The Secret of the Sundial Part 12

"But can't you recall anything your father ever said about where he thought they had been hidden?" Madge persisted.

Uncle Ross scratched his white wool, a.s.suming a pose of deep reflection.

"Mah ole memory is full o' holes now, Miss. It was so long ago dat de ole haid has lost its grip."

"But try and think, Uncle! What were your father's duties about the place. He was a gardener for one thing, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Miss. De ole man was one of de expertest gardeners in dis town. Dey wasn't anotheh family in dis whole town dat had a garden like dem Swenster folks-roses a ramblin' around over de walls and honeysuckles loaded down wid hummin' birds. Dey don't have no more quality white folks dese days, no suh!"

"But Uncle," Madge insisted, smiling at the implication of her own social status. "Surely you remember something your father said about the pearls.

Maybe just a few words or even one word."

Uncle Ross reflected deeply again and then replied:

"I does remembeh dat de ole man was powerful wurrit 'bout what happened to dem pearls. Fust place, he was 'fraid folks would say he stole 'em and he was de honestest culled man in dis town. Yes, suh! Why, de ole man was a Deacon in de church and de ministeh used to say-"

Madge saw he was going off on a new tangent so tried to draw him up.

"Yes, yes, Uncle. No one ever thought your father took the pearls. All we want to know is if you recall anything he ever said about where he thought they might have been hidden."

The old Negro reflected deeply.

"Well, Miss, I does remembeh dat when de ole man was in dis here very same house a pa.s.sin' on to de otheh sh.o.r.e and sort of talkin' wild-like jest before he died, he said somethin' about de pearls. And den he said another word. Let me think. What was it he said?"

While the girls waited patiently, hoping that he would be able to furnish the clue they needed, Uncle Ross seemed to lose control of his briefly gathered memories. Madge could almost see them slipping away.

"Think hard, Uncle," she urged. "What was the word?"

Uncle Ross made one last grand effort to remember. He closed his eyes, shaking his head in a baffled sort of way.

Then speaking very slowly, as though probing his memory almost beyond its powers, he said:

"Seems to me, Miss, he said somethin' about de sun. No, dat wasn't it neither. It was sun-"

"Not sundial," Madge supplied eagerly.

Uncle Ross' dark face brightened and he slapped his thigh a resounding whack.

"Dat was it! De word de ole man said was sundial!"

CHAPTER XII Uncle Ross' Hint

Cara and Madge questioned Uncle Ross further, trying ineffectually to bring out additional information. The old Negro had sc.r.a.ped his memory bare and could recall nothing more concerning the pearls. The girls presently thanked him and in turning to leave, Madge handed him a dollar bill.

"Thank you, Miss, thank you," he beamed and bowed.

The girls walked back to the parked car, only moderately pleased at the outcome of the interview.

"Do you think there really is a connection between the pearls and the sundial?" Cara asked somewhat skeptically as they drove away.

"Yes I do," Madge returned. "Unless Uncle Ross' memory played him false.

It's a pretty vague hint, but perhaps we can make something of it."

"Perhaps you can," Cara corrected. "I'm no good at puzzles and this one takes the prize."

Madge soon reached the edge of darktown, taking a main street which led to the better section of Claymore. She drove like an expert automaton, her eyes glued on the road but her thoughts many miles away. She came to life with a start as the car wheels struck a hole in the pavement.

"Cara, I was just thinking-"

"Please don't or we may end up in a ditch," Cara laughed. "What were you saying?"

Madge scarcely knew how to tell what was in her mind. It seemed reasonable to her that the Swenster pearls might have been hidden in the garden near the sundial. In digging about, the girls had not paid particular attention to the old sundial, but had confined themselves to the general locality disturbed by the prowler. Madge was convinced too that the man they had seen was after the same thing-the Swenster pearls.

How he had learned of them she could not imagine.

"Of course, we did do some of our digging near the sundial," she said to Cara, "but at the time we never dreamed there was any connection. Now my idea is to go back there and look over the situation again. It may be that at a certain hour the gnomon casts a shadow at the designated place.

I've read of such things in story books."

"But this isn't a story book," Cara protested in a matter-of-fact tone.

"It's my personal opinion that the pearls are gone. If they were ever hidden in the garden, that prowler has them by this time! Otherwise, why hasn't he been back?"

"Perhaps he's been afraid. And he did return one night, for Miss Swenster heard him. I wish we could catch him at it and turn him over to the police for questioning."

Although Cara was reluctant to resume excavation activities, she agreed to make one more attempt when Madge promised to do most of the digging.

It was too late to go to the Swenster mansion that evening but the following afternoon they went there directly after school.

They set to work with high hopes and soon had excavated a complete circle around the sundial. Dusk found them still digging. Finally, with an exclamation of disgust, Madge threw down her spade.

"I've had enough. As far as I'm concerned, the pearls may stay hidden until the end of time!"

"Amen," Cara added fervently. "Just look at the blisters on my hands. And my shoulder muscles are sore already. What will they be like tomorrow?"

"If the way I feel is any indication, we'll both be in the hospital. The next time I get one of my so-called brilliant ideas, I hope you choke me."

"I will," Cara promised gravely.

They filled in the earth they had disturbed and went home in a very ill temper. A hot bath and a warm supper cheered Madge considerably, causing her to forget her resolution to think no more of the pearls. That very evening she settled herself in an easy chair, determined to reread Florence Swenster's diary.

It was a tiresome ordeal now that the material was no longer novel.

Several times Madge yawned wearily and was tempted to switch to a popular magazine.

"This is absolutely our last hope," she told herself, gazing thoughtfully at the little leather book in her hand. "Miss Swenster's auction sale will be held in a few days now, and after the place is sold, it will be too late to help her. I suppose I'm crazy to keep kidding myself we may find the pearls-especially, after our experience today. Just the same I can't help feeling that I've overlooked some important clue."

She yawned again and went back to her reading.

"This will never do!" she chided herself. "My mind isn't on it at all."