A Very Naughty Girl

  CHAPTER XXVIII.--THE ROOM WITH THE LIGHT THAT FLICKERED.

  Now, all might have gone well for the little conspirators but for Evelynherself. But when the girls, tired with talking, tired with the spiritof adventure, had lain down--Sylvia in Jasper's bed, and Evelyn in thenew little white couch which had been got so lovingly ready forher--Sylvia, tired out, soon fell asleep; but Evelyn could not rest. Shewas pleased, excited, relieved, but at the same time she had a curioussense of disappointment about her. Her heart beat fast; she wonderedwhat was happening. It seemed to her that in this tiny room at the backof the kitchen she was in a sort of prison. The sense of being in prisonwas anything but pleasant to this child of a free country and of anuntrained mother. She slipped softly out of bed, and going to thewindow, unbarred the heavy shutters and looked out.

  There was a moon in the sky, and the garden stood in streaks of brightlight, and of dense shadow where the thick yew-hedge shut away the coldrays of the moon. Evelyn's white little face was pressed against thepane. Pilot stalked up and down outside, now and then baying to themoon, now and then uttering a suspicious bark, but he never glanced inthe direction of the window out of which Evelyn looked. To the right ofthe window lay the hens' run and hen-house which have already beenmentioned in these pages. Evelyn knew nothing about them, however; shethought the view ugly and uninteresting. She disliked the thickyew-hedge and the gnarled old yew-tree, and grumbling under her breath,she turned from the window, having quite forgotten to close theshutters. She got into bed now and fell asleep, little knowing whatmischief she had done.

  For it was on that very same night that Mr. Leeson determined, not tobury his bags of gold, but to dig them up. He was in a weak andtrembling condition, and what he considered the most terrible misfortunehad overpowered him, for the large sums which he had lately invested inthe Kilcolman Gold-mines had been irretrievably lost; the gold-mineswere nothing more nor less than a huge fraud, and all the shareholdershad lost their money. The daily papers were full of the fraudulentscheme, and indignation was rife against the promoters of the company.But little cared Mr. Leeson for that; one fact alone concerned him. He,who grudged a penny to give his only child warmth and comfort, had byone fell blow lost thousands of pounds. He was almost like a man bereftof his senses. When Sylvia had left him that evening he had stood forsome time in the cold and desolate parlor; then he sat down and began tothink. His money was invested in more than one apparently promisingspeculation. He meant to call it all in--to collect it all and leave thecountry. He would not trust another sovereign in any bank in thekingdom; he would guard his own money; above all things, he would guardhis precious savings. He had saved during his residence at The Priorysomething over twelve hundred pounds. This money, which reallyrepresented income, not capital, had been taken from what ought to havebeen spent on the necessaries of life. More and more had he saved, untila penny saved was more valuable in his eyes than any virtue under thesun; and as he saved and added sovereign to sovereign, he buried hismoney in canvas bags in the garden. But the time had come now to dig uphis gold and fly. There were three trunks in the box-room; he woulddivide the money between the three. They were strong, covered withcow-hide, old-fashioned, safe to endure even such a weight as was to beput into them. He had made all his plans. He meant to take Sylvia, leaveThe Priory, and go. What further savings he could effect in a foreignland he knew not; he only wanted to be up and doing. This night, justwhen the moon set, would be the very time for his purpose. He wasanxious--very anxious--about those fresh trunks which had been put intothe attic; there was something also about Sylvia which aroused hissuspicions. He felt certain that she was not quite so open with him asformerly. Those suppers were too good, too delicate, too tasty to beeaten without suspicion. At the best she was burning too much fuel. Hewould go round to the kitchen this very night and see for himself thatthe fire was out--dead out. Why should Sylvia warm herself by the kitchenfire while he shivered fireless and almost candleless in the desolateparlor? Soon after ten o'clock, therefore, he started on his rounds. Hewent through room after room, looking into each; he had never been sorestless. He felt that a great and terrible task lay before him, and sobewildered was his mind, so much was his balance shaken, that he thoughtmore of the twelve hundred pounds which he had saved than of thethousands which he had lost by foolish investment. The desolate rooms inthe old Priory were all as they had ever been--scarcely any furniture insome, no furniture at all in others; they were bare and bleak and ugly.He went to the kitchen; the door was locked. He shook it and calledaloud; there was no answer.

  "The child has gone to bed," he said to himself. "That is well."

  He stooped down and tried to look through the keyhole; only darkness methis gaze. He turned and shambled up-stairs. He turned the handle ofSylvia's door. How wise had been Jasper when she had guessed that themaster of the house would do just what he did do!

  "Sylvia!" he called aloud--"Sylvia!"

  "Yes, father," said a voice which seemed to be quite the voice of hisdaughter.

  "Are you in bed?"

  "Yes. Do you want me?"

  "No; stay where you are. Good night."

  "Good night," answered the pretended Sylvia.

  But Mr. Leeson, as he went down-stairs, did not hear the stifledlaughter which was smothered in the pillows. He waited until the moonwas on the wane, and then, armed with the necessary implements, wentinto the garden. He would certainly remove half the bags that night; theremainder might wait until to-morrow.

  He reached the garden; he arrived at the spot where his treasure wasburied, and then he stood still for a moment, and looked around him.Everything seemed all right--silent as the grave--still as death. It was awindless night; the moon would very soon set and there would bedarkness. He wanted darkness for his purpose. Pilot came shuffling up.

  "Good dog! guard--guard. Good dog!" said his master.

  Pilot had been trained to know what this meant, and he went immediatelyand stood within a foot or two of the main entrance. Mr. Leeson did notknow that a gate at the back entrance was no longer firmly secured andchained, as he imagined it to be. He thought himself safe, and began towork.

  He had dug up six of the bags, and there were six more yet to beunearthed, when, suddenly raising his head, he saw a light in a windowon the ground floor. It was a very faint light, and seemed to come andgo.

  He was much puzzled. His heart beat strangely; suspicion visited him.Had any one seen him? If so he was lost. He dared not wait anothermoment; he took two of the bags of gold and dragged them as best hecould into the house. He went out again to fetch another two, and yetanother two. He put the six canvas bags in the empty hall, and thenreturning to the garden, he pressed down the earth and covered it withgravel, and tried to make it look as if no one had been there--as if noone had disturbed it. But he was trembling all over, and as he did so helooked again at the flickering, broken light which came dimly, likesomething gray and uncertain, from within the room.

  He went on tiptoe softly, very softly, up to the window and peered in.He could not see much--nothing, in fact, except one thing. The room had afire. That was enough for him.

  Furious anger shook the man to his depths. He hurried into the house.