The Manor House School Part 28

As anything seemed better than sitting still, the other girls agreed readily to come and play.

"Two can hide and four can look," said Marjorie. "Only, we'll keep on this landing."

The old Manor offered a splendid field for the purpose; it was so full of cupboards and crannies and odd nooks that it was quite hard to find anybody. The dull day improved the fun, for twilight reigned in most of the pa.s.sages, and rendered many hairbreadth escapes possible. Nora actually had her hand on Beryl's foot without discovering the fact; Effie crept inside a suit of armour, and baffled pursuit for ever so long; and Marjorie was almost given up, but at length was discovered crouching in a dark angle which the others had pa.s.sed several times without noticing her.

It was now the turn of Lindsay and Cicely to hide. They were determined to choose a specially good place, and debated the point until the latter grew impatient.

"Do be quick!" she exclaimed. "They'll soon have finished counting a hundred."

"I can't make up my mind whether it's better behind the tapestry or under the ottoman," deliberated Lindsay.

"Cuckoo!" cried Beryl's voice.

"They're coming! We've no time for either. We must get into the old box-settle."

It was the only possible retreat near at hand. Already they could hear the girls' footsteps creaking along the oaken boards of the picture gallery; in another moment they would have turned into the pa.s.sage, and reached the top of the stairs. Without more ado both hiders scrambled inside the settle, and pulled down the lid over their heads.

It was a very tight fit indeed for two, and most uncomfortable.

"Could you let me have an inch more room?" begged Cicely in an agonized whisper.

"I'll try," returned Lindsay.

It was difficult to stir in such narrow quarters. To move at all, she was obliged to make a vigorous heave towards her end of the chest. The effect was as unexpected as extraordinary. Lo and behold! the entire bottom of the settle seemed to give way, and without any warning the two girls were precipitated into some unknown place below.

CHAPTER XVI

A Surprise

So sudden was their descent that Lindsay and Cicely had no time even to cry out. They evidently had not fallen far, and though for a moment they both thought they were killed, they soon found that beyond a few bruises neither was hurt. They picked themselves up in a state of bewilderment, and stared around them as if hardly realizing yet what had happened.

They were in a little low chamber about eight feet square. The walls were of unpolished oak timbers, roughly plastered in between, and the floor also was of oak beams. In one corner there was a tiny window, covered with a ma.s.s of cobwebs, through which nevertheless came sufficient light to enable them to see their surroundings. The trapdoor in the ceiling, through which they had dropped so unexpectedly, must have worked on a swivel, for it had righted itself again, and was once more closed above them.

Still half-dazed, the girls stood for a moment trying to recover their scattered wits, too shaken and amazed even to speak.

"Well!" exclaimed Lindsay at last, with a volume of meaning in the monosyllable.

"This is a house of surprises!" cried Cicely.

"Where are we?"

"How can I tell?"

"We seemed to tumble through the bottom of the settle."

"Yes, after you gave that great lurch to your end."

"We must be in another secret hiding-place."

"Then I vote we hunt about, and see what's in it."

One side of the small room was completely filled, as high as the ceiling, with a pile of boxes. They seemed a very miscellaneous collection. There were ancient hair trunks, such as were in use seventy or eighty years ago, made of wood covered with cow hide, with the hair left on; there were leather portmanteaux with strong bra.s.s corners, tin trunks, and even plain wooden packing-cases. On the floor, and leaning against the boxes, stood a row of fair-sized linen bags, and a couple of larger sacks.

It seemed to the girls as if they must have penetrated to some forgotten lumber room. Everything was thickly covered with the acc.u.mulated dirt and cobwebs of years. They could have written their names in the dust.

As if she were moving in a dream, Lindsay stooped, and picked up one of the linen bags.

"How heavy it is!" she said. "I wonder what's inside?"

"It feels like something hard," replied Cicely, pinching it critically with her finger and thumb.

The mouth was secured by a cord, and Lindsay fumbled long trying to untie the knot.

"Oh! don't bother over it; here's my penknife," cried Cicely, waxing impatient.

In another moment she had cut the string, and a shower of golden sovereigns came pouring out on to the floor. The two girls looked at each other, with faces that were almost awe-stricken.

"Cicely!" said Lindsay solemnly. "I verily believe we have found Sir Giles's fortune!"

A further examination established the matter beyond any doubt. The bags were filled to the brim with gold pieces. In a state of intense excitement the girls continued their investigations. The two large sacks contained salvers, tankards, and goblets, dull and tarnished indeed, but unmistakably of silver. It was difficult to get at the boxes, but they managed to clamber up and open one at the top of the pile, disclosing more silver articles and some ornaments of gold.

"Don't let us pull out too many things, or we shan't be able to stuff them back again," said Cicely, trying to close the lid of the overflowing hair trunk.

"No doubt these underneath are filled with money or jewels," said Lindsay rapturously.

"This little box seems made of silver," remarked Cicely, taking up a small antique casket that specially claimed her attention. Its sides were beautifully chased in cla.s.sic designs, and it bore the Courtenay arms on the lid.

"It's full of pieces of paper, with figures on them," she continued.

"Let me look!" cried Lindsay. "Why, don't you see?--they're bank notes!"

They were certainly in the midst of treasures. The extent of Sir Giles's h.o.a.rd had evidently not been exaggerated. At the bottom of the casket lay a letter addressed:

"TO MY GREAT-NIECE MONICA COURTENAY."

"The writing on the envelope is exactly the same as in the _Floral Calendar_," said Cicely. "I remember those funny flourishes, and the 'a's' not closed at the top."

"So it is; I should know the sprawling look of it anywhere."

"It's such funny, old-fashioned writing, as if it were done with a quill pen. I think we had better put this away again."

Lindsay replaced the letter carefully with the bank notes inside the silver box.

"Then Sir Giles did intend the enigma for a guide," she observed. "The last lines were right.

'... you'll see 'tis a matter Perchance may provide you with just a lost link, And bring you a greater reward than you think.'"