by Joan Smith
A single brace of candles was burning in a branched holder, and from them Hillary lit others to reveal a pleasant book-lined room, with a small fire burning in the screened grate. He pushed the grate aside and stoked up the fire as he suggested they all remove their wet garments. His idea was speedily carried out, and still their shirts were wet under their sodden jackets. Sir Hillary put off his hat and threw aside his cape.
“How very elegant you are, even when you go grave-digging,” Claudia said, looking at his tidy dark sweater and unruffled hair.
“Good lord!” he shouted, observing closely for the first time the girls, who stood revealed in the full squalor of moth-eaten trousers, well spattered with mud, once-white shirts now yellowed and frayed, for clothing even in half-repair was never discarded at Swallowcourt. Their sodden hair was flattened against their heads, their faces and hands muddy from refilling the grave without shovels. “What on earth are you girls wearing?”
“Old livery from the cedar press,” Luane told him nonchalantly. “We couldn’t go there in our skirts.”
“You’re filthy! Go upstairs and get cleaned up at once,” he said like a father scolding a batch of naughty children. “And leave your boots here if you please. They’re soaked with mud. Loo, you know where to go— take Miss Milmont.” Gabriel went along to his room, and during their absence Hillary went to order some cocoa to warm them up.
It was a little while before they felt themselves presentable, and even then they were not so much presentable as relatively clean, with their hair toweled dry, combed back, and pinned into a knot behind. When they came back to the library, hot cocoa was waiting by the kindling fire, with their jackets put to dry over chairs. An old blanket had been placed over the sofa to protect its covering from their damp trousers.
“This is more like it,” Loo said, picking up the cup of cocoa and warming her hands on the cup.
“If you haven’t taken your death of cold, it’s a wonder,” Hil said.
“Never mind that,” Gabriel brushed it aside. “The deuce of it is it was all for nothing. We couldn’t even see the diamonds, let alone get them out. How shall we go about it, Uncle?”
Claudia cleared her throat in a meaningful way and frowned heavily at Gabriel, who ignored her. She was obliged to express herself verbally. “Am I to understand Sir Hillary is to be included in our adventure?”
“If he wants to . . .” Loo looked a question at Thoreau, whose eyes flickered to Miss Milmont.
“I cannot think he would enjoy it in the least,” Claudia objected. “A dandy cannot wish to be digging a coffin out of a . . .”
“A dandy!” he shouted.
“Out of a muddy grave,” she continued, as though he had not spoken. “It will be pea soup by tomorrow if this deluge holds up. Then, too, there is the welding torch. What we really need is a blacksmith, I think.”
“No, we can’t get Jed Flaro to come along—he’s the smitty in the village, Claudia, and he is not the sort for an adventure,” Loo said sadly.
“Well, then,” she answered, “we may have to do as Gabriel suggested and take the coffin away to perform the deed.”
“We can’t bring it here unless Sir Hillary is one of us,” Loo pointed out.
“The odious Sir Hillary,” he added, but all pretended not to notice.
“And we cannot take it home to Swallowcourt because of Jonathon,” Loo continued.
“If necessary, I might cause a diversion within, while you are doing the deed in the stables,” Claudia considered. “I am very good at hysterics, or I could let Jonathon make love to me.”
“Lucky Jonathon,” Hillary said aside and was again ignored.
“Cousin!” Loo smiled in admiration. “Didn’t I tell you she was all right, Gab? Yes, let us do it at Swallowcourt. I wish I could be both places at once, to see Jonathon make love to you.”
“Yes, but really, Uncle Hil could help us enormously if he would like to join us,” Gabriel said hopefully.
“I shouldn’t like to deprive Miss Milmont of her lovemaking, or hysterics, as the case may be.”
She smiled at him vaguely, unruffled, but it was Gabriel, eager for his guardian’s help, who spoke up. “The thing is, even if we manage to get the coffin to Swallowcourt, and it is very heavy, we three could never lift it, I wouldn’t know how to get it open.”
“Would you know how, Sir Hillary?” Claudia asked.
“Certainly.”
Luane and Claudia exchanged questioning looks. “A sign of good will is usually required before admitting a new partner to a venture,” the elder said.
“You might take my filling in the grave for good will,” Hillary mentioned.
“It was nearly filled before you came,” Loo pointed out.
“Then I have a more practical contribution to suggest. How had you planned to dispose of the diamonds? Much good they would do you—a stolen necklace. It would have to be broken up.”
“Actually, I am very good at breaking things,” Claudia offered. “I broke two jugs just the day before I left Devonshire.”
“The individual stones separated from the metal for selling,” he said.
“You underestimate us, sir,” Claudia said, offended, “That promised to be the most exciting part of the adventure in my opinion. Going to Amsterdam . . .”
“What did you plan to use for money?”
“Nothing. We mean to work our way aboard a tramp vessel, as crewmen.”
“And have taken to wearing trousers in advance for practice. You know, till tonight I took you for a fairly sensible woman, Miss Milmont,” Sir Hillary said.
“That is quite a common mistake with people who are first making my acquaintance. I am really a person who craves excitement and danger.”
“Cousin Claudia hasn’t had an adventure before,” Loo explained.
“I can see she was ill prepared for it. Would you ladies like to change into some dry—livery?”
“I doubt yours would be so interesting as this,” Claudia said. “Besides the exciting aroma of camphor, we have all these moth holes, in the most unusual places,” She poked a finger through a hole in the knee, and out the other side as she spoke.
“Unlike Sophie, I don’t keep every worn-out rag about the house. I can’t vouch for the holes. Those old woolen liveries make a feast for moths. It only encourages pests to hang around if you feed them.”
“Do you suppose that is why he has given us no more than a cup of cocoa after our night’s labor?” Claudia asked Loo in a loudish voice.
“Would you care for a biscuit, Miss Milmont?” Thoreau asked.
“No, thank you. To tell the truth, I am ravenous after the meager crumbs they feed us at Swallowcourt, and a biscuit would only serve to awaken my appetite, which I am trying to keep in abeyance till I get home to Devon.”
Thoreau’s lips quivered slightly, and he pulled the bell cord. “Some cold meat, cheese and bread, please,” he said when a servant came.
“And a biscuit?” Claudia asked in a small voice.
“Biscuits,” he said to the waiting servant.
The victuals were welcomed by all, most especially by the inmates of Swallowcourt, and when a luncheon more tasty and filling than their dinner had been tucked away, Claudia said to Luane, “If he continues to feed us in this fashion, I am all in favor of letting him join us. But one detail—actually two—we have forgotten. Besides the necessity for a quite heavy wagon and at least a team of horses to pull it to bring the steel box here, there is the problem of the guard Sir Hillary so stupidly arranged to have hired. Or will you just hit him on the head, Loo, as you had planned to do to the groom at Swallowcourt if he hadn’t been sleeping so soundly?”
“But of course—that is no problem,” Loo said immediately. “Besides, he will likely hire Tim Larriman, and he will be dead drunk by midnight. Perhaps you ought to slip him a bottle of wine, Gabriel, to make sure.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“What a poltroon!” Claud
ia said to Luane, to whom she addressed most of her remarks, rather as though they two were alone in the room. “Are you quite sure you once planned to marry this fellow? Well, like everything else, it will be left up to us. I daresay if we just leave a bottle lying about close to the grave, Tim Larriman will have the wits to see it and get drunk for us.”
“You are rushing matters, little Claudia,” Sir Hillary said, assuming his nasty character and tone. “The broaching of the grave will not be tackled in one night. Arrangements will have to be made. The welding equipment, getting the stable cleared of men on some pretext or other.”
“Somebody will beat us to it if we wait,” Loo interjected.
“We have got ourselves stuck with a very stupid pair of conspirators,” Claudia said to her cousin. “Speed is clearly of the essence. How long will it take you, Sir Hillary, to hit your groom on the head, and break into the blacksmith’s shop and steal his equipment? I should think one day more than sufficient. Ought we not to nip down to the village right now, tonight, and steal the torch thing we require?”
“You may leave those arrangements in my hands,” he answered.
Gabriel had been listening to this conversation in a little confusion. He didn’t know quite what to make of Miss Milmont—whether she was serious or not. “She’s right about one thing, Uncle. Jonathon will be there having a go at the diamonds before he leaves. I wonder he wasn’t there tonight.”
“I was wondering the same thing myself. A strange lack of initiative on his part.”
“It was a nasty night with all the rain. His uniform, you know. . .” Claudia remarked.
“I was sure we’d see him there and had the crowbar all ready to hit him,” Loo added. “And he wasn’t asleep, for when I tiptoed past his door at eleven-thirty, the floor squeaked, and I ran on very fast, but round the corner I heard his door open, and he came out. And he didn’t have on his uniform either, for I peeked. He had on a funny old jacket, or maybe it was a dressing gown.”
“His nerve must have failed him at the last minute,” Claudia said. “Well, shall we get on home, Cousin? I don’t hear the rain lashing so heavily now, and I see our jackets have stopped dripping.”
“It’s long past time you were going,” Hillary said.
“I have felt all evening we were no more than half welcome,” Claudia remarked, ostensibly to Luane.
“Come on, Gab, we’ll accompany the ladies,” Hillary said.
“No, no! You deprive us of half our adventure! We have some hope of being befriended by thugs or villains en route and beaten before we get home. The evening has been a total loss so far,” Miss Milmont objected.
“You may have the pleasure of a thrashing before you leave the premises,” Hillary replied dampingly.
“You told me he was a prude!” Claudia said to Luane.
“He’s showing off again,” her cousin replied.
“I suppose that means he has taken me in aversion, like mama.”
Despite the argument, the gentlemen donned their capes and hats and accompanied the girls to Swallowcourt. But as they were in the hall about to leave, a footman beckoned Sir Hillary aside and with an excited face told him something that lifted his eyebrows. “Excuse me,” Hillary said and dashed off quickly. They waited a few moments, then Gabriel went to fetch him. As he too failed to return, the girls went off after them both. They followed the path taken by the men down a hall to an open doorway with light streaming forth.
“Have you changed your minds about coming with us?” Luane asked.
“We do feel it would be better if we got into our beds before dawn,” Claudia added, entering the room—a small study. She stopped short, for two men were standing looking at an open window, and all about them lay a scene of wreckage. Chairs were upturned, pictures askew on the wall, and papers littered about the floor.
“How interesting!” Claudia continued, walking in and looking all around. “Do you frequently enjoy the company of housebreakers?” she asked Thoreau.
“This is the first time,” he answered, a pensive look on his face.
“And it happened while you were at the graveyard, I collect? What a pity! You would have had a more exciting evening had you stayed home. Was there anything stolen? A chest of gold perhaps, or the family heirlooms? You wouldn’t—no, it is too much to hope for a treasure map.”
“Nothing,” he replied, looking more mystified than ever.
“It was a disappointing night all around,” Claudia consoled. “Really, we have had a remarkably flat adventure. Is there any significance to his choosing this particular room? I do not mean to criticize, you understand, but I see nothing of much value here.” She gazed at a rather indifferent desk and a couple of chairs, two pictures on the wall of uninteresting scenes, the same view of a dreary castle, one in summer and one in winter.
Gabriel glanced at his uncle, who considered a moment, then spoke. “The only significance I see is that it is in this room I have my safe.”
“Aha! The plot thickens. Who would have known this?”
“My servants, ergo, the whole damned countryside,” Hillary replied angrily.
“That gives us an interesting group of suspects,” Claudia continued. “I trust you kept no great sum of money in it.”
“No, I never keep anything of value in it. It’s behind that winter scene of Blaize Castle. You’ll notice the picture is slightly askew.”
“You don’t keep your valuables in your safe,” Claudia repeated. “No, of course not. My grandmama always keeps her egg money in the sugar bowl, and I personally plan to keep my valuable—my emerald ring—in the toe of a pair of slippers I have which don’t quite fit anymore; only they are too good to throw out. Would it be—no, it is really none of my business to enquire where you do keep your valuables.”
“In the bank, like any rational person,” he snapped.
“I think he is insulting me. And my grandmama,” Claudia offered to Luane. “Though really it would be too nonsensical to have run to the bank every time I wanted to wear my ring. I plan to wear it for all festive occasions—visits from the vicar, meetings of the Bible Society . . .”
“It was my tiara he was after,” Luane decreed, after considering the matter a moment.
“Possibly,” Hillary said, “and that narrows our interesting group of suspects considerably, don’t it?”
“No one knew you had it but the family,” Gabriel said aloud what was in the minds of all.
“And Mr. Fletcher,” Miss Milmont added. “Mama had no good opinion of him.”
“That’s foolishness,” Hil scoffed. “He’s as honest as the day is long and in no need of stealing a paltry little tiara. He’s loaded with blunt.”
“Now he’s taking his ill humor out on you,” Claudia said to her cousin. “I think your tiara is very fine. By the by, Sir Hillary, have you looked to see if the tiara is safe?”
“No!” He turned and dashed from the room, returning in a moment with the news that both tiara and replica case were untouched in the bottom of his clothespress, where he had left them.
“You may be sure it was Jonathon after my tiara,” Luane told them, “and I hope you mean to take it to the bank tomorrow for safekeeping.”
“Yes, but why the deuce would he go trying to steal the tiara when there was a fortune in jewels in the grave, and he knew it?” Gabriel asked.
“To be sure, I never took him for a clever fellow, but I had not thought him such a fool as that,” Claudia agreed. “I wonder if he knew, somehow, about the steel-lined casket, and just decided to pick up the tiara while we, like ninnyhammers, were out digging up a sealed metal coffin.”
“You may be sure he knew,” Luane announced, her little chin jutting at an angry angle.
“How and when was the body sealed in the metal box anyway?” Gabriel asked. “Was it possible he knew?”
“It must have been done on Sunday in the stable,” Hillary replied. “The coffin didn’t leave Swallowcourt except to go to the church. Cer
tainly he might have discovered it easily enough if he chanced to be there, taking a look at his horses or some such thing.”
“Oh, who were the fools in the case?” Claudia repined. “If only we had chanced to the stables, what a lot of bother we might have saved ourselves.”
“I mean to charge him with it the minute I get home,” Luane said, still furious.
“Haul him right out of bed?” Claudia asked her. “I should wait till breakfast if I were you.”
“No, he will have thought up some excuse by then.”
“Don’t say anything,” Hillary cautioned. “There’s no saying it was Tewksbury.”
“If you charge him with it before Sir Hillary or Gabriel call on us tomorrow, there will arise the embarrassing question of how we came to know of it,” Claudia added.
“He’ll know how we came to know,” Luane answered. “He said we would be trying to dig up the diamonds, and he would have done the same himself if he hadn’t known about the steel box.”
“Very likely, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing we had such a miserable task in vain,” Claudia told her.
“Do as Hillary says,” Gabriel directed, and Luane accepted the advice with a sniff.
There was ample food for conversation all the way home, and as the rain had let up and talk was possible, they discussed any aspect of the case that occurred to them. The girls and Gabriel learned that the footman had discovered the break-in just a moment before calling Hillary. No one had been in the room since ten o’clock, so there was no knowing exactly when it was done.
“I know what I will do,” Luane said. “I’ll find out if Jonathon had his horse out.”
“You won’t, you know,” Claudia pointed out. “The groom, you recall, was sound asleep. He didn’t even awake when Casper bit me, and I yelled a little. And his own groom, who is also his valet, though he goes by the termination of batman, is an ugly little customer whom I wouldn’t even dare ask the time of day.”
“You mean there’s someone in the world you’re afraid of?” Sir Hillary asked.
“If you ever saw Tuggins you’d know what I mean,” Claudia said with feeling. “He is dashing all over the house, in places where neither a groom nor a valet has any reason to be, and Jonathon dotes on him. I asked him—Jonathon—what Tuggins was doing coming out of one of the empty guest suites, and he told me he was taking an inventory for him. I could swear the batman was hiding something behind his back, but when I mentioned it to Jonathon, he merely laughed it off.
