouldwonder why the place was left like this, and the--the authorities wouldget in here in a hurry. No, there wasn't any murder or anythingbloodthirsty at all; something very different."
"Well, since you don't like _my_ theory," replied Cynthia, stillnettled, "what's yours? Of course you _have_ one!"
"Yes, I have one, and I have lain awake nights, too, thinking it out.I'll tell you what it is, and if you don't agree with me, you're free tosay so. Here's the way it all seems to me:
"Whatever happened in that house must have concerned two persons, atleast. And one of them, you must admit, was our Lovely Lady whoseportrait hangs in the library. Her room and clothes and locket showthat. She looks very young, but she must have been some one ofimportance in the house, probably the mistress, or she wouldn't haveoccupied the biggest bedroom and had her picture on the wall. You thinkthat much is all right, don't you?" Cynthia nodded.
"Then there's some one else. That one we don't know anything at allabout, but it isn't hard to guess that it was the person whose pictureis turned to the wall, and whose miniature was in the locket, and who,probably, occupied the locked-up room. That person must have been somenear and dear relation of the Lovely Lady's, surely. But--what? We can'ttell yet. It might be mother, father, sister, brother, husband, son, ordaughter, any of these.
"The Lovely Lady (I'll have to call her that, because we don't know hername) was giving a party, and every one was at dinner, when word wassuddenly brought to her about this relative. Or perhaps the person wasright there, and did something that displeased her,--I can't tell which.Whatever it was,--bad news either way,--it could only have been one oftwo things. Either the relative was dead, or had done something awfuland disgraceful. Anyhow, the Lovely Lady was so terribly shocked by itthat she dismissed her dinner party right away. I don't suppose she feltit right to do it. It was not very polite, but probably excusable underthe circumstances!"
"Maybe she fainted away," suggested Cynthia, practically. "Ladies werealways doing that years ago, especially when they heard bad news."
"Good enough!" agreed Joyce. "I never thought of it. She probably did.Of course that would break up the party at once. Well when she came toand every one had gone, she was wild, frantic with grief ordisappointment or disgust, and decided she just _couldn't_ stay in thathouse any longer. She must have dismissed her servants right away,though why she didn't make them clear up first, I can't think. Then shebegan to pack up to go away, and decided she wouldn't bother taking mostof her things. And sometime, just about then, she probably turned thepicture to the wall and took the other one out of her locket and threwit into the fire. Then she went away, and never, never came back anymore."
"Yes, but how about the house?" objected Cynthia. "How did that getboarded up?"
"I have thought that out," said Joyce. "She may have stayed long enoughto see the boarding up done, or she may have ordered some one to do itlater. It can be done from the outside."
"I think she was foolish to leave all her good clothes," commentedCynthia, "and the locket under the bed, too."
"I don't believe she remembered the locket--or cared about it!" musedJoyce. "She was probably too upset and hurried to think of it again. AndI'm sure she lay on the bed and cried a good deal. It looks like that.Now what do you think of my theory, Cynthia?"
"Why, I think it is all right, fine--as far as it goes. I never couldhave pieced things together in that way. But you haven't thought aboutwho this mysterious relative was, have you?"
"Yes, I have, but, of course, that's much harder to decide because wehave so little to go on. I'll tell you one thing I've pretty nearlysettled, though. Whatever happened, it wasn't that anybody _died_! Whenpeople die, you're terribly grieved and upset, of course, and you _may_shut up your house and never come near it again. I've heard of suchthings happening. But you generally put things nicely to rights first,and you don't go away and forget more than half your belongings. If youdon't tend to these things yourself, you get some one else to do it foryou. And one other thing is certain too. You don't turn the deadrelative's picture to the wall or tear it out of your locket and throwit into the fire. You'd be far more likely to keep the picture alwaysnear so that you could look at it often. Isn't that so?"
"Of course!" assented Cynthia.
"Then it _must_ have been the other thing that happened. Somebody didsomething wrong, or disappointing, or disgraceful. It must have been adreadful thing, to make the Lovely Lady desert that house forever. Ican't imagine what!"
"But what about the locked-up room?" interrupted Cynthia. "Have you anytheory about that? You haven't mentioned it."
"That's something I simply can't puzzle out," confessed Joyce. "TheLovely Lady must have locked it, or the disgraceful relative may havedone it, or some one entirely different. I can't make any sense out ofit."
"Well, Joy," answered Cynthia, "you've a theory about what happened, andit certainly sounds sensible. Now, have you any about what relative itwas? That's the next most interesting thing."
"I don't think it could have been her father or mother," replied Joyce,thoughtfully. "Parents aren't liable to cause that kind of trouble, sowe'll count them out. She looks very young, not nearly old enough tohave a son or daughter who would do anything very dreadful, so we'llcount _them_ out. (Isn't this just like the 'elimination' in algebra!)'That leaves only brother, sister, or husband to be thought about."
"You forget aunts, uncles, and cousins!" interposed Cynthia.
"Oh, Cyn! how absurd! They are much too distant. It _must_ have beensome one nearer than that, to matter so much!"
"I think it's most likely her husband, then," decided Cynthia. "He'dmatter most of all."
"Yes, I've thought of that, but here's the objection: her husband,supposing she had one would probably have owned this house. Consequentlyhe wouldn't be likely to allow it to be shut up forever in this queerway. He'd come back after a while and do what he pleased with it. No, Idon't think it was her husband, or that she was married at all. It musthave been either a sister or brother,--a younger one probably,--and theLovely Lady loved her--or him--better than any one else in the world."
"Look here!" interrupted Cynthia, suddenly. "There's the easiest way todecide all this!"
"What is it?" cried Joyce, opening her eyes wide.
"Why, just go in there and turn that picture in the drawing-roomaround!"
"Oh, Cynthia, you jewel! Of _course_ it will be the easiest way! Whatgeese we are to have waited s
o long! Only it will be a heavy thing tolift. But the time has come when it must be done. Let's go right away!"
Full of new enthusiasm, they scrambled to their feet, approached thecellar window by a circuitous route (they were always very careful thatthey should not be observed in this), and were soon in the dim cellarlighting their candles. Then they scurried up-stairs, entered thedrawing-room, and set their candlesticks on the table. After that theyremoved all the breakable ornaments from the mantel and drew anotherchair close to the fireplace.
"Now," commanded Joyce, stepping on the seat of one while Cynthiamounted the other, "be awfully careful. That red silk cord it hangs byis perfectly rotten. I'm surprised it hasn't given way before this.Probably, as soon as we touch the picture the cord will break. If so,let the picture down gently to rest on the mantel. Ready!"
They reached out and grasped the heavy frame. True to Joy's prediction,the silk cord snapped at once, and the picture's whole weight rested intheir hands.
"Quick!" cried Cynthia. "I can't hold it any longer!" And with a thud,the heavy burden slipped to the mantel. But there was no damage doneand, feeling on the other side Joyce discovered that it had no glass.
"Now what?" asked Cynthia.
"We must turn it around as it rests here. We can easily balance it onthe mantel." With infinite caution, and some threatened mishaps, theyfinally got it into position, right side to the front, and sprang downto get their candles. On holding them close, however, the picture wasfound to be so coated with gray dust that absolutely nothing wasdistinguishable.
"Get the dust-rag!" ordered Joyce. And Cynthia, all excitement, rusheddown cellar to find it. When she returned, they carefully wiped from thepainting its inch-thick coating of the dust of years, and again heldtheir candles to illumine the result.
For one long intense moment they stared at it. And then, simultaneously,they broke into a peal of hysterical giggles.
Boarded-Up House Page 6
