She carried her load to the iron grating, unlocked the gate and passed through. The marble door of the mausoleum worked with a secret spring. Toby’s sharp eyes carefully marked the manner in which she released this spring and permitted the heavy marble block to swing noiselessly outward.
Elaine only lingered long enough to place the bags of gold inside. Then she closed the door of the tomb, let herself out at the iron gate and after one more shrewd inspection of the silent place made her way out of the graveyard and took the path that led back to her home.
Far behind her Toby followed like a shadow.
In half an hour she returned to the vault again, laden as before. For an old woman, and one who had just received a nervous shock, Elaine Halliday showed remarkable vitality. Her body appeared frail and weak, but an indomitable spirit urged it to perform its tasks.
CHAPTER XXIII
TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR
When Judge Ferguson arrived at his office the next morning he found Toby Clark awaiting him.
“What! You’ve not let Miss Halliday escape?” he exclaimed.
“Miss Phœbe is watching her,” returned Toby. “I felt it was important for me to come here to report.”
“Very well; sit down and tell me what you have to say.”
“Early last evening,” began the youth, “I heard the woman in her room. I watched her through the peephole Miss Daring had prepared. She was gathering all the money from the hiding places. The bills and small change she made into packages; the gold she left in the bags. Then she went into another room — the room occupied by Mr. Eliot — and returned with an armful of papers.”
“What sort of papers?” inquired the lawyer.
“They looked like legal documents, bonds, deeds and such things, sir. All were neatly folded and tied in packages.”
“Ah! I wonder where they could have been hidden.”
“No telling, sir. They’ve been mighty clever, haven’t they? Well, sir, she made those papers into two separate parcels. Then she wrapped herself in a sheet which she took from her bed, hid the parcels under it, and left the house.”
“She took only the papers?”
“Only the papers that time, sir. I tried to follow her, but the only way I could get out of the house without noise was through the window. I tied some sheets and blankets together and let myself down that way; but I was too late. The woman had disappeared, and I could not tell in what direction.”
“Too bad, Toby.”
“But I knew she would return, for there was the money to be lugged away. So I hid by a hedge and waited till she came back. She went into the house by the outside stair and soon brought out two bags of gold, one in each hand. This time, I followed her. She went to the graveyard, and I knew why she had draped herself in the sheet.”
“Why?”
“So, if anyone chanced to see her there, they would take her for a ghost. Some one did see her there — three girls, also dressed in sheets — your daughter, Phœbe Daring and Marion Randolph.”
“Well, I declare!” ejaculated the lawyer.
Toby told of the incident in the graveyard, and how Miss Halliday had afterward made still another trip with the balance of the money.
“Did she put it all into the vault!” asked the judge.
“Yes, sir; and so I suppose she put the papers there, too. But I cannot be positive of that.”
“But — good gracious, Toby! — what possessed the woman to hide all that plunder in a vault?”
“She is quite clever, sir. The other hiding place had been discovered by Phœbe; some of the money had been taken; it was best to hide it elsewhere. Who would ever think of searching a graveyard for it?”
“You’re right, Toby. But what happened afterward?”
“Very little, sir. Miss Halliday went to bed and slept soundly, for I heard her snore.”
“You climbed in at the window again?”
“Yes, sir; and had some sleep myself.”
“What a wonderful woman Elaine is!”
“I can’t help admiring her, sir.”
“And what about Mr. Eliot, Toby?”
“While waiting for the woman, when she escaped me the first time, I stole up the stairs and looked in. Mr. Eliot was sitting quietly in his chair, in the dark.”
“She left him there all night!” cried the judge, horrified.
“It seems so, sir.”
“That is cruelty. Even his helpless body must tire with remaining in one position so long. Usually Elaine has taken better care of him than that,” said Mr. Ferguson, indignantly.
“She was much excited last night; and the poor man can’t complain, you know,” returned Toby, with a shrug.
“What did Miss Halliday do this morning?” asked the lawyer, after a moment’s thought.
“She rose early and got her breakfast. I heard her walking around the front rooms, putting them in order and waiting on Mr. Eliot. She seemed quite composed this morning, and that may be due to the thought that her money is now safe from discovery. When Miss Phœbe came home from your house, Miss Halliday met her and handed her this note.”
Judge Ferguson took the paper. On it were scrawled the words: “At twelve o’clock I will keep my word.”
“Miss Phœbe is very anxious, sir,” continued Toby. “So I thought it best to come to you and report.”
The lawyer looked at his clerk, reflectively. Old Miss Halliday’s persistent threat to prosecute Phœbe impressed him strongly. For, had she not been able to prove her right to this secret hoard, the woman would never dare to expose the affair to public notice. Mr. Ferguson was quite positive that no such paper as Elaine had displayed to Phœbe would hold good in a court of law; but the woman might have other proofs that she was entitled to the property she claimed. In any event the judge did not wish to be forced to act hastily in so important a matter. Time was necessary.
Half an hour later he entered Mr. Spaythe’s private office at the bank and said:
“Spaythe, I want to borrow three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars — and I want the money now.”
Mr. Spay the gave a perceptible start, passed his hand over his forehead, and cast a perplexed and annoyed glance at the lawyer.
“May I have it?” demanded the judge.
Eric had entered in time to hear this demand, and the sum mentioned sent his face white and made his knees knock together. In his hand was a paper he had intended asking his father to indorse, but it was all forgotten as the boy stared blankly at Judge Ferguson. Did the lawyer know? Then how many others knew? Eric had not yet recovered from his fright, and his great fear was of his father’s anger. Why had Mr. Spaythe said nothing to his son about the stolen money, and what punishment was he planning? The son of the strict, inflexible banker well knew the fault would not be forgiven nor condoned, and the uncertainty of his position was becoming unbearable.
“Certainly you may have the money, Judge,” was Mr. Spaythe’s slow reply. “For how long do you require the loan?”
“Perhaps only for a few days.”
“Then I’ll give you my personal check, and make no other record of the transaction.”
As he drew his check book toward him Eric slipped back into the bank and resumed his stool. He was trembling as with an ague.
Presently Mr. Ferguson came to the window and asked Mr. Boothe to give him currency for the check. He spoke loudly enough for both Eric and Phil to overhear him. “How will you have it, sir?” asked the cashier.” Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety in bills.”
Eric nearly fell off his stool, and Phil looked up with a start. The effect upon the two boys was entirely different, however, for Daring had nothing to fear. So Phoebe’s secret was out, thought Phil, and Judge Ferguson was the person who had given her the money. But, in that case, why was the judge now asking for a similar sum, and in the same sort of money? The mystery was certainly beyond Phil Daring’s ability to solve. He gravely continued his work, feeling certain tha
t everything would come right in the end. It hurt him, though, to feel he was not in his twin’s confidence.
Mr. Ferguson took his money and departed. When he reached his office he said to Toby Clark:
“Go back to the Eliot house and send Phœbe to me. You must remain to watch Miss Halliday, but you can do that from the lane, or from some other point of vantage. I don’t much care what the woman does while she is at home, but if she attempts to leave the place be prepared to follow her.”
“All right, sir.”
Phœbe came for the money and found it ready for her, tied in a neat parcel.
“Don’t answer any questions during your interview with Elaine, “he advised. “And take care to ask none. Above all, don’t let her suspect you were playing ghost in the graveyard last night.”
Phœbe promised and went home again. At twelve o’clock she carried the package around to the rear stairs, which she was about to mount when Elaine appeared in the doorway above her.
“Stay where you are!” was the harsh command.
The girl resented the words and the tone, so with determination she mounted the stairs. Elaine barred her way.
“You must count the money and give me a receipt,” said Phœbe.
“I’ll count it; but you’ll get no receipt, for you gave none, you miserable little thief!” snarled the woman, rudely snatching the parcel.
“Then, I’ll wait here until you count it.”
“No you won’t. Go down — instantly! And if the money is not all here, to jail you go.”
“I think I’ll see my grandfather,” asserted the girl, more to annoy Elaine than because she wished to visit the helpless old man.
For answer Miss Halliday slammed the door in her face and locked it. Phœbe slowly retreated and descended to the yard. There the thought occurred to her that she might watch Elaine through the rear windows, for she was curious to see how she acted when she found the money all restored. So she slipped away into the lane, which being slightly elevated enabled her to peer into the second story windows. There she bumped against Toby Clark, who was standing half hidden by a clump of bushes.
“Oh! You here?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. Anything up?” he inquired.
“I’ve just given Elaine the money, and she impudently locked me out. So I thought I ‘d come here and watch the windows.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing. Stand back here in the shade, Miss Daring, so you won’t be seen. That’s it. Now look at that window. What do you see?”
“Only gran’pa sitting in his chair.”
“Oh. Is that your grandfather?”
“Of course,” said Phœbe. “He sits there all day long, looking over the country. Once, you know, he owned all the land as far as he can now see.”
“And does he sit there all night, too?”
“No, indeed; Elaine puts him to bed at night.”
“Last night,” said Toby, reflectively, “she left him in his chair, instead of putting him to bed. I saw him. The room was dark, but he was so close to the window that the stars showed his form distinctly.”
“Then Elaine is neglecting poor gran’pa!” cried Phœbe, indignantly. “And he is so dependent on her kindness, too!”
Toby gave a low, apologetic cough.
“Your eyes are good, Miss Daring?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Then look again, and carefully. Is that indeed your grandfather — is it really Mr. Eliot in the chair?”
Phœbe was surprised at the question, but she looked carefully.
“Of course. I’ve seen him sitting that way every day, for months past.”
“Can you see his face?”
“Not very well, from here. It is muffled up in his dressing gown, you know, so he won’t take cold.”
“It’s pretty warm to-day,” observed the lawyer’s clerk.
“But Gran’pa Eliot is paralyzed, and his blood doesn’t circulate freely. He is always well wrapped up, whatever the weather.”
Toby whistled softly and looked down at the ground, where he was digging up the earth with the toe of his shoe.
“It must be dinner time,” said Phœbe, suddenly remembering the fact. “Phil will be coming home and I must go in.”
“Will you be very busy this afternoon, Miss Daring?”
“I think not. Why?”
“Can you come here for a half hour or so?”
“Yes, Toby, if I can be of any service.”
“I think you can. This is a queer affair, isn’t it?”
“It’s very queer, Toby.’’
“Then I shall expect you,” he said with a sudden change of tone.
Phœbe went in, thinking the while how odd this boy was. She wondered casually why Judge Ferguson had placed so much confidence in him. There was still a good deal of mystery about this affair and Phœbe did not yet know what the lawyer intended to do to checkmate old Elaine. However, she was content to trust her father’s friend, and greatly relieved to be able to return that dreadful money to the covetous woman.
After dinner she walked with Phil to the gate. Said he:
“Have you anything to tell me?”
“Not yet, Phil,” she answered softly. “Try to be patient, for all is well, I’m sure, and we’ re going to be very happy when these troubled days are over.”
He said no more, but bent and kissed her and went on his way.
After accomplishing a few household duties and bandaging a cut on Becky’s arm — it seemed the girl was always hurting herself — and helping Don find his cap, which he always mislaid when he came in, Phœbe remembered her promise to Toby Clark and slipped away unobserved to his station in the lane.
She found the little clerk staring fixedly at the window where Gran’pa Eliot sat. He gave a start as the girl approached, and then his freckled face lit up with a smile.
“I want you to watch Miss Halliday for me, for half an hour,” he said.
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere in those upper rooms. She has just passed the window to the left. But, although I’ve watched her for hours, she has never once stopped at your grandfather’s side to do anything for him.”
“Poor gran’pa!”
“Now, listen, Miss Phœbe. The judge told me not to lose sight of that woman. If she tries to leave the house I am to follow her. But I want to get away, for just a little while, and I ‘d like you to watch in my place.”
“But, what shall I do if she goes away?”
“Follow her, and I’ll find you both. But she won’t leave the house to-day, I’m sure.”
“Very well; I’ll do the best I can, Toby.”
He nodded and walked away, going straight to the graveyard. When he reached there he climbed nimbly over the high iron rail, at the risk of breaking a limb, and faced the Eliot mausoleum. Pressing the spring, as he had seen Elaine do, he opened the marble door and passed into the tomb.
A few moments later he came out with a pale, startled face and closed the door. A while he stood lost in reverie; then he clambered over the railing again and went to relieve Phœbe.
“Thank you, Miss Daring,” he said quietly. “You may go, now. Anything to report?”
“Why, a minute ago Elaine came to the window where gran’pa sits, and after staring out, as if she suspected I was watching her, she turned and shook up gran’pa’s pillows, and moved his chair back a little. So you see we were wrong, and she is not really neglecting him.”
Toby chuckled.
“She’s a slick one, is Miss Halliday!” he murmured. “But I’ll keep an eye on her now.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Phœbe, remembering he had been on duty since the evening before.
He shook his head.
“Brought some bread and cheese with me, Miss Daring. Good-by.”
“Good-by, Toby.”
The afternoon passed slowly for Phœbe. She was still wrought up over the exciting events of the past few days and felt that she was almost a
s much in the dark concerning Judge Ferguson’s intentions as was Phil. She tried to copy some manuscript on her typewriter, for she had been neglecting the work lately, but somehow the girl had conceived an undefined horror of her room. So she went to sit with Cousin Judith, while she finished darning her stockings.
“Phœbe, dear,” said Miss Eliot, “there’s something mysterious going on in this house.”
“Is there?” asked Phœbe, with downcast eyes.
“I think so. Phil has not been himself, lately. I’msure he is worrying dreadfully over something. Is anything wrong at the bank?”
“No, Cousin Judith. Phil is all right. He’s doing splendid work, as you may know from the fact that Mr. Spaythe has raised his salary.”
“But the boy is unhappy, nevertheless,” persisted the Little Mother, musingly.
Phœbe sighed. She knew it was true.
“As for you, my dear,” continued Judith, “you are a mere bundle of nerves lately, and start and grow pale if anyone speaks to you. What has happened, Phœbe?”
The girl darned industriously for a time. Then she said earnestly:
“You trust me, Cousin Judith, do you not?”
“You know I do, Phœbe.”
“Then please do not question me to-day. I don’t want to mislead you, or deceive you, and Judge Ferguson has asked me not to confide in anyone — not even you.”
“Judge Ferguson!” exclaimed Judith, relieved. “Is it his secret, then?”
“Just now it is,” answered Phœbe.’ But there is nothing to worry about, dear. That’s what I told Phil, just after dinner.”
Miss Eliot was really puzzled, but she felt it would be unkind to press Phœbe further.
“Becky, Don and Sue know nothing of the matter, at least,” she observed, after a moment’s reflection.
“No, indeed,” said Phœbe.
CHAPTER XXIV
TOBY CLARK’S HEROISM
Late that night Toby Clark heard a man pacing slowly up and down the street, passing the Eliot house each time. Peering through the shadows the boy thought he recognized the straight, erect figure. Creeping close to a hedge that bordered the highway he whispered:
“Mr. Ferguson!”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 344
