by Helen Wells
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harrison. I went downstairs for a few minutes.”
“For twenty minutes, because I have been waiting here for twenty minutes. Couldn’t you have sent someone on your errand? And why is there not an essential remedy like aspirin in this medicine chest?”
Only then did Cherry notice that the medicine chest stood open and that Mrs. Harrison had removed several bottles in her fruitless search for aspirin.
“No aspirin? But I thought—” Cherry searched frantically through the medicine chest and did find the aspirin. Apparently Mrs. Harrison had a bad headache and apparently it had caused her to overlook the right bottle.
“I’m extremely sorry you had to wait, Mrs. Harrison. Here you are,” she added, giving her a tablet and a tumbler of water. “Is there anything further I can do for you?”
Mrs. Harrison swallowed the aspirin and said severely, “What you can do for me, Miss Ames, is stay on duty and not go wandering off. I expect you to behave more responsibly than the schoolgirls, you know.”
Cherry bit her lip. If only she could tell the headmistress why she had run down to the garden, surely Mrs. Harrison would understand. But Lisette thought not. Well, she was bound by her promise not to tell, and as a result Mrs. Harrison thought the nurse had been negligent.
“Why, oh, why, have I such a talent for getting into trouble with the powers-that-be?” Cherry wondered. She watched Mrs. Harrison’s straight, retreating back. “Now that she has an eye on me, more or less, all I need is to be discovered doing some midnight prowling. Then I’ll really be in trouble.”
She and Lisette would have to be very careful from now on. If they were caught, they both might be sent home. Cherry told the girl so that evening when they met after dinner.
“Perhaps,” said Cherry, “we ought to drop our search altogether for a few days. At least until Mrs. Harrison is feeling better and in a good humor again.”
“No, Cherry, no! The search can’t wait. We’ve got to go right ahead this evening.”
“Well, I do have a fresh idea about that diamond-shaped window—”
Cherry waited to tell Lisette in the comparative privacy of the infirmary at nine o’clock. “Lights out” was at ten, so they had only an hour. Cherry had rearranged the medicine chest and put it in apple pie order earlier in the evening. She felt she had earned the right to spend time now to talk with Lisette.
“About the window—I checked from the garden and you’ll be amazed where I suspect it is,” Cherry said.
“Don’t keep me waiting like this!”
“I think the missing window is in the supply closet.”
“Hmm. Frankly, Cherry, I don’t understand. Maybe I’m not as quick as you are—anyway, I’m not as old as you are.”
Cherry laughed and linked her arm through Lisette’s.
“It’s simple, my dear Watson. I mean, it’s elementary. Follow closely. The journal says, doesn’t it, that on the day your great-grandfather was away from the chateau, some place in his room was plastered over? Let’s assume for the moment that the infirmary was his room, since it’s the biggest bedroom in the house. Now, then! You and I have been looking for his medicine cupboard, knowing it was plastered over. We’ve been searching for a small area, but we could be wrong.”
“I can’t follow you, my dear Sherlock Holmes.”
“Listen. Couldn’t a whole end of the closet have been plastered over?”
“But why would anyone want to plaster over an inside wall of the closet?” Lisette objected.
“To clean up and modernize, to cover an old, cracked wall. Didn’t Pierre’s son and daughter in law have the plastering and papering done in order to improve the house?”
“Yes,” Lisette said. “There’s a good chance that during this decorating and modernizing they put a brand new bathroom in the chateau, with a new medicine cabinet and all.”
“So that an old fashioned cupboard niche in a closet wouldn’t be needed any longer,” Cherry pointed out.
A light dawned in Lisette’s eyes.
“That’s right. But how about the window? You think it’s at the end of the supply closet, and that end of the closet—”
“—has been sealed off. Plastered over. And I think your great grandfather’s medicine cupboard is—”
“—in the portion of the closet which is sealed off! Cherry, you’re terrific!”
“We hope. Let’s test it out!”
Both girls rushed to the eight foot long closet, went in, and, facing toward the garden, tapped on what was presumably the outside wall of the house. But instead of the solid sound they were used to hearing, back came a hollow echo. Cherry also thought she heard a faint tinkle, like the movement of crumbs of plaster. A false wall—
“That’s the place!” Lisette shouted, then held both hands over her mouth.
“It may be the place,” Cherry said coolly. Her heart was thumping, though. “A simple test is to measure.”
She measured the outside wall of the closet: it was eight feet long. She measured the inside wall of the closet: it was seven feet three inches long. Nine inches were unaccounted for, and that was sufficient space to accommodate the door of a wall niche.
But how were they to penetrate to the other side of the plaster barrier? It would mean chiseling or removing that plaster.
“Dr. Alan!” Cherry exclaimed. “He said to let him do any heavy work for me. And removing plaster certainly is heavy work!”
CHAPTER X
Inside the Wall
TO APPROACH ALAN ABOUT GETTING THROUGH THE MASK of plaster was no easy undertaking. First, Cherry had to persuade Lisette to share her secret with Alan. For how could they expect Alan to come secretly to the chateau and do something so drastic as remove a section of wall unless they gave him an extremely good reason? It took Lisette all weekend to decide to say reluctantly, “All right, Cherry, you may tell him. But make him understand it’s secret.”
Then Cherry and Lisette had strong misgivings about destroying school property. What right had they to deface Mrs. Harrison’s house? None. In fact, the house was also partly the property of the Riverton Bank, which held a mortgage.
“But if we find Pierre’s cupboard and the formula,” Lisette argued shakily, “maybe we can earn something toward the mortgage installment. Besides, Mrs. Harrison as owner of the chateau has rights in the formula which is hidden in the chateau. You see? So let’s go ahead.”
Cherry knew she had no right to deface that wall, but she tried to ease her conscience with this thought, “After all, it’s just nine unused inches or so inside a closet—our work won’t even show.”
“So all you have to do,” Lisette said finally, “is to persuade Dr. Alan to remove the plaster for us.”
“All!” Cherry groaned.
When next she saw Dr. Alan, she put the proposition to him. Or rather, she approached the proposal sideways, holding her breath.
“I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a lady a favor.”
“Why, sure,” said Alan. “You name it, the Wilcoxes do it.”
Cherry did not risk naming the request without cushioning Alan against the shock.
“We—ell. Remember when we had the two injured men to take care of? You offered to lift them or turn them for me. Remember?”
“That’s right. I said I’d do the heavy work.”
“Yes! Heavy work!”
Alan grinned. “I catch on. What’s the heavy work you want me to do?”
Cherry gulped, tried to say “Knock out a wall,” and lost her nerve.
“What’s the matter? Is it such an awful chore?”
“Yes. It’s so awful you’ll probably never consent.”
“Try me.”
“Would you—ah—take a little plastering out of the infirmary closet?”
“How much is a little plastering? Did Mrs. Harrison say okay? What’s it all about?”
Cherry, of course, gave honest answers.
Alan was dumfounded.
>
“Well, I’ll be darned! And poor Alicia Harrison hasn’t any idea that you’re planning to tear her house down.”
“Oh, not the entire house. But seriously, this perfume thing has real possibilities. Aren’t you curious about what we may find after all these years?”
“Yes, I am,” Alan said. “Like opening old King Tutankhamen’s tomb, hmm? We may find buried scent bottles and the mummified body of old Pierre.”
“Don’t! That’s horrifying!”
“All I’m saying is the Egyptians buried old King Tut in the shadow of the Sphinx with flacons of perfume, perfume, hear? And when archaeologists dug up the tomb three thousand years later, those flacons still gave forth a fragrance. Yes, sir, there’s still a chance for old Pierre’s sweet smelling stuff.”
“I shouldn’t have expected a man to take perfume seriously,” Cherry said, half indignant. “But you don’t have to laugh at Lisette and me. Perfume is an immense industry—”
“Relax. I know it.”
“—and besides, Doctor, scents are added to medicines so they’ll smell and taste pleasant enough to swallow.”
Alan was able to tell her something more interesting than that. Doctors were originally priests, in ancient times, and they used incense in temples and fragrant healing oils for the sick. In China and India, too, odorous woods and grasses were used and enjoyed. Perfume could be traced back to the very beginning of civilization.
“Besides, just think,” Alan said, “of what a lot the Bible says about frankincense and myrrh, and I think aloes. Not to mention honey and fragrant spices like cinnamon.”
“And balm of Gilead.”
Cherry felt relieved to hear Alan consider seriously the eternal romance of perfume. He could tease all he wanted, but when the question was put, he agreed to do the chore. One thing troubled Dr. Alan—what Mrs. Harrison would say, if she ever found out.
“Looks as if we’re going to tear out a piece of a wall on the basis of nothing more than a hollow sound…. All right, Cherry, all right! I said I’ll be there tomorrow night.”
Cherry asked him to arrive at five minutes past eight, because beginning at eight o’clock, the school was putting on an amateur theatrical in the gymnasium, which was in a building at a good distance from the chateau. All the students and staff planned to attend, even the telephone calls would be routed over there. The chateau would be deserted, except for the nurse who presumably would be taking care of Lisette’s sudden and convenient symptoms.
Alan was as good as his word. He arrived exactly at eight-o-five, kit in hand and a gleam in his eye. The kit contained less medical tools than (apparently) burglar’s tools, or so Lisette remarked as Dr. Alan unpacked a small chisel and saw on Cherry’s empty table. Lisette was rather awed at having not only her good friend, Cherry, to help her but also another young grownup.
“You’re both very, very kind to do this for me,” Lisette said.
“I’m doing it for Cherry,” Alan announced. Then he gave Lisette’s flying hair a tug. “Glad to help you out, youngster. Just remember who’s your friend at court.”
“We’d better stop fooling around and get to work!” Cherry warned them. “The coast is clear, but let’s not dawdle.”
Another reason they had decided on this evening was because Mrs. Harrison was going out to a friend’s house for a dinner party. She had left before eight, stately and resplendent in evening attire, and was not expected back before twelve, since the friends lived at some distance.
“I hope she has such a wonderful time that she stays longer,” Lisette said. They all rolled up their sleeves and took off their wrist watches. “Now can we start?”
The two girls led Alan to the closet and propped up flashlights to work by. They showed him the section of plaster wall which they wanted him to remove. He gave a low whistle and clapped his forehead.
“It’s solid plaster! Do you realize how long it will take?”
“It’s now or never,” Lisette wailed.
Cherry, huddled in the walk-in closet with the other two, reached out to the supply table for a hammer and chisel. Elbowing her way between Alan and Lisette, she said, “Excuse me,” and started chipping away at the offending wall.
“Not that way,” Alan said. “Too slow.” He showed her how.
“Oh! What are we going to answer,” Lisette demanded, “if anyone comes back from the gym and knocks and asks what’s the noise and why is the infirmary door locked?”
“As the nurse in charge, I’ll go to the door and cope. Somehow.”
“Lisette, relax! You have a nurse and a doctor here,” said Alan. “Cherry, my beautiful, you’re chipping powdered plaster into my hair.”
“Sorry. Unavoidable. Ker-choo!”
“That’s what you’re doing to me, Alan, lower down,” Lisette said in a muffled voice.
They worked in a scrambled, hasty fashion, in a cloud of white dust, as fast as six hands would go. From time to time Alan took a sounding to see how they were progressing. In places it was so hard that it took Alan’s sharp surgical steel knife to penetrate it and force an opening wedge. Lisette sniffed repeatedly, as if she hoped the cupboard—if it were hidden there—might give off its old perfume. When Cherry’s chisel struck wood, the three of them gave a muted cheer. But they cheered too soon. Alan’s chisel, up high as he stood on a chair, and Lisette’s chisel down low as she knelt, also struck wood, but only here and there.
For a few minutes they were stymied. Surely the wood was not the medicine cabinet itself. It covered too large a space and was not a solid, unbroken area of wood.
Alan said, with his ear against the gap torn out of the plaster, “The sound of it—That doesn’t echo the way an outside wall would. Too thin. That’s lathing under this plaster!”
They hacked away furiously at the remaining plaster. As they dug deeper, wood lathing became visible in places. Cherry hastily swept up the big chunks of plaster and wiped up some of the powdered plaster. She and Alan and Lisette still had to remove the lathing. The lathing came out awkwardly but without real trouble. Alan trundled pieces of it out of the closet and Cherry trained her flashlight on the newly opened end of the closet. Under the flashlight’s beam shone diamond-shaped panes of rose, purple, green, and amber.
“We’ve found the missing window!”
Alan popped in to see. “Hey, look!” he exclaimed.
“The cupboard!” Lisette jumped up and down in her excitement. “The cupboard—it is, isn’t it?”
In a sizable wall niche, directly under the diamond-shaped window, was a built in cupboard with a door. Its top was rounded, and it was made entirely of painted wood. In its door was an old brass keyhole.
“The doll’s key!” Lisette sputtered. “The doll’s in the same drawer, Cherry, isn’t she?”
“Hush! Someone’s knocking on the infirmary door!” Cherry exclaimed.
The three of them stood as if frozen. The rapping was light but insistent. Cherry glanced in panic at her watch lying on a shelf—ten o’clock, it read. Maybe a student was knocking. She pushed back her black curls, shakily unlocked the door, and prayed.
If Pierre’s ghost had stood there waiting to enter, it would not have given Cherry a nastier turn than the sight of a golden-haired lady in a long sapphire velvet gown. Mrs. Harrison still wore her long gloves and wrap; she must have just come home—early.
“Why is the infirmary door locked? And what is that odd, dusty smell?”
The headmistress walked in—Cherry had no way of stopping her. At her back was the closet, wide open and telltale, with the two other conspirators hiding inside it. Cherry endeavored to keep Mrs. Harrison’s back toward the closet.
“Won’t you sit down? Here, Mrs. Harrison?”
“No, thank you. Why, everything seems to be covered with a fine white powder.” The headmistress eyed Cherry’s hair. “What is going on in here, Cherry?”
Then the headmistress turned around. She saw the mess and destruction, and gave a little s
hriek. Alan chose this moment to step out of the closet.
“Alan Wilcox! You? Not on a medical call? What are you doing here at such a late hour?” Mrs. Harrison was distressed. “Where is your judgment, Alan? And your manners?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harrison—we can explain—”
Lisette eased herself out of the closet, an elf whose hair and face were covered with chalky blotches. It would have been funny had not Mrs. Harrison been so upset—so very angry.
“Never mind explanations! How can any of you explain destroying a house—a house which doesn’t belong to you! Lisette, of all ungrateful children—”
“Please believe me, we’re doing it for a good reason—to help you, too—”
Cherry could not think of any reasonable explanation with Mrs. Harrison speaking scornful, stinging words. Her scorn hurt less than her distress; Alicia Harrison actually looked as if she might cry. Cherry suddenly realized the enormity of what she had done.
“Please, please, listen to our reasons,” Lisette begged. The girl stepped forward and produced the old journal. “Mrs. Harrison, this is the diary of my great grandfather, Pierre Gauthier. Would you be kind enough to look at this page? And perhaps this one?”
Mrs. Harrison accepted the journal and read, frowning a little. “The handwriting’s difficult—Lisette, please translate these two words.”
“A concealed cupboard,” Lisette read, while Alan and Cherry looked at each other. “May I tell you the entire story, please, please?”
Mrs. Harrison sighed and sat down in a subdued way. Her anger had evaporated. While Lisette recounted the story of the lost perfume, Cherry noticed that the headmistress listened as if deeply moved. Once she broke in to say:
“Yes, yes, I remember how my own grandmother used to bring the fragrance of the garden into our house. Practically every woman knew how to keep herself and her household dainty, with materials from her garden. We all learned how to make sachets for our linen closets and dressers.”
Alan and Cherry were glad to see her so interested and sympathetic to the general subject of perfume. Mrs. Harrison smiled reminiscently and promised to show Lisette and Cherry how to mix dried rose petals with sugar and spices to make a lasting potpourri. Lisette tactfully drew the headmistress’s attention back to the great grandfather’s lasting scent, and in parti cular to his formula.
