 CHAPTER X They set out on the following morning. Elaborate preparations had been made for the undertaking, and, so that they might have ample time undisturbed, Doris had begged her mother to allow her to picnic for the day with Sally, and not come back to the hotel for luncheon. As Mrs. Craig had come to have quite a high opinion of Sally, her judgment and knowledge of the river and vicinity, she felt no hesitation in trusting Doris to be safe with her. Sally had provided the sandwiches, and Doris was armed with fruit and candy, and books to amuse Genevieve. In the bow of the boat, Sally had stowed away a number of tools borrowed from her father's boathouse. All together the two girls felt as excited and mysterious and adventurous as could well be imagined. I wish we could have left Genevieve at home, whispered Sally, as they were embarking, but there's no one to take care of her for all day, so of course it was impossible, but I'm afraid she's going to get awfully tired and restless while we're working. Oh, you never fear, Doris encouraged her. I've wrote a few new picture books, and will manage to keep her amused somehow. Once established in the cave, having settled Genevieve with a book, the girl set to work in earnest. I'm glad I thought to bring a dozen more candles, said Sally. We were down to the end of the last one. Now shall we begin in that corner at the extreme right hand away from the door? That's the likeliest place. I'll measure a space about it twenty-one inches square. She measured off the space on the floor carefully with a folding ruler, while Doris stood over her watching with critical eyes. Then having drawn the lines with a piece of chalk, Sally proceeded to begin on the sawing operation, with one of her father's old and somewhat rusty saws. It was a heartbreakingly slow operation. Turn and turnabout they worked away, encouraging each other with cheering remarks. The planks of the old Anne Arundel were very thick and astonishingly tough. At the end of an hour they had but one side of the square sawed through, and Genevieve was beginning to grow fractious. Then they planned it that while one worked the other should amuse the youngest member of the party by talking, singing, and showing pictures to her. This worked well for a time, and a second side at last was completed. By the time they reached the third, however, Genevieve flatly refused to remain in the cave another moment, so it was agreed that one of them should take her outside while the other remained within and sawed. This provided by far the best solution yet, as Genevieve very shortly fell asleep on the warm pine needles. They covered her with a shawl they had brought, and then both went back to the undertaking, of which they were now, unconvestedly, very weary. It was shortly after the noon hour when the saw made its way through the fourth side of the square in a hush of breathless expectation they lifted the piece of timber, prepared for who could tell what wondrous secret beneath it. The space it left was absolutely empty of the slightest suggestion of anything remarkable. It revealed the sandy soil of the embankment into which the cave was dug, and nothing else whatever. The disgusted silence that followed, Doris was the first to break. Of course, something may be buried down here, but I doubt it awfully. I'm sure we would have seen some sign of it if this had been the right corner. However, give me that trowel, Sally, and we'll dig down away." She dug for almost a foot into the damp sand and finally gave it up. How could anyone go on digging down in the space of only twenty-one inches? She exclaimed in despair. If one were to dig at all, the space ought to be much larger. No, this very plainly isn't the right corner. Let's go outside and eat our lunch, and then, if we have any courage left, we can come back and begin on another corner. Personally I feel as if I should scream, if I had to put my hand to that old saw again. But a hardy luncheon and a half hour of idling in the sunlight above ground after it served to restore their courage and determination. Sally was positive that the corner diagonally opposite was the most likely to yield results, and Doris was inclined to agree with her. Genevieve, however, flatly refused to re-enter the cave, so they were forced to adopt the scheme of the morning, one remaining always outdoors with her, as they did not dare let her roam around by herself. They volunteered to take the first shift at the sawing, and after they had measured off the twenty-one inch square in the opposite corner she set to work, while Doris stayed outside with Genevieve. Seated with a picture-book open on her lap, and with Genevieve cuddled close by her side, she was suddenly startled by a muffled, excited cry from within the cave. Obviously something had happened. Springing up she hurried inside, Genevieve trailing after her. She beheld Sally, standing in the middle of the cave, candle in hand, disheveled and excited, pointing to the side of the cave near which she had been working. Look! Look! She cried! What did I tell you? Doris looked, expecting to see something about the floor in the corner to verify their surmises. The sight that met her eyes was as different as possible from that. A part of the wall of the cave, three feet in width, and reaching from top to bottom had opened and swung inward like a door on its hinges. What is it? She breathed in a tone of real awe. It's a door, just as it looks, exclaimed Sally, and we never even guessed it was there. I happened to be leaning against that part of the wall as I sawed, balancing myself against it, and sometimes pushing pretty hard. All of a sudden it gave way, and swung out like that, and I almost tumbled in. I was so astonished I hardly knew what had happened. But what's behind it? cried Doris, snatching the candle and hurrying forward to investigate. They peered together into the blackness back of the newly revealed door. The candle held high above their heads. Why, it's a tunnel, exclaimed Sally, a great long tunnel winding away. I can't even see how far it goes. Did you ever? The two girls stood looking at each other and at the opening, in a maze of incredulous speculation. Suddenly Sally uttered a satisfied cry. I know, I know now, we never could think where all the rest of the wood from the Anne Arundel went. It's right here. It was evidently true. The tunnel had been lined, top and bottom, and often at the sides, with the same planking that had lined the cave. And at intervals there were stout posts supporting the roof of it. Well and solidly had it been constructed in that long ago period, else it would never have remained intact so many years. Doris said Sally presently, where do you suppose this leads to? I haven't the faintest idea, replied her friend, except that it probably leads to the treasure or the secret, or whatever it is, that much I'm certain of now. So am I, agreed Sally, but here's the important thing. Are we to go in there and find it? Doris shrank back an instant. Oh, I don't know! She faltered. I'm not sure whether I dare to, or whether Mother would allow me to, if she knew it. It might be dangerous. Something might give way and bury us alive. Well, I'll tell you what I'll do, announced Sally courageously. I'll take a candle and go in a way by myself and see what it's like. You stay here with Genevieve, and I'll keep calling back to you, so you needn't worry about me. Before Doris could argue the question with her, she had lighted another candle, and stepped bravely into the gloom. Doris at the opening watched her progress nervously, till a turn in the tunnel hit her from sight. Oh, Sally, do come back, she called. I can't stand this suspense. I'm all right, Sally shouted back. After that turn it goes on straight for the longest way. I can't see the end, but it's perfectly safe. The planks are as strong as iron yet. There isn't a sign of a cave in. I'm coming back a moment. She presently reappeared. Look here, she demanded, facing her companion. Are you game to come with me? We can bring Genevieve along. It's perfectly safe. If you're not, you can stay here with her, and I'll go by myself. I'm determined to see the end of this. Her resolution fired Doris. After all, it could not be so very dangerous, since the tunnel seemed in such good repair. Forgetting all else in her enthusiasm, she hastily consented. We must take plenty of candles and matches, declared Sally. We wouldn't want to be left in the dark in there. It's lucky I brought a lot today. Now Genevieve, you behave yourself and come along like a good girl, and we'll buy you some lollipops when we get back home. Genevieve was plainly reluctant to add her presence to the undertaking, but neither, on the other hand, did she wish to be left behind, so she followed disapprovingly. Each with a candle lit, they stepped down from the floor of the cave, and gingerly progressed along the narrow way. Doris determinedly turned her eyes from the slugs and snails, and strange insects that could be seen on the ancient planking, and kept them fastened on Sally's back as she led the way. On and on they went, silent, all stricken and wondering. Genevieve whimpered, and clung to Doris's skirts, but no one paid any attention to her, so she was forced to follow on willy-nilly. So far did this strange underground passage proceed, that Doris half-whispered. Is it never going to end, Sally? Would we to venture any further? I'm going to the end, announced Sally stubbornly. You can go back if you like. And they all went on again in silence. At length it was evident that the end was in sight, for the way was suddenly blocked by a stone wall, apparently directly across the passage. They all drew a long breath and approached to examine it more closely. It was unmistakably a wall of stones, cemented like the foundation of a house, and beyond it they could not proceed. What are we going to do now? demanded Doris. The treasure must be here, said Sally, and I found one thing that opened when you pushed against it. Maybe this is another. Let's try. Perhaps it's behind one of these stones. Look! The plaster seems to be loose around these in the middle. She thrust the weight of her strong young arm against it, directing it at the middle stone of three large ones, but without a veil. They never moved the fraction of an inch. Then she began to push all along the sides, where the plaster seemed loose. At last she threw her whole weight against it, and was rewarded. The three stones swung round, as on a pivot, revealing a space only large enough to crawl through with considerable squeezing. Hurrah! Hurrah! She shouted. What did I tell you, Doris? There's something else behind here. Another cave, I guess. I'm going through. Are you going to follow? Taking her candle to Doris, she scrambled through the narrow opening, and Doris, now determined to stick at nothing, set both candles on the ground, and pushed the struggling and resisting Genevieve in next. After that, she passed in the candles to Sally, who held them, while she clambered in herself. And once safely within, they stood and stared about them. Why, Sally! Suddenly breathed Doris. This isn't a cave. It's a cellar. Don't you see all the household things lying around? Garden tools, and vegetables, and—and all that? Where in the world can we be? A great light suddenly dawned on her. Sally Carter, what did I tell you? This cellar is Miss Camillas. I know it. I'm certain of it. There's no other house anywhere near Slipper Point. I told you she knew about that cave. Sally listened, open mouth. It can be, she faltered. I'm sure we didn't come in that direction at all. You can't tell how you're going underground, retorted Doris. Remember, the tunnel made a turn, too. Oh, Sally, let's go back at once, before anything is discovered. And never, never let Miss Camilla or anyone know what we've discovered. It's none of our business. Sally, now convinced, was about to assent, when Genevieve suddenly broke into a loud howl. I won't go back. I won't go back in that nasty place! She announced at the top of her lungs. Oh, stop her, whispered Doris, do stop her, or Miss Camilla may hear. Sally stifled her resisting sister by the simple process of placing her hand forcibly over her mouth, but it was too late. A door opened at the top of a flight of stairs, and Miss Camilla's astounded face appeared in the opening. What is it? Who is it? She called, obviously frightened to death herself at this unprecedented intrusion, huddled in a corner. They all shrank back for a moment. Then Doris stepped boldly forward. It's only ourselves, Miss Camilla! She announced. We have done a very dreadful thing, and we hadn't any right to do it. But if you'll let us come upstairs, we'll explain it all, and beg your pardon, and promise never to speak of it or even think of it again. She'd led the others up the cellar steps and into Miss Camilla's tiny, tidy kitchen. There, still standing, she explained the whole situation to that lady, who was still to overcome with astonishment to utter a word, and she ended her explanation thus. So, you see, we didn't have the slightest idea we were going to end at this house, but all the same we sort of felt that this cave was a secret of yours and that we really hadn't any right to be interfering with it. But won't you please forgive us this time, Miss Camilla, and we'll really try to forget that it ever existed? And then Miss Camilla suddenly found words. My dear children! She stuttered. I—I really don't know what you're talking about. I haven't the faintest idea what all this means. I never knew, till this minute, that there was anything like a cave or a tunnel connected with this house. And in the astounded silence that followed, the three stood gaping, open mouth, at each other. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of The Slipper Point Mystery This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Slipper Point Mystery by Augusta Huell Seaman Chapter 11 Some Bits of Roundtree History But do come into the sitting-room, at length commanded Miss Camilla, and let us talk this strange thing over. You must be tired and hungry, too. After this awful adventure of coming through that dreadful tunnel, you must have some of this hot gingerbread and a glass of lemonade. And while she bustled about, on hospitable thought's intent, they heard her muttering to herself, a cave and a tunnel, and connected with this house. What can it all mean? They sat in restful silence for a time, munching the delicious hot gingerbread and sipping cool lemonade. Never did her repasse taste more welcome, coming as it did after the adventures and uncertainties of that eventful day. And while they ate, Miss Camilla sat wiping her glasses, and putting them on and taking them off again, and shaking her head over the perplexing news that had been so unexpectedly thrust upon her. I simply cannot understand it at all. She began at last, as I told you, I've never had the slightest idea of such a strange affair, nor can I imagine how it came there. When did you say that Anne Arundel Vessel was wrecked? Grandfather said in 1850, answered Sally, 1850, mused Miss Camilla, well, I couldn't have been more than four or five years old, so of course I would scarcely remember it. Besides, I was not at home here a great deal. I used to spend most of my time with my aunt who lived in New York. She used to take me there for long visits, months at a stretch. If this cave and tunnel were made at that time, it was probably done while I was away, or else I would have known of it. My father and brother and one or two colored servants were the only ones in the house most of the time. I had a nurse, an old southern colored mammy, who always went about with me. She died about the time the Civil War broke out. There was no light on the matter here. Miss Camilla relapsed again into puzzled silence, which the girls hesitated to intrude upon by so much as a single word. Miss Camilla should consider that they were prying into her past history. Wait a moment!" she suddenly exclaimed, sitting up very straight and wiping her glasses again in great excitement. I believe I have the explanation. She looked about at her audience a minute, hesitantly. I shall have to ask you girls to please keep what I am going to tell you entirely to yourselves, few if any have ever known of it, and though it would do no harm now, I have other reasons for not wishing it discussed publicly. Since you have discovered what you have, however, I feel it only right that you should know. You may rely on us, Miss Camilla," said Daris, speaking for them both, to keep anything you may tell us a strict secret. Thank you," replied their hostess. I feel sure of it. Well, I learned the fact very early in my girlhood that my father, and also my brother, who was several years older than I, were both very strict and enthusiastic abolitionists. While slavery was still a national institution in this country, they were firm advocates of the freedom of the colored people, and so earnest were they in the cause, that they became members of the great underground wear-away system. What was that? Interrupted both girls at a breath. Did you never hear of it? exclaimed Miss Camilla in surprise, why it was a great secret system of assisting runaway slaves from the southern states to escape from their bondage and get to Canada, where they could no longer be considered anyone's property. There were many people in all the northern states, who, believing in freedom for the slaves, joined this secret league, and in their houses runaways would be sheltered, hidden, and quietly passed on to the next house of refuge or station as they were called, till at length the fugitives had passed the boundary of the country. It was, however, a severe legal offense to be caught assisting these fugitives, when the penalty was heavy fines and often imprisonment. But that did not daunt those whose hearts were in the cause, and so very secret was the whole organization that few were ever detected in it. It was in a rather singular way that I discovered my father to be concerned in this matter. I happened to be at home here, and came downstairs one morning, rather earlier than usual, to find our kitchen filled with a number of strange colored folk in various stages of rags and hunger and evident excitement. I was a girl of ten or eleven at the time. Rushing to my father's study, I demanded an explanation of the strange spectacle. He took me aside and explained the situation to me, acknowledging that he was concerned in the underground railway and warning me to maintain the utmost secrecy in the matter, or it would imperil his safety. When I returned to the kitchen, to my astonishment, the whole crowd had mysteriously disappeared, though I had not been gone fifteen minutes, and I could not learn from any one a satisfactory explanation of their lightning disappearance. I should certainly have seen them, had they gone away above ground. I believe now that the cave and tunnel must have been the means of secreting them, and I haven't a doubt that my father and brother had had it constructed for that very purpose. A runaway, or even a number of them, could evidently be kept in the cave several days, and then spirited away at night, probably by way of the river and some vessel out at sea that could take them straight to New York, or even to Canada itself. Yes, it is all as clear as daylight to me now. But how do you suppose they were able to build the cave and tunnel and bring all the wood up from the wreck on the beach without being discovered? Question sally. That probably was not so difficult then as it would seem now, answered Miss Camilla, to begin with, there were not so many people living about here then, and so there was less danger of being discovered. If my father and brother could manage to get many enough to help and a number of teams of oxen or horses such as he had, they could have brought the wreckage from the beach here over what must then have been a very lonely and deserted road, without much danger of discovery. If it happened that at the time they were sheltering a number of escaped slaves, it would have been no difficult matter to press them into assisting on dark nights when they could be so well concealed. Yes, I think that was undoubtedly the situation. They all sat very quietly for a moment, thinking it over. Miss Camilla's solution of the cave and tunnel mystery was clear beyond all doubting, and it seemed as if there was nothing further for them to wonder about. Suddenly however, sally leaned forward eagerly. But did we tell you about the strange piece of paper we found under the old mattress, Miss Camilla? I've really forgotten what we did say. Miss Camilla looked perplexed. Why no. I don't remember you're mentioning it. Everything was so confused at first that I've forgotten it if you did. What about a piece of paper? Here is a copy of what was on it, said sally. We never take the real piece away from where we first found it, but we made this copy. Perhaps you can tell what it all means. She handed the paper to Miss Camilla, who stared at it for several moments in blank bewilderment. Then she shook her head. I can't make anything of it at all, she acknowledged. It must have been something left there by one of the fugitives. I don't believe it concerns me at all. She handed the paper back, but as she did so, a sudden idea occurred to Doris. Mind it have been some secret directions to the slaves, left there for them by your father or brother? She suggested. Maybe it was to tell them where to go next, or something like that. I think it very unlikely, said Miss Camilla. Most of them could neither read nor write, and they would hardly have understood an explanation so complex. No, it must be something else. I wonder. She stopped short and stood thinking intently a moment, while her visitors watched her anxiously. A pained and troubled expression had crept into her usually peaceful face, and she seemed to be reviewing memories that caused her sorrow. Can you get the original paper for me? She suddenly exclaimed in great excitement. Now, at once, I have just thought of something. I'll get it, cried Sally, and she was out of the house in an instant, flying swift-footed over the ground that separated them from the entrance of the cave by the river. While she was gone, Miss Camilla sat silent, inwardly reviewing her painful memories. In ten minutes Sally was back, breathless, with the precious rusty tin box clasped in her hand. Opening it, she gave the contents to Miss Camilla, who stared at it for three long minutes in silence. When she looked up, her eyes were tragic, but she only said very quietly, It is my brother's writing. End of Chapter XI CHAPTER XII LIGHT DAWNS ON Miss Camilla. What do you make of it all, Sally? The two girls were sitting in the pine grove on the heights of slipper point. They sat each with her back against a tree and with the enchanting view of the upper river spread out panoramically before them. Each of them was knitting, an accomplishment they had both recently acquired. I can't make anything of it at all, and I've thought of it day and night ever since," was Sally's reply. It's three weeks now since the day we came through that tunnel and discovered where it ended, and except what Miss Camilla told us that day, she's never mentioned a thing about it since. It's strange how she stopped short, just after she said the writing was her brother's, Muse Doris, and then asked us in the next breath not to question her about it any more and to forgive her silence in the matter, because it probably concerned something that was painful to her. Yes, and kept the paper we found in the cave, went on Sally. I believe she wanted to study it out and see what she could make of it. If she's sure it's written by her brother, she will probably be able to puzzle it out better than we would. One thing, I guess, is certain, though. It isn't any secret directions where to find treasure. All our little hopes about that turned out very differently, didn't they? Sally, are you glad or sorry we've discovered what we did about that cave? demanded Doris suddenly. Oh, glad, of course, was Sally's reply. At first I was awfully disgusted to think all my plans and hopes about it, and finding buried treasure, and all that had come to nothing. But do you know what has made me feel differently about it? She looked up quickly at Doris. No, what? asked her companion curiously. It's Miss Camilla herself, answered Sally. I used to think you were rather silly to be so crazy about her and admire her so much. I'd never thought anything about her, and I'd known her most all my life. But since she asked us that day to come and see her as often as we liked, and stop at her house whenever we were up this way, and consider her as our friend, I've somehow come to feel differently. I'm glad we took her at her word and did it. I don't think I would have if it hadn't been for you, but you've insisted on our stopping at her house so frequently, and we've become so well acquainted with her, that I really think I, I almost, love her. It pleased Doris beyond words to hear Sally make this admission. She wanted Sally to appreciate all that was fine and admirable and lovely in Miss Camilla. Even if she were poor and lonely and deaf, she felt that the friendship would be good for Sally, and she knew that she herself was profiting by the increased acquaintance with this friend they had so strangely made. Wasn't it nice of her to teach us to knit, went on Sally? She said we all ought to be doing it now to help out our soldiers, since the country is at war. She's taught me lots beside that, said Doris. I just love to hear her talk about old potteries and porcelains and that sort of thing. I do believe she knows more about them than even my grandfather does. She's making me crazy to begin a collection myself someday when I'm old enough. She must have had a fine collection once. I do wonder what became of it. Well, I don't understand much about all that talk, admitted Sally. I never saw any porcelains worthwhile in all my life, except that little thing she has on her mantle, and I don't see anything to get so crazy about in that. It's kind of pretty, of course, but why get excited about it? What puzzles me more is why she never has said what became of all her other things. That's a part of the mystery, said Doris, and her brother's mixed up in it somehow, and perhaps her father. That much, I'm sure of. She talks freely enough about everything else except those things, so that must be it. Do you know what I'm almost tempted to think? That her brother did commit some crime, and her father hid him away in the cave to escape from justice. But she couldn't have known about it, that's plain, because she did not know about the cave and tunnel at all until just lately. Perhaps she wondered what became of him, and maybe they sold all her lovely porcelains to make up for what he'd done somehow. Yes! cried Sally in sudden excitement, and another idea has just come to me. Maybe that queer paper was a note her brother left for her, and she can't make out how to read it. Did you ever think of that? Why, no! exclaimed Doris, struck with the new idea. I never thought of it as anything he might have left for her. Do you remember? She said once they were awfully fond of each other. Or even than most brothers and sisters, it would be perfectly natural if he did want to leave her a note, if he had to go away and perhaps never come back. And of course he wouldn't want anyone else to understand what it said. Oh, wait! I have an idea we've never thought of before. Why on earth have we been so stupid? She sprang up and began to walk about excitedly, while Sally watched her, consumed with curiosity. At length she could bear the suspense no longer. Well, for pity's sake, tell me what you thought of. She demanded, I'll go wild if you keep it to yourself much longer. Where's that copy? was all Doris would reply. I want to study it a moment. Sally drew it from her pocket and handed it to her, and Doris spent another five minutes regarding it absorbably. It is, it surely is, she muttered, half to herself. But how are we ever going to think out how to work it? At last she turned to the impatient Sally. I'm a fool. Not to have thought of this before, Sally. I read a book once. I can't remember what it was now, but it was some detective story, where there was something just a little like this. Not that it looked like this, but the idea was the same. If it is what I think, it isn't the note itself at all. The note, if there is one, must be somewhere else. This is only a secret code, or arrangement of the letters, so that one can read the note by it. Probably the real note is written in such a way that it could never be understood at all without this. Do you understand? Sally had indeed grasped the idea, and was wildly excited by it. Oh Doris, she cried admiringly. You certainly are a wonder to have thought all this out. It's ten times as interesting as what we first thought it was. But how do you work this code? I can't make anything out of it at all. Well, neither can I, I'll have to admit. But here's what I think. If we could see what that note itself looks like, we could perhaps manage to puzzle out just how this code works. But how are we going to do that, demanded Sally? Only Miss Camilla has the note, if there is a note, and certainly we couldn't very well ask her to let us see it, especially after what she said to us that day. No, we couldn't, I suppose, said Doris thoughtfully, and yet she hesitated. I somehow feel perfectly certain that Miss Camilla doesn't know the meaning of all this yet, hasn't even guessed what we have about this paper. She doesn't act so. Maybe she doesn't even know there is a note, you can't tell. If she hasn't guessed, it would be a mercy to tell her, wouldn't it? Yes, I suppose so, admitted Sally dubiously. But I wouldn't know how to go about it, would you? I could only try and do my best, and beg her to forgive me if I were intruding, said Doris. Yes, I believe she ought to be told. You can't tell how she may be worrying about all this. She acts awfully worried, seems to me. Not at all like she did when we first knew her. I believe we ought to tell her right now. Call Genevieve, and we'll go over. Sally called to Genevieve, who was playing in the boat on the beach below, and that young lady soon came scrambling up the bank. Hand in hand all three started to the home of Miss Camilla, and when they had reached it found her sitting on her tiny porch, knitting in apparently placid content. But true to Doris's observation there were anxious lines in her face that had not been seen a month ago. She greeted them, however, with real pleasure, and with her usual hospitality, proffered refreshments, this time in the shape of some early peaches. She had gathered only that morning. But Doris, who would Sally's consent had constituted herself spokesman, before accepting the refreshment, began, Miss Camilla, I wonder if you'll forgive us for speaking of something to you. It may seem as if we were intruding, but we really don't intend to. Why, speak right on, exclaimed that lady in surprise. You are too well-bred to be intrusive, that I know. If you feel you must speak of something to me, I know it is because you think it wise or necessary. Much relieved by this assurance Doris went on, explaining how she had suddenly had a new idea concerning the mysterious paper and detailing what she thought it might be. As she proceeded a new light of comprehension seemed to creep into the face of Miss Camilla, who had been listening intently. So we think it must be a code, a secret code, Miss Camilla, and if you happen to have any queer sort of note or communication that you've never been able to make out, why this may explain it? She added. When she had finished, Miss Camilla sat perfectly still, thinking. She thought so long and so intently that it seemed as if she must have forgotten completely the presence of the three on the porch with her. And after what seemed an intermarable period, she did a strange thing. Instead of replying with so much as a word, she got up and went into the house, leaving them open-mouthed and wondering. Do you suppose she's angry with us? whispered Sally. Do you think we ought to stay? No, I don't think she's angry, replied Doris in a low voice. I think she's so, so absorbed that she hardly realized what she's doing or that we are here. We'd better stay. They stayed, but so long was Miss Camilla gone that even Doris began to doubt the wisdom of remaining any longer. But presently she came back. Her recently neat dress was grimy and disheveled. There was a streak of dust across her face and a cobweb lay on her hair. Doris guessed at once that she had been in the old, unused portion of her house. But in her hand she carried something, and resuming her seat, she laid it carefully on her knee. It was a little book, about four inches wide and six or seven long, with an old-fashioned brown cover, and it was coated with what seemed to be the dust of years. The two girls gazed at it curiously, and when Miss Camilla had got her breath, she explained, I can never thank you enough for what you have told me today. It throws light on something that has never been clear to me, something that I had even forgotten for long years. If what you surmise is true, then a mystery that has surrounded my life for more than fifty years will be at last explained. It is strange that the idea did not occur to me when first two girls discovered the cave and the tunnel, but even then it remained unconnected in my mind with this. She pointed to the little book in her lap, then she went on. But now, under the circumstances, I feel that I must explain it all to you, relying still on your discretion and secrecy, for I have come to know that you are both unusually trustworthy young folks. There has been a dark shadow over my life, a darker shadow than you can perhaps imagine. I told you before of my father's opinions and leanings during the years preceding the Civil War. When that terrible conflict broke out he insisted that I go away to Europe with my aunt and stay there as long as it lasted, providing me with ample funds to do so. I think that he did not believe at first that the struggle would be so long. I went with considerable reluctance, but I was accustomed to obeying his wishes implicitly. I was gone two years and in all that time I received the most loving and affectionate letters constantly, from both him and also my brother. They assured me that everything was well with them. My brother had enlisted at once in the Union Army and had fought through a number of campaigns. My father remained here, but was doing his utmost so he said, in a private capacity, to further the interest of the country. All together their reports were glowing, and though I was often worried as to the outcome, and apprehensive for my brother's safety, I spent two years abroad very happily. Then in May of 1863 my first calamity happened. My aunt died very suddenly and unexpectedly, while we were in Switzerland, and as we had been alone, it was my sad duty to bring her back to New York. After her funeral I hurried home here, wondering very much, that my father had not come on to be with me, for I had sent him word immediately upon my arrival. My brother, I suspected, was away with the army. I was completely astounded and dismayed, unarriving home at the condition of affairs I found here. To begin with, there were no servants about. Where they had gone, or why they had been dismissed, I could not discover. My father was alone in his study when I arrived, which was rather late in the evening. He was reserved, and rather taciturn in his greeting to me, and did not act very much pleased to welcome me back. This grieved me greatly, after my long absence, but I could see that he was worried and preoccupied, and in trouble of some kind. I thought that perhaps he had had bad news about my brother Roland, but he assured me that Roland was all right. Then I asked him why the house was in such disorder, and where the servants were, but he only begged me not to make enquiries about that matter at present, but to go to my room and make myself as comfortable as I could, and he would explain it all later. I did as he asked me, and went to my room. I had been there about an hour, busying myself with unpacking my bag, when there was a hurried knock at my door. I went to open it, and gave a cry of joy, for there stood my brother Roland. Instead of greeting me, however, he seized my hand and cried. Father is very ill. He has had some sort of stroke. Hurry downstairs to him at once. I must leave immediately. I can't even wait to see how he is. It is imperative. But Roland, I cried. Surely you won't go, leaving father like this. But he only answered, I must. I must. It was my duty. He seized me in his arms and kissed me, and was gone without another word. But before he went I had seen a dreadful thing. He was enveloped, from head to foot in a long dark military cape of some kind, reaching almost to his feet. But as he embraced me under the light of the hall lamp, the cloak was thrown aside for an instant, and I had that terrible glimpse. Under the concealing cloak my brother was wearing a uniform of confederate gray. I almost fainted at the sight, but he was gone before I could utter a word, without probably even knowing that I had seen. This then was the explanation of the mysterious way they had treated me. They had gone over to the enemy. They were traitors to their country and their faith, and they did not want me to know. For this they had even sent me away out of the country. But I had no time to think about that then. I hurried to my father and found him on the couch in his study, inert in the grip of a paralytic stroke that had deprived him of the use of his limbs and also of coherent speech. I spent the rest of the night trying to make him easier, but the task was difficult. I had no one to send for a doctor and could not leave him to go myself, and of course the nearest doctor was miles away. There was not even a neighbor who could be called upon for assistance. All that night, however, my father tried to tell me something. His speech was almost absolutely incoherent, but several times I caught the sound of words like notebook and explain, but I could make nothing of it. In the early morning another stroke took him, and he passed away very quietly in my arms. I can scarcely bear even now to recall the days that followed. After the funeral I retired very much into myself and saw almost no one. I felt cut off and abandoned by all humanity. I did not know where my brother was, could not even communicate with him about the death of our father. Had he been in the Union Army I would have inquired, but the glimpse I had had that night of his rebel uniform was sufficient to seal my lips forever. There was no one in the village whom I knew well enough to discuss any such matters with, nor any remaining relative with whom I was in sympathy. I could only wait for my brother's return to solve the mystery. But my brother never returned. In all these years I have neither seen him nor heard of him, and I know beyond doubt that he is long since dead. I have remained here by myself like a hermit, because I feel that the shame of it all has hung about me and enveloped me, and I cannot get away from it. Once a number of years ago an old village gossip here, now long since gone, said to me, there was something queer about your father and brother now wasn't there, Miss Camilla. I've heard tell us how they were Rebs on the quiet, during the big war a while back. Is that so? Of course the chance remark only served to confirm the suspicious in my mind, though I denied it firmly to her when she said it. I also found to my amazement, when I went over the house after all was over, that many things I had loved and valued had strangely disappeared, all the family silver of which we had had a valuable set, inherited from revolutionary forefathers, was gone. Some antique jewellery that I had picked up abroad and prized highly was also missing. But chief of all, my whole collection of precious porcelains and pottery was nowhere to be found. I searched in every conceivable nook and cranny in vain, and at last the disagreeable truth was forced upon me, that my father and brother had sold or disposed of them, for what ends I could not guess. But it only added to my bitterness to think they could do such a despicable thing without so much as consulting me. But now at last I come to the notebook. I found it among some papers in my father's study desk, a while after his death, and I frankly confess I could make nothing of it whatever. It seemed to be filled with figures, added and subtracted, and as my father had always been rather fond of dabbling with figures and mathematics, I put it down as being some quiet calculations of his own, that had no bearing on anything concerning me. I laid it carefully away with his other papers, however, and there it has been in an old trunk in the attic of the unused part of all these years. When you spoke of a secret code, however, it suddenly occurred to me that the notebook might be concerned in the matter. Here it is. She held it out to them, and they crowded about her eagerly, but as she laid it open and they examined its pages, a disappointed look crept into Sally's eyes. Why, there's nothing here but numbers, she exclaimed, and it was even so. The first few lines were as follows. 56 plus 14 minus 63 plus 43 plus 34 plus 54 plus 64 plus 43 plus 16 minus 52 plus 66 plus 52 plus 15 plus 23 minus 66 plus 24 minus 15 plus 44 plus 43 minus 43 plus 64 plus 43 plus 24 plus 15 minus 61 plus 53 minus 36 plus 24 plus 14 minus 51 plus 15 plus 53 plus 54 plus 43 plus 52 plus 43 plus 43 plus 15 minus 16 plus 66 plus 52 plus 36 plus 52 plus 15 plus 43 plus 23 minus and all the rest were exactly like them in character. But Darius, who had been quietly examining it with a copy of the code in her other hand, suddenly uttered a delighted cry. I have it! At least I think I'm on the right track. Just examine this code a moment, Miss Camilla. If you notice, leaving out the line of figures at the top and right of the whole square, the rest is just letters of the alphabet and figures one to nine and another O that probably stands for not. There are six squares across and six squares down, and those numbers on the outside are just one to six only mixed up. Don't you see how it could be worked? Suppose one wanted to write the letter T. It could be indicated by the number five, meaning the square it comes under according to the top line of figures, and one, the number according to the sideline. Then fifty one would stand for the letter T, wouldn't it? Great interrupted Sally enthusiastically, who had seen the method even quicker than Miss Camilla. But suppose it worked the other way, reading the sideline first, then T would be fifteen. Of course that's true, admitted Darius. I suppose there must have been some understanding between those who invented this code about which line to read first. The only way we discover it is to puzzle it out both ways and see which makes sense, one will and the other won't. It all seemed as simple as rolling off a log, now that Darius had discovered the explanation. Even Miss Camilla was impressed with the value of the discovery. But what is the meaning of those plus and minus signs, she queried. I suppose they stand for something. I think that's easy, answered Darius. In looking over it I see there are a great many more plus than minus signs. Now I think the plus signs must be intended to divide the numbers in groups of two, so that each group stands for a letter, otherwise they'd be all hopelessly mixed up, and the minus signs divide the words. And every once in a while if you notice there's a multiplication sign, I imagine those are the periods at the end of the sentences. They all sat silent a moment after this, marveling at the simplicity of it, but at length Darius suggested. Suppose we try to puzzle out a little of it and see if we are really on the right track. Have you a piece of paper in a pencil, Miss Camilla? Miss Camilla went indoors and brought them out, quivering with the excitement of the new discovery. Now let's see, began Darius. Suppose we try reading the top line first. 56 would be 1, and 14 would be 2. Now 12 may mean a word or it may not. It hardly seems as if a note would begin with that. Let's try it the other way. Sideline first. Then 56 is M and 14 is Y. My is a word anyway, so perhaps we're on the right track. Let's go on. From the next series of letters she spelled the word beloved, and after that sister. It was plain, beyond all doubting, that at last they had stumbled on a wonderful discovery. But she got no further than the words my beloved sister, for no sooner had Miss Camilla taken in their meaning than she huddled back in her chair and very quietly fainted away. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of The Slipper Point Mystery This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Slipper Point Mystery by Augusta Huell Seaman Chapter 13 Word from the Past None of the three had ever seen anyone unconscious before. Sally stood back aghast and helpless. Genevieve expressed herself as she usually did in emergencies, with a loud and resounding howl. But Doris rushed into the house, fetched a dipper of cold water, and dashed it into Miss Camilla's face. Then she began to rub her hands and ordered Sally to fan her as hard as she could. The simple expedience worked in a short time, and Miss Camilla came to herself. I—I never did such a foolish thing before, she gasped, when she realized what had happened. But this is all so, so amazing and startling. It almost seemed like my brother's own voice, speaking to me from the past. Again she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, but this time only to regain her poise. And then Doris did a very tactful thing. Miss Camilla, she began, we've discovered how to read the notebook, and I'm sure you won't have any trouble with it. I think we had better be getting home now, for it is nearly five o'clock. So we'll say goodbye for today, and hope you won't feel faint any more. Miss Camilla gave her a grateful glance, greatly as she wished to be left alone, with this message left her, by her brother whose fate she did not dare to guess, yet she was too courteous to dismiss these two girls, who had done so much toward helping her solve the problem, and she was more appreciative of Doris's thoughtful suggestions of departure than she could have put into words. Thank you, dear, she replied, and come again to-morrow, all of you. Perhaps I shall have something to tell you, then. And with many a backward glance and much waving of hands they took their departure across the fields. It was with the wildest impatience that they waited for the following afternoon to obey Miss Camilla's behest and come again, but promptly at two o'clock they were trailing through the pine woods and the meadow that separated it from the round tree farmhouse. Do you know, whispered Sally, crazy as I am to hear all about it? I almost dread it, too. I'm so afraid it may have been bad news for her. I feel just the same, confided Doris, and yet I'm bursting with impatience, too. Well, let's go on and hear the worst. If it's very bad, she probably won't want to say much about it. But their first sight of Miss Camilla convinced them that the news was not at least very bad. She sat on the porch, as usual, knitting serenely, but there was a new light in her face, a sweet, satisfied tranquility that had never been there before. I'm glad you've come, she greeted them. I have much to tell you. Was it—was it all right? Faulted, Doris? It was more than all right, she replied. It was wonderful. But I'm going to read the whole thing to you. I spent nearly all last night deciphering the letter. For a letter it was, and I think it is only right you should hear it, after what you have done for me. She went inside the house and brought out several large sheets of paper on which she had transcribed the meaning of the mysterious message. Listen, she said, it is as wonderful as a fairy tale, and how I have misjudged him. My beloved sister, she read, in the event of any disaster befalling us, I want you to know the danger and the difficulties of what we have undertaken. It is only right that you should, and I know of no other way to communicate it to you, than by the roundabout means of this military cipher which I am using. You are away in Europe now, and safe, and Father intentionally keeps you there, because of the very dangerous enterprise in which we are involved. Lest any untoward thing should befall before your return, we leave this as an explanation. Contrary to any appearances, or anything you may hear said in the future, I am a loyal and devoted soldier of the Union. But I am serving it in the most dangerous capacity imaginable, as a scout or spy, in the Confederate army, wearing its uniform, serving in its ranks, but in reality spying on every move in action, and communicating all of its secrets that I am capable of obtaining to the government and our own commanders. I stand in hourly danger of being discovered, and for that there is but one end. You know what it is. Of course I am not serving under my own name, so that if you never hear word of my fate, you may know it is the only one possible for those who are serving as I serve. Father is also carrying on the work, but in a slightly different capacity. There are a set of Confederate workers up here, secretly engaged in raising funds and planning new campaigns for the South. Father has identified himself with them, and they hold many meetings at our house to discuss plans and information. Apparently he is hand in glove with them, but in reality it is all the wild disclosing their plans to the government. They could doubtless kill him without scruple if they suspected it, and get away to the safety of their own lines unscathed before anything was discovered, so you see, he also stands hourly on the brink of death. For two years we have carried on this work unharmed, but I suppose it cannot go on forever. Someday my disguise will be penetrated, and all will be over with me. Someday Father will meet with some violent end when he is alone and unprotected, and no one will be found to answer for the deed, but it will all be for the glory of the union we delight to serve. Now do you understand the situation? I do not get home here often, and never except for the purpose of conveying some message that will best be sent to headquarters through this channel. My field of service is with the army south of the Potomac, but while I am here now, Father and I have consulted as to the best way of communicating this news to you, and have decided on this means. We cannot tell how soon our end may come. Father tells me there are rumors about here that we are serving the Confederate side. Should you return unexpectedly and find us gone, and perhaps hear those rumors, you would certainly be justified in putting the worst construction on our actions. So we have decided to write and leave you this message. It will be left carelessly among Father's papers, and without the cipher will, of course, be unreadable to any one. But we have not yet decided in what place to conceal the cipher, where there is no danger of its being discovered. That is a military secret, and if it were disclosed, would be fatal and far-reaching in its consequences. Miss Camilla stopped there, and her spellbound listeners drew a long breath. Isn't it wonderful? breathed Daris, and they were loyal and devoted to the union all the time. How happy you must be, Miss Camilla. I am happy beyond words, she replied. But that is not quite all of it. So far it was evidently written at one sitting, calmly and coherently. There is a little more, but it is hasty and confused, and somewhat puzzling. It must have been added at another time, and I suspect now, probably just at the time of my return. There is a blank half-page, and then it goes on. In a great hurry. Most vital and urgent business has brought me back to see Father. Just learned you were here. There is grave, terrible danger. The rebels are invading. I am with them, of course, not far away. Must return to-night, at once, to lines. If I ever get there alive. Have a task before me that will undoubtedly see the end of me, in this rig and in this place, and open to danger from friend and foe alike. But there is no time to change. Hope for best. Forgive haste, but there is not a moment to lose. Father seems ill and unlike himself. He saw two or three confederate spies at the house to-day. Always suspect something is wrong after such a meeting. Don't be surprised at state of house. Unavoidable, but all right. Father will explain where I have hidden this cipher-code. Always your loving brother, Roland. And there is one more strange line. Ended Miss Camilla. It is this. In case you should forget, or Father doesn't tell you. Right-hand side from house, behind twenty-seven. That is it. She folded up the paper and sat looking away over the meadow, as did the others, in the odd silence that followed, naturally, the receipt of this message, of one whose fate could be only too well guessed. And he never came back? Half whispered Daris, at last. No, he never came back, answered Miss Camilla softly. I haven't a doubt. But that he met the fate he so surely predicted. I have been thinking back and reading back over the events of that period, and I can pretty well reconstruct what must have happened. It was in the month of June of 1863, when Lee suddenly invaded Pennsylvania. From that time until his defeat at Gettysburg, there was the greatest panic all through this region, and everyone was certain that it spelt ruin for the entire North, especially Pennsylvania and New Jersey. I suppose my brother was with his army, and had made his way over home here to get or communicate news, how he came or went. I cannot imagine, and never shall know. But I can easily see how his fate would be certain, where he seemed by any of the federal authorities in a Confederate uniform. Probably no explanation would save him, with many of them. For that was the risk run by every scout, to be the prey of friend and foe alike, unless he could get hold of the highest authority in time. He doubtless lies in an unknown grave, either in this state or in Pennsylvania. But your father, hesitated sally, do you, do you think anything queer happened to him? That I shall never know either, answered Miss Camilla. His symptoms looked to me like apoplexy at the time. Now that I think it over, they might possibly have been caused by some slow and subtle poison, having a gradually paralyzing effect. You see, my brother says he had seen some of the Confederate spies that day. Perhaps they had begun to suspect him, and had taken this means to get him out of the way. I cannot tell. As I could not get a doctor at the time, the village doctor, who had known us all our lives, took my word for it next day that it was apoplexy. But whatever it may have been, I know that they both died in the service of the country they loved. And that is enough for me. It has removed the burden of many years of grief and shame from my shoulders. I can once more lift up my head among my fellow countrymen. And Miss Camilla did actually radiate happiness, with her whole attractive personality. But I cannot make any meaning out of that queer last line, Muse Sally, after a time. Will you read it to us again, Miss Camilla, please? And Miss Camilla repeated the odd message. In case you should forget, or father does not tell you, right hand side from house, behind twenty-seven. Now what in the world can that all mean? She demanded. At first I thought perhaps it might mean where they had hidden the code. But that couldn't be, because we found that under the old mattress in the cave. Your brother probably went out that way that night, and left it there on the way. Wait a minute! Suddenly interrupted Dara's. Do you remember just before the end, he says, do not be surprised at the state of the house. Unavoidable, but all right. Now what could he mean by that? Do you know what I think? I believe he was apologizing. Because things seem so upset and many of the valuable things were missing, as Miss Camilla said. If there was such excitement about, and fear of Lee's invasion, why isn't it possible that they hid those valuable things somewhere? So they would be safe, whatever happened. And this was to tell her, without speaking too plainly, that it was all right. The brother thought his father would explain. But in case he didn't, or it was forgotten, he gave the clue where to find them. Miss Camilla sat forward in renewed excitement. Her eyeglasses brushed her eye. Why, of course, of course, I've never thought of it, not once since I read this letter. The other was so much more important. But naturally that is what they must have done, hidden them to keep them safe. They never, never would have disposed of them in any other way, or for any other reason. But where in the world can that place be? Right-hand side from the house, behind twenty-seven, means nothing at all to me. Why, it does to me, suddenly exclaimed Sally, the natural-born treasure-hunter of them all, where else could they hide anything so safely as in that cave or tunnel? Nobody would ever suspect in the world, and I somehow don't think it meant the cave. I believe it means somewhere in the tunnel, on the right-hand side as you enter from the cellar. But what about twenty-seven, demanded Miss Camilla? That doesn't seem to mean anything, does it? No, of course it doesn't mean anything to you, because you haven't been through the tunnel and wouldn't know. But every once in a while, along the sides, are planks from that old vessel put there to keep the sides more firm, I guess. There must be seventy-five or a hundred on each side. Now I believe it means that if we look behind the twenty-seventh one from the cellar entrance, on the right side, we'll find the things hidden there. Then Miss Camilla rose, the light of younger day shining adventurously in her eyes. If that's the case, we'll go and dig them out tomorrow, she announced End of Chapter Thirteen She would have said she was heartily sick and tired of the program she had been obliged to follow. As she sat solitary on the porch of Miss Camilla's tiny abode, thumb in mouth and tugging at the lock of hair with her other hand, she thought it all over resentfully. Why should she be commanded to sit here all by herself, in a spot that offered no attractions whatever, told, nay, commanded, not to move, from the location when she was bored beyond expression, by the entire proceeding? True, they had left her eatables in generous quantities, but she had already disposed of these, and as for the picture books of many attractive descriptions, given her to while away the weary hours, they were an old story now, and the afternoon was growing late. She longed to go down to the shore and play in the rowboat, and dabble her bare toes in the water, and indulge in the eternally fascinating experiment of catching crabs with a piece of meat tied to a string in her father's old cabinet. What was the use of living, when one was doomed to drag out a wonderful afternoon on a tiny, hopelessly uninteresting porch out in the backwoods? Existence was nothing but a burden. True, the morning had not been without its pleasant moments. They had rode up the river to their usual landing-place, a trip she always enjoyed, though it had been marred by the fear that she might be again compelled to burrow into the earth like a mole, forsaking the glory of sunshine and sparkling water, for the dismal dampness of that unspeakable hole in the ground. But, to her immense relief, this sacrifice was not required of her. Instead, they had made it once through the woods and across the fields to Miss Camilla's, albeit burdened with many strange and, to her mind, useless tools and other impedimenta. Miss Camilla's house offered attractions, not a few, chiefly in the way of unlimited cookies and other eatables. But her enjoyment of the cookies was tempered by the fact that the whole party suddenly took it into their heads to proceed to the cellar and, what was even worse, to attempt again the loathsome undertaking of scrambling through the narrow place in the wall and the journey beyond. She herself accompanied them as far as the cellar, but further than that she refused to budge. So they left her in the cellar with a candle and a seat conveniently near a barrel of apples. It amazed her, moreover, that a person of Miss Camilla's years and since should engage in this foolish escapade. She had learned to expect nothing better of Sally and Dawes, but that Miss Camilla herself should extend enthusiastically to so senseless a performance, cluster somewhat of a shock. She had not expected it of Miss Camilla. It transpired, however, that they did not proceed far into the tunnel. She could hear them talking and exclaiming excitedly and discussing whether this was really twenty-seven and hadn't we better count again and shall we saw it out and other equally pointless remarks of a similar nature. Weary of listening to such idle chatter and replete with cookies and russet apples, she had finally put her head down on the edge of the barrel and had fallen fast asleep. When she had awakened it was to find them all back in the cellar and Miss Camilla making the pleasant announcement that they would have luncheon now and get to work in earnest afterward. A soul-satisfying interval followed, the only real bright spot in the day for Genevieve, but gloom had settled down upon her once more when they had risen from the table. Solemnly they had taken her on their laps, at least Miss Camilla had, and ominously Sally had warned her. Now Genevieve, we've got something awfully important to do this afternoon. You don't like to go down in that dark place, so we've decided not to take you with us. You'd rather stay up here in the sunshine, wouldn't you? And she had nodded vigorously, an unqualified assent to that proposition. Well then, Sally had continued, you stay right on this porch or in the sitting-room, and don't you dare venture a foot away from it, will you promise? Again Genevieve had nodded, nothing will hurt you if you mind what we say, and by and by we'll come back and show you something awfully nice. Genevieve had seriously doubted the possibility of this latter statement, but she was helpless in their hands. And there's plenty of cookies in a glass of jam, Miss Camilla had supplemented, and we'll come back to you soon, you blessed baby. And they had all hugged and kissed her and departed. Well, they had not kept their word. She had heard the little clock in the room within strike and strike and strike, sometimes just one bell-like tone, sometimes two and three and four. She could not yet tell the time. But she knew enough about a clock to realize that this indicated the passing of the moments, and still there had been no sign of return on the part of the exploring three. Genevieve whimpered a little and wiped her eyes, sad to say, on her sleeve. Then she thrust her hand for the fortieth time into the cookie-jar. But it was empty. And then in sheer boredom and despair she put her head down on the arm of her chair, tucked her thumb into her mouth, and closed her eyes to shut out the tiresome scene before her. In this position she had remained, what seemed a long, long time, and the clock had sounded another bell-like stroke when she was suddenly aroused by a sound quite different. At first she did not give it much thought, but it came louder this time, and she sat up with a jerk. Was someone calling her? It was a strange, muffled sound, and it seemed as if it were like a voice trying to pronounce her name. Genevve, Genevve! was all she could distinguish. Did they want her, possibly to go down into that horrible cellar and hall? She went to the door giving on the cellar steps and listened. But though she stood there fully five minutes, she heard not so much as a breath. No, it could not be that. She would go outdoors again. But no sooner had she stepped onto the porch than she heard it again, fainter this time, but undeniable. Where could it come from? They had commanded her not to venture a step from the porch, but surely if they were calling her she ought to try and find them. So she stepped down from the veranda and ran around to the back of the house. This time she was rewarded. The sound came clearer and more forcefully. Genevve, Genevve! But where still could it come from? There was not a soul in sight. The garden, for it was Miss Camilla's vegetable garden, was absolutely deserted of human occupation. But Genevve wisely decided to follow the sound, so she began to pick her way gingerly between the rows of beans, climbing on quite a forest of tall poles. It was when she had passed these trees that she came upon something that caused her a veritable shock. The ground in Miss Camilla's cucumber patch, for the space of ten or twelve feet square, had sunk down into a strange hole, as if in a sudden earthquake. What did it all mean? And as Genevve hesitated on its brink, she was startled almost out of her little shoes to hear her name called faintly and in a muffled voice from its depths. Genevve! It was the voice of Doris, though she could not see the slightest vestige of her. Here I am! answered Genevve quaveringly. What do you want, Doris? Oh, thank God! came the reply. Go get someone, quick! We're buried alive! It caved in! Hurry, baby! Who shall I get? demanded Genevve, and while she might ask, for as far as anyone knew, there was not a soul within a mile of them. Oh, I don't know! came the answering voice. Go find someone! Anyone! We'll die here, if you don't! Genevve was not sure that she knew just what that last remark meant, but it evidently indicated something serious. All right! she responded. I will try! and she tried it off to the front of the house. Here, however, she stopped to consider. Where was she going to find anyone? She could not go back home. She did not know the way. She could not go back to the river. The way was full of pitfalls in the shape of thorny vines that scratched her face and tripped her feet, and besides, Sally had particularly warned her not to venture in that direction ever. After all, the most likely place to find anyone was surely along the road, for she had, very rarely when sitting on Miss Camilla's porch, observed a wagon driven past. She would walk along the road and see if she could find anybody. Had Genevve been older and with a little more understanding, she would have comprehended the desperate plight that had befallen her sister and Dara's and Miss Camilla, and she would have lent wings to her feet and scurry to the nearest dwelling as fast as those feet would carry her, but she was scarcely more than a baby. The situation, though peculiar, did not strike her as so much a matter for haste as for patient waiting till the person required should happen along. As she didn't see anyone approaching in either direction, she decided to return to the house and keep a strict eye on the road, and so she returned. She did herself on the porch steps, tucked her thumb in her mouth, and waited. There was no further calling from the curious hole in the back garden, and nothing happened for a long, long time. Genevve had just about decided to go back and inquire of Dara's what else to do, when suddenly the afternoon stillness was broken by the chug-chug of a motor-car and the honking of its horn, and before Genevve could jump to her feet, a big automobile had come plowing down the sandy road and stopped right in front of the gate. Here's the place, called out the chauffeur, and jumping down, walked around to open the door at the side for its occupants to get out. A pleasant-looking man descended and gave his hand to the lady beside him. And to Genevve's great astonishment, the lady proved to be none other than the mother of Dawis. Well, where's everyone? inquired the gentleman. I don't see a soul but this we taught sitting on the steps. Why, there's Genevve! cried Mrs. Craig, who had seen the baby many times before. How are you, dear? Where are the others? Inside? No, answered Genevve. In the garden. Dawis, she said, come, find some one. Oh, they're in the garden, are they? Well, we'll go round there and give them a surprise, Henry. Dawis will simply be bowled over to see her daddy here so unexpectedly. And I'm very anxious to meet this Miss Camilla she has talked so much about. Come and show us the way, Genevve. The baby obediently took her hand and led her around to the back of the house, the gentleman following. But I don't see anyone here. He exclaimed when they reached the back. Aren't you mistaken, honey? This to Genevve. No, they in Big Hole, she announced gravely. The remark aroused considerable surprise and amused curiosity. Well, lead us to the Big Hole, commanded Mrs. Craig laughingly. Big Hole, indeed. I've been wondering what in the world Dawis was up to lately. But I never dreamed she was excavating. Genevve still gravely led the way through the forest of bean poles to the edge of the newly sunk depression. What's all this? Suddenly demanded Mr. Craig. It looks as if there's been a landslide here. Where are the others, little girl? They've probably forsaken this and gone elsewhere. But Genevve was not to be moved from her original statement. Day in there! She insisted, pointing downward. Dawis called. She said, go find someone. The baby's persistence was not to be questioned. Mr. Craig looked grave and his wife grew pale and frightened. Oh, Henry! What you suppose can be the matter, she quavered. I do believe Genevve is telling the truth. There's something mighty queer about it. He answered hastily. I can't understand how in the world it has come about. But if that child is right, there's been a landslide or a cave-in of some sort here, and Dawis and the rest are caught in it. Good heavens! If that's so, we can't act too quickly. And he ran round to the front of the house, shouting to the chauffeur, who had remained in the car. There's been an accident. Drive like mad to the nearest house and get men and ropes and spades, anything to help dig out some people from a cave-in. The car had shot down the road almost before he had seen speaking, and he hurried back to the garden. The next hour was a period of indescribable suspense and terror to all concerned. All at least saved Genevieve, who sat placidly on Mrs. Craig's lap. Mr. Craig had brought out a chair from Ms. Camilla's kitchen, and thumb and mouth watched the men furiously hurling the soil in great shovel-fulls from the curious hole. She could not understand why Mrs. Craig should sob softly at intervals under her breath, nor why the strange gentleman should pace back and forth so restlessly and give such sharp hurried orders, and when he jumped into the hole with a startled exclamation and seized the end of a heavy plank, she wandered at the unnecessary excitement. It took the united efforts of every man present to move that plank, and when they had forced it aside, Mr. Craig's duped down with a smothered cry. And the next thing Genevieve knew, they had lifted out someone and laid her on the ground inert, lifeless, and so covered with dirt and sand as to be scarcely recognizable. But from the light, golden hair, Genevieve knew it to be Doris. Before she knew where she was, Genevieve found herself cascaded from Mrs. Craig's lap, and that lady bending distractedly over the prostrate form. Again the men emerged from the pit, carrying between them another form which they laid beside Doris, and with a howl of anguish Genevieve recognized the red bronze pigtail of her sister Sally. By the time Miss Camilla had been extricated from the debris as lifeless and inert as the other two, the chauffeur had returned at mad speed from the village, bringing with him a doctor and many strange appliances for resuscitation. A pull motor was put into immediate action and another period of heartbreaking suspense ensued. It was Doris who first moaned her way back to life, and at the physician's orders was carried back into the house for further administrations. Sally was the next to show signs of recovery, but over poor Miss Camilla they had to work hard and long, for in addition to having been almost smothered, her foot had been caught by the falling plank and badly injured. But she came back to consciousness at last, and her first words on opening her eyes were, Do you think we can get that spode dinner set out all right? A remark which greatly bewildered Mr. Craig, who happened to be the only one to hear it. But how on earth did you and Mother happen to be here, Father, just in the nick of time? Marvel Doris, from the depths of several pillows, with which she was propped up in bed. She had been detailing to her parents at great length the whole story of Sally in the cave and the tunnel, and Miss Camilla and the hazardous treasure hunt that had ended her adventure, and now it was her turn to be enlightened. Well, returned her father, smiling whimsically, it was a good deal, like what they call the long arm of coincidence in story books, and yet it was very simple after all. I'd been disappointed so many times in my plans to get down here to see you and your mother, and at last the chance came, the other day, when I could make at least a flying trip. But I hadn't even time to let you know I was coming. I arrived at the hotel about lunchtime and gave your mother the surprise of her life by walking in on her unexpectedly. But I was quite disgusted not to find you anywhere about. Your mother told me how you had gone off for the day with your bosom pal Sally to visit a mysterious Miss Camilla, and I suggested that we take the car and go to hunt you up. As she was agreeable to the excursion, we started forth, inquiring our way as we went. It was a merciful providence that got us there not a moment too soon. And if it hadn't been for that little cherub of Genevieve, we would have been many minutes too late, if it hadn't been that two or three old planks had been bent over you and protected you from the worst of the earth and debris on top, and also gave you a slight space for air. I don't believe any of you would have been alive now to tell the tale. So the next time you go treasure-hunting, young lady, kindly allow your useless and insignificant dad to accompany you, and he gave her ear a playful tweak. Daddy, it was awful, simply awful, when that old plank gave way and the earth came sliding down on us, she confided to him, snuggling down in the arm he had placed around her. At first we didn't think it would amount too much, but more and more earth came pouring down, and then another plank loosened, and Miss Camilla lost her footing and fell, and we couldn't make our way out past it, either direction, and still the dirt poured in all around us, and Sally and I tried to struggle up through the top, but we couldn't make any progress, and at last that third plank bent over and shut us in, so we couldn't budge, and Sally and Miss Camilla didn't answer when I spoke to them, and I knew they'd fainted, and I felt as if I was going to faint too, but I called and called Genevieve, and at last she answered me, and after that, I didn't remember anything more. She shuddered and hit her face in her father's sleeve. It had been a very horrible experience. Don't think of it any more, honey. It turned out all right in the end. Do you know that Sally is around as well as ever now, and came up to the hotel to inquire for you this evening? She's as strong as a little ox that child. But where is Miss Camilla? Suddenly inquired ours. She hurt her foot, didn't she? She certainly did, but she insisted on remaining in her own home, and Sally begged her mother to be allowed to stay also with the undetachable Genevieve, of course, and take care of her and wait on her. So there they are, and there you will proceed in the automobile this afternoon, if you feel well enough to make the visit. But what about the treasure? demanded Dara's, her eyes beginning to sparkle. If you refer to the trunks and chests full of articles that Miss Camilla insisted that we continue to excavate from that interesting hole in her garden, you do well to speak of it as treasure, answered her father laughingly. For besides some valuable old family silver and quite rare articles of antique jewelry, she had there a collection of china and porcelain that would send a specialist on that subject into an absolute spasm of joy. I really would not care to predict what it would be worth to anyone interested in the subject. And you can tell your friend Sally, of the adventurous spirit, that she's got Treasure Island licked a mile to use a very inelegant expression and right here on her own native territory, too. I take my hat off to both of you. You've done better than a couple of boys who'd been playing and hunting for pirates all their youthful days. Henceforth, when I yearn for blood-curdling adventures and hair-breath escapes, I'll come to you two to lead the way. But under all his banter, Dara's knew that her father was serious in the deep interest he entertained in her strange adventure and all that it had led to. END OF CHAPTER XIV They sat together in the canoe, each facing the other, Dara's in the bow and Sally in the stern. A full mid-September moon painted its rippling path on the water and picked out in silver every detail of shore and river. The air was full of the heavy scent of the pines and the only sound was the ceaseless lap-lap of the lazy ripples at the water's edge. Dara's head laid aside her paddle. Chin in hands she was drinking in the radiance of the lovely scene. I simply cannot realize I'm going home to-morrow and must leave all this, she sighed at last. Sally dipped her paddle disconsolently and answered with almost a groan. If it bothers you, how do you suppose it makes me feel? We have grown close to each other, haven't we? mused Dara's. Do you know I never dreamed I could make so dear a friend in so short a time? I have plenty of acquaintances and good comrades, but usually it takes me years to make a real friend. How did you manage to make me care so much for you, Sally? Just because you're you, laughed Sally, quoting a popular song. But do you realize, Dara's Craig, what a different girl I've become since I knew and cared for you? She was indeed a different girl, as Dara's had to admit. To begin with, she looked different. The clothes she wore were neat, dainty, and appropriate, indicating taste and care both in choosing and wearing them. Her parents were comparatively well to do people in the village and could afford to dress her well and give her all that was necessary within reason. It had been mainly lack of proper care and the absence of any incentive to seem her best. That was to blame for the original careless Sally. And not only her looks, but her manners in English, were now as irreproachable as they had once been provincial and faulty. Why, even my thoughts are different, she suddenly exclaimed, following aloud the line of thought they had both been unconsciously pursuing. You've given me more that's worthwhile to think about Dara's in these three months than I ever had before in all my life. I'm sure it wasn't I that did it, modestly disclaimed Dara's, but the books I happened to bring along and that you wanted to read. If you hadn't wanted different things yourself, Sally, I don't believe you would have changed any. So the credit is all yours. Do you remember the day you first quoted the ancient mariner to me, Laughdara's? I was so astonished I nearly tumbled out of the boat. It was the lines. We were the first that ever burst into that silent sea, wasn't it? Yes, they are my favorite lines in it, replied Sally, and with all the poems I've read and learned since, I love that best, after all. My favorite is that part. The moving moon went up the sky and nowhere did abide, said Dara's, and I guess I love the thing as much as you do. And Miss Camilla, added Sally, says her favorite in it is the self-same moment I could pray, and from my neck so free, the albatross fell off and sank like lead into the sea. She says that's the way she felt when we girls made that discovery about her brother's letter. Her albatross had been the supposed weight of disgrace she had been carrying about all these fifty years. Oh, Miss Camilla, sighed Dara's ecstatically. What a darling she is, and what a wonderful, simply wonderful adventure we've had, Sally. Sometimes when I think of it, it seems too incredible to believe. It's like something you'd read if in a book and say it was probably exaggerated. Did I tell you that my grandfather has decided to purchase her whole collection of porcelains and the antique jewelry, too? No, answered Sally, but Miss Camilla told me, and I know how she hates to part with them. Even I will feel a little sorry when they're gone. I've washed them and dusted them so often, and Miss Camilla has told me so much about them. I've even learned how to know them by the strange little marks on the back of them. And I can tell Ingrid Spode from Old Worcester and French fiancee from Vincennes-Severet, and a lot besides. And what's more, I've really come to admire and appreciate them. I never supposed I would. Miss Camilla will miss them a lot, for she's been so happy with them since they were restored to her. But she says they're as useless in her life now as a museum of mummies, and she needs the money for other things. I suppose she will restore the main part of her house and live in it and be very happy and comfortable, remarked Darius. That's just where you are entirely mistaken, answered Sally, with unexpected animation. Don't you know what she's going to do with it? Why, no! said Darius in surprise. I hadn't heard. Well, she only told me today, replied Sally. But it nearly bowled me over. She's going to put the whole thing in liberty bonds and go on living precisely as she has before. She says she has gotten along that way for nearly fifty years, and she guesses she can go on to the end. She says that if her father and brother could sacrifice their safety and their money and their very lives, gladly, as they did when their country was in need, she guesses she oughtn't to do very much less. If she were younger, she'd go to France right now and give her life in some capacity to help out in this horrible struggle. But as she can't do that, she is willing and delighted to make every other sacrifice within her power, and she's taken out the bonds in my name and Genevieve's. Because she says she'll never live to see them mature, and we're the only chick or child she cares enough about to leave them to. She wanted to leave some to you too, but your father told her no. He has already taken out several in your name. Doris was quite overcome by this flood of unexpected information, and by the wonderful attitude and generosity of Miss Camilla. I never dreamed of such a thing, she murmured. She insisted on giving me the little serfers' face when I bade her goodbye today. I hardly liked to take it, but she said I must, and that it could form the nucleus of a collection of my own some day, when I was older, and times were less strenuous. I hardly realized what she meant then, but I do now, after what you've told me. But that isn't all, said Sally. I've managed to persuade my father that I'm not learning enough at the village school and probably never will. He was going to take me out of it this year anyway, and when summer came again, have me wait on the ice cream parlor and candy counter in the pavilion. I just hated the thought. Now I've made him promise to send Genevieve and me every day to Miss Camilla to study with her, and he's going to pay for it, just the same as if I were going to a private school. I'm so happy over it, and so is Miss Camilla. Only we had hard work persuading her that she must accept any money for it, and even Genevieve is delighted. She has promised to stop sucking her thumb, if she can go to Miss Camilla and learn to yeet about pictures, as she says. It's all turned out as wonderfully as a fairy tale, muse Dars, as they floated on. I couldn't wish a single thing any different, and I think what Miss Camilla has done is, well, it just makes a lump come into my throat even to speak of it. I feel like a selfish wretch beside her. I'm just going to save every penny I have this winter and give it to the Red Cross, and work like mad at the knitting and bandage making. But even that is no real sacrifice. I wish I could do something like she has done. That's the kind of thing that counts. We can only do the thing that lies within our power, said Sally, grasping the true philosophy of the situation. And if we do all of that, we're giving the best we can. They drifted on a little further in silence, and then Dars glanced at her wristwatch by the light of the moon. We've got to go in, she mourned. It's after nine o'clock, and Mother warned me not to stay out later than that. Besides, I've got to finish packing. They dragged the canoe up onto the shore and turned it over in the grass. Then they wandered for a moment down to the edge of the water. Remember, it isn't so awfully bad as it seems. Dars tried to hearten Sally by reminding her. Father and I are coming down again to stay over Columbus Day, and you and Genevieve are coming to New York to spend the Christmas holidays with us. We'll be seeing each other right along at intervals. Sally looked off up the river, to where the pointed pines on Slipper Point could be dimly discerned above the wagon bridge. Suddenly her thoughts took a curious twist. How funny, how awfully funny it seems now, she laughed, to think we once were planning to dig for pirate treasure up there. She nodded towards Slipper Point. Well, we may not have found any pirate loot, Dars replied, but you'll have to admit we discovered treasure of a very different nature, and a good deal more valuable. And when you come to think of it, we did discover buried treasure, at least Miss Camilla did, and we were nearly buried alive trying to unearth it. And what more of a thrilling adventure could you ask for than that? But she ended seriously. Slipper Point will always mean to me the spot where I spent some of the happiest moments of my life. And I say the same, echoed Sally. The end. End of Chapter 15 and of The Slipper Point Mystery by Augusta Huell Seaman.