Colonel Thorndyke's Secret

  CHAPTER VII.

  The next morning Mark went up to London.

  "Of course, Mr. Thorndyke," the chief at Bow Street said, "your father'ssuspicions as to the man's identity may or may not be justified; that,however, makes no difference to us. Here is a highwayman who has beenwounded, and would certainly be a valuable capture: I will set my men towork at once; if he is in London they will get news of him before manydays. My men in any case would do their duty, but your father's offerwill certainly stimulate their energy. Where are you stopping?"

  "At the Bull, in Holborn."

  "Very well; I will be sure to let you know as soon as we get any clew tothe man's identity."

  Mark remained in London a week, and at the end of that time he receiveda note from Bow Street saying that the superintendent wished to see him.

  "I am sorry that I have no news for you, Mr. Thorndyke," the officersaid, when he called upon him. "Every place where such a man would belikely to be in hiding has been searched, and no clew whatever has beenobtained. We shall now circulate notices of the reward throughout thecountry. If the man was at all severely hit, we may assume that he mustbe somewhere in the neighborhood of London, whereas, if the wound wasa slight one, he might be able to go a long distance, and may be nowin York, for aught we know. However, now that the search in London hasterminated, I can really see no use in your staying here any longer; wewill let you know directly we have any news."

  Three months later John Thorndyke received a letter from the DetectiveOffice asking him to call the next time he came up to town, as althoughno news had been obtained that would lead to the man's immediatearrest, news had at any rate been obtained showing that he was alive. Ithappened that Mark was intending to go up on the following day, and hisfather asked him to call for him at Bow Street.

  "Well, Mr. Thorndyke, we have heard about your man, and that after wehad quite abandoned the search. I had come to the conclusion that thewound you gave him had been a fatal one, and that he had been quietlyburied by some of the people with whom he was connected. The discoverywas, as half these discoveries generally are, the result of accident.Last week a gentleman entered the Bank and asked for change in gold fora fifty pound note. The cashier, looking at the number, found that itwas one of those that had been stolen from a passenger by one of thesouth coaches several months ago. The gentleman was at once taken intoa private office, and questioned as to how he had obtained the note.The account that he gave was that he was a surgeon in practice atSouthampton. A gentleman had arrived there on a date which we found tobe the day after that on which you were stopped; he was well dressed,and had the air of a gentleman; he had come down by coach, and wasevidently very ill. He told the surgeon that he had been engaged in aduel, that the pistols had been discharged simultaneously, and that hehad killed his man, but had himself been severely wounded. He said thatthe person whom he had killed had influential connections, and that itwould be necessary for him to remain in seclusion for a time, and heasked him to take charge of his case, as he had ample means of payinghim handsomely. The surgeon examined the wound, and found it to beindeed a serious one, and, as he thought, probably fatal. However,having no doubt as to the truth of the story, he had taken the gentlemanin, and he remained under his charge until a week before he came up totown.

  "For the first month he had been dangerously ill, but he completelyrecovered. The surgeon had no reason whatever for doubting his patientbeing a gentleman; he was fashionably dressed, and had evidently changedhis clothes after the duel, as there were no bloodstains upon them. Hewas, however, glad when he left, as his conversation did not please himfrom its cynical tone. The Bank sent to us directly the man presentedthe note, which he stated had been given to him in part payment for hismedical services and the board and lodging of the patient; the totalamount had been 75 pounds, and the balance was paid in gold. As hewas able to give several good references, and was identified by threegentlemen, he was, of course, released. I have no doubt whatever thatthe fellow he attended was your man. The surgeon said, whoever he was,he must have been a man of iron resolution to have made such a journeyin the state he was.

  "No doubt he must have ridden straight to the place he used as hisheadquarters, where he had his wound roughly bandaged, changed hisclothes, and had ridden in the morning to some point that the coachpassed on its way to Southampton. Of course we obtained a minutedescription from the surgeon of the man's appearance. We found thatthe people at the coach office had no remembrance of there being anyoneanswering to that description among the persons who traveled by thecoach, but of course that would not go for much, for over three monthshave elapsed.

  "When the coachman who had driven the down coach that day came up totown, we saw him, and he remembered perfectly that on or about that dayhe had picked up a passenger at Kingston--a gentleman who was in veryweak health. There were only three inside passengers besides himself,and he had to be assisted into the coach. The way bill, on being turnedup, showed that an inside passenger had been taken up at Kingston. Ihave already sent down men to make inquiries at every village in thedistrict between Reigate and Kingston, and I trust that we shall layhands on him, especially now we have got an accurate description of him,while before we were working in the dark in that respect."

  "What is the description, sir? My father is much interested on thatpoint, for, as I believe I told you, he has a strong suspicion thatthe fellow is the man who was transported more than eight years ago toAustralia, and who made his escape from the prison there."

  "Yes, I know. At first it appeared to me very improbable, but I am boundto say the description tallies very closely with that given of him. Thesurgeon took him to be nearly thirty; but after what he has gone throughhe may well look three or four years older than he is. He had lighthair, rather small gray eyes, and a face that would have been goodlooking had it not been for its supercilious and sneering expression."

  "I can remember him," Mark said; "and that answers very closely to him.I should say that it is certainly Bastow, and my father made no mistakewhen he asserted that he recognized his voice."

  The officer added a note to the description in his register: "Stronglysuspected of being Arthur Bastow, transported for connivance withhighwaymen; was leader of a mutiny in convict jail of Sydney two yearsand a half ago. Made his escape."

  "There is no doubt," he went on, "that he is a desperate character. Nodoubt he is the man who has been concerned in most of these robberies inthe southern suburbs. We must get hold of him if we can, and once wedo so there will be an end of his travels, for the mutiny in prison andescape is a hanging business, putting aside the affairs since hegot back. Well, sir, I hope he will give you and your father no moretrouble."

  "I am sure I hope so," Mark said. "I suppose that the fellow who wasshot was one of the men who escaped with him from the convict prison."

  "That is likely enough. Two would get home as easily as one, and thefact that they were both strangers here would account for the difficultyour men have had in their search for him. You see, we have had nothingwhatever to go on. You must not be too sanguine about our catching theman in a short time: he is evidently a clever fellow, and I think itlikely that once he got back he lost no time in getting away from thispart of the country, and we are more likely to find him in the west ornorth than we are of laying hands on him here. We will send descriptionsall over the country, and as soon as I hear of a series of crimesanywhere, I will send off two of my best men to help the localconstables."

  On his return home Mark told his father what he had done.

  "I thought that I could not have been mistaken, Mark; we have got thatrascal on our hands again. I hope now that they have got a descriptionof him to go by, they will not be long before they catch him; butthe way he escaped after being badly wounded shows that he is full ofresources, and he may give them some trouble yet, if I am not mistaken.At any rate, I will have a talk with the Reigate constable, and tell himthat there is very little doubt that the man who attacked us wa
s ArthurBastow, who has, as we have heard, escaped from Botany Bay, and that hehad best tell his men to keep a sharp lookout for him, for that, owingto his animosity against us for his former capture and conviction, itis likely enough that sooner or later he will be in this neighborhoodagain. After his determined attempt at my life when pretending to robus, I shall certainly not feel comfortable until I know that he is underlock and key."

  "I wish, Guardy, you would give up this magistrate's business,"Millicent said at dinner. "I am sure that it is worrying you, and Ican't see why you should go on with it."

  "It does not worry me, as a rule, Millicent; indeed, I like the duty.Besides, every landowner of standing ought to take his share in publicwork. There are only two of the magistrates younger than I am, andwhatever you may think of me, I feel myself capable of doing what workthere is to do. When Mark gets a few years older I shall resign, and lethim take my place on the bench. I own, though, that I should be glad ifthese highway robberies could be suppressed. Poaching and the ordinaryoffenses of drunkenness and assaults are disposed of without anytrouble; but this stopping of the coaches, accompanied occasionally bythe shooting of the coachman or guard, gives a great deal of trouble,and the worst of it is that we are practically powerless to put suchcrimes down. Nothing short of patrolling the roads in parties of threeor four between sunset and sunrise would put a stop to them, and thefunds at our disposal would not support such an expenditure."

  "It is a pity that you cannot get up a corps like the yeomanry, and callit the Mounted Constabulary," said Mark. "There are at least a dozenfellows I know who would, like myself, be glad to join it, and I daresay we could get a score of young farmers or farmers' sons."

  "It is not a bad idea, Mark, and I dare say that for a time the dutywould be zealously performed, but before very long you would tire of it.A few wet nights or winter's cold, and you would cease to see the fun ofit, especially as you may be sure that the news that the roads are wellpatrolled would soon come to the ears of these scoundrels, and theywould cease to work in the district."

  "Perhaps you are right, sir; but I think that a few of us would stick toit."

  "Perhaps so, Mark, but I should be sorry to wager that the work wouldbe thoroughly done. The first county or hunt ball, or even dinner party,more than half of them would be away. I don't say that you personallymight not for some considerable time persist in patrolling the roads,for you have a sort of personal interest in the matter; but I wouldwager that before two months have passed you would find you were theonly one who attended at the rendezvous regularly."

  A fortnight later the party were seated round the fire in the dusk.Mr. Bastow was sitting next to the Squire, and was in unusually goodspirits. He had heard no word of what the Squire had discovered, nordreamed that his son was again in England, still less that he wassuspected of being one of the men who had endeavored to stop the Squireand his son on their drive from London. Suddenly there was the crack ofa pistol outside, and a ball passed between him and the Squire. Withouta word, Mark Thorndyke rushed to the door, seized a pistol from hisriding coat, and, snatching up a heavy whip, dashed out into the garden.

  He was just in time to see a figure running at full speed, and he setoff in pursuit. Good runner as he was, he gained but slightly at first,but after a time he drew nearer to the fugitive. The latter was butsome sixty yards away when he leaped a hedge into a narrow lane. Markfollowed without hesitation, but as he leaped into the road he heard ajeering laugh and the sharp sound of a horse's hoofs, and knew that theman he was pursuing had gained his horse and made off. Disgusted at hisfailure, he went slowly back to the house. The shutters had been put up.

  "I have lost him, father. He ran well to begin with, but I was gainingfast on him when he leaped into a narrow lane where he had left hishorse, and rode off before I could get up to him. I need hardly say thatthere was no use attempting to follow on foot. He missed you all, did henot?"

  "Yes, Mark. It is not so easy to take an accurate aim when it is nearlydark. The bullet passed between myself and Mr. Bastow, and has burieditself in the mantelpiece."

  "Something ought to be done, Guardy," Millicent Conyers saidindignantly. "It is shameful that people cannot sit in their own roomwithout the risk of being shot at. What can it mean? Surely no one canhave any enmity against you."

  "I hope not, my dear," John Thorndyke said lightly. "Some of the fellowswe have sentenced may think that we were rather hard on them, but Ido not think that any of them would feel it sufficiently to attempt tomurder one; besides, Mark says that the fellow had a horse waitingfor him, and none of our poachers would be likely to be the owner of ahorse. It may be that the highwayman Mark shot at and wounded has comedown to give us a fright. It is no use worrying about it now; in futurewe will have the shutters closed at sunset. It is hardly likely thatthe thing will be attempted again, and Mark's chase must have shown thefellow that the game is hardly worth the risk."

  "He might have shot you, Mark; you had no right to risk your life inthat sort of way," the girl said to him, later, as they were seatedtogether in front of the fire, while the Squire was reading the Gazetteat the table, Mrs. Cunningham was working, and Mr. Bastow, who had beengreatly shaken by the event, had retired to bed.

  "Do you think that he really meant to kill your father?"

  "I should imagine he did; a man would hardly run the risk of being hungmerely for the pleasure of shooting. I would give a good deal if I hadcaught him, or better still, if I had shot him," said Mark. "However, Iwill make it my business to hunt the fellow down. After this evening'saffair, we shall never feel comfortable until he is caught. I haveno doubt that he is the fellow we have been hunting for the last fourmonths. The people at Bow Street seem no good whatever; I will try if Icannot succeed better."

  "Don't do anything rash, Mark," said Millicent, in a low voice; "youhave no right to put yourself in danger."

  "But our lives are in danger now, Millicent--in much greater dangerthan mine would be when looking out for him. But there seems no guardingagainst attacks like this; I mean to hunt him down, if it takes mea year. I have nothing special to do, and cannot employ my time moreusefully."

  When the ladies went up to bed the Squire said:

  "Come into the library, Mark, and we will smoke a pipe, and have a talkover this business." He touched the bell. "Have you got a good fire inthe library, Ramoo?"

  "Yes, sahib, very good."

  "Then take a bottle of number one bin of port there--and a couple ofglasses."

  When they were quietly seated, glasses filled, and the long pipesalight, the Squire said: "I want to have a serious talk with you, Mark.What I am going to say will surprise you a good deal. I had not intendedto tell you for another four years--that is to say, not until Millicentcame of age--but after that affair tonight, I feel that my life isso uncertain that I ought not to delay letting you know the truth.I suppose you agree with me that it was Bastow who shot at me thisevening?"

  "I have not the least doubt about that, father."

  "I will not say that he shot at me," the Squire said, "for he may haveshot at his father; the villain is quite capable of that. It was hisfather who brought me upon him, and though I effected his capture eightyears ago I don't suppose he cares which of us he killed. However, thepoint is not what he aimed at, but whether it was he, and that I takethere is no doubt about. He missed me this time, but his next shot maybe more successful, At any rate, I think that it is high time that Itold you the story."

  And, beginning with the arrival of Colonel Thorndyke at his place, herepeated the conversation that he had had with him. Several times inthe early portion of his narrative he was interrupted by exclamations ofsurprise from his son.

  "Then Millicent is really my uncle's heiress!" exclaimed Mark, when heheard the request the Colonel had made of the Squire.

  "That is so, Mark. She does not know it herself, and it was my brother'surgent wish that she should not know it until she came of age or untilshe married. I fought against i
t to the utmost, but it was his dyingprayer, and I could not refuse it. My solicitor knows the facts of thematter, and so does Mrs. Cunningham, who brought Millicent over fromIndia when she was only about a year old. I may say that I especiallyurged that it would not be fair to you to be brought up to consideryourself to be heir to the property, but he said:

  "'Putting aside the estate, I have a considerable fortune. In the firstplace, there are the accumulations of rent from the Reigate place. Ihave never touched them, and they have been going on for twelve years.In. the next place, the shaking of the pagoda tree has gone on merrily,and we all made a comfortable pile. Then I always made a point ofcarrying about with me two or three hundred pounds, and after thesacking of some of the palaces I could pick up jewels and things fromthe troops for a trifle, being able to pay money down. Even withoutthe rents here, I have some 50,000 pounds in money. I should think thejewels would be worth at least as much more, irrespective of a diamondbracelet which is, I fancy, worth more than the rest put together. Itwas stolen from the arm of some idol.' He then explained how he got it,and the manner in which he had placed it and the rest of his wealth in asecure position.

  "'Things stolen from a god are frightfully dangerous,' he said, 'for theBrahmins or priests connected with the temples have been known to followthem up for years, and in nine cases out of ten they get possession ofthem again. Murder in such a case is meritorious, and I would not havethem in the house here, were they ten times the value they are. I knowthat my clothes, my drawers, and everything belonging to me have beengone through at night a score of times. Nothing has been stolen, but,being a methodical man, I could generally see some displacement in thethings that told me they had been disturbed. They gave it up for a time,but I haven't a shadow of a doubt that they have been watching me eversince, and they may be watching me now, for anything I know. Now, halfof that fortune I have left by my will to your son; half to the girl. Iwill tell you where the things are the last thing before I die.

  "'Now, mind, you must be careful when you get them. When I am dead youare almost certain to be watched. You don't know what these fellows are.The things must remain where they are until your boy comes of age. Don'tlet him keep those diamonds an hour in his possession; let him pass themaway privately to some man in whom he has implicit confidence, forhim to take them to a jeweler's; let him double and turn and disguisehimself so as to throw everyone that may be spying on him off histrack. If you can manage it, the best way would be to carry them over toAmsterdam, and sell them there.'

  "I confess it seemed absurd, but it is a matter about which he wouldknow a great deal more than I do, and he was convinced that not onlywas he watched, but that he owed his life simply to the fact that thefellows did not know where the diamonds were hidden, and that by killinghim they would have lost every chance of regaining them.

  "So convinced was he of all this, that he would not tell me where he hadstowed them away; he seemed to think that the very walls would hear us,and that these fellows might be hidden under the sofa, in a cupboard, orup the chimney, for aught I know. He told me that he would tell me thesecret before he died; but death came so suddenly that he never had anopportunity of doing so. He made a tremendous effort in his last moment,but failed, and I shall never forget the anguish his face expressed whenhe found himself powerless to speak; however, he pressed his snuffboxinto my hand with such a significant look that, being certain itcontained some clew to the mystery, and being unable to find a hiddenspring or a receptacle, I broke it open that night.

  "It contained a false bottom, and here are what I found in it. I stowedthem away in a secret drawer in that old cabinet that stands by mybedside. It is in the bottom pigeonhole on the right hand side. I boughtthe cabinet at a sale, and found the spring of the secret drawer quiteaccidentally. I shall put the things back tonight, and you will knowwhere to look for them. You press against the bottom and up against thetop simultaneously, and the back then falls forward. The opening behindis very shallow, and will hold but two or three letters. But, however,it sufficed for this;" and he handed Mark the coin and slip of paper.

  "But what are these, father?"

  "These are the clews by which we are to obtain the treasure."

  As Mark examined them carefully the Squire stood up with his back to thefire, and looking round walked to the door and said: "I thought therewas a draught somewhere; either Ramoo did not shut the door when he wentout or it has come open again. It has done that once or twice before.When I go into town tomorrow I will tell Tucker to send a man up to takethe lock off. Well, what do you make out of that?"

  "I can make out nothing," Mark replied. "No doubt the coin is somethingto be given to whoever is in charge of the treasure, and Masulipatam maybe the place where it is hidden."

  "Yes, or it may be a password. It reminds one of the forty thievesbusiness. You go and knock at the door of a cave, a figure armed to theteeth presents itself, you whisper in his ear 'Masulipatam,' he replies'Madras,' or 'Calcutta,' or something of that sort, you take out thecoin and show it to him, he takes out from some hidden repository asimilar one, compares the two, and then leads you to an inner cave piledup with jewels."

  Mark laughed.

  "Well, it is no laughing matter, Mark," the Squire went on seriously."The little comedy may not be played just as I have sketched it, but Iexpect that it is something of the kind. That coin has to be shown, andthe word 'Masulipatam' spoken to the guardian, whoever he may be, ofyour uncle's treasure. But who that guardian may be or how he is to befound is a mystery. I myself have never tried to solve it. There wasnothing whatever to go upon. The things may be in England or, it may be,anywhere in India. To me it looked an absolutely hopeless business toset about. I did not see how even a first step was to be taken, and as Ihad this estate and you and Millicent to look after, and was no longera young man, I put the matter aside altogether. You are young, you haveplenty of energy, and you have your life before you, and it is a matterof the greatest interest to you.

  "Possibly--very improbably, mind, still possibly--when Millicent comesof age and learns who she is, Mrs. Cunningham may be able to help you.I have no idea whether it is so. I have never spoken to her about thistreasure of George's, but it is just possible that while he was intown before he came down to me he may have given her some instructionsconcerning it. Of course he intended to give me full particulars, but hecould hardly have avoided seeing that, in the event of my death, perhapssuddenly before the time came for seeking the treasure, the secretwould be lost altogether. Whether he has told her or his lawyer or notI cannot say, but I have all along clung to the hope that he took somesuch natural precaution. Unless that treasure is discovered, the onlything that will come to you is the half of the accumulated rents ofthis estate during the ten years between my father's death and George's;these rents were paid to our solicitors, and by them invested.

  "The rentals amount to about 2500 pounds a year, and of course there isinterest to be added, so that I suppose there is now some 25,000 pounds,for I had out 2000 pounds when I came here, to set matters straight. Ihad a great fight with the lawyers over it, but as I pointed out theyhad failed altogether to see that the agent did his duty, and thatat least a couple of hundred a year ought to be expended in necessaryrepairs, I had a right to at least that sum to carry out the work thatought to be done from year to year. In addition to that sum I laid outabout 1000 pounds a year for the first three years I was here; so thatpractically 5000 pounds was expended in rebuilding the village anddoing repairs on the homesteads; that, however, is not the point now.Altogether, then, there is some 25,000 pounds to be divided between youand Millicent when she becomes mistress of this property.

  "According to the terms of my brother's will, I am still to remain hereuntil she marries; when she does so I shall, of course, go back to myown little place; the income of that has been accumulating while Ihave been here, my only expenses having been for clothes. I have takennothing out of this estate since I came here, and each year have paidto the
solicitors all balances remaining after discharging the householdexpenses, these balances averaging 700 or 800 pounds a year. Ofcourse the income was absolutely left to me during the time I remainedostensible owner, but I had no wish to make money out of a trust thatI assumed greatly against my will. That money is Millicent's; of coursethe house had to be kept up in proper style whether I were here or not.Had she at once come into possession, there must have been horses, andcarriages, and so on. I don't say that I have not had all the expensesof our living saved; that I had no objection to; but I was determined atleast not to take a penny put of the estate beyond those expenses. Yousee, Mark, you will have your 12,500 pounds anyhow, as soon as Millicentcomes of age--not a bad little sum--so that even if you never hearanything more of this mysterious treasure you will not be penniless, orin anyway dependent upon me. At my death, of course, you will come intothe Sussex place, with what savings there may be."

  "I am sure I have no reason to grumble, father," Mark said heartily."Of course it came upon me at first as a surprise that Millicent wasthe heiress here, and it flashed through my mind for the moment that thebest thing would be to take a commission in the army, or to follow myuncle's example, and get a cadetship in the Company's service. I haveno doubt that I should have enjoyed life either way quite as much orpossibly more than if I had gone on a good many years as heir to theseestates, and afterwards as Squire. Of course, now I shall make it mybusiness to see if it is possible to obtain some sort of clew to thistreasure, and then follow it up; but the first thing to which I shallgive my mind will be to hunt down Bastow. We shall never feel safe hereas long as that fellow is alive, and that will be the first thing Ishall devote myself to. After that I shall see about the treasure."

  "As to that, Mark, I cannot impress upon you too strongly what youruncle said. It may, of course, be a pure delusion on his part; but ifhe is right, and some of these Hindoo fellows are still on the watch toobtain that bracelet, you must use extraordinary precautions when youget it into your hands; he advised me to take it across to Amsterdam,and either get the stones recut or to sell them separately to differentdiamond merchants there. He said that my life would not be worth anhour's purchase as long as the stones were in my hands."

  "That rather looks, father, as if the things were somewhere in England;had they been in India, you would have had them some months in yourhands before you could get them to Amsterdam."

  "I did not think of that before, Mark, and it is possible that youare right; but I don't know; he might have thought that it would beimpossible for me to dispose of them at Madras or Calcutta, and may haveassumed that I should at once deposit them in a bank to be forwardedwith other treasure to England, or that I should get them packed awayin the treasure safe in the ship I came back by, and that I should notreally have them on my person till I landed in England, or until Itook them from the Bank. Still, I see that your supposition is the mostlikely, and that they may all this time have been lying somewhere inLondon until I should present myself with a gold coin and the word'Masulipatam.'"

  Suddenly Mark sprang to his feet, and pulled back the curtains acrossa window, threw it up, and leaped into the garden, and there stoodlistening for two or three minutes, with his pistol cocked in his hand.He stepped for a moment into the room again.

  "You had better put that light out, father or we may have another shot."

  "Did you hear anything, Mark?"

  "I thought I did, father. I may have been mistaken, but I certainlythought I heard a noise, and when I pulled the curtains aside the windowwas not shut by three or four inches. I will have a look through theshrubbery. That fellow may have come back again. Pull the curtains toafter me."

  "I will go with you, Mark."

  "I would rather you didn't, father; it would only make me nervous. Ishan't go into the shrubbery and give them a chance of getting firstshot. I shall hide up somewhere and listen. It is a still night, and ifthere is anyone moving I am pretty sure to hear him."

  The Squire turned down the lamp, drew the curtains, and seated himselfby the fire. It was three quarters of an hour before Mark returned. Heshut the window, and fastened it carefully.

  "I fancy you must have been mistaken, Mark."

  "I suppose that shot through the window has made me nervous. I certainlydid fancy I heard a noise there; it may have been a dead bough snapping,or something of that sort; and of course, the window being partly open,even though only three or four inches, any little noise would come inmore plainly than it otherwise would do. However, everything has beenperfectly quiet since I went out, and it is hardly likely indeed thatthe fellow would have returned so soon after the hot chase I gave him."

  "It is very stupid--the window being left open," the Squire said. "Ishall question Martha about it in the morning; it was her duty to seethat it was shut and fastened before drawing the curtains. Just atpresent one can scarcely be too careful. I don't mean to deny thatwhether there was a window open or not a burglar who wanted to get intothe house could do so, still there is no use in making their work moreeasy for them. I know, as a rule, we are careless about such things;there has not been a burglary in this part for years, and until latelythe front door has never been locked at night, and anyone could havewalked in who wanted to. Of course the servants don't know that there isany reason for being more careful at present than usual.

  "I was thinking the other day of having shutters put to all thesedownstair rooms. Some of them have got them, and some have not; still,even with shutters, burglars can always get in if they want to do so.They have only to cut round the lock of a door or to make a hole in apanel to give them room to put an arm through and draw back a bolt, andthe thing is done. I know that all the silver is locked up every nightin the safe, for Ramoo sees to that, and I have never known him neglectanything under his charge. Well, Mark, I don't know that it is any usesitting up longer, we have plenty of time to talk the matter over; it isfour years yet before Millicent comes of age, though, of course, thereis nothing to prevent your setting out in quest of the treasure as soonas you like. Still, there is no hurry about it."

  "None whatever, father; but I don't mean to lose a day before I try toget on the track of that villain Bastow."