CHAPTER VIII--IN THE MISER'S HOUSE
The invitation came from a boy of about sixteen, a slim, eminentlyattractive chap, who smiled persuasively through the aperture. Laurieknew that he had seen him somewhere, but it was not until they hadfollowed, somewhat protestingly, into a hallway and from there into alarge and shadowy drawing-room that he recognized him as one of the daypupils. Lee, it seemed, knew him slightly and called him by name.
"We oughtn't to come in here," Lee apologized. "We're soaking wet,Starling."
"It doesn't matter," answered their host. "Wait till I find a match andwe'll have a fire here."
"Don't bother, please," George protested. "We're going right on in aminute."
"Might as well get dry a bit first. The fire's all laid." The boy held amatch at the grate and in a moment the wood was snapping merrily. "Pullup some chairs, fellows. Here, try this. Some rain, isn't it?"
"Rather," agreed Lee. "By the way, do you know Turner? And Watson?" Thethree boys shook hands. "I didn't know you lived here," Lee continued."Saw the house had been taken, but didn't know who had it. Corking bigplace, isn't it?"
Starling laughed. "It's big all right, but it's not so corking. Let mehave that rain-coat, Turner. The rooms are so frightfully huge that youget lost in them! I have the bedroom above this, and the first morning Iwoke up in it I thought I was in the Sahara Desert! This was the onlyplace we could find, though, that was for rent, and we had to take it.Dad came here on short notice and we didn't have much time to lookaround. Pull up closer to the fire, Watson, and get your feet dry. I'vegot some slippers upstairs if you want to take your shoes off."
"No, thanks. I guess the wet didn't get through. I've seen you over atschool, haven't I?"
"Yes, I'm a day boy; one of the 'Hep, heps!'"
Lee grinned. "Sort of a mean trick, that, Starling, but they always doit every year."
"Wish I'd known about it beforehand. I'd have sneaked over a fence andthrough a window. It was fierce! I was the last fellow to get in thisfall. Dad made application in August, and some fellow who had entered inthe spring changed his mind; otherwise I'd have had to go to the highschool."
"That would have been an awful fate," said George, gravely.
"Oh, I wouldn't have minded. I like Hillman's, though. Do any of youchaps play tennis?"
"I try to," answered George.
"Wish you'd give me a game some day. Tennis is about the only thing Iknow much about, and I saw some dandy courts over at the field."
"Glad to," George assured him. "Any day you like, Starling. I'm not muchof a player, though, so don't expect a lot."
"Guess you're good enough to handle me," laughed the other. "I like itbetter than I can play it. How about to-morrow afternoon?"
"Suits me," answered George. "Three-thirty?"
"Fine! I'm going to get Dad to build a court in the yard here, if I can.There's lots of room, but there's a tumble-down old grape-arbor right inthe middle."
"Yes, there's surely room enough," agreed Lee. "We used to come overhere last fall and get pears--there's a dandy seckel tree back there.I'd say there was room for two or three courts if some of the trees werecut down."
"What could he do with three of them?" asked Laurie.
"I suppose we'd have to get the owner's permission to even take thatrickety old arbor down," Starling said.
"I thought the owner was dead," Lee observed.
George chuckled. "If he was dead he wouldn't be the owner, you simple!Old Coventry died three or four years ago, but somebody owns the place,of course. If what they tell of the old chap is true, it must havebroken his heart to know he couldn't take the place with him! Maybe hetook his money with him, though. Anyway, the story goes that he hadslathers of it, and they could only find a couple of thousands when hedied."
"What was he, a miser?" asked Starling.
"Yes, one of the sort you read about in the stories. Lived here allalone for years and years with only a negro servant. They say you couldnever see a light in the place at night, and he never went off the frontporch more than a couple of times a year. Then a carriage came for himand he got in and went down to the boat. He didn't use the train becauseit cost too much. Of course, when he died, folks expected to find thathe had left a mint of money; but all any one could discover was abouttwo thousand dollars in one of the banks here--that, and this property.The heirs, whoever they were, pretty near tore the insides out of thehouse, they say, looking for coin, but they didn't get any thing."
"And at night the old codger's ghost walks around," added Lee; "and ifyou follow him, he'll take you to the place the money's hidden."
"Honest?" exclaimed Starling, joyfully. "Gosh, that's great! I alwayswanted to live in a house with a ghost."
"I'm sorry, then," said George, "for I just made that part up."
"_You_ did?" Lee looked incredulous. "Where do you come in? I've heardthat ever since I came here."
"No, sir; you may have heard the rest of the story, but not the partabout the ghost. I wrote the yarn up in my junior year for an Englishcomp., and tacked on the ghost feature as a sort of added climax. Gotgood marks, too, and the Orstead paper published the thing. I'll show itto you, if you like."
Lee looked unconvinced still, and Starling disappointed. "Well, it's agood story, anyway, and makes the place more interesting. Some day I'llhave a look myself for the hidden millions."
"Guess the old chap never had that much," said George. "Thirty or fortythousand is about what he was supposed to have salted away."
"Scarcely worth bothering about," observed Laurie, with a yawn.
"But look here, what became of the servant?" asked Starling. "Maybe hegot the dough and made off with it."
"Lots of folks thought that," replied George; "but the theory didn't panout for a cent. The negro stuck around here for quite a while and thenambled off somewhere. He claimed that old Coventry died owing him amonth's wages, and tried to get some one to pay him, but I guess henever got any of it, if it was really owing."
"Where did he go to?" asked Starling.
"I don't know. New York City, I think."
"I'll bet he either had the money or knew where it was," declaredStarling, with conviction. "Don't you see, fellows, he did just what anyone would do in his case? He stuck around so he wouldn't be suspected.If he'd gone right off, folks would have said he was trying to avoidbeing asked about the money. And then he faked up the yarn about the oldgentleman owing him wages. A first-class detective would have got traceof the coin, I'll wager!"
"You've been reading _Sherlock Holmes_," laughed Lee. "Why don't youfollow up your clue, find the negro, and restore the lost wealth to thestarving heirs?"
"Huh! If he did get the money, he's where even _Sherlock Holmes_wouldn't find him by this time. Some one should have followed the fellowand kept watch on him right then. How old was he, Watson?"
"About fifty, I guess. They say he had white whiskers, anyway. Oh, hedidn't know any more than he said he did. He was all right. He had beenwith old Coventry for years and years, one of those old-time familyservants, you know, honest and faithful. Why, he went on somethingfierce when the old chap died!"
"Say, how much of this guff is real and how much of it is Englishcomposition?" asked Lee, suspiciously. "How do you know the negro tookon when the old codger died? You weren't here."
"Maybe I heard it," replied George, grinning.
"Yes, and maybe you just made it up, like the stuff about the ghost,"Lee retorted sarcastically. "I've heard the yarn two or three times, butI never heard that the negro had white whiskers or that he went intomourning!"
"It's a fact, though," declared the other, warmly. "I prepared mightywell on that comp.; talked with half a dozen persons who knew the story.Got most of the stuff from the Widow Deane, though. Old Coventry hadbeen dead only about two years then and folks were still talking abouthim. The Widow doesn't think the old chap had nearly as much money as hewas supposed to have."
"She has the little store arou
nd on the back street?" asked Starling.
"Yes. She took that as her share."
"Her share of what?" demanded Lee.
"Why, of the estate. Old Coventry owned the whole half-block rightthrough from Walnut Street to Pine. She rented that house from him untilhe died; paid a good stiff price, too; and then, when the estate wasfinally settled, she took it as her share, although she had to pay theother heirs something because they claimed that it was worth more thanshe had a right to."
"Look here," said Lee, "do you mean that the Widow Deane was one of oldCoventry's heirs?"
"Of course! Didn't you know it? She was a half-sister. She lived over inNew Jersey, she told me, until her husband died. Then she wrote to oldCoventry, asking him to help her because she didn't have much money, andhe invited her to come here. She thought he meant to give her a homewith him; but when she got here, the best he would do was rent her thatlittle house around on Pine Street and stock it up for her as a store.Then he built a fence between the two places. It used to be open rightthrough."
"Gee, you certainly know a lot of ancient history!" marveled Lee.
"I believe in being thorough," laughed George. "When I tackle a subjectI get a fall out of it."
"So when I trail the murderer--I mean the thief," reflected Starling,"I'll be doing the old lady back there a good turn, won't I?"
"Surest thing you know!" agreed George.
"And she needs the money, I guess. I don't believe she makes a fortuneout of that emporium. And that daughter of hers is a nice kid, too."
"How many other heirs are there to share in the money when Starlingfinds it?" asked Laurie.
"I don't know. Quite a bunch, I believe. The old chap wasn't married,and the heirs are nephews and nieces and things like that. The Widow'sthe only one living around here, though."
"Well, when I do find it," laughed Starling, "I'll keep it quiet andhand it all over to the Widow."
"He wants to make a hit with Polly," said Lee. "He's a fox."
"I've never seen her," Starling denied.
"Well, she's a mighty pretty girl," George avowed. "If you don't believeme, ask Nod."
Laurie looked intensely innocent and very surprised. "Why me?" he askedblandly.
George shook his head, grinning. "You can't get away with it, son! ThinkI didn't see you making love to the old lady this afternoon?"
"Well," Laurie laughed, "I thought it was Polly you spoke of."
"Sure, but she was busy waiting on a bunch of juniors and so you made upto the Widow. We saw you smirking and talking sweet to her, didn't we,Lee? Butter wouldn't have melted in the dear lamb's mouth. And I thoughtthe old lady seemed rather taken with him, too; didn't you, Lee?"
"Rather! It was positively sickening! Talk about foxes--"
"Oh, dry up and blow away!" muttered Laurie. "Say, the rain's stoppednow--pretty nearly."
"Wants to get away from the embarrassing subject," George confided toStarling. "Well, I never desert a pal, Nod. Come on, we'll trot along.Much obliged for taking us in, Starling. Hope we haven't ruined yourrug. Half-past three to-morrow, if the courts are dry. I'll meet you inSchool Hall."
"Glad to have you drop around at my room some time," said Lee. "I'm inWest; Number 7."
"Same here," added Laurie; "16 East Hall. Thanks, Starling."
"You're welcome. Come in again, fellows. When I get that tennis-courtfixed up, we'll have some fun here. You needn't wait for that, though.I'd like you to meet my father and aunt. No one's at home just now. Isay, better take a couple of umbrellas."
"Not worth it, thanks," answered Lee. "After that deluge, this is justan April shower. So long!"
Lee's statement wasn't much of an exaggeration, and the three continuedtheir way to the school unhurriedly. George remarked gloomily that itdidn't look awfully promising for tennis on the morrow, adding: "I'llbet that chap's a corking good player, too."
"Maybe you'll learn a little about the game from him," said Laurie,sweetly. "How old do you say he is?"
"Starling? Oh, seventeen, maybe. He's in upper middle."
"Sixteen, more likely," said George. "He seems a decent sort, eh? Howdid you come to know him?"
"I didn't really know him. He's in some of my classes and we've spoken acouple of times. Rather a--an interesting kind of chap. Wonder what hisfather does here. Funny place for him to come to. He spoke of an aunt,but didn't say anything about a mother. Guess she's dead. Auntieprobably keeps house for them."
As they entered the gate George chuckled and Laurie asked, "What's yourtrouble, Old-Timer!"
"I was just thinking what a joke it would be if Starling took that stuffseriously about the hidden money and began to hack away the woodwork anddig up the cellar floor!"
"Why, wasn't it true?"
"Sure! At least, as true as anything is that folks tell. You know, Nod,after being repeated a couple of hundred times a story sort of grows."
Lee grunted. "After some smart Aleck has written it up as an Englishcomp. its own mother wouldn't know it! The real joke would be forStarling to wreck the woodwork and find the money!"
"No, that wouldn't be a joke," said George, "that would be a movie! Comeon! It's starting again! Last man in East buys the sodas! Come on, Lee!"
Lee and Laurie ran a dead heat, and all the way to George's room, on thesecond floor, each sought to shift to the other the responsibility ofproviding the soda-water for the trio. In the end, George appointedhimself referee and halved the responsibility between them.
When, twenty minutes later, Laurie climbed onward to Number 16, he founda very disgruntled Ned curled up in the window-seat, which was nowplentifully supplied with cushions. "Where've you been all theafternoon?" he demanded aggrievedly.
"Many places," replied Laurie, cheerfully. "Why the grouch?"
"You'd have a grouch, I reckon, if you'd messed around with a soggyfootball for almost two hours in a cloud-burst!"
"Did you--er--get wet?"
"Oh, no, I didn't get wet! I carried an umbrella all the time, you sillytoad! Or maybe you think they roofed the gridiron over for us?"
"Well, I got sort of water-logged myself, and don't you let any one tellyou any different! Wait till I return this rain-coat and I'll tell youabout it."
"I've got troubles enough of my own," grumbled Ned, as Laurie crossedthe corridor.
Kewpie wasn't in when the borrowed garment was returned, but HopKendrick was, and Hop said it was quite all right, that Ned was welcometo anything of Kewpie's at any time, and please just stick it in thecloset or somewhere. And Laurie thanked him gratefully and placed therain-coat, which wasn't very wet now, where he had found it. And theincident would have ended then and there if it hadn't started in to raincats and dogs again after supper and if Kewpie hadn't taken it into hishead to pay a visit to a fellow in West Hall. Which is introductory tothe fact that at eight o'clock that evening, while Ned and Laurie wereconscientiously absorbed in preparing to-morrow's Latin, a large andirate youth appeared at the door of Number 16 with murder in his eyesand what appeared to be gore on his hands!
"That's a swell way to return a fellow's coat!" he accused.
He brandished one gory hand dramatically, and with the other exhumedfrom a pocket of the garment a moist and shapeless mass of brown paperand chocolate creams. "Look at this!" he exhorted. "It--it's all overme! The pocket's a regular glue-pot! Ugh!"
Laurie looked and his shoulders heaved.
"Oh, Kewpie!" he gurgled, contrition--or something--quite overmasteringhim. "I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry!"
Kewpie regarded him scathingly a moment, while syrupy globules detachedthemselves from the exhibit and ran along his wrist. Finally heexploded: "Sorry! Yes, you are!"
Whereupon the door closed behind him with an indignant crash, andLaurie, unable longer to contain his sorrow, dropped his head on hisbooks and gave way to it unrestrainedly.