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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18817-8.txt b/18817-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c31980e --- /dev/null +++ b/18817-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8018 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ralestone Luck, by Andre Norton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ralestone Luck + +Author: Andre Norton + +Illustrator: James Reid + +Release Date: July 13, 2006 [EBook #18817] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALESTONE LUCK *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + RALESTONE LUCK + + By ANDRÉ NORTON + + _Author of_ The Prince Commands + + ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES REID + + +D. APPLETON-CENTURY COMPANY +INCORPORATED +NEW YORK 1938 LONDON + +Copyright, 1938, by +D. Appleton-Century Company, Inc. + +All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced +in any form without permission of the publisher. + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + TO + + D. B. N. + + _In return for many miles of proof so diligently read_ + + + + +[Illustration: _"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question +brought the well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by +the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!"_] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE RALESTONES COME HOME + +II. THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE + +III. THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR + +IV. PISTOLS FOR TWO--COFFEE FOR ONE + +V. THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES + +VI. SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS + +VII. BY OUR LUCK! + +VIII. GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL + +IX. PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN + +X. INTO THE SWAMP + +XI. RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE! + +XII. THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST + +XIII. ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS-- + +XIV. PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS + +XV. PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE! + +XVI. RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER + +XVII. THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE + +XVIII. RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought the +well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, +by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!" + +"I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis is Letty-Lou" + +Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas + +"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity said + +_Zzzzzrupp_! Satan was industriously ripping the remnants of lining from +its interior + +The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead and distorted +strip of country + +At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat + +Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boy +piteously, its eyes green in the light + +Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no doubt in any of +them--the Luck of Lorne had returned + + + + +RALESTONE LUCK + + + + + _How hold ye Lorne?_ + + By the oak leaf, + By the sea wave, + By the broadsword blade, + Thus hold we Lorne! + + _The oak leaf is dust, + The sea wave is gone, + The broadsword is rust, + How now hold ye Lorne?_ + + By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne! + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE RALESTONES COME HOME + + +"Once upon a time two brave princes and a beautiful princess set out to +make their fortunes--" began the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy by the +roadster. + +"Royalty is out of fashion," corrected Ricky Ralestone somewhat +indifferently. "Can't you do better than that?" She gave her small, pert +hat an exasperated tweak which brought the unoffending bowl-shaped bit +of white felt into its proper position over her right eyebrow. "How long +does it take Rupert to ask a single simple question?" + +Her brother Val watched the gas gage on the instrument board of the +roadster fluctuate wildly as the attendant of the station shook the hose +to speed the flow of the last few drops. Five gallons--a dollar ten. Did +he have that much? He began to assemble various small hoards of change +from different pockets. + +"Do you think we're going to like this?" Ricky waved her hand vaguely in +a gesture which included a dilapidated hot-dog stand and a stretch of +road white-hot under the steady baking of the sun. + +"Well, I think that Pirate's Haven is slightly different from our +present surroundings. Where's your proper pride? Not everyone can be +classed among the New Poor," Val observed judiciously. + +"Nobility in the bread line." His sister sniffed with what she fondly +believed was the air of a Van Astor dowager. + +"Nobility?" + +"We never relinquished the title, did we? Rupert's still the Marquess of +Lorne." + +"After some two hundred years in America I am afraid that we would find +ourselves strangers in England. And Lorne crumbled to dust long ago." + +"But he's still Marquess of Lorne," she persisted. + +"All right. And what does that make you?" + +"Lady Richanda, of course, silly. Can't you remember the wording of the +old charter? And you're Viscount--" + +"Wrong there," Val corrected her. "I'm only a lord, by courtesy, unless +we can bash Rupert on the head some dark night and chuck him into the +bayou." + +"Lord Valerius." She rolled it upon her tongue. "Marquess, Lady, and +Lord Val, out to seek their fortunes. Pity we can't do it in the +traditional family way." + +"But we can't, you know," he protested laughingly. "I believe that +piracy is no longer looked upon with favor by the more solid members of +any community. Though plank-walking is an idea to keep in mind when the +bill collectors start to draw in upon us." + +"Here comes Rupert at last. Rupert," she raised her voice as their elder +brother opened the door by the driver's seat, "shall we all go and be +pirates? Val has some lovely gory ideas." + +"Not just yet anyway--we still have a roof over our heads," he answered +as he slid in behind the wheel. "We should have taken the right turn a +mile back." + +"Bother!" Ricky surveyed as much of her face as she could see in the +postage-stamp mirror of her compact. "I don't think I'm going to like +Louisiana." + +"Maybe Louisiana won't care for you either," Val offered slyly. "After +all, we dyed-in-the-wool Yanks coming to live in the deep South--" + +"Speak for yourself, Val Ralestone." She applied a puff carefully to the +tip of her upturned nose. "Since we've got this barn of a place on our +hands, we might as well live in it. Too bad you couldn't have persuaded +our artist tenant to sign another lease, Rupert." + +"He's gone to spend a year in Italy. The place is in fairly good +condition though. LeFleur said that as long as we don't use the left +wing and close off the state bedrooms, we can manage nicely." + +"State bedrooms--" Val drew a deep breath which was meant to be one of +reverence but which turned into a sneeze as the roadster's wheels raised +the dust. "How does it feel to own such magnificence, Rupert?" + +"Not so good," he replied honestly. "A house as big as Pirate's Haven is +a burden if you don't have the cash to keep it up properly. Though this +artist chap did make a lot of improvements on his own." + +"But think of the Long Hall--" began Ricky, rolling her eyes heavenward. + +"And just what do you know about the Long Hall?" demanded Rupert. + +"Why, that's where dear Great-great-uncle Rick's ghost is supposed to +walk, isn't it?" she asked innocently. "I hope that our late tenant +didn't scare him away. It gives one such a blue-blooded feeling to think +of having an active ghost on the premises. A member of one's own family, +too!" + +"Sure. Teach him--or it--some parlor tricks and we'll show it--or +him--off every afternoon between three and four. We might even be able +to charge admission and recoup the family fortune," Val suggested +brightly. + +"Have you no reverence?" demanded his sister. "And besides, ghosts only +walk at night." + +"Now that's something we'll have to investigate," Val interrupted her. +"Do ghosts have union rules? I mean, I wouldn't want Great-great-uncle +Rick to march up and down the carriage drive with a sign reading, 'The +Ralestones are unfair to ghosts,' or anything like that." + +"We'll have to use the Long Hall, of course," cut in Rupert, as usual +ignoring their nonsense. "And the old summer drawing-room. But we can +shut up the dining-room and the ball-room. We'll eat in the kitchen, and +that and a bedroom apiece--" + +"I suppose there are bathrooms, or at least a bathroom," his brother +interrupted. "Because I don't care to rush down to the bayou for a good +brisk plunge every time I get my face dirty." + +"Harrison put in a bathroom at his own expense last fall." + +"For which blessed be the name of Harrison. If he hadn't gone to Italy, +he would have rebuilt the house. How soon do we get there? This touring +is not what I thought it might be--" + +The crease which had appeared so recently between Rupert's eyes +deepened. + +"Leg hurt, Val?" he asked quietly, glancing at the slim figure sharing +his seat. + +"No. I'm expressing curiosity this time, old man, not just a whine. But +if we're going to be this far off the main highway--" + +"Oh, it's not far from the city road. We ought to be seeing the +gate-posts any moment now." + +"Prophet!" Ricky leaned forward between them. "See there!" + +Two gray stone posts, as firmly planted by time as the avenue of +live-oaks they headed, showed clearly in the afternoon light. And from +the nearest, deep carven in the stone, a jagged-toothed skull, crowned +and grinning, stared blankly at the three in the shabby car. Beneath it +ran the insolent motto of an ancient and disreputable clan, "What I +want--I take!" + +"This is the place all right--I recognize Joe there." Val pointed to the +crest. "Good old Joe, always laughing." + +Ricky made a face. "Horrid old thing. I don't see why we couldn't have +had a swan or something nice to swank about." + +"But then the Lords of Lorne were hardly a nice lot in their prime," Val +reminded her. "Well, Rupert, let's see the rest." + +The car followed a graveled drive between tall bushes which would have +been the better for a pruning. Then the road made a sudden curve and +they came out upon a crescent of lawn bordering upon a stone-paved +terrace three steps above. And on the terrace stood the home a Ralestone +had not set foot in for over fifty years--Pirate's Haven. + +"It looks--" Ricky stared up, "why, it looks just like the picture Mr. +Harrison painted!" + +"Which proves why he is now in Italy," Val returned. "But he did capture +it on canvas." + +"Gray stone--and those diamond-paned windows--and that squatty tower. +But it isn't like a Southern home at all! It's some old, old place out +of England." + +"Because it was built by an exile," said Rupert softly. "An exile who +loved his home so well that he labored five years in the wilderness to +build its duplicate. Those little diamond-paned windows were once +protected with shutters an inch thick, and the place was a fort in +Indian times. But it is strange to this country. That's why it's one of +the show places. LeFleur asked me if we would be willing to keep up the +custom of throwing the state rooms open to the public one day a month." + +"And shall we?" asked Ricky. + +"We'll see. Well, don't you want to see the inside as well as the out?" + +"Of course! Val, you lazy thing, get out!" + +"Certainly, m'lady." He swung open the door and climbed out stiffly. +Although he wouldn't have confessed it for any reason, his leg had been +aching dully for hours. + +"Do you know," Ricky hesitated on the first terrace step, bending down +to put aside a trail of morning-glory vine which clutched at her ankle, +"I've just remembered!" + +"What?" Rupert looked up from the grid where he was unstrapping their +luggage. + +"That we are the very first Ralestones to--to come home since +Grandfather Miles rode away in 1867." + +"And why the sudden dip into ancient history?" Val inquired as he limped +around to help Rupert. + +"I don't know," her eyes were fast upon moss-greened wall and ponderous +door hewn of a single slab of oak, "except--well, we are coming home at +last. I wonder if--if they know. All those others. Rick and Miles, the +first Rupert and Richard and--" + +"That spitfire, the Lady Richanda?" Rupert smiled. "Perhaps they do. No, +leave the bags here, Val. Let's see the house first." + +Together the Ralestones crossed the terrace and came to stand by the +front door which still bore faint scars left by Indian hatchets. But +Rupert stooped to insert a very modern key into a very modern lock. +There was a click and the door swung inward before his push. + +"The Long Hall!" They stood in something of a hesitant huddle at the end +of a long stone-floored room. Half-way down its length a wooden +staircase led up to the second floor, and directly opposite that a great +fireplace yawned mightily, black and bare. + +A leather-covered lounge was directly before this, flanked by two square +chairs. And by the stairs was an oaken marriage chest. Save for two skin +rugs, these were all the furnishings. + +But Ricky had crossed hesitatingly to that cavernous fireplace and was +standing there looking up as her brothers joined her. + +"There's where it was," she said softly and pointed to a deep niche cut +into the surface of the stone overmantel. That niche was empty and had +been so for more than a hundred years--to their hurt. "That was where +the Luck--" + +"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought the +well-remembered answer to Val's lips: + +"By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we +Lorne!" + +"The oak leaf is dust," murmured Ricky, "the sea wave is gone, the +broadsword is rust, how now hold ye Lorne?" + +Her brothers answered her together: + +"By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne!" + +"And we've got to get it back," she said. "We've just got to! When the +Luck hangs there again, we--" + +"Won't have anything left to worry about," Val finished for her. "But +that's a very big order, m'lady. Short of catching Rick's ghost and +forcing him to disclose the place where he hid it, I don't see how we're +going to do it." + +"But we are going to," she answered confidently. "I know we are!" + +"A good thing," Rupert broke in, a hint of soberness beneath the +lightness of his tone as he looked about the almost bare room and then +at the strained pallor of Val's thin face. "The Ralestones have been +luckless too long. And now suppose we take possession of this commodious +mansion. I suggest that we get settled as soon as possible. I don't like +the looks of the western sky. We're probably going to have a storm." + +"What about the car?" Val asked as his brother turned to go. + +"Harrison used the old carriage house as a garage. I'll run it in there. +You and Ricky better do a spot of exploring and see about beds and food. +I don't know how you feel," he went on grimly, "but after last night I +want something softer than a dozen rocks to sleep on." + +"I told you not to stop at that tourist place," began Ricky smugly. "I +said--" + +"You said that a house painted that shade of green made you slightly +ill. But you didn't say anything about beds," Val reminded her as he +shed his coat and hung it on the newel-post. "And since the Ralestone +family have definitely gone off the gold or any other monetary standard, +it's tourist rests or the poorhouse for us." + +"Probably the poorhouse." Rupert sounded resigned. "Now upstairs with +you and get out some bedding. LeFleur said in his letter that the place +was all ready for occupancy. And he stocked up with canned stuff." + +"I know--beans! Just too, too divine. Well, let's know the worst." Ricky +started up the stairs. "I suppose there are electric lights?" + +"Got to throw the main switch first, and I haven't time to do that now. +Here, Val." Rupert tossed him his tiny pocket torch as he turned to go. +The door closed behind him and Ricky looked over her shoulder. + +"This--this is rather a darkish place, isn't it?" + +"Not so bad." Val considered the hall below, which seemed suddenly +peopled by an overabundance of oddly shaped shadows. + +"No," her voice grew stronger, "not so bad. We're together anyway, Val. +Last year I thought I'd die, shut up in that awful school, and then +coming home to hear--" + +"About me making my first and last flight. Yes, not exactly a rest cure +for any of us, was it? But it's all over now. The Ralestones may be down +but they're not out, yet, in spite of Mosile Oil and those coal-mines. +D'you know, we might use some of that nice gilt-edged stock for +wall-paper. There's enough to cover a closet at least. Here we are, +Rupert from beating about the globe trying to be a newspaper man, you +straight from N'York's finest finishing-school, and me--well, out of the +plainest hospital bed I ever saw. We've got this house and what Rupert +managed to clear from the wreck. Something will turn up. In the +meantime--" + +"Yes?" she prompted. + +"In the meantime," he went on, leaning against the banister for a +moment's rest, "we can be looking for the Luck. As Rupert says, we need +it badly enough. Here's the upper hall. Which way now?" + +"Over to the left wing. These in front are what Rupert refers to as +'state bedrooms.'" + +"Yes?" He opened the nearest door and whistled softly. "Not so bad. +About the size of a small union station and provided with all the +comforts of a tomb. Decidedly not what we want." + +"Wait, here's a plaque set in the wall. Look!" She ran her finger over a +glass-covered square. + +"Regulations for guests, or a floor plan to show how to reach the +dining-room in the quickest way," her brother suggested. + +"No." She read aloud slowly: + + "'This Room Was Occupied by General Andrew Jackson, the Victor + of the Battle of New Orleans, upon the Tenth Day after the + Battle.'" + +"Whew! 'Old Hickory' here! But I thought that the Ralestones were more +or less under a cloud at that time," commented Val. + +"History--" + +"In the making. Quite so. Now may I suggest that we find some slumber +rooms slightly more modern? Rupert is apt to become annoyed at undue +delay in such matters." + +They went down the hall and turned into a short cross corridor. From a +round window at the far end a ray of sun still swept in, but it was a +sickly, faded ray. The storm Rupert had spoken of could not be far off. + +"This is the right way. Mr. Harrison had these little numbers put on the +doors for his guests," Ricky pointed out. "I'll take 'three'; that was +marked on the plan he sent us as a lady's room. You take that one across +the hall and let Rupert have the one next to you." + +The rooms they explored were not as imposing as the one which had +sheltered Andrew Jackson for a night. Furnished with chintz-covered +chairs, solid mahogany bedsteads and highboys, they were pleasant enough +even if they weren't chambers to make an antique dealer "Oh!" and "Ah!" +Val discovered with approval some stiff prints of mathematically correct +clippers hung in exact patterns on his walls, while Ricky's room held +one treasure, a dainty dressing-table. + +A small door near the end of the hall gave upon a linen closet. And +Ricky, throwing her short white jacket and hat upon the chair in her +room, set about making beds, having given Val strict orders to return to +the lower hall and sort out the luggage before bringing it up. + +As he reached the wide landing he stopped a moment. Since that winter +night, almost a year in the past, when a passenger plane had decided--in +spite of its pilot--to make a landing on a mountainside, he had learned +to hobble where he had once run. The accident having made his right leg +a rather accurate barometer, that crooked bone was announcing the +arrival of the coming storm with a sharp pain or two which shot +unexpectedly from knee to ankle. One such caught him as he was about to +take a step and threw him suddenly off balance. + +He clutched at a dim tapestry which hung across the wall and tumbled +through a slit in the fabric--which smelled of dust and moth balls--into +a tiny alcove flanking a broad, well-cushioned window-seat under tall +windows. Below him in a riot of bushes and hedges run wild, lay the +garden. Somewhere beyond must lie Bayou Mercier leading directly to Lake +Borgne and so to the sea, the thoroughfare used by their pirate +ancestors when they brought home their spoil. + +The green of the rank growth below, thought Val, seemed intensified by +the strange yellowish light. A moss-grown path led straight into the +heart of a jungle where sweet olive, banana trees, and palms grew in a +matted mass. Harrison might have done wonders for the house but he had +allowed the garden to lapse into a wilderness. + +"Val!" + +"Coming!" he shouted and pushed back through the curtain. He could hear +Rupert moving about the lower hall. + +"Just made it in time," he said as the younger Ralestone limped down to +join him. "Hear that?" + +A steady pattering outside was growing into a wild dash of wind-driven +rain. It was dark and Rupert himself was but a blur moving across the +hall. + +"Do you still have the flash? Might as well descend into the lower +regions and put on the lights." + +They crossed the Long Hall, passing through another large chamber where +furniture huddled under dust covers, and then into a small +cupboard-lined passage. This gave upon a dark cavern where Val's hand +scraped a table top only too painfully as he went. Then Rupert found the +door leading to the cellar, and they went down and down into inky +blackness upon which their thread of torch-light made little impression. + +The damp, unpleasant scent of mold and wet grew stronger as they +descended, and their fingers brushed slime-touched walls. + +"Phew! Not very comfy down here," Val protested as Rupert threw the +torch beam along the nearest wall. With a grunt of relief he stepped +forward to pull open the door of a small black box. "That does it," he +said as he threw the switch. "Now for the topside again and some +supper." + +They negotiated the steps and found the button which controlled the +kitchen lights. The glare showed them a room on the mammoth scale +suggested by the Long Hall. A giant fireplace still equipped with +three-legged pots, toasting irons, and spits was at one side, its brick +oven beside it. But a very modern range and sink faced it. + +In the center of the room was a large table, while along the far wall +were closed cupboards. Save for its size and the novelty of the +fireplace, it was an ordinary kitchen, complete to red-checked curtains +at the windows. Pleasant and homey, Val thought rather wistfully. But +that was before the coming of that night when Ricky walked in the garden +and he heard something stir in the Long Hall--which should have been +empty-- + +"Val! Rupert!" A cry which started valiantly became a wail as it echoed +through empty rooms. "Where are yo-o-ou!" + +"Here, in the kitchen," Val shouted back. + +A moment later Ricky stood in the doorway, her face flushed and her +usually correct curls all on end. + +"Mean, selfish, utterly selfish pigs!" she burst out. "Leaving me all +alone in the dark! And it's so dark!" + +"We just went down to turn on the lights," Val began. + +"So I see." With a sniff she looked about her. "It took two of you to do +that. But it only required one of me to make three beds. Well, this is a +warning to me. Next time--" she did not finish her threat. "I suppose +you want some supper?" + +Rupert was already at the cupboards. "That," he agreed, "is the general +idea." + +"Beans or--" Ricky's hand closed upon Val's arm with a nipper-like grip. +"What," her voice was a thin thread of sound, "was that?" + +Above the steady beat of the rain they heard a noise which was half +scratch, half thud. Under Rupert's hand the latch of the cupboard +clicked. + +"Back door," he said laconically. + +"Well, why don't you open it?" Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Val +longed to twist out of her grip. + +The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanying +bolt. + +"Something's there," breathed Ricky. + +"Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind," Val +assured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden. + +The door came back, letting in a douche of cold rain and a black shadow +which leaped for the security of the center of the room. + +"Look!" Ricky laughed unsteadily and released Val's arm. + +In the center of the neat kitchen, spitting angrily at the wet, stood a +ruffled and oversized black tom-cat. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE + + +"Nice of you to drop in, old man," commented Rupert dryly as he shut the +door. "But didn't anyone ever mention to you that gentlemen wipe their +feet before entering strange houses?" He surveyed a line of wet paw +prints across the brick floor. + +"Did he get all wet, the poor little--" Ricky was on her knees, +stretching out her hand and positively cooing. The cat put down the paw +he had been licking and regarded her calmly out of round, yellow eyes. +Then he returned to his washing. Val laughed. + +"Evidently he is used to the strong, silent type of human, Ricky. I +wonder where he belongs." + +"He belongs to us now. Yes him does, doesn't him?" She attempted to +touch the visitor's head. His ears went back and he showed sharp teeth +in no uncertain manner. + +"Better let him alone," advised Rupert. "He doesn't seem to be the kind +you can cuddle." + +"So I see." Ricky arose to her feet with an offended air. "One would +think that I resembled the more repulsive members of my race." + +"In the meantime," Rupert again sought the cupboard, "let's eat." + +Half an hour later, fed and well content (even Satan, as the Ralestones +had named their visitor because of his temperament, having condescended +to accept some of the better-done bits of bacon), they sat about the +table staring at the dishes. Now it is a very well-known fact that +dishes do _not_ obligingly leap from a table into a pan of well-soaped +water, slosh themselves around a few times, and jump out to do a spot of +brisk rubbing down. But how nice it would be if they did, thought Val. + +"The dishes--" began Ricky in a faint sort of way. + +"Must be done. We gather that. How utterly nasty bacon grease looks when +it's congealed." Her younger brother surveyed the platter before him +with mournful interest. + +"And the question before the house is, I presume, who's going to wash +them?" Rupert grinned. "This seems to be as good a time as any to put +some sort of a working plan in force. There is a certain amount of +so-called housework which has to be done. And there are three of us to +do it. It's up to us to apportion it fairly. Shall we say, let everyone +care for his or her own room--" + +"There are also the little matters of washing, and ironing, and +cleaning," Ricky broke in to remind him. + +"And we're down to fifty a month in hard cash. But the tenant farmer on +the other side of the bayou is to supply us with fresh fruit and +vegetables. And our wardrobes are fairly intact. So I think that we can +afford to hire the washing done. We'll take turns cooking--" + +"Who's elected to do the poisoning first?" Val inquired with interest. +"I trust we possess a good cook-book?" + +"Well, I'll take breakfast tomorrow morning," Rupert volunteered. +"Anyone can boil coffee and toast bread. As for dishes, we'll all pitch +in together. And suppose we start right now." + +When the dishes were back again in their neat piles on the cupboard +shelves, Ricky vanished upstairs, to come trailing down again in a +house-coat which she fondly imagined made her look like one of the +better-known screen sirens. The family gathered in an aimless way before +the empty fireplace of the Long Hall. Rupert was filling a black pipe +which allowed him to resemble--in very slight degree, decided Val--an +explorer in an English tobacco advertisement. Val himself was stretched +full length on the couch with about ten pounds of cat attempting to rest +on his center section in spite of his firm refusal to allow the same. + +"Br-r-r!" Ricky shivered. "It's cold in here." + +"Probably just Uncle Rick passing through--not the weather. No, cat, you +may not sit on that stomach. It's just as full of bacon as yours is and +it wants a nice long rest." Val swept Satan off to the floor and he +resignedly went to roost by the boy's feet in spite of the beguiling +noises Ricky made to attract his attention. + +"These stone houses are cold." Rupert scratched a match on the sole of +his shoe. "We ought to have flooring put down over this stone paving. I +saw some wood stacked up in an outhouse when I put the car away. We'll +have it in tomorrow and see what we can do about a fire in the evening." + +"And I thought the South was always warm." Ricky examined her hands. +"Whoever," she remarked pleasantly, "took my hand lotion better return +it. The consequences might not be very attractive." + +"Are you sure you packed it this morning?" Val asked. + +"But of--" Her fingers went to her mouth. "I wonder if I did? I've just +got to have some. We'll drive to town tomorrow and get a bottle." + +"Thirty miles or so for a ten-cent bottle of gooey stuff," Val +protested. + +"Good idea." Rupert stood with his back to the fireplace as if there +really were a flame or two within its black emptiness. "I've some papers +that LeFleur wants to see. Then there're our boxes at the freight +station to arrange transportation for, and we'll have to see about +getting a newspaper and--" + +"Make a list," murmured his brother. + +Rupert dropped down upon the wide arm of Ricky's chair and with her only +too willing aid set to work. Val eyed them drowsily. Rupert and +Ricky--or to give her her very formal name in full--Richanda Anne, were +"Red" Ralestones, possessing the thin, three-cornered faces, the dark +mahogany hair, the sharply defined cheek-bones which had been the mark +of the family as far back in history as portraits or written +descriptions existed. The "Red" Ralestones were marked also by height +and a suppleness of body and movement. The men had been fine swordsmen, +the ladies noted beauties. But they were also cursed, Val remembered +vividly, with uncertain tempers. + +Rupert had schooled himself to the point where his emotions were +mastered by his will. But Val had seen Ricky enjoy full tantrums, and +the last occasion was not so long ago that the scene had become misty in +his memory. Generous to the point of self-beggary, loyal to a fault, and +incurably romantic, that was a "Red" Ralestone. + +Val himself was a "Black" Ralestone, which was a very different thing. +They were a new growth on the family tree, a growth which appeared after +the Ralestones had been exiled to colonial America. His black hair, his +long, dark face of no particular beauty marked with straight, black +brows set in a perpetual frown--that was the sign of a "Black" +Ralestone. They were as strong-willed as the "Reds," but their anger +could be controlled to icy rage. + +"Now that you have spent the monthly income," Val suggested as Rupert +added up a long column of minute figures scrawled across the first page +of his pocket note-book, "let's really get away from economics for one +evening. The surroundings suggest something more romantic than dollars +and cents. After all, when did a pirate ever show a saving disposition? +Would the first Roderick--" + +"The Roderick who brought home the Luck?" Ricky laughed. "But he brought +home a fortune, too, didn't he, Rupert?" + +Her brother relit his pipe. "Yes, but a great many lords came home from +the Crusades with their pockets filled. Sir Roderick de la Stone thought +the Luck worth his entire estate even after he was made Baron +Ralestone." + +Ricky shivered delicately. "Not altogether nice people, those ancestors +of ours," she observed. + +"No," Val grinned. "By rights this room should be full of ghosts instead +of the beat of just one. How many Ralestones died violently? Seven or +eight, wasn't it?" + +"But the ones who died in England should haunt Lorne," argued Ricky, +half seriously. + +"Well then, that sort of confines us to the crews of the ships our +great-great-great-grandfather scuttled," her brother replied. + +"Rupert," Ricky turned and asked impulsively, "do you really believe in +the Luck?" + +Rupert looked up at the empty niche. "I don't know--No, I don't. Not the +way that Roderick and Richard and all the rest did. But something that +has seven hundred years of history behind it--that means a lot." + +"'Then did he take up ye sword fashioned by ye devilish art of ye East +from two fine blades found in ye tomb,'" Val quoted from the record of +Brother Anselm, the friar who had accompanied Sir Roderick on his +crusading. "Do you suppose that that part's true? Could the Luck have +been made from two other swords found in an old tomb?" + +"Not impossible. The Saracens were master metal workers. Look at the +Damascus blades." + +"It all sounds like a fairy-tale," commented Ricky. "A sword with magic +powers beaten out of two other swords found in a tomb. And the whole +thing done under the direction of an Arab astrologer." + +"You've got to admit," broke in Val, "that Sir Roderick had luck after +it was given to him. He came home a wealthy man and he died a Baron. And +his descendants even survived the Wars of the Roses when four-fifths of +the great English families were wiped out." + +"'And fortune continued to smile,'" Rupert took up the story, "'until a +certain wild Miles Ralestone staked the Luck of his house on the turn of +a card--and lost.'" + +"O-o-oh!" Ricky squirmed forward in her chair. "Now comes the pirate. +Tell us that, Rupert." + +"You know the story by heart now," he objected. + +"We never heard it here, where some of it really happened. Tell it, +please, Rupert!" + +"In your second childhood?" he asked. + +"Not out of my first yet," she answered promptly. "Pretty please, +Rupert." + +"Miles Ralestone, Marquess of Lorne," he began, "rode with Prince Rupert +of the Rhine. He was a notorious gambler, a loose liver, and a cynic. +And he even threw the family Luck across the gaming table." + +"'The Luck went from him who did it no honor,'" Val repeated slowly. "I +read that in that old letter among your papers, Rupert." + +"Yes, the Luck went from him. He survived Marston Moor; he survived the +death of his royal master, Charles the First, on the scaffold. He lived +long enough to witness the return of the Stuarts to England. But the +Luck was gone, and with it the good fortune of his line. Rupert, his +son, was but a penniless hanger-on at the royal court; the manor of +Lorne a fire-gutted wreckage. + +"Rupert followed James Stuart from England when that monarch became a +fugitive to escape the wrath of his subjects. And the Marquess of Lorne +sank to the role of pot-house bully in the back lanes of Paris." + +"And then?" prompted Val. + +"And then a miracle occurred. Rupert was employed by his master on a +secret mission to London, and there the Luck came again into his hands. +Perhaps by murder. But he died miserably enough of a heavy cold got by +lying in a ditch to escape Dutch William's soldiers." + +"'So is this perilous Luck come again into our hands. Then did I +persevere to mend the fortunes of my house.' That's what Rupert's son +Richard wrote about the Luck," Ricky recalled. "Richard, the first +pirate." + +"He did a good job of fortune mending," commented Val dryly. "Married +one of the wealthiest of the French king's wards and sailed for the +French West Indies all in a fortnight. Turned pirate with the approval +of the French and took to lifting the cargoes of other pirates." + +"I'll bet that most of his success was due to the Lady Richanda," +observed Ricky. "She sailed with him dressed in man's clothes. Remember +that miniature of her that we saw in New York, the one in the museum? +All the 'Black' Ralestones are supposed to look like her. Hear that, +Val?" + +"At least it was the Lady Richanda who persuaded her husband to settle +ashore," said Rupert. "She was personally acquainted with Bienville and +Iberville who were proposing to rule the Mississippi valley for France +by building a city near the mouth of the river. And 'Black Dick,' the +pirate, obtained a grant of land lying along Lake Borgne and this bayou. +Although the city was not begun until 1724, this house was started in +1710 by workmen imported from England. + +"The house of an exile," Rupert continued slowly. "Richard Ralestone was +born in England, but he left there in his tenth year. In spite of the +price on his head, he crept back to Devon in 1709 to see Lorne for the +last time. And it was from the rude sketches he made of ruined Lorne +that Pirate's Haven was planned." + +"Why, we saw those sketches!" Ricky's eyes shone with excitement. "Do +you remember, Val?" + +Her brother nodded. "Must have cost him plenty to do it," he replied. +"Richard had an immense personal fortune of his own gained from piracy, +and he spared no expense in building. The larger part of the stone in +these walls was brought straight from Europe, just as they later brought +the paving blocks for the streets of New Orleans. When he had done--and +the place was five years a-building because of Indian troubles and other +disturbances--he settled down to live in feudal state. Some of his +former seamen rallied around him as a guard, and he imported blacks from +the islands to work his indigo fields. + +"The family continued to prosper through both French and Spanish +domination until the time of American rule." + +"Now for Uncle Rick." Ricky settled herself with a wriggle. "This is +even more exciting than Pirate Dick." + +"In the year 1788, the time of the great fire which destroyed over half +of New Orleans, twin boys were born at Pirate's Haven. They came into +their heritage early, for their parents died of yellow fever when the +twins were still small children. + +"Those were restless times. New Orleans was full of refugees. From +Haiti, where the revolting blacks were holding a reign of terror, and +from France, where to be a noble was to be a dead one, came hundreds. +Even members of the royal house, the Duc d'Orleans and his brother, the +Duc de Montpensier, came for a space in 1798. + +"The city had always been more or less lawless and intolerant of +control. Like the New Englanders of the eighteenth century, many +respected merchants were also smugglers." + +"And pirates," suggested Val. + +"The king of smugglers was Jean Lafitte. His forge--where his slaves +shaped the wrought-iron which was one of the wonders of the city--was a +fashionable meeting-place for the young bloods. He was the height of wit +and fashion--daring openly to placard the walls of the town with his +notices of smugglers' sales. + +"And Roderick Ralestone, the younger of the twins, became one of +Lafitte's men. In spite of the remonstrances of his brother Richard, +young Rick withdrew to Barataria with Dominque You and the rest of the +outlawed captains. + +"In the winter of 1814 matters came to a head. Richard wanted to marry +an American girl, the daughter of one of Governor Claiborne's friends. +Her father told him very pointedly that since the owners of Pirate's +Haven seemed to be indulging in law breaking, such a marriage was out of +the question. Aroused, Richard made a secret inspection of certain +underground storehouses which had been built by his pirate +great-grandfather and discovered that Rick had put them in use again for +the very same purpose for which they had been first intended--the +storing of loot. + +"He waited there for his brother, determined to have it decided once and +for all. They quarreled bitterly. Both were young, both had bad tempers, +and each saw his side as the right of the matter--" + +"Regular Ralestones, weren't they?" commented Val slyly. + +"Undoubtedly," agreed Rupert. "Well, at last Richard started for the +house, his brother in pursuit. + +"Then they fought, here in this very hall. And not with words this time, +but with the rapiers Richard had brought back from France. A slave named +Falesse, who had been the twins' childhood nurse, was the only witness +to the end of that duel. Richard lay face down across the hearth-stone +as she came screaming down the stairs." + +Ricky was studying the gray stone. + +"By rights," Val agreed with her unspoken thought, "there ought to be a +stain there. Unfortunately for romance, there isn't." + +"Rick was standing by the door," Rupert continued. "When Falesse reached +his brother, he laughed unsteadily and half raised his sword in a +duelist's salute. Then he was gone. But there were two swords on the +floor. And that niche was empty. + +"When he fled into the night storm with his brother's blood staining his +hands, Rick Ralestone took the Luck of his house with him. + +"After almost a year of invalidism, Richard recovered. He never married +his American beauty. But in 1819 he took a wife, a young Creole lady +widowed by the Battle of New Orleans. Of Rick nothing was heard again, +although his brother searched diligently for more than thirty years." + +"How," Val grinned at his brother, "did Richard explain the little +matter of the ghost which is supposed to walk at night?" + +"I don't know. But when the Civil War broke out, Richard's son Miles was +the master of Pirate's Haven. The once-great fortune of the family had +shrunk. Business losses in the city, floods, a disaster at sea, had +emptied the family purse--" + +"The Luck getting in its dirty work by remote control," supplied the +irrepressible Val. + +"Perhaps. Young Miles had married in his teens, and the call to the +Confederate colors brought both his twin sons under arms as well as +their father. + +"Miles, the father, fell in the First Battle of Bull Run. But Miles, the +son and elder of the twins, a lieutenant of cavalry, came out of the war +the only surviving male of his family. + +"His brother Richard had been wounded and was home on sick leave when +the Northerners occupied New Orleans. Betrayed by one of his former +slaves, a mulatto who bore a grudge against the family, he was murdered +by a gang of bullies and cutthroats who had followed the invading army. + +"Richard had been warned of their raid and had managed to hide the +family valuables in a secret place--somewhere within this very hall, +according to tradition." + +Val and Ricky sat up and looked about with wondering interest. + +"But Richard was shot down in cold blood when he refused to reveal the +hiding-place. His brother and some scouts, operating south without +orders, arrived just in time to witness the last act. Miles Ralestone +and his men summarily shot the murderers. But where Richard had so +carefully concealed the last of the family treasure was never +discovered. + +"The war beggared the Ralestones. Miles went north in search of better +luck, and this place was allowed to molder until it was leased in 1879 +to a sugar baron. In 1895 it was turned over to a family distantly +connected with ours. And since then it has been leased. We have had in +all four tenants." + +"But," Ricky broke in, "since the Luck went we have not prospered. And +until it returns--" + +Rupert tapped out his pipe against one of the fire irons. "It's nothing +but a folk-tale," he told her. + +"It isn't!" Ricky contradicted him vehemently. "And we've made a good +beginning anyway. We've come back." + +"If Rick took the Luck with him, I don't see how we have an earthly +chance of finding it again," Val commented. + +"It came back once before after it had gone from us," reminded his +sister. "And I think that it will again. At least I'll hope so." + +"Outside of the superstition, it would be well worth having. The names +of the heads and heirs of the house are all engraved along the blade, +from Sir Roderick on down. Seven hundred years of history scratched on +steel." Rupert stretched and then glanced at his wrist-watch. "Ten to +ten, and we've had a long day. Who's for bed?" + +"I am, for one." Val swung his feet down from the couch, disturbing +Satan who opened one yellow eye lazily. + +Ricky stood by the fireplace fingering the wreath of stiff flowers +carved in the stone. Val took her by the arm. + +"No use wondering which one you push to reveal the treasure," he told +her. + +She looked up startled. "How did you know what I was thinking about?" +she demanded. + +"My lady, your thoughts, like little white birds--" + +"Oh, go to bed, Val. When you get poetical I know you need sleep. Just +the same," she hesitated with one foot on the first tread of the stair, +"I wonder." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR + + +Val lay trapped in an underground cavern, chained to the floor. An +unseen monster was creeping up his prostrate body. He could feel its hot +breath on his cheek. With a mighty effort he broke his bonds and threw +out his arms in an attempt to fight off his tormentor. + +The morning sun was warm across his pillow, making him blink. On his +chest stood Satan, kneading the bedclothes with his front paws and +purring gently. From the open window came a fresh, rain-washed breeze. + +Having aroused the sleeper, Satan deserted his post to hang half-way out +the window, intent upon the housekeeping arrangements of several birds +who had built in the hedges below. A moment later Val elbowed him aside +to look out upon the morning. + +It was a fine one. Wisps of mist from the bayou still hung about the +lower garden, but the sun had already dried the brick-paved paths. A bee +blundered past Val's nose, and he realized that it might be well to +close the screen hanging shutter-like outside. + +From the direction of the hidden water came the faint _putt-putt_ of a +motor-boat, but inside Pirate's Haven there was utter silence. As yet +the rest of the family were not abroad. Val dropped his pajamas in a +huddle by the bed and dressed leisurely, feeling very much at peace with +this new world. Perhaps that was the last time he was to feel so for +many days to come. He stole cautiously out of his room and tiptoed down +halls and dark stairs, wanting to be alone while he discovered Pirate's +Haven for himself. + +The Long Hall looked chilly and bleak, even though patches of sunlight +were fighting the usual gloom. On the hearth-stone lay a scrap of white, +doubtless Ricky's handkerchief. Val flung open the front door and +stepped out on the terrace, drawing deep lungfuls of the morning air. +The blossoms on the morning-glory vines which wreathed the edge of the +terrace were open to the sun, and the birds sang in the bushes below. +Satan streaked by and disappeared into the tangle. It was suddenly very +good to be alive. The boy stretched luxuriously and started to explore, +choosing the nearest of the crazy, wandering paths which began at the +circle of the old carriage drive. + +Here was evidence of last night's storm. Wisps of Spanish moss, torn +from the great live-oaks of the avenue and looking like tufts of coarse +gray horsehair, lay in water-logged mats here and there. And in the open +places, the grass, beaten flat, was just beginning to rise again. + +A rabbit scuttled across the path as it went down four steps of broken +stone into a sort of glen. Here some early owner of the plantation had +made an irregular pool of stone to be fed by the trickle of a tiny +spring. Frogs the size of postage-stamps leaped panic-stricken for the +water when Val's shadow fell across its rim. A leaden statue of the boy +Pan danced joyously on a pedestal above. Ricky would love this, thought +her brother as he dabbled his fingers in the chill water trying to catch +the stem of the single lily bud. + +Out of nowhere came a turtle to slide into the depths of the pool. The +sun was very warm across Val's bowed shoulders. He liked the garden, +liked the plantation, even liked the circumstances which had brought +them there. Lazily he arose and turned. + +By the steps down which he had come stood a slight figure in a faded +flannel shirt and mud-streaked overalls. His bare brown feet gripped the +stones as if to get purchase for instant flight. + +"Hello," Val said questioningly. + +The new-comer eyed young Ralestone warily and then his gaze shifted to +the bushes beyond. + +"I'm Val Ralestone." Val held out his hand. To his astonishment the +stranger's mobile lips twisted in a snarl and he edged crabwise toward +the bushes bordering the glen. + +"Who are you?" Val demanded sharply. + +"Ah has got as much right heah as yo' all," the boy answered angrily. +And with that he turned and slipped into a path at the far end of the +glen. + +Aroused, Val hurried after him to reach the bayou levee. The quarry was +already in midstream, wielding an efficient canoe paddle. On impulse Val +shouted after him, but he never turned. A rifle lay across his knees and +there were some rusty traps in the bottom of the flimsy canoe. Then Val +remembered that Pirate's Haven lay upon the fringe of the muskrat swamps +where Cajun and American squatters still carried on the fur trade of +their ancestors. + +But as Val stood speeding the departure of the uninvited guest, another +canoe put off from the opposite shore of the bayou and came swinging +across toward the rough wooden landing which served the plantation. A +round brown face grinned up at Val as a powerful negro clambered ashore. + +"Is dey up at de big house now?" he asked cheerily as he came up. + +"If you mean the Ralestones, why, we got here last night," Val answered. + +"Yo'all is Mistuh Ralestone, suh?" He took off his wide-brimmed straw +hat and twisted it in his oversized hands. + +"I'm Valerius Ralestone. My brother Rupert is the owner." + +"Well, Mistuh Ralestone, suh, I'se yo'all's fahmah from 'cross wata. +Mistuh LeFleah, he says dat yo'all is come to live heah agin. So mah +woman, she says dat Ah should see if yo'all is heah yet and does yo'all +want anythin'. Lucy, she's bin a-livin' heah, dat is, her mammy and +pappy and her pappy's mammy and pappy has bin heah since befo' old Massa +Ralestone done gone 'way. So Lucy, she jest nachely am oneasy 'bout +yo'all not gettin' things comfo'ble." + +"That is kind of her," Val answered heartily. "My brother said something +last night about wanting to see you today, so if you'll come up to the +house--" + +"I'se Sam, Mistuh Ralestone, suh. Ah done work heah quite a spell now." + +"By the way," Val asked as they went up toward the house, "did you see +that boy in the canoe going downstream as you crossed? I found him in +the garden and the only answer he would give to my questions was that he +had as much right there as I had. Who is he?" + +The wide smile faded from Sam's face. "Mistuh Ralestone, suh, effen dat +no-'count trash comes 'round heah agin, yo'all bettah jest call de +policemans. Dey's nothin' but poah white trash livin' down in de swamp +places an' dey steals whatevah dey kin lay han' on. Was dis boy big like +yo'all, wi' black hair an' a thin face?" + +"Yes." + +"Dat's de Jeems boy. He ain't got no mammy nor pappy. He lives jest like +de wil' man wi' a li'l huntin' an' a big lot stealin'. He talk big. Say +he belongs in de big house, not wi' swamp folks. But jest yo'all pay no +'tenshun to him nohow." + +"Val! Val Ralestone! Where are you?" Ricky's voice sounded clear through +the morning air. + +"Coming!" he shouted back. + +"Well, make it snappy!" she shrilled. "The toast has been burnt twice +and--" But what further catastrophe had occurred her brother could not +hear. + +"Yo'all wants to git to de back do', Mistuh Ralestone, suh? Dere's a +sho't-cut 'cross dis-a-way." Sam turned into a side path and Val +followed. + +Ricky was at the stove gingerly shifting a coffee-pot as her brother +stepped into the kitchen. "Well," she snapped as he entered, "it's about +time you were showing up. I've simply cracked my voice trying to call +you, and Rupert's been talking about having the bayou dragged or +something of the kind. Where have you been, anyway?" + +"Getting acquainted with our neighbors. Ricky," he called her attention +to the smiling face just outside the door, "this is Sam. He runs the +home farm for us. And his wife is a descendant of the Ralestone house +folks." + +"Yassuh, dat's right. We's Ralestone folks, Miss 'Chanda. Mah Lucy done +sen' me ovah to fin' out what yo'all is a-needin' done 'bout de place. +She was in yisteday afo' yo'all come an' seed to de dustin' an' sich--" + +"So that's why everything was so clean! That was nice of her--" + +"Yo'all is Ralestones, Miss 'Chanda. An' Lucy say dat de Ralestones am +a-goin' to fin' dis place jest ready for dem when dey come." He beamed +upon them proudly. "Lucy, she am a-goin' be heah jest as soon as she +gits de chillens set for de day. I'se come fust so's Ah kin see wat +Mistuh Ralestone done wan' done wi dem rivah fiel's--" + +"Where is Rupert?" Val broke in. + +"Went out to see about the car. The storm last night wrecked the door of +the carriage house--" + +"Zat so?" Sam's eyes went round. "Den Ah bettah be a-gittin' out an' see +'bout it. 'Scuse me, suh. 'Scuse me, Miss 'Chanda." With a jerk of his +head he left them. Val turned to Ricky. + +"We seem to have fallen into good hands." + +"It's my guess that his Lucy is a manager. He just does what she tells +him to. I wonder how he knew my name?" + +"LeFleur probably told them all about us." + +"Isn't it odd--" she turned off the gas, "'Ralestone folks.'" + +"Loyalty to the Big House," her brother answered slowly. "I never +thought that it really existed out of books." + +"It makes me feel positively feudal. Val, I was born about a hundred +years too late. I'd like to have been the mistress here when I could +have ridden out in a victoria behind two matched bays, with a coachman +and a footman up in front and my maid on the little seat facing me." + +"And with a Dalmatian coach-hound running behind and at least +three-fourths of the young bloods of the neighborhood as a mounted +escort. I know. But those days are gone forever. Which leads me to +another subject. What are we going to do today?" + +"The dishes, for one thing," Ricky began ticking the items off on her +fingers, "and then the beds. This afternoon Rupert wants us--that is, +you and me--to drive to town and do some errands." + +"Oh, yes, the list you two made out last night. Well, now that that's +all settled, suppose we have some breakfast. Has Rupert been fed or is +he thinking of going on a diet?" + +"He'll be in--" + +"Said she with perfect faith. All of which does not satisfy the pangs of +hunger." + +"Where's Lovey?" + +"If you are using that sickening name to refer to Satan--he's +out--hunting, probably. The last I saw of him he was shooting head first +for a sort of bird apartment house over to the left of the front door. +Here's Rupert. Now maybe we may eat." + +"I've got something to tell you," hissed Ricky as the missing member of +the clan banged the screen door behind him. Having so aroused Val's +curiosity, she demurely went around the table to pour the coffee. + +"How's the carriage house?" Val asked. + +"Sam thinks he can fix it with some of that lumber piled out back of the +old smoke-house." Rupert reached for a piece of toast. "What do you +think of our family retainer?" + +"Seems a good chap." + +"LeFleur says one of the best. Possesses a spark of ambition and is +really trying to make a go of the farm, which is more than most of them +do around here. His wife, by all accounts, is a wonder. Used to be the +cook-housekeeper here when the Rafaels had the place. LeFleur still +talks about the two meals he ate here then. Sam tells me that she is +planning to take us in hand." + +"But we can't afford--" began Ricky. + +"I gathered that money does not come into the question. The lady is +rather strong-willed. So, Ricky," he laughed, "we'll leave you two to +fight it out. But Lucy may be able to find us a laundress." + +"Which reminds me," Ricky took a crumpled piece of white cloth from her +pocket, "if this is yours, Rupert, you deserve to do your own washing. I +don't know what you've got on it; looks like oil." + +He took it from her and straightened out a handkerchief. + +"Not guilty this time. Ask little brother here." He passed over the +dirty linen square. It was plain white--or it had been white before +three large black splotches had colored it--without an initial or +colored edge. + +"I think he's prevaricating, Ricky," Val protested. "This isn't mine. +I'm down to one thin dozen and those are the ones you gave me last +Christmas. They have my initials on." + +Ricky took back the disputed square. "That's funny. It certainly isn't +mine. I'm sure one of you must be mistaken." + +"Why?" asked Rupert. + +"Because I found it on the hearth-stone in the hall this morning. It +wasn't there last night or one of us would have seen it and picked it +up, 'cause it was right there in plain sight." + +"Sure it isn't yours, Val?" + +He shook his head. "Positive." + +"Queer," murmured Rupert and reached for it again. "It's a good quality +of linen and it's almost new." He held it to his nose. "That's oil on +it. But how--?" + +"I wonder--" Val mused. + +"What do you know?" asked Ricky. + +"Well--Oh, it isn't possible. He wouldn't carry a handkerchief," her +brother said half to himself. + +"Who wouldn't?" asked Rupert. Then Val told them of his meeting with the +boy Jeems and what Sam had had to say of him. + +"Don't know whether I exactly like this." Rupert folded the mysterious +square of stained linen. "As you say, Val, a boy like that would hardly +carry a handkerchief. Also, you met him in the garden, while--" + +"The person who left that was in this house last night!" finished Ricky. +"And I don't like that!" + +"The door was locked and bolted when I came down this morning," Val +observed. + +Rupert nodded. "Yes, I distinctly remember doing that before I went up +to bed last night. But when I was going around the house this morning I +discovered that there are French doors opening from the old ball-room to +the terrace, and I didn't inspect their fastening last night." + +"But who would want to come in here? There are no valuables left except +furniture. And it would take three or four men and a truck to collect +that. I don't see what he was after," puzzled Ricky. + +Rupert arose from the table. "We have, it seems, a mystery on our hands. +If you want to amuse yourselves, my children, here's the first clue. +I've got to get back to the carriage house and my labors there." + +He dropped the handkerchief on the table and left. Ricky reached for the +"clue." "Awfully casual about it, isn't he?" she said. "Just the same, I +believe that this is a clue and I know what our visitor was after, too," +she finished triumphantly. + +"What?" + +"The treasure Richard Ralestone hid when the Yankee raiders came." + +"Well, if our unknown visitor has as little in the way of clues as we +have, he'll be a long time finding it." + +"And we're going to beat him to it! It's somewhere in the Hall, and the +secret--" + +"See here," Val interrupted her, "what were you about to tell me when +Rupert came in?" + +She put the handkerchief in the breast pocket of her sport dress, +buttoning the flap over it. + +"Rupert's got a secret." + +"What kind?" + +"It has to do with those two brief-cases of his. You know, the ones he +was so particular about all the way down here?" + +Val nodded. Those bulging brief-cases had apparently contained the +dearest of his roving brother's possessions, judging from the way Rupert +had fussed if they were a second out of his sight. + +"This morning when I came downstairs," Ricky continued, "he was sneaking +them into that little side room off the dining-room corridor, the one +which used to be the old plantation office. And when he came out and saw +me standing there, he deliberately turned around and locked the door!" + +"Whew!" Val commented. + +"Yes, I felt that way too. So I simply asked him what he was doing and +he made some silly remark about Bluebeard's chamber. He means to keep +his old secret, too, 'cause he put the key on his key-ring when he +didn't know I was watching him." + +"This is not the place for a rest cure," her brother observed as he +started to scrape and stack the dishes. "First someone unknown leaves +his handkerchief for a calling card and then Rupert goes Fu Manchu on +us. To say nothing of the rugged and unfriendly son of the soil whom I +found bumping around the garden where he had no business to be." + +"What was he like anyway?" asked his sister as she dipped soap flakes +into the dish-water with a liberal hand. + +"Oh, thin, and awfully brown. But not bad looking if it weren't for his +mouth and that scowl of his. And he very distinctly doesn't like us. +About my build, but quicker on his feet, tough looking. I wouldn't care +to try to stop him doing anything he wanted to do." + +"My dear, are you describing Clark Gable or someone you met in our +garden this morning?" she demanded sweetly. + +"Very well," Val retorted huffily into the depths of the oatmeal pan he +was wiping, "you catch him next time." + +"I will," was her serene answer as she wrung out the dish-cloth. + +They went on to the upstairs work and Val received his first lesson in +the art of bed-making under his sister's extremely critical tuition. It +seemed that corners must be square and that dreadful things were likely +to happen when wrinkles were not smoothed out. This exercise led them +naturally to unpacking the remainder of the hand baggage and putting +things away. It was after ten before Val came downstairs crab-fashion, +wiping off each step behind him as he came with one of Ricky's three +dust-cloths. + +He paused on the landing to pull back the tapestry curtain and open the +windows above the alcove seat, letting in the freshness of the morning +to rout some of the dank chill of the hall. Kneeling there, he watched +Rupert come around the house. Rupert had shed his coat and his sleeves +were rolled up almost to his shoulders. There was a streak of black +across his cheek and a large rip almost separated the collar from his +shirt. Although he looked hot, cross, and tired, more like a day-laborer +than a gentleman plantation owner whose ancestors had always "planted +from the saddle," his stride had a certain buoyancy which it had lacked +the day before. + +With an idea of escaping Ricky by joining his brother, Val hurried +downstairs and headed kitchenward. But his sister was there before him +looking over a collection of knives of various lengths. + +"Preparing for a little murder or two?" Val asked casually. + +She jumped and dropped a paring knife. + +"Val, don't do that! I wish you'd whistle or something while you're +walking around in those tennis shoes. I can't hear you move. I'm looking +for something to cut flowers with. There don't seem to be any scissors +except mine and I'm not going to use those." + +"Take dat, Miss 'Chanda." A fat black hand motioned toward the paring +knife. + +Just within the kitchen door stood a wide, a very wide, Negro woman. Her +neat print dress was stiff with starch from a recent washing, and round +gold hoops swung proudly from her ears. Her black hair, straightened by +main force of arm, had been set again in stiff, corrugated waves of +extreme fashion, but her broad placid face was both kind and serene. + +"I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis," she reached +an arm behind her, pulling forth a girl at least ten shades lighter and +thirty-five shades thinner, "is mah sistah's onliest gal-chil', +Letty-Lou. Mak' yo' mannahs, Letty. Does yo' wan' Miss 'Chanda to think +yo' is a know-nothin' outa de swamp?" + +[Illustration: "_I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' +dis is Letty-Lou._"] + +Thus sternly admonished, Letty-Lou ducked her head shyly and murmured +something in a die-away voice. + +"Letty-Lou," announced her aunt, "is com' to do fo' yo'all, Miss +'Chanda. I'se larn'd her good how to do fo' ladies. She is good at +scrubbin' an' cleanin' an sich. Ah done train'd her mahse'f." + +Letty-Lou looked at the floor and twisted her thin hands behind her +back. + +"But," protested Ricky, "we're not planning to have anyone do for us, +Lucy." + +"Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda. Yo'all's not gittin' a know-nothin'. +Letty-Lou, she knows her work. She kin cook right good." + +"We can't take her," Val backed up Ricky. "You must understand, Lucy, +that we don't have much money and we can't pay for--" + +"Pay fo'!" Lucy's indignant sniff reduced him to his extremely +unimportant place. "We's not talkin' 'bout pay workin', Mistuh +Ralestone. Letty-Lou don' git no pay but her eatments. 'Co'se, effen +Miss 'Chanda wanna give her some ole clo's now an' den, she kin tak' +dem. Letty-Lou, she don' hav' to git her a pay-work job, her pappy mak's +him a good livin'. But Miss 'Chanda ain' a-goin' to tak' keer dis big +hous' all by herself wit' her lil' han's dere. We's Ralestone folks. +Letty-Lou, yo' gits on youah ap'on an' gits to work." + +"But we can't let her," Ricky raised her last protest. + +"Miss 'Chanda, we's Ralestone folks. Mah gran' pappy Bob was own man to +Massa Miles Ralestone. He fit in de wah longside o' Massa Miles. An' wen +de wah was done finish'd, dem two com' home to-gethah. Den Massa Miles, +he call mah gran'pappy in an' say, 'Bob, yo'all is free an' I'se a +ruinated man. Heah is fiv' dollahs gol' money an' yo' kin hav' youah +hoss.' An' Bob, he say, 'Cap'n Miles, dese heah Yankees done said I'se +free but dey ain't done said dat I ain't a Ralestone man. W'at time does +yo'all wan' breakfas' in de mornin'?' An' wen Massa Miles wen' no'th to +mak' his fo'tune, he told Bob, 'Bob, I'se leavin' dis heah hous' in +youah keer.' An', Miss 'Chanda, we done look aftah Pirate's Haven evah +since, mah gran'pappy, mah pappy, Sam an' me." + +Ricky held out her hand. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You see, we don't understand +very well, we've been away so long." + +Lucy touched Ricky's hand and then, for all her weight, bobbed a curtsy. +"Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda, yo' is ouah folks." + +Letty-Lou stayed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +PISTOLS FOR TWO--COFFEE FOR ONE + + +Val braced himself against the back of the roadster's seat and struggled +to hold the car to a road which was hardly more than a cart track. Twice +since Ricky and he had left Pirate's Haven they had narrowly escaped +being bogged in the mud which had worked up through the thin crust of +gravel on the surface. + +To the south lay the old cypress swamps, dark glens of rotting wood and +sprawling vines. A spur of this unsavory no-man's land ran close along +the road, and looking into it one could almost believe, fancied Val, in +the legends told by the early French explorers concerning the giant +monsters who were supposed to haunt the swamps and wild lands at the +mouth of the Mississippi. He would not have been surprised to see a +brontosaurus peeking coyly down at him from twenty feet or so of neck. +It was just the sort of place any self-respecting brontosaurus would +have wallowed in. + +But at last they won free from that place of cold and dank odors. +Passing through Chalmette, they struck the main highway. From then on it +was simple enough. St. Bernard Highway led into St. Claude Avenue and +that melted into North Rampart street, one of the boundaries of the old +French city. + +"Can't we go slower?" complained Ricky. "I'd like to see some of the +city without getting a crick in my neck from looking over my shoulder. +Watch out for St. Anne Street. That's one corner of Beauregarde Square, +the old Congo Square--" + +"Where the slaves used to dance on Sundays before the war. I know; I've +read just as many guide-books as you have. But there is such a thing as +obstructing traffic. Also we have about a million and one things to do +this afternoon. We can explore later. Here we are; Bienville Avenue. No, +I will _not_ stop so that you can see that antique store. Six blocks to +the right," Val reminded himself. + +"Val, that was the Absinthe House we just passed!" + +"Yes? Well, it would have been better for a certain ancestor of ours if +he had passed it, too. That was Jean Lafitte's headquarters at one time. +Exchange Street--the next is ours." + +They turned into Chartres Street and pulled up in the next block at the +corner of Iberville. A four-story house coated with grayish plaster, its +windows framed with faded green shutters and its door painted the same +misty color, confronted them. There was a tiny shop on the first floor. + +A weathered sign over the door announced that Bonfils et Cie. did +business within, behind the streaked and bluish glass of the small +curved window-panes. But what business Bonfils and Company conducted was +left entirely to the imagination of the passer-by. Val locked the +roadster and took from Ricky the long legal-looking envelope which +Rupert had given them to deliver to Mr. LeFleur. + +Ricky was staring in a puzzled manner at the shop when her brother took +her by the arm. "Are you sure that you have the right place? This +doesn't look like an office to me." + +"We have to go around to the courtyard entrance. LeFleur occupies the +second floor." + +A small wooden door, reinforced with hinges of hand-wrought iron, opened +before them, making them free of a courtyard paved with flagstones. In +the center a tall tree shaded the flower bed at its foot and threw +shadows upon the first of the steps leading to the upper floors. The +Ralestones frankly stared about them. This was the first house of the +French Quarter they had seen, although their name might have admitted +them to several closely guarded Creole strongholds. LeFleur's house +followed a pattern common to the old city. The lower floor fronting on +the street was in use only as a shop or store-room. In the early days +each shopkeeper lived above his place of business and rented the third +and fourth floors to aristocrats in from their plantations for the +fashionable season. + +A long, narrow ell ran back from the main part of the house to form one +side of the courtyard. The ground floor of this contained the old slave +quarters and kitchens, while the second was cut into bedrooms which had +housed the young men of the family so that they could come and go at +will without disturbing the more sedate members of the household. These +small rooms were now in use as the offices of Mr. LeFleur. From the +balcony, running along the ell, onto which each room opened, one could +look down into the courtyard. It was on this balcony that the lawyer met +them with outstretched hands after they had given their names to his +dark, languid young clerk. + +"But this is good of you!" René LeFleur beamed on them impartially. He +was a small, plumpish, round-faced man in his early forties, who spoke +in perpetual italics. His eyebrows, arched over-generously by Nature, +gave him a look of never-ending astonishment at the world and all its +works. But his genial smile was kindness itself. Unaccustomed as Val was +to sudden enthusiasms, he found himself liking René LeFleur almost +before his hand gripped Val's. + +"Miss Ralestone, it is a pleasure, a very great pleasure, to see you +here! And this," he turned to Val, "this must be that brother Valerius +both you and Mr. Ralestone spoke so much of during our meeting in New +York. You have safely recovered from that most unfortunate accident, Mr. +Ralestone? But of course, your presence here is my answer. And how do +you like Louisiana, Miss Ralestone?" His eyes behind his gold-rimmed +eyeglasses sparkled as he tilted his head a fraction toward Ricky as if +to hear the clearer. + +"Well enough. Though we've seen very little of it yet, Mr. LeFleur." + +"When you have seen Pirate's Haven," he replied, "you have seen much of +Louisiana." + +"But we're forgetting our manners!" exclaimed the girl. "We want to +thank you for everything you've done for us. Rupert said to tell you +that while he doesn't care for beans as a rule, the beans we found in +our cupboard were very superior beans." + +Mr. LeFleur hooted with laughter like a small boy. "He is droll, is that +brother of yours. And has Sam been to see you?" + +"Sam and--Lucy," answered Ricky with emphasis. "Lucy has decided to take +us in hand. She has installed Letty-Lou over our protests." + +The little lawyer nodded complacently. "Yes, Lucy will take care of you. +She is a master housekeeper and cook--ah!" His eyes rolled upward. "And +Mr. Ralestone, how is he?" + +"All right. He's going over the farm with Sam this afternoon. We were +sent in his place to give you the papers he spoke to you about." + +At Ricky's answer, Val held out the envelope he had carried. To their +joint surprise, LeFleur pounced upon it and withdrew to the window of +the room into which he had conducted them. There he spread out the four +sheets of yellowed paper which the envelope had contained. + +"What were we carrying?" whispered Ricky. "Part of Rupert's deep, dark +secret?" + +"No," her brother hissed back, "those are the plans of the Patagonian +fort which were stolen from the Russian Embassy last Thursday by the +beautiful woman spy disguised with a long green beard. You know, the +proper first chapter of an international espionage thriller. You are the +dumb but beautiful newspaper reporter on the scent, and I--" + +"The even dumber G-man who spends most of his time running three steps +ahead of Fu Chew Chow and his gang of oriental demons. In the second +chapter--" + +But a glance at Mr. LeFleur's face as he turned away from the window put +an end to their nonsense. Gone was his smile, his beaming good-will +toward the world. He seemed a little tired, a trifle stooped. "Not here +then," he said slowly to himself as he slipped the papers back into the +envelope. + +"Mr. Valerius," he looked up at the boy very seriously, "the LeFleurs +have served the Ralestones, acting as their men of business, for over a +hundred years. We owe your family a great debt. When young Denys LeFleur +was shipped over here to New Orleans under false accusation of his +enemies, the first Richard Ralestone became his patron. He helped the +boy salvage something from the wreck of the LeFleur fortunes in France +to start anew in a decent profession under tolerable surroundings, when +others of his kind died miserably as beggars on the mud flats. Twice +before have we been forced to be the bearers of ill news, but--" he +shrugged, "that was in the past. This lies in the future." + +"What does?" asked Ricky. + +"It is such a tangle," he said, running his hand through his short, +gray-streaked hair. "A tangle such as lawyers are supposed to delight +in. But they don't, I assure you that they don't, Miss Ralestone. Not if +they have their client's interest at heart. You know, of course, of the +missing Ralestone--Roderick?" + +Ricky and Val both nodded. Mr. LeFleur spread out his plump hands in a +queer little gesture as if he were pushing something away. "This whole +unfortunate business begins with him. As far as we know today, he and +his brother were co-owners of Pirate's Haven. When young Roderick +disappeared, he was still part owner. Although he was presumed dead, he +was never lawfully declared so. Pirate's Haven was simply assumed to be +the property of your branch of the family." + +"Our branch of the family?" Val echoed him. "Do you mean that some +descendant of Roderick has appeared to put in a claim?" + +"That is the problem. Three days ago a man came to my office. He said +that he is the direct descendant of Roderick Ralestone and that he can +produce proof of that fact." + +"And he wants his share of the estate?" asked Ricky shrewdly. + +"Yes." + +"He can keep on wanting," Val said shortly. "We've nothing to give." + +"There's Pirate's Haven," pointed out Mr. LeFleur. + +"But he can't--" Ricky's hand closed about her brother's wrist. + +"Naturally he can't take it," Val assured her hotly. "Pirate's Haven is +ours. This looks to me like blackmail. He'll threaten to stir up a lot +of trouble unless we buy him off." + +Mr. LeFleur nodded. "That is perhaps the motive behind it all." + +"Well," Val forced a laugh, "then he loses. We haven't the money to buy +him off." + +"Neither have you the money to fight a case through the courts, Mr. +Valerius," answered the lawyer soberly. + +"But there is some chance, there must be!" urged Ricky. + +"I submitted the full case to Mr. John Stanton yesterday--Mr. Stanton is +our local authority on cases of this type. He has informed me that there +is a single ray of hope. Frankly, I find this claimant a dubious person, +but a shrewd one. He knows that he has the advantage now, but should we +gain the upper hand, we could, I believe, rid ourselves of him. Our +chance lies in the past. This was first a French and then a Spanish +colony. Under both rules the law of primogeniture sometimes held force. +That is, an estate passed to the eldest son of a family. Your estate was +such a one. In fact, we possess in this very office old charters and +papers which state that the property was entailed after the European +custom. If that were so, the courts might declare that the elder of the +twins born in 1788 was the sole owner of Pirate's Haven. + +"But which of the twin brothers was the elder? You will say at once, +Richard. But your rival will say Roderick. And there is no proof. For in +the spring, two months after the birth of the boys, most of the family +papers were destroyed in the great fire which almost wiped out the city +and burned the Ralestone town house. There is no birth record in +existence. I appealed to your brother to return to me these papers which +Miles Ralestone took north with him after the war. You returned them +today but there was nothing in them of any value to this case. + +"However, if you can find such proof, that Richard Ralestone was the +elder and thus the legal heir under the laws of Spain, then we shall +have a solid fact upon which to base our fight." + +"There is such a proof," began Ricky slowly. + +"What? Where?" demanded Mr. LeFleur. + +"Don't you remember, Val," she turned to him, "what Rupert said about +the Luck last night--that the names of the heirs were engraved upon its +blade? We'll have to find the Luck! We'll just have to!" + +"But Roderick took the Luck with him. And if it's still in existence, +this rival will have it now," her brother reminded her. + +"Yes, of course, I was forgetting--" her voice trailed off into silence +and Val stared at her with a dropped jaw. Such a quick change of manner +was totally unlike Ricky. "Yes," she repeated slowly and distinctly, "I +guess we're the losers--" + +"For Pete's sake--" he began hotly and then he saw her hand making +furious motions in his direction from behind the screen of her large +purse. "Well, I suppose we are in a hole." He managed to mend his tone a +fraction. "Rupert will probably be in to see you tomorrow, Mr. LeFleur." + +"It would be well for him to become acquainted with the whole matter as +quickly as possible," agreed the unhappy Creole. "You may tell Mr. +Ralestone that I am, of course, having this claimant thoroughly +investigated. We shall have to wait and see. Time is a big factor," he +murmured as if to himself. + +Ricky smiled brightly. There was a sort of eagerness about her, as if +she were wild to be off. "Then we'll say good-bye for the present, Mr. +LeFleur. And may I mention again how much we have appreciated your +thoughtfulness?" + +René LeFleur aroused himself. "But it was a pleasure, a very great +pleasure, Miss Ralestone. You are returning to Pirate's Haven now?" + +"Well--" she hesitated. Mystified at what lay behind her unexplainable +actions, Val could only stand and listen. "We did have some errands. Of +course, this news--" + +LeFleur gestured widely. "But it will come all right. It must. There are +papers somewhere." + +Firmly Ricky broke away from more protracted farewells. As the +Ralestones turned out of the courtyard into which their host had +conducted them, Val matched his step with hers. + +"Well? What's the matter?" he demanded. + +"We had an eavesdropper." + +Val stopped short. "What do you mean?" + +"I was facing the door to the balcony. There was the shadow of a head on +the floor. When you spoke about Rick having the sword, it went away--the +shadow, I mean. But someone had been listening and now he knows about +the Luck and what it means to us." + +Aiming a kick at the nearest tire of the roadster, Val regarded the +mud-stained rubber moodily. "Fine mess!" + +"Yes, isn't it? And there seems to be no loose end to the thing," Ricky +protested. "It's like holding a big tangle of wool and being told to +have it all straightened out before night--the plot of a fairy-tale. We +have so many odd sections but no ends. There's that boy in the garden +this morning who said that he has as much right at Pirate's Haven as we +have, and then there's that handkerchief, and now this man who claims +half the estate--" + +"And our mysterious listener," finished her brother. "What shall we do +now? Go home?" + +"No. We might as well do the errands." She seated herself in the car. +"Val--" + +"Yes?" + +"I know one thing." She leaned toward him and her eyes shone green as +they did when she was excited or greatly troubled. "We aren't going to +let go of our tangle until we do find an end. We _are_ the Ralestones of +Pirate's Haven and we are going to continue to be the Ralestones of +Pirate's Haven." + +"In spite of the enemy? I agree." Val stepped on the starter. "You know, +a hundred years ago there would have been a very simple remedy for this +rival-claimant business." + +"What?" + +"Pistols for two--coffee for one. Rupert or I would have met him out at +the dueling oaks and that would have been the end of him." + +"Or you. But dueling--here!" + +"Very common. The finest fencing masters on the North American continent +plied their trade here. Why, one, Pepe Llula, the most famous duelist of +his time, became the guardian of a cemetery just so, as gossip rumored, +he could have some place to bury his opponents. + +"Then on the other hand, if dueling were too risky, we might have had +him voodooed, had we lived back in the good old days. Paid that voodoo +queen--what was her name? Marie something or other--to put a curse on +him so he'd just wither away." + +"And serve him right, too." Ricky stared straight before her. "I don't +know how you feel about it, but I'm not going to give up Pirate's Haven +without a fight. It's--it's the first real home we've ever had. Rupert's +older; he's spent his time traveling and seeing the world; it may not +mean so much to him. But you and I, Val--You know what it's been like! +Schools, and spending the holidays with aunts or in those frightful +camps, never getting a chance to be together. We can't--we just can't +have this only to lose it again. We can't!" her voice broke. + +"So we won't." + +"Val, when you say things like that, I can almost believe them. If--if +we do lose, let's stick together this time. Promise?" her voice lifted +in an effort toward lightness. + +"I promise. After this it will be the two of us together. Do you know, +I've never really had a chance to get acquainted with my very +good-looking sister." + +She laughed. "I can't very well curtsy while sitting down in here, but +'thank yuh for them purty words, stranger.' And now for the express +station. Then you are to stop at the Southeastern News Association +headquarters for something of Rupert's and--" + +The afternoon went quickly enough. They despatched the rest of their +possessions from the express station to Pirate's Haven, went on a round +of miscellaneous shopping, picked up a weighty box at the News +Association, and ended up at five o'clock by visiting that institution +of New Orleans, a coffee-house. Ricky was earnestly peeking into one of +her ten or so small bags. They had parked the car and Val complained +that he had become a sort of packhorse, and anything but patient one. + +"What if your feet do hurt," his sister said wearily as she closed the +bag and reached for another. "So do mine. These sidewalks feel like +red-hot iron. I'll bet I could do one of those fakir tricks where you're +supposed to walk over red-hot plowshares." + +"Not only my feet but also my backbone is protesting. Whether you have +reached the end of that _Anthony Adverse_ of a shopping list or not, +we're going home! And what _are_ you looking for? You've opened all +those bags at least twice and dropped no less than three on the floor +each time," he snapped irritably. + +"My pralines. I'm sure I gave them to you to carry. I've heard of New +Orleans pralines all my life, so I got some today and now they've +disappeared." + +"They were probably included in that last arm-load of parcels I stowed +in the car. Are you through?" + +Ricky looked into her coffee-cup. "It's empty, so I guess I am. Where is +the car? I'm so lost I don't know where we are now." + +"We left it about three blocks away on the sunny side of the street," +Val informed her with the relish of one who is thoroughly tired of his +present existence. "If this is your usual behavior on a shopping trip, +Rupert may bring you in the next time. Half an hour to choose a +toothbrush-mug in the ten-cent store!" + +"For a person who spends a good fifteen minutes matching a tie and a +handkerchief," sniffed Ricky as she rose, "you're in a hurry to +criticize others." + +"Come _on_!" her brother almost howled as he scooped up the packages. + +"Anyway, we won't have to get supper or wash the dishes or anything." +She pulled off her hat as she settled herself in the car. "It's so +beastly hot, but it'll be cooler at home. Do you suppose we could go +swimming in the bayou?" + +"I don't see why not." Val guided the roadster into a side street. +"Where's that map of the city? We've got to see how to get back on to +North Rampart from here." + +"I'll look." Ricky bent her head and so she did not see the two figures +walking close together and so rapt in conversation that the one on the +curb side brushed against a lamp-post. + +Now just what, considered Val, was the slim young clerk from Mr. +LeFleur's office telling that red-faced man in the too-snug suit? He +would have liked to have overheard a word or two. Perhaps he had become +unduly suspicious but--he had his doubts. + +"We turn left at the next corner," said Ricky. + +Val changed gears and drove on. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES + + +Val stood on the small ornamental bridge pitching twigs down into the +tiny garden brook. A moody frown creased his forehead. Under his feet +lay a pair of pruning-shears he had borrowed from Sam with the intention +of doing something about the jungle which surrounded Pirate's Haven on +three sides. That is, he had intended doing something, but now-- + +"Penny for your thoughts." + +"Lady," he answered dismally without turning around, "you can have a +bushel of them for less than that." + +"There is a neat expression which describes you beautifully at this +moment," commented Ricky as she came up beside her brother. "Have you +ever heard of a 'sour puss?" + +"Several times. Oh, what's the use!" Val kicked at a long twig. A warm +wind brought in its hold the heavy scent of flowering bushes and trees. +His shirt clung to his shoulders damply. It was hot even in the shade of +the oaks. Rupert had gone to town to see LeFleur and hear the worst, so +that Pirate's Haven, save for themselves and Letty-Lou, was deserted. + +"Come on," Ricky's arm slid through his, "let's explore. Think of +it--we've been here two whole days and we don't know yet what our back +yard looks like. Rupert says that our land runs clear down into the +swamp. Let's go see." + +"But I was going to--" He made a feeble beginning toward stooping for +the pruning-shears. + +"Val Ralestone, nobody can work outdoors in this heat, and you know it. +Now come on. Bring those with you and we'll leave them in the carriage +house as we pass it. You know," she continued as they went along the +path, "the trouble with us is that we haven't enough to do. What we need +is a good old-fashioned job." + +"I thought we were going to be treasure hunters," he protested +laughingly. + +"That's merely a side-line. I'm talking about the real thing, something +which will pay us cash money on Saturday nights or thereabout." + +"Well, we can both use a typewriter fairly satisfactorily," Val offered. +"But as you are the world's worst speller and I am apt to become +entangled in my commas, I can't see us the shining lights of any +efficient office. And while we've had expensive educations, we haven't +had practical ones. So what do we do now?" + +"We sit down and think of one thing we're really good at doing and +then--Val, what is that?" She pointed dramatically at a mound of brick +overgrown with vines. To their right and left stretched a row of +tumble-down cabins, some with the roofs totally gone and the doors +fallen from the hinges. + +"The old plantation bake oven, I should say. This must be what's left of +the slave quarters. But where's the carriage house?" + +"It must be around the other side of the big house. Let's try that +direction anyway. But I think you'd better go first and do some +chopping. This dress may be a poor thing but it's my own and likely to +be for some time to come. And short of doing a sort of snake act, I +don't see how we're going to get through there." + +Val applied the shears ruthlessly to vine and bush alike, glad to find +something to attack. The weight of his depression was still upon him. It +was all very well for Ricky to talk so lightly of getting a job, but +talk would never put butter on their bread--if they could afford bread. + +"You certainly have done a fine job of ruining that!" + +Val surpassed Ricky's jump by a good inch. By the old bake oven stood a +woman. A disreputable straw hat with a raveled brim was pulled down over +her untidy honey-colored hair and she was rolling up the sleeves of a +stained smock to bare round brown arms. + +"It's very plain to the eye that you're no gardener," she continued +pleasantly. "And may I ask who you are and what you are doing here? This +place is not open to trespassers, you know." + +"We did think we would explore," answered Ricky meekly. "You see, this +all belongs to my brother." She swept her hand about in a wide circle. + +"And just who is he?" + +"Rupert Ralestone of Pirate's Haven." + +"Good--!" Their questioner's hand flew to cover her mouth, and at the +comic look of dismay which appeared on her face, Ricky's laugh sounded. +A moment later the stranger joined in her mirth. + +"And here I thought that I was being oh so helpful to an absent +landlord," she chuckled. "And this brother of yours is _my_ landlord!" + +"How--? Why, we didn't know that." + +"I've rented your old overseer's house and am using it for my studio. By +the way, introductions are in order, I believe. I am Charity Biglow, +from Boston as you might guess. Only beans and the Bunker Hill Monument +are more Boston than the Biglows." + +"I'm Richanda Ralestone and this is my brother Valerius." + +Miss Biglow grinned cheerfully at Val. "That won't do, you know; too +romantic by far. I once read a sword-and-cloak romance in which the hero +answered to the name of Valerius." + +"I haven't a cloak nor a sword and my friends generally call me Val, so +I hope I'm acceptable," he grinned back at her. + +"Indeed you are--both of you. And what are you doing now?" + +"Trying to find a building known as the carriage house. I'm beginning to +believe that its existence is wholly mythical," Val replied. + +"It's over there, simply yards from the direction in which you're +heading. But suppose you come and visit me instead. Really, as part +landlords, you should be looking into the condition of your rentable +property." + +She turned briskly to the left down the lane on which were located the +slave cabins and guided the Ralestones along a brick-paved path into a +clearing where stood a small house of typical plantation style. The +lower story was of stone with steep steps leading to a balcony which ran +completely around the second floor of the house. + +As they reached the balcony she pulled off her hat and threw it in the +general direction of a cane settee. Without that wreck of a hat, with +the curls of her long bob flowing free, she looked years younger. + +"Make yourselves thoroughly at home. After all, this is your house, you +know." + +"But we didn't," protested Ricky. "Mr. LeFleur didn't tell us a thing +about you." + +"Perhaps he didn't know." Charity Biglow was pinning back her curls. "I +rented from Harrison." + +"Like the bathroom," Val murmured and looked up to find them staring at +him. "Oh, I just meant that you were another improvement that he had +installed," he stammered. Miss Biglow nodded in a satisfied sort of way. +"Spoken like a true southern gentleman, though I don't think in the old +days that bathrooms would have crept into a compliment paid to a lady. +Now I did have some lemonade--if you will excuse me," and she was gone +into the house. + +Ricky smiled. "I like our tenant," she said softly. + +"You don't expect me to disagree with that, do you?" her brother had +just time enough to ask before their hostess appeared again complete +with tray, glasses, and a filled pitcher which gave forth the refreshing +sound of clinking ice. And after her paraded an old friend of theirs, +tail proudly erect. "There's our cat!" cried Ricky. + +Val snapped his fingers. "Here, Satan." + +After staring round-eyed at both of them, the cat crossed casually to +the settee and proceeded to sharpen his claws. + +"Well, I like that! After I shared my bed with the brute, even though I +didn't know it until the next morning," Val exploded. + +"Why, where did you meet Cinders?" asked Miss Biglow as she put down the +tray. + +"He came to us the first night we were at Pirate's Haven," explained +Ricky. "I thought he was a ghost or something when he scratched at the +back door." + +"So that's where he was. He used to go over to the Harrisons' for meals +a lot. When I'm working I don't keep very regular hours and he doesn't +like to be neglected. Come here, Cinders, and make your manners." + +Replying to her invitation with an insolent flirt of his tail, Cinders, +whom Val continued obstinately to regard as "Satan," disappeared around +the corner of the balcony. Charity Biglow looked at them solemnly. "So +obedient," she observed; "just like a child." + +"Are you an artist, too?" Ricky asked as she put down her glass. + +Miss Biglow's face wrinkled into a grimace. "My critics say not. I +manage to provide daily bread and sometimes a slice of cake by doing +illustrations for action stories. And then once in a while I labor for +the good of my soul and try to produce something my more charitable +friends advise me to send to a show." + +"May--may we see some of them--the pictures, I mean?" inquired Ricky +timidly. + +"If you can bear it. I use the side balcony for a workshop in this kind +of weather. I'm working on a picture now, something more ambitious than +I usually attempt in heat of this sort. But my model didn't show up this +morning so I'm at a loose end." + +She led them around the corner where Satan had disappeared and pointed +to a table with a sketching board at one end, several canvases leaning +face against the house, and an easel covered with a clean strip of +linen. "My workshop. A trifle untidy, but then I am an untidy person. +I'm expecting an order so I'm just whiling away my time working on an +idea of my own until it comes." + +Ricky touched the strip of covering across the canvas on the easel. "May +I?" she asked. + +"Yes. It might be a help, getting some other person's reaction to the +thing. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do when I started but I +don't think it's turning out to be what I planned." + +Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas. + +[Illustration: _Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas._] + +"But that is he!" he exclaimed. + +Charity Biglow turned to the boy. "And what do you mean--" + +"That's the boy I found in the garden, Ricky!" + +"Is it?" She stared, fascinated, at the lean brown face, the untidy +black hair, the bitter mouth, which their hostess had so skilfully +caught in her unfinished drawing. + +"So you've met Jeems." Miss Biglow looked at Val thoughtfully. "And what +did you think of him?" + +"It's rather--what did he think of me. He seemed to hate me. I don't +know why. All I ever said to him was 'Hello.'" + +"Jeems is a queer person--" + +"Sam says that he is none too honest," observed Ricky, her attention +still held by the picture. + +Miss Biglow shook her head. "There is a sort of feud between the swamp +people and the farmers around here. And neither side is wholly to be +believed in their estimation of the other. Jeems isn't dishonest, and +neither are a great many of the muskrat hunters. In the early days all +kinds of outlaws and wanted men fled into the swamps and lived there +with the hunters. One or two desperate men gave the whole of the swamp +people a bad name and it has stuck. They are a strange folk back there +in the fur country. + +"Some are Cajuns, descendants of exiles from Evangeline's country; some +are Creoles who took to that way of life after the Civil War ruined +them. There's many a barefooted boy or girl of the swamps who bears a +name that was once honored at the Court of France or Spain. And there +are Americans of the old frontier stock who came down river with Andrew +Jackson's army from the wilds of Tennessee and the Indian country. It's +a strange mixture, and once in a while you find a person like Jeems. He +speaks the uneducated jargon of his people but he reads and writes +French and English perfectly. He has studied under Pčre Armand until he +has a classical education such as was popular for Creole boys of good +family some fifty years ago. Pčre Armand is an old man now, but he is as +good an instructor as he is a priest. + +"Jeems wants to make something of himself. He argues logically that the +swamp has undeveloped resources which might save its inhabitants from +the grinding poverty which is slowly destroying them. And it is Jeems' +hope that he can discover some of the swamp secrets when he is fitted by +training to do so." + +"Who is he?" Val asked. "Is Jeems his first or last name?" + +"His last. I have never heard his given name. He is very reticent about +his past, though I do know that he is an orphan. But he is of Creole +descent and he does have breeding as well as ambition. Unfortunately he +had quite an unpleasant experience with a boy who was visiting the +Harrisons last summer. The visitor accused Jeems of taking a fine rifle +which was later discovered right where the boy had left it in his own +canoe. Jeems has a certain pride and he was turned against all the +plantation people. His attitude is unfortunate because he longs so for a +different sort of life and yet has no contact with young people except +those of the swamp. I think he is beginning to trust me, for he will +come in the mornings to pose for my picture of the swamp hunter. Do you +know," she hesitated, "I think that you would find a real friend in +Jeems if you could overcome his hatred of plantation people. You would +gain as much as he from such an association. He can tell you things +about the swamp--stories which go back to the old pirate days. +Perhaps--" + +Ricky looked up from the uncompleted picture. "I think he'd be nice to +know. But why does he look so--so sort of starved?" + +"Probably because the bill of fare in a swamp cabin is not as varied as +it might be," answered Charity Biglow. "But you can't offer him +anything, of course. I don't even know where he lives. And now, tell me +about yourselves. Are you planning to live here?" + +Her frank interest seemed perfectly natural. One simply couldn't resent +Charity Biglow. + +"Well," Ricky laughed ruefully, "we can't very well live anywhere else. +I think Rupert still has ten dollars--" + +"After his expedition this morning, I would have my doubts of that," Val +cut in. "You see, Miss Biglow, we are back to the soil now." + +"Charity is the name," she corrected him. "So you're down--" + +"But not out!" Ricky hastened to assure her. "But we might be that." And +then and there she told their tenant of the rival claimant. + +Charity listened closely, absent-mindedly sucking the wooden shaft of +one of her brushes. When Ricky had done, she nodded. + +"Nice mess you've dropped into. But I think that your lawyer has the +right idea. This is a neat piece of blackmail and your claimant will +disappear into thin air if you have a few concrete facts to face him +down with. Are you sure you've looked through all the family papers? No +hiding-places or safes--" + +"One," said Ricky calmly, "but we don't know where that is. In the Civil +War days, after General Butler took over New Orleans, some family +possessions were hidden somewhere in the Long Hall, but we don't know +where. The secret was lost when Richard Ralestone was shot by Yankee +raiders." + +"Is he the ghost?" asked Charity. + +"No. You ask that as if you know something," Val observed. + +"Nothing but talk. There have been lights seen, white ones. And a while +back my maid Rose left because she saw something in the garden one +night." + +"Jeems, probably," the boy commented. "He seems to like the place." + +"No, not Jeems. He was sitting right on that railing when we both heard +Rose scream." + +"Val, the handkerchief!" Ricky's hand arose to her buttoned pocket. +"Then there _was_ someone inside the house that night. But why--unless +they were after the treasure!" + +"The quickest way to find out," her brother got up from the edge of the +table where he had perched, "is to go and do a little probing of our +own. We have a good two hours until lunch. Will you join us?" he asked +Charity. + +"You tempt me, but I've got to get in as much work on this as I can," +she indicated her canvas. "And Jeems may show up even if it is late. So +my conscience says 'No.' Unfortunately I do possess a regular +rock-ribbed New England conscience." + +"Rupert will be back by four," said Ricky. "Will your conscience let you +come over for coffee with us then? You see how quickly we have adopted +the native customs--coffee at four." + +"Ricky," her brother explained, "desires to become that figure of +Romance--the southern belle." + +"Then we must do what we can to help her create the proper atmosphere," +urged Charity solemnly. + +"Even to the victoria and the coach-hound?" Val demanded in dismay. + +"Well, perhaps not that far," she laughed. "Anyway, I accept your kind +invitation with pleasure. I shall be there at four--if I can find a +presentable dress. Now clear out, you two, and see what secrets of the +past you can uncover before lunch time." + +But their explorations resulted in nothing except slightly frayed +tempers. Val had sounded what paneling there was, but as he had no idea +what a hollow panel should sound like if rapped, he inwardly decided +that he was not exactly fitted for such investigations. + +Ricky broke two fingernails pressing the carving about the fireplace and +sat down on the couch to state in no uncertain terms what she thought of +the house, and of their ancestor who had been so misguided as to get +himself shot after hiding the stuff. She ended with a brilliant but +short description of Val's present habits and vices--which she added +because he happened to have said meekly enough that if she would only +trim her nails to a reasonable length, such accidents could be avoided. + +When she had done, her brother sat back on the lowest step of the stairs +and wiped his hands on his handkerchief. + +"Seeing that I have been crawling about on my hands and knees inspecting +cracks in the floor, I think I have as much right to lose my temper as +you have. Short of tearing the house down, I don't see how we are going +to find anything without directions. And I am _not_ in favor of taking +such a drastic step as yet." + +"It's around here somewhere, I know it!" She kicked petulantly at the +hearth-stone. + +"That statement is certainly a big help," Val commented. "Several yards +across and I don't know how many up and down--and you just know it's +there somewhere. Well, you can keep on pressing until you wear your +fingers out, but I'm calling it a day right now." + +She did not answer, and he got stiffly to his feet. He was hot and more +tired than he had been since he had left the hospital. Because he was +just as sure as Ricky that the key to their riddle must be directly +before them at that moment, he was thoroughly disgusted. + +A strange sound from his sister brought him around. Ricky was not pretty +when she cried. No pearly drops slipped down white cheeks. Her nose +shone red and she sniffed. But Ricky did not cry often. Only when she +was discouraged, or when she was really hurt. + +"Why, Ricky--" Val began uncertainly. + +"Go 'way," she hiccupped. "You don't care--you don't care 'bout +anything. If we have to lose this--" + +"We won't! We'll find a way!" he assured her hurriedly. "I'm sorry I +snapped at you. I'm just tired and hot, and so are you. Let's go +upstairs and freshen up. Lunch will be ready--" + +"I kno-o-ow--" her sob deepened into a wail. "Then Rupert will laugh at +us and--" + +"Ricky! For goodness sake, pull yourself together!" + +She looked up at him, round-mouthed in surprise at his sharpness. And +then to his amazement she began to giggle, her giggles mixed with her +sobs. "You do look so funny," she gasped, "like the stern father of a +family. Why don't you fight back always when I get mean, Val?" + +He grinned back at her. "I don't know. Shall I, next time?" + +She rubbed her face with a businesslike air and tucked her handkerchief +away. "There isn't going to be any next time," she announced briskly. +"If there is--well--" + +"Yes?" Val prompted. + +"Then you can just spank me or something drastic. Come on, I must look a +sight. And goodness knows, you're no beauty with that black mark across +your chin and your slacks all grimy at the knees. We've got to clean up +before lunch or Letty-Lou will think we're some sort of heathen." + +With that she turned and led the way upstairs, totally recovered and +herself again in spite of a red nose and suspiciously moist eyelashes. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS + + +"Val, did that cat go upstairs?" Ricky stood at the foot of the hall +staircase frowning crossly. "If he did, you'll just have to go up and +get him. I will not have him walking on the beds with muddy feet. +There's enough to do here without cleaning up after a lazy cat. Where's +Rupert?" + +Her brother put aside his note-book and got up from the couch with a +lazy stretch. Ricky's early-morning energy was apt to be a little +irksome and Val had not had a good night. When one lies and stares up at +a ceiling, one sometimes hears strange noises which cannot be accounted +for by wind or creaking boards. + +"He retired into Bluebeard's den right after breakfast and he hasn't +appeared since." + +"I should think that after what he heard yesterday he'd be doing +something," she protested. + +"And what is there for him to do? You know just how far we got with our +investigations yesterday. Go rap on his door if you like and stir him +up. But I don't think his welcome will be a cordial one." + +Ricky sat down on the bottom step and pushed the hair back from her +forehead. Suddenly she looked very small and faintly forlorn with all +that expanse of age-blackened wood behind her. + +"I can't understand you two at all. One would think you would be just as +well pleased if that Beezel the rival walked off with this place. You +aren't even trying to fight!" + +"Listen, Ricky, how can we fight when we have nothing solid to fight +with? LeFleur is doing all he can, we have explored every possibility +here--" + +"Val, don't you _want_ to stay here?" she interrupted him. + +He looked around at stone and wood. Did he really want to? His instant +hot anger at the thought of another owner there was his answer. Why, +this house was a part of them, as much as if they had laid its +foundation stones with their own hands. They had been brought up on its +blood-stained legends, and on the one or two happier tales which had +been lived within its walls. If they had to leave, they would regret it +all their lives. And yet--Rupert seemed to take no interest in the +claims of the rival, and only Ricky wanted to fight. + +Ricky got up from the stairs. + +"We might as well go up and catch that cat," she said. + +At the top of the stairs Satan sat, his eyes upon the landing windows. +Val reached out his hands for him, but in that single instant Satan was +gone. A black tail disappeared around the door of the Jackson room. + +"Oh, dear, I hope he isn't going to get on that bed." Ricky opened the +door wider. "No, there he goes under instead of on it. Can you see him, +Val?" + +Her brother crouched and lifted the edge of the brocaded cover which +swept to the floor. To Val's surprise a thin line of light showed along +the wall at the head of the bed. + +"Ricky, look behind the head of the bed! Is it fast against the wall?" + +She started to the tall canopied head and pulled the faded fabrics away +from the paneling. "No, there's about two feet here at the bottom. It +doesn't show because the canopy covers it. And, Val, there's an opening +here! Satan's trying to get through!" + +"We need a flashlight." + +"I'll get Rupert's. Val, promise not to go in--if it _is_ a door--until +I come back!" + +"Of course; but hurry." + +The flashlight revealed a wide panel which slid upward. Time and damp +had warped the wood so that it no longer fitted snugly to the floor as +the builder had intended. But the same warping made the door defy their +efforts to raise it any higher. At last, by prying and pounding, they +got it up perhaps a yard from the floor. Satan slipped through and they +followed on hands and knees. + +They crawled into a small room lighted by two round windows set like +eyes in the side wall. More than three-quarters of the space was filled +with furniture and boxes wrapped in tarred canvas. The choking dust and +general mustiness of the long-closed apartment drove Val to investigate +the window fastenings and throw them open to the morning air. + +"There must be another door somewhere," he said, calling Ricky away from +a box where she was picking at the knotted rope which bound it. "All +these things couldn't have been brought through that hole behind the +bed." + +"Here it is," she said a moment later, pointing to an oblong set flush +with the wall. "It's bolted on this side." + +"Let me open it and see where we are." Val fumbled at the rusty latch, +but he had to use an iron poker from a discarded fire stand in the +corner before he could hammer it back. Again the door resisted their +efforts to push it open until Val flung his full weight against it. With +a snapping report it swung open and he sprawled forward into the short +hall which had once led into the garden wing, an ell of the house +destroyed by roving British raiders during the days of 1815. The only +wholly wooden portion of the house, it had been burnt and never rebuilt. + +"Come on," Ricky pulled at Val's sleeve, "let's explore." + +He looked at his black hands. "I would suggest some soap and water, +several brooms, and some dusting cloths if we're going to do it right. +Better make a regular house-cleaning party of it." + +"Goodness, what have I strayed into?" Charity Biglow stood in the lower +hall staring at the younger Ralestones as they came through from the +kitchen. They had both changed into their oldest and least respectable +clothes. Ricky, in fact, was wearing a pair of Val's slacks and one of +Rupert's shirts, and they were burdened with a broom which was long past +its youth, several smaller brushes, and a great bundle of floor-cloths. + +"We've found a secret room--" began Ricky. + +"As one door has been in plain sight since the building of this house, +it could hardly be called a secret room," Val objected. + +"Well, we didn't know it was there until Satan found the back entrance +for us. And now we're going to clean it out. It's full of furniture and +boxes and things." + +"Don't!" Charity held up a paint-streaked hand. "You will have me +drooling in a moment. I don't suppose you could use another assistant? +After all, it was my cat who found it for you. If you can provide me +with a set of those weird coverings which seem to be your house-cleaning +uniforms, I would just love to wield a broom in your company." + +"The more the merrier," laughed Ricky. "I think Val has another pair of +slacks--" + +"That's right, dispose of my wardrobe before my face," he commented, +balancing his load more carefully in preparation for climbing the +stairs. "Only spare my white flannels, please. I'm saving those for the +occasion when I can play the country gentleman in style." + +Upstairs he braced open the hall door of the storage-room. The open +windows had cleared the air within but they were too high and too small +to admit enough light to reach the far corners. It would be best, they +decided, to carry each box and piece of furniture to the hall for +examination. With the zeal of treasure hunters they set to work. + +Some time later, when Val was coaxing the second box through the door, +they were interrupted. + +"And just what is going on here?" Rupert stood at the end of the hall. + +"Oh," Ricky smiled sweetly, "did we really disturb you?" + +"Well, I did think that there was a troop of elephants doing tap dancing +up here. But that isn't the point--just _what_ are you doing?" + +"Cleaning house." Ricky flicked a gray rag in his direction freeing a +cloud of dust. "Don't you think it needs it?" + +Rupert sneezed. "It seems so. But why--? Miss Biglow!" + +Charity, extremely dirty--she had apparently run dusty hands across her +forehead several times--had come to the door of the storage-room. At the +sight of Rupert she flushed and made a hurried attempt at smoothing her +hair. + +"I--" she began, when Ricky interrupted her. + +"Charity is helping us, which is more than we can say of you. Go back to +your old den and hibernate. And then you can't look down that long nose +of yours when we turn up the papers that'll save us from the poorhouse." + +"That's telling him," Val murmured approvingly as he fanned himself with +one of the cleaner cloths. "But perhaps we had better explain. You see, +Satan went hunting and found work for idle hands," and he told the tale +of the sliding panel behind the bed. + +When he had finished, Rupert laughed. "So you are still determined on +treasure hunting, are you? Well, if it will keep you out of mischief, go +to it." + +"Rupert," Ricky faced him squarely, "don't be utterly insufferable. +If you had one drop of hot blood in you, you'd be just as thrilled +as we are. Just because you've been around and around the world until +you got dizzy or something, you needn't stand there with that +'See-the-little-children-play' smirk on your face. You don't really care +whether we lose Pirate's Haven or not, do you?" + +Rupert straightened and the color crept up across his high cheek-bones. +His mouth opened and then he closed it again without speaking the words +he had intended, closed with a firmness which tightened his lips into a +straight line. + +"Don't stand there and glower at me," Ricky went on. "Why don't you say +what you were going to? I'm just about tired of this world-weary +attitude--" + +"Ricky!" Val clapped his black hand over her mouth and turned to +Charity. "Please excuse the fireworks. They are not usual, I assure +you." + +"Let me go!" Ricky twisted out of his grip. "I don't care if Charity +does hear. She ought to know what we're really like!" + +"Speak for yourself, my pet." The red had faded from Rupert's face. "You +do have a nice little habit of speaking your mind, don't you? But on +this occasion I believe you're at least eight-tenths right. I have been +neglecting my opportunities. Suppose you let me get at that box, Val. +And look here, if you are going to unpack these, why not move them down +to the end of the hall and turn them out on a sheet?" + +Charity and Ricky suddenly disappeared back into the room and were very +busy whenever Rupert crossed their line of vision, but Val was heartily +glad of his brother's help in lifting and pulling. + +"Better not try to take this bedstead and stuff out," Rupert advised +when they had the three boxes out in the hall. "We have no need for it +now, anyway." + +"I believe--yes, it is! A real Sergnoret piece!" Charity was +industriously rubbing away at the head of the bed. Rupert knelt down +beside her. + +"And just what is a Sergnoret piece?" + +"A collector's item nowadays. François Sergnoret was one of the greatest +cabinet-makers of New Orleans. See that 'S'--that's the way he always +signed his work." + +"Treasure trove!" cried Ricky. "I wonder how much it's worth?" + +"Exactly nothing to us." Rupert was running his hands across the +mahogany. "We couldn't sell anything from this house until the title is +cleared." + +As Val moved around to the opposite side to see better, his foot struck +against something on the floor. He stooped and picked up a box with a +slanting cover, the whole black and smooth with age and the rubbing of +countless hands. + +"What's this?" He had crossed to the door and was examining his find in +the light. + +Rupert's hand fell upon his shoulder. "Val, be careful of that. Charity, +he's got something here!" He pulled her up beside him, not noting in his +excitement that he had broken out of the formal shell which seemed to +wall him in whenever she was around. + +"A Bible box! And an authentic one, too!" She drew her fingers down the +slope of the lid. + +"And just what is it?" Val asked for the second time. + +"These boxes were used in the seventeenth century for writing-desks and +later to keep the large family Bibles in. But this is the first one I've +ever seen outside of a museum. What's this on the lid?" She traced a +worn outline. Val studied the design. + +"Why, it's Joe! You know, that grinning skull we have stuck up all over +the place to bolster up our superiority complex. That proves that this +is ours, all right." + +"Perhaps--" Ricky's eyes were round with excitement, "perhaps it +belonged to Pirate Dick himself!" + +"Perhaps it did," her younger brother agreed. + +"Lift the lid." She was almost hopping on one foot in her impatience. +"Let's see what's inside." + +"No gold or jewels, I'll wager. How do you get the thing undone?" + +"Here, let me try." Rupert took it from Val's hands and put it down on +one of the chests, squatting on the floor before it. With the smallest +blade of his penknife he delicately probed the fastening sunken in the +wood. + +"I could do a faster job," he remarked, "if you didn't all breathe down +the back of my neck." They retreated two inches or so and waited +impatiently. With a satisfied grunt he dropped his knife and pulled the +lid up. + +"Why, there's nothing in it!" Ricky's cry of disappointment was almost a +wail. + +"Nothing but that old torn lining." Val was as disgusted as she. + +Rupert closed it again. "I'll rub this up some and put in another +lining. This is too good a piece to hide away up here," and he put it +carefully aside at the end of the hall. + +Their investigations yielded nothing more except great quantities of +dust, a mummified rat which even Satan refused to sniff at, and a large +collection of spider webs. Having swept out the room, they went to wash +their hands before unpacking the well-wrapped boxes. + +When their swathing canvas and sacking was thrown aside, the boxes stood +revealed as stout chests banded with iron. Charity paused before one. +"This is a marriage chest, late seventeenth century, I would judge. Look +there, under that carved leaf--isn't that a date?" + +"Sixteen hundred ninety-three," Rupert deciphered. "That crest above it +looks familiar. I know, it belonged to that French lady who married our +pirate ancestor." + +"The first Lady Richanda!" Ricky touched the chest lovingly. "Then this +is mine, Rupert. Can't it be mine?" she coaxed. + +"Of course. But it's locked, and as we don't have any keys which would +fit the lock, you'll have to wait until we can get a locksmith out to +work on it before you will know what's inside." + +"I don't care. No," she corrected herself, "that's wrong; I do care. But +anyway its mine!" She caressed the stiff carving with her fingers. + +"What's this one?" Val turned to the second box. It, too, was fashioned +of wood, but it was plain where the other was carved, and the iron bands +across it were pitted with rust. + +"A sea chest, I would say." Rupert touched the top gingerly. "By the +feel, it's locked too. And I don't care to play around with it. The men +who made things like these were too fond of having little poisoned fangs +run into your hand when you tried to force the chest without knowing the +trick. We'll have to leave this for an expert, too." + +"What about the third?" + +Charity laughed. "After your two treasures I'm afraid that this will be +a disappointment." She indicated a small humpbacked trunk covered with +moth-eaten horsehair. "No romance here. But the key is tied to the clasp +beside the lock." + +"Then open it before I expire of pure unsatisfied curiosity," Ricky +begged. "Go on, Rupert. Hurry." + +"Oh," she said a moment later, "it's full of nothing but a lot of +books." + +"What did you expect," Val asked her, "a skeleton? Do you know, I think +that Rick's ghost, or whatever influence presides over this house, has a +sense of humor. You find a room, or a trunk, or something which makes +you feel that you are on the verge of getting what you want, and then it +all fades into just nothing again. Now, by rights, that writing-desk +should have contained the secret message which would have told us where +to find a hidden passage or something. But what is in it? A couple of +pieces of lining almost completely torn from the bottom. I'll wager that +when you open those chests you'll find nothing but a brick or 'April +Fool' scrawled across the inside. This isn't true to any fiction I ever +read," he ended plaintively. + +"Good Heavens!" Charity was staring down at what lay within a portfolio +she had opened. + +"Don't tell me you have really found something!" Val exclaimed. + +"It can't be true!" She still stared at what she held. + +Ricky looked over her shoulder. "Why, it's nothing but a picture of a +bird," she observed. + +"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity corrected her. + +[Illustration: _"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity said._] + +"What!" With little regard for manners, Rupert snatched the portfolio +from her hands. "Are you sure?" + +"Yes. But you must take it in to the museum and get an expert opinion. +It's wonderful!" + +"Here's another." Reverently Rupert raised the first sketch and then the +second. "Three, four, five, six," he counted. + +"Was Audubon ever here?" Charity looked about the hall, a sort of awe +coloring her voice. + +"He might easily have been when he lived in New Orleans. Though we have +no record of it," answered Rupert. "But these," he closed the portfolio +carefully and knotted its strings, "speak for themselves. I'll take them +to LeFleur tomorrow. We can't allow them to lie about here." + +"I should hope not!" Charity eyed the portfolio wistfully. "Imagine +actually owning six of those--" + +"They won't pay our bills," said Ricky, practical for once in her life. +Treasure to Ricky was not half a dozen sketches on yellowed paper but +good old-fashioned gold with a few jewels thrown in for her own private +satisfaction. The portfolio and its contents left her unmoved. Val +admitted to himself that he, too, was disappointed. After all--well, +treasure should be treasure. + +Rupert carried the portfolio into his bedroom and locked it in one of +his mysterious brief-cases which had somehow found its way upstairs. + +The two chests they moved out farther into the hall and the trunk was +placed back against the wall, ready for further investigation. + +"Mistuh Ralestone, suh," Letty-Lou, standing half-way up the back +stairs, addressed Rupert, "lunch am on de table. Effen yo'all doan come +now, de eatments will be spiled." + +"All right," he answered. + +"Letty-Lou," called Ricky, "put on another plate. Miss Charity is +staying to lunch." + +"Dat's all ri', Miss 'Chanda. I'se done done dat. Yo'all comin' now?" + +"You see how we are bullied," Ricky appealed to Charity. "Of course +you're going to stay," she swept aside the other's protests. "What's +food for, if not to feed your friends? Val, go wash up; your hands are +frightful. I don't care if you did wash once; go and--" + +"This is her little-mother-of-the-family mood," her younger brother +explained to Charity. "It wears off after a while if you just don't +notice it. But I will wash though," he looked at his hands, "I seem to +need it." + +"And don't use the guest towels," Ricky called after him. "You know that +they're only to look at." + +When Val emerged from the bathroom he found the hall deserted. Sounds +from below suggested that his family had basely left him for food. He +started along the passage. Not far from the stairs was the writing-desk +where Rupert had left it. Val picked it up, thinking that he might as +well take it along down with him. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BY OUR LUCK! + + +Depositing the desk on the seat of one of the hall chairs, Val started +toward the dining-room, a grim hole which Lucy had calmly forced the +family to use but which they all cordially disliked. Its paneled walls, +crystal-hung chandelier, marble-fronted fireplace, and inlaid floor gave +it the appearance of one of the less cozy rooms in a small palace. There +were also two tasteful portraits of dead ducks which had been added as a +finishing touch by some tenant during the eighties and which still +remained upon the walls to Ricky's unholy joy. + +But the long table, the high-backed chairs, the side serving-table, and +the two tall cabinets of china were fine enough pieces if one cared for +the massive. Ricky's table-cloth of violent-hued peasant linen was not +in keeping with the china and glassware Letty-Lou had set out upon it. +Charity was commenting upon this ensemble as Val entered. + +"Doesn't this red and green plaid seem a bit--well, bright?" The corners +of her mouth twitched betrayingly. + +"No," Ricky returned firmly. "This cloth matches the ducks." + +"Oh, yes, the ducks," Charity eyed them. "So you consider that the ducks +are the note you wish to emphasize?" + +"Certainly." Ricky surveyed the picture hanging opposite her. "I +consider them unique. Not everyone can have ducks in the dining-room +nowadays." + +"For which they should be eternally thankful," observed Rupert. "They +are rather gaudy, aren't they?" + +"Oh, but I like the expression in this one's glassy eye," Ricky pointed +out. "You might call this study 'Gone But Not Forgotten.'" + +"Corn-bread, please," Val asked, thus attempting to put an end to the +art-appreciation class. + +"I think," continued Ricky, undisturbed as she passed him the plate +heaped with golden squares, "that they are slightly surrealist. They +distinctly resemble the sort of things one is often pursued by in one's +brighter nightmares." + +"Do you have any really good pictures?" asked Charity, resolutely +averting her gaze from the ducks. + +"Three, but they've been loaned to the museum," answered Rupert. "Not by +well-known painters, but they're historically interesting. There's one +of the first Lady Richanda, and one of the missing Rick. That's the best +of the lot, according to LeFleur. I saw a photograph of it once. Come to +think about it, Val looks a lot like the boy in the picture. He might +have sat for it." + +They all turned to eye Val. He arose and bowed. "I find these +compliments too overwhelming," he murmured. + +Rupert grinned. "And how do you know that that remark was intended as a +compliment?" + +"Naturally I assumed so," his brother retorted with a dignity which +disappeared as the piece of corn-bread in his hand broke in two, the +larger and more liberally buttered portion falling butter side down on +the table. Ricky smiled in a pained sort of way as she attempted to +judge from her side of the table just how much damage Val's awkwardness +had done. + +"If you were the graceful hostess," he informed her severely, "you would +now throw your piece in the middle to show that anyone could suffer a +like mishap." + +Ricky changed the subject hurriedly by passing beans to Charity. + +"So Val looks like the ghost," Charity said a moment later. "Now I will +have to go to town and see that portrait. Just where is it?" + +Rupert shook his head. "I don't know. But it's listed in the catalogue +as 'Portrait of Roderick Ralestone, Aged Eighteen.'" + +"Just Val's age, then." Ricky spooned some watermelon pickles onto her +plate. "But he was older than that when he left here." + +"Let's see. He was born in February, 1788, which would make him fourteen +when his parents died in 1802. Then he disappeared in 1814, twelve years +later. Just twenty-six when he went," computed Rupert. + +"A year younger than you are now," observed Ricky. + +"And nine years older than yourself at this present date," Val added +pleasantly. "Why this sudden interest in mathematics?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Only somehow I always thought Rick was younger when +he went away. I've always felt sorry for him. Wonder what happened to +him afterwards?" + +"According to our rival," Rupert pulled his coffee-cup before him as +Letty-Lou took away their plates, "he just went quietly away, married, +lived soberly, and brought up a son, who in turn fathered a son, and so +on to the present day. A tame enough ending for our wild privateersman." + +"I'll bet it isn't true. Rick wouldn't end like that. He probably went +off down south and got mixed up in some of the revolutions they were +having at the time," suggested Ricky. "He couldn't just settle down and +die in bed. I could imagine him scuttling a ship but not being a quiet +business man." + +"He was one of Lafitte's men, wasn't he?" asked Charity. At their +answering nods, she went on: "Lafitte was a business man, you know. Oh, +I don't mean that forge he ran in town, but his establishment at Grande +Terre. He was more smuggler than pirate, that's why he lasted so long. +Even the most respected tradesmen had dealings with him. Why, he used to +post notices right in town when he held auctions at Barataria, listing +what he had to sell, mostly smuggled Negroes and a few cargoes of +luxuries from Europe. He was a privateer under the rules of war, but he +was never a real pirate. At least, that's the belief held nowadays." + +"We can't turn up our noses at pirates," laughed Ricky. "This house was +built by pirate gold. We only wish--" + +From the hall came a dull thump. Ricky's napkin dropped from her hand +into her coffee-cup. Rupert laid down his spoon deliberately enough, but +there was a certain tension in his movements. Val felt a sudden chill. +For Letty-Lou was in the kitchen, the family were in the dining-room. +There should be no one in the hall. + +Rupert pushed back his chair. But Val was already half-way to the door +when his brother joined him. And Ricky, suddenly sober, was at their +heels. + +_Zzzzzrupp!_ The slitting sound was clear as they burst into the hall. +On the fur rug by the couch lay the writing-desk. Its lid was thrown +back and by it crouched Satan industriously ripping the remnants of +lining from its interior. As Rupert came up, the cat drew back, his ears +flattened and his lips a-snarl. + +[Illustration: Zzzzzrupp! _Satan was industriously ripping the remnants +of lining from its interior._] + +"Cinders! What has he done?" demanded Charity, swooping down upon her +pet. At her coming, he fled under the couch out of reach. + +Rupert picked up the desk. "Nothing much," he laughed. "Just torn all +that lining loose, as I had planned to do." + +"What is this?" Ricky disentangled a small slip of white from the torn +and musty velvet. "Why, it's a piece of paper," she answered her own +question. "It must have been under the lining and Satan pulled it out +with the cloth." + +"Here," Rupert took it from her, "let me see it." + +He scanned the faded lines of writing. "Val! Ricky!" He looked up, his +face flushed with excitement. "Listen!" + + "Gatty has returned from the city. The raiders calling themselves + the 'Buck Boys' are headed this way. Gatty tells me that Alexander + is with them, having deserted the plantation a week ago. Since his + malice towards us is well known, it is easy to believe that he + means us open harm. I am making my preparations accordingly. The + valuables now under this roof, together with the proceeds from the + last voyage of the blockade runner, _Red Bird_, I am putting in + that safe place discovered by me in childhood, of which I have + sometimes spoken. Remember the hint I once gave you--By Our Luck. + Having written this in haste, I shall intrust it to Gatty--" + +"That's the end; the rest is gone." Rupert stared down at the scrap of +paper in his hand as if he simply could not believe in its reality. + +"Richard wrote that." Ricky touched the note in awe. "But why didn't +Gatty give it to Miles when he came?" + +"Gatty was probably a slave who ran when the raiders appeared," +suggested Rupert. "He or she must have hidden this in here before +leaving. We'll never know." + +"But we've got our clue!" cried Ricky. "We knew that the hiding-place +was in this hall, and now we have the clue." + +"'By our Luck.'" Rupert looked about him thoughtfully. "That's not the +most helpful--" + +"Rupert!" Ricky seized him by the arm. "There's only one thing in this +room that will answer that. Can't you see? The niche of the Luck!" + +Their gaze followed her pointing finger to the mantel above their heads. + +"I believe she's right! Wait until I get the step-ladder from the +kitchen." Rupert was gone almost before he had finished speaking. + +"Oh, if it's only true!" Ricky stared up like one hypnotized. "Then +we'll be rich and--" + +"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," Val reminded her, +but he didn't think that she heard him. + +Then Rupert was back with the ladder. He climbed up, leaving the three +of them clustered about its foot. + +"Nothing here but two stone studs to hold the Luck in place," he said a +moment later. + +"Why not try pressing those?" suggested Charity. + +"All right, here goes." He placed his thumbs in the corners of the niche +and threw his weight upon them. + +"Nothing happened." Ricky's voice was deep with disappointment. + +"Look!" Val pointed over her shoulder. + +To the left of the fireplace were five panels of oak, to balance those +on the other side about the door of the unused drawing-room. The center +one of these now gaped open, showing a dark cavity. + +"It worked!" Ricky was already heading for the opening. + +There behind the paneling was a shallow closet which ran the full length +of the five panels. It was filled with a collection of bags and small +chests, a collection which appeared much larger when it lay in the gloom +within than when they dragged it out. Then, when they had time to +examine it carefully, they discovered that their booty consisted of two +small wooden boxes or chests, one fancifully carved and evidently +intended for jewels, the other plain but locked; a felt bag and another +of canvas, and a package hurriedly done up in cloth. Rupert spread it +all out on the floor. + +"Well," he hesitated, "where shall we begin?" + +"Charity thought about how to open it, and it was her cat that found us +the clue--let her choose," Val suggested. + +"Good," agreed Rupert. "And what's your choice, m'lady?" + +"What woman could resist this?" She laid her hand upon the jewel box. + +"Then that it is." He reached for it. + +It opened readily enough to show a shallow tray divided into +compartments, all of them empty. + +"Sold again," Val commented dryly. + +Carefully Rupert lifted out the top tray to disclose another on which +rested three small leather bags. He loosened the draw-string of the +nearest and shook out into his palm a pair of earrings of a quaint +pattern in twisted gold set with dull red stones. Charity pronounced +them garnets. Though they were not of great value, they were precious in +Ricky's eyes, and even Charity exclaimed over them. + +The second bag yielded a carnelian seal on a wide chain of gold mesh, +the sort of ornament a dandy wore dangling from his watch pocket in the +days of the Regency. And the third bag contained a cross of silver, +blackened by time, set with amethysts. This was accompanied by a chain +of the same dull metal. + +Putting these into the girls' hands, Rupert lifted the second tray to +lay bare the bottom of the chest. Here again were several small bags. +There was another cross, this time of jet inlaid with gold and attached +to a short necklace of jet beads; a wide bracelet of coral and turquoise +which was crudely made and might have been native work of some sort. +Then there was a tiny jewel-set bottle, about which, Ricky declared, +there still lingered some faint trace of the fragrance it had once held. +And most interesting to Charity was a fan, the sticks carved of ivory so +intricately that they resembled lacework stiffened into slender ribs. +The covering between them was fashioned of layers of silk painted with a +scene of the bayou country, with the moss-grown oaks and encroaching +swamp all carefully depicted. + +Charity declared that she had never seen its equal and that some great +artist must have decorated the dainty trifle. She closed it carefully +and slipped it back into its covering, and Rupert took out the last of +the bags. From its depths rolled a ring. + +It was plain enough, a simple band of gold so deep in shade as to be +almost red. Nearly an inch in width, there was no ornamentation of any +sort on its broad, smooth surface. + +"Do you know what this is?" Rupert turned the circlet around in his +fingers. + +"No." Ricky was still dangling the earrings before her eyes. + +"It is the wedding-ring of the Bride of the Luck." + +"What!" Val leaned forward to look down at the plain circle of gold. + +Even Ricky gave her brother her full attention now. Rupert turned to +Charity. + +"You probably know the story of our Luck?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"When the Luck was brought from Palestine, it was decided that it must +be given into the hands of a guardian who would be responsible for it +with his or her life. Because the men of the house were always at war +during those troublesome times, the guardianship went to the eldest +daughter if she were a maiden. By high and solemn ceremony she was +married to the Luck in the chapel of Lorne. And she was the Bride of the +Luck until death or a unanimous consent from the family released her. +Nor could she marry a mortal husband during the time she wore this." He +touched the ring he held. + +"This must be very old. It's the red gold which came into Ireland and +England before the Romans conquered the land. Perhaps this was found in +some old barrow on Lorne lands. But it no longer means anything without +the Luck." + +He held it out to Ricky. "By tradition this is yours." + +She shook her head. "I don't think I want that, Rupert. It's too +old--too strange. Now these," she held up the earrings, "you can +understand. The girls who wore them were like me, and they wore them +because they were pretty. But that--" she looked at the Bride's ring +with distaste--"that must have been a burden to its wearer. Didn't you +tell us once of the Lady Iseult, who killed herself when they would not +release her from her vows to the Luck? I don't want to wear that, ever." + +"Very well." He dropped it back into its bag. "We'll send it to LeFleur +for safe-keeping. Any scruples about the rest of this stuff?" + +"Of course not! And none of it is worth much. May I keep it?" + +"If you wish. Now let's see what is in here." He drew the second box +toward him and forced it open. + +"Money!" Charity was staring at it with wide eyes. + +Within, in neat bundles, lay packages of paper notes. Even Rupert was +shaken from his calm as he reached for one. Outside of a bank none of +them had ever seen such a display of wealth. But after he studied the +top note, the master of Pirate's Haven laughed thinly. + +"This may be worth ten cents to some collector if we're lucky--" + +"Rupert! That's real money," began Ricky. + +But Val, too, had seen the print. "Confederate money, child. As useless +now as our pretty oil stock. I told you that things always turn out +wrong in this house. If we do find treasure, it's worthless. How much is +there, anyway?" + +Rupert picked up a slip of paper tucked under the tape fastening the +first bundle. "This says thirty-five thousand--profit from a blockade +runner's trip." + +"Thirty-five thousand! Well, I think that that is just too much," Ricky +said defiantly. "Why didn't they get paid in real money?" + +"Being loyal to the South, the Ralestones probably would not take what +you call 'real money,'" replied Charity. + +"It's nice to know how wealthy we once were," Val observed. "What are +you going to do with that wall-paper, Rupert?" + +"Oh, chuck it in my desk. I'll get someone to look it over; there might +be a collector's item among these bills. Now let's have the joker out of +_this_ bundle." He plucked at the fastenings of the felt bag. + +When he had pulled off its wrappings, a silver tray with coffee- and +chocolate-pot, cream pitcher and sugar bowl stood, tarnished and dingy, +on the floor. + +"That's more like it." Ricky picked up the chocolate-pot. "Do you +suppose it will ever be possible to get these clean again?" + +"With a lot of will power and some good hard rubbing it can be done," +Val assured her. + +"Well, I'll supply the will power and you may do the rubbing," she +announced pleasantly. + +Rupert had opened the remaining packages to display a set of twelve +silver goblets, one with a dented edge, and a queerly shaped vessel not +unlike an old-fashioned gravy-boat. Charity picked this up and examined +it gravely. + +"I'm afraid that this is pirate loot." She tapped the lip of the piece +she held. The metal gave off a clear ringing sound. "If I'm not +mistaken, this was stolen from a church. Yes, I'm right; see this cross +under the leaves?" She pointed out the bit of engraving. + +"Black Dick's work," agreed Ricky complacently. "But after almost three +hundred years I'm afraid we can't return it. Especially since we don't +know where it came from in the first place." + +Val looked about at what they had uncovered. "If you are going to take +all of this in to LeFleur, you'll have to get a truck. D'you know, I +think this place might turn out to be a gold-mine if one knew just where +to dig." + +"We haven't found the Luck yet," reminded Ricky. + +Val got clumsily to his feet and then gave Charity a hand up, beating +Rupert to it by about three seconds. "As we don't even know whether it +is still in existence, there's no use in hunting for it," Val retorted. + +Ricky smiled, that set little smile which usually meant that she neither +agreed with nor approved of the speaker. She got up from the floor and +shook out her skirt purposefully. + +"I'll remind you of that some day," she promised. + +"I suppose," Rupert glanced at the silver, "this ought to be taken to +town as soon as possible. This house is too isolated to harbor both us +and the silverware at the same time. What do you think?" Ignoring both +Ricky and Val, he turned to Charity. + +"You are right. But it seems a pity to send it all away before we have a +chance to rub it up and see what it really looks like!" + +"By all means, take it at once!" Val urged promptly. "We can always +clean it later." + +Rupert grinned. "Now that might be a protest against the suggestion +Ricky made a few minutes ago. But I'll save you some honest labor this +time, Val; I'll take it to town this afternoon." + +Ricky laughed softly. + +"And why the merriment?" her younger brother inquired suspiciously. + +"I was just thinking what a surprise the visitor who dropped his +handkerchief here is going to get when he finds the cupboard bare," she +explained. + +Rupert rubbed his palm across his chin. "Of course. I had almost +forgotten that." + +"Well, I haven't! And I wonder if we have found what he--or they--were +hunting," Val mused as he helped Rupert wrap up the spoil again. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL + + +Sam had produced a horse complete with saddle and a reputed +skittishness. That horse was the pride of Sam's big heart. It had once +won a small purse at some country fair or something of the sort, and +since then it had been kept only to wear the saddle at rare intervals. +Not that Sam ever rode. He drove a spring-board behind a thin, sorrowful +mule called "Suggah." But the saddle horse was rented at times to white +folk of whom Sam approved. + +Soon after the arrival of the Ralestones at Pirate's Haven, Sam had +brought this four-footed prodigy to their attention. But claiming that +the family were his "folks," he indignantly refused to accept hire and +was hurt if one of them did not ride at least once a day. Ricky had +developed an interest in the garden and had accepted the loan of Sam's +eldest son, an earth-brown child about as tall as the spade, to help her +mess about. Rupert spent the largest part of his days shut up in +Bluebeard's chamber. Which of course left the horse to Val. + +And Val was becoming slightly bored with Louisiana, at least with that +portion of it which immediately surrounded them. Charity was hard at +work on her picture of the swamp hunter, for Jeems had come back without +warning from his mysterious concerns in the swamp. There was no one to +talk to and nowhere to go. + +LeFleur had notified them that he believed he was on the track of some +discreditable incident in the past of their rival which would banish him +from their path. And no more handkerchiefs had been found, ownerless, in +their hall. It was a serene morning. + +But, Val thought long afterwards, he should have been warned by that +very serenity and remembered the old saying, that it was always calmest +before a storm. On the contrary, he was riding Sam's horse along the +edge of that swamp, wondering what lay hidden back in that dark jungle. +Some day, he determined, he would do a little exploring in that +direction. + +A heron arose from the bayou and streaked across the metallic blue of +the sky. Another was wading along, intent upon its fishing. Sam's yellow +dog, which had followed horse and rider, set up a barking, annoyed at +the haughty carriage of the bird. He scrambled down the steep bank, +drove it into flight after its fellow. + +Val pulled his shirt away from his sticky skin and wondered if he would +ever feel really cool again. There was something about this damp heat +which seemed to remove all ambition. He marveled how Ricky could even +think of trimming roses that morning. + +Sam's dog began to bark deafeningly again, and Val looked around for the +heron which must have aroused his displeasure. There was none. But +across the swamp crawled an ungainly monster. + +Four great rubber-tired wheels, ten feet high, as he later learned, +supported a metal framework upon which squatted two men and the driver +of the monstrosity. With the ponderous solemnity of a tank it came on to +the bayou. + +Val's mount snorted and his ears pricked back. He began to have very +definite ideas about what he saw. The thing slipped down the marshy bank +and took to the water with ease, turning its square nose downstream and +sending waves shoreward. + +"Ride 'em, cowboy!" yelled one of the men derisively as Sam's horse +decided to stand on his hind legs and wave at the strange apparition as +it went by. Val brought him down upon four feet again, and he stood +sweating, his ears still back. + +"What do you call that?" the boy shouted back. + +"Prospecting engine for swamp use," answered the driver. "Don't you +swampers ever get the news?" + +The car, or whatever it was, moved on downstream and so out of sight. + +"Now I wonder what that was," Val said aloud as his mount sidled toward +the center of the road. The hound-dog came up and sat down to kick a +patch of flea-invaded territory which lay behind his left ear. Again the +morning was quiet. + +But not for long. A mud-spattered car came around the bend in the road +and headed at Val, going a good pace for the dirt surfacing. Before it +quite reached him it stopped and the driver stuck his head out of the +window. + +"Hey, you, move over! Whatya tryin' to do--break somebody's neck?" + +Val surveyed him with interest. The man was, perhaps, Rupert's age, a +small, thin fellow with thick black hair and the white seam of an old +scar beneath his left eye. + +"This is," the boy replied, "a private road." + +"Yeah," he snarled, "I know. And I'm the owner. So get your hobby-horse +going and beat it, kid." + +Val shifted in the saddle and stared down at him. + +"And what might your name be?" he asked softly. + +"What d'yuh think it is? Hitler? I'm Ralestone, the owner of this place. +On your way, kid, on your way." + +"So? Well, good morning, cousin." Val tightened rein. + +The invader eyed him cautiously. "What d'yuh mean--cousin?" + +"I happen to be a Ralestone also," the boy answered grimly. + +"Huh? You the guy who thinks he owns this?" he asked aggressively. + +"My brother is the present master of Pirate's Haven--" + +"That's what _he_ thinks," replied the rival with a relish. "Well, he +isn't. That is, not until he pays me for my half. And if he wants to get +tough, I'll take it all," he ended, and withdrew into the car like a +lizard into its rock den. + +Val sat by the side of the road and watched the car slide along toward +the plantation. As it passed him he caught a glimpse of a second +passenger in the back seat. It was the red-faced man he had seen with +LeFleur's clerk on the street in New Orleans. Resolutely Val turned back +and started for the house in the wake of the rival. + +By making use of a short-cut, he reached the front of the house almost +as soon as the car. Ricky had been working with the morning-glory vines +about the terrace steps, young Sam standing attendance with a rusty +trowel and one of the kitchen forks. + +At the sound of the car she stood up and tried to brush a smear of +sticky earth from the front of her checked-gingham dress. When the rival +got out she smiled at him. + +"Hello, sister," he smirked. + +She stood still for a moment and her smile faded. When she answered, her +voice was chill. "You wished to see Mr. Ralestone?" she asked distantly. + +"Sure. But not just yet, sister. You better be pleasant, you know. I'm +the new owner here--" + +Val rode out of the bushes and swung out of the saddle, coming up behind +him. Although the boy was one of the smaller "Black" Ralestones, he +topped the invader by a good two inches, and he noted this with delight +as he came up to him. + +"Ricky," he said briefly, "go in. And send Sam for Rupert." + +She nodded and was gone. The man turned to face Val. "You again, huh?" +he demanded. + +"Yes. And Ralestone or no Ralestone, I would advise you to keep a civil +tongue in your head," he began hotly, when Rupert appeared at the door. + +"Well, Val," he asked, a frown creasing his forehead, "what is it?" + +The rival advanced a short step and looked up. "So this is the guy who's +trying to do me out of my rights?" + +Rupert reached behind him and closed the screen before coming to the +head of the terrace steps. "I presume that you are Mr. Ralestone?" he +asked quietly. + +"'Course I'm Ralestone," asserted the other. "And I'm part owner of this +place." + +"That has not yet been decided," answered Rupert calmly. "But suppose +you tell me to what we owe the honor of this visit?" + +Now, however, the passenger took a hand in the game. He crawled out of +the car, taking off his soiled panama to wipe his bald head with a gaudy +silk handkerchief. + +"Here, here, Mr. Ralestone," he addressed his companion, "let us have no +unpleasantness. We have merely come here today, sir," he explained to +Rupert, "to see if matters could not be settled amicably without having +to take recourse to a court of law. Your Mr. LeFleur will give us very +little satisfaction, you see. I am a plain and honest man, sir, and I +believe an affair of this kind may be best agreed upon between +principals. My client, Mr. Ralestone, is a reasonable man; he will be +moderate in his demands. It will be to your advantage to listen to our +proposal. After all, you cannot contest his rights--" + +"But that is just what I am going to do." Rupert smiled down at them, if +a slight twist of the lips may be called a smile. "Have you ever heard +that old saying that 'possession is nine points of the law'? I am the +Ralestone in residence, and I shall continue to be the Ralestone in +residence until after this case is heard. Now, as I am a busy man and +this is the middle of the morning, I shall have to say good-bye--" + +"So that's the way you're going to take it?" The visiting Ralestone +glared at Rupert. "All right. Play it that way and you won't be here a +month from now. Nor," he turned on Val, "this kid brother of yours, +either. You can't pull this lord-of-the-land stuff on me and get away +with it. I'll--" But he did not finish his threat. Instead, his jaws +clamped shut on mid-word. In silence he turned and got into the car to +which his counselor had already withdrawn. + +The car leaped forward into a rose bush. With a savage twist of the +wheel the driver brought it back to the drive, leaving deep prints in +the front lawn. Then it was gone, down the drive, as they stood staring +after it. + +"So that's that," Val commented. "Well, all I've got to say is that +Rick's branch of the family has sadly gone to seed--" + +"Being a southern gentleman has made you slightly snobbish." Ricky came +out from her lurking place behind the door. + +"Snobbish!" her brother choked at the injustice. "I suppose that that is +your idea of a perfect gentleman, a diamond in the rough--" + +He pointed down the drive. + +Ricky laughed. "It's so easy to tease you, Val. Of course he is a--a +wart of the first class. But Rupert will fix him--won't you?" + +Her older brother grinned. "After that example of your trust in me, I'll +have to. I agree, he is not the sort you would care to introduce to your +more particular friends. But this visit seems to suggest something--" + +"That he has the wind up?" Val asked. + +"There are indications of that, I think. Something LeFleur has done has +stirred our friends into direct action. We shall probably have more of +it within the immediate future. So I want you, Ricky, to go to town. +Madame LeFleur has very kindly offered to put you up--" + +Each tiny curl on Ricky's head seemed to bristle with indignation. "Oh, +no you don't, Rupert Ralestone! You don't get me away from here when +there are exciting things going on. I hardly think that our friend with +the slimy manner will use machine-guns to blast us out. And if he +does--well, it wouldn't be the first time that this house was used as a +fortress. I'm not going one step out of here unless you two come with +me." + +Rupert shrugged. "As I can't very well hog-tie you to get you to town, I +suppose you will have to stay. But I _am_ going to send for Lucy." With +that parting shot he turned and went in. + +Lucy arrived shortly before noon. She was accompanied by a portion of +her large family--four, Val counted, including that Sam who had become +Ricky's faithful shadow. + +"What's all dis Ah heah 'bout some mans sayin' he am de Ralestone?" she +demanded of Ricky. "De policemans oughta lock him up. Effen he comes +botherin' 'roun' heah agin I'll ten' to him!" + +With that she marched majestically into the kitchen, elbowed Letty-Lou +out of her way, and proceeded to stir up a batch of brown molasses +cookies. "'Cause dey is fillin' fo' boys. An' Mistuh Val, heah, he needs +some moah fat 'crost dose skinny ribs. Letty-Lou, yo'all ain't feedin' +dese men-folks ri'. Now yo' chillens," she swooped down upon her own +family, "yo'all gits outa heah an' don't fuss me." + +"They can come with me," offered Ricky. "I'm trying to find that maze +which is marked on the garden plans." + +"Miss 'Chanda, yo'all ain't a'goin' 'way 'afo' yoah brothah gits through +his wo'k. He done tol' me to keep an eye on yo'all. Why don't yo'all go +visit wi' Miss Charity?" + +Ricky looked at her watch. "All right. She'll be through her morning +work by now. I'll take the children, Lucy." + +To Val's open surprise, she obeyed Lucy, meekly moving off without a +single protest. One of the boys remained behind and offered shyly to +take the horse back to Sam's place. When Lucy agreed that it would be +all right, Val boosted him into the saddle where he clung like a jockey. + +"An' wheah is yo'all goin', Mistuh Val?" asked Lucy, cutting out round +cookies with a downward stroke of the drinking glass she had pressed +into service. The regular cutter was, in her opinion, too small. + +"Down toward the bayou. I'll be back before lunch," he said, and hurried +out before she could as definitely dispose of him as she had of Ricky. + +Val struck off into the bushes until he came to one of the paths that +crossed the wilderness. As it ran in the direction of the bayou, he +turned into it. Then for the second time he came into the glen of the +pool and passed along the path Jeems had known. So somehow Val was not +surprised, when he came out upon the edge of the bayou levee, to see +Jeems sitting there. + +"Hello!" + +The swamper looked up at Val's hail but this time he did not leave. + +"Hullo," he answered sullenly. + +Val stood there, ill at ease, while the swamper eyed him composedly. +What could he say now? Val's embarrassment must have been very apparent, +for after a long moment Jeems smiled derisively. + +"Yo' goin' ridin' in them funny pants?" he asked, pointing to the +other's breeches. + +"Well, that's what they are intended for," Val replied. + +"Wheah's youah hoss?" + +"I sent him back to Sam's." Val was beginning to feel slightly warm. He +decided that Jeems' manners were not all that they might be. + +"Sam!" the swamp boy spat into the water. "He's a--" + +But what Sam was, in the opinion of the swamper, Val never learned, for +at that moment Ricky burst from between two bushes. + +"Well, at last," she panted, "I've gotten rid of my army. Val, do you +think that Lucy is going to be like this all the time--order us about, I +mean?" + +"Who's that?" Jeems was on his feet looking at Ricky. + +"Ricky," her brother said, "this is Jeems. My sister Richanda." + +"Yo' one of the folks up at the big house?" he asked her directly. + +"Why, yes," she answered simply. + +"Yo' don' act like yo' was." He stabbed his finger at both of them. "Yo' +don't walk with youah noses in the air looking down at us--" + +"Of course we don't!" interrupted Ricky. "Why should we, when you know +more about this place than we do?" + +"What do yo' mean by that?" he flashed out at her, his sullen face +suddenly dark. + +"Why--why--" Ricky faltered, "Charity Biglow said that you knew all +about the swamp--" + +His tense position relaxed a fraction. "Oh, yo' know Miss Charity?" + +"Yes. She showed us the picture she is painting, the one you are posing +for," Ricky went on. + +"Miss Charity is a fine lady," he returned with conviction. He shifted +from one bare foot to the other. "Ah'll be goin' now." With no other +farewell he slipped over the side of the levee into his canoe and headed +out into midstream. Nor did he look back. + +Lucy departed after dinner that evening to bed down her family before +returning with Letty-Lou to occupy one of the servant's rooms over the +side wing. Rupert had gone with her to interview Sam. Val gathered that +Sam had some notion of trying to reintroduce the growing of indigo, a +crop which had been forsaken for sugar-cane at the beginning of the +nineteenth century when a pest had destroyed the entire indigo crop of +that year all over Louisiana. + +"Let's go out in the garden," suggested Ricky. + +"What for?" asked her brother. "To provide a free banquet for +mosquitoes? No, thank you, let's stay here." + +"You're lazy," she countered. + +"You may call it laziness; I call it prudence," he answered. + +"Well, I'm going anyway," she made a decision which brought Val +reluctantly to his feet. For mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he was not +going to allow Ricky to be outside alone. + +They followed the path which led around the side of the house until it +neared the kitchen door. When they reached that point Ricky halted. + +"Listen!" + +A plaintive miaow sounded from the kitchen. + +"Oh, bother! Satan's been left inside. Go and let him out." + +"Will you stay right here?" Val asked. + +"Of course. Though I don't see why you and Rupert have taken to acting +as if Fu Manchu were loose in our yard. Now hurry up before he claws the +screen to pieces. Satan, I mean, not the worthy Chinese gentleman." + +But Satan did not meet Val at the door. Apparently, having received no +immediate answer to his plea, he had withdrawn into the bulk of the +house. Speaking unkind things about him under his breath, Val started +across the dark kitchen. + +Suddenly he stopped. He felt the solid edge of the table against his +thigh. When he put out his hand he touched the reassuring everyday form +of Lucy's stone cooky jar. He was in their own pleasant everyday +kitchen. + +But-- + +He was not alone in that house! + +There had been the faintest of sounds from the forepart of the main +section, a sound such as Satan might have caused. But Val knew--knew +positively--that Satan was guiltless. Someone or something was in the +Long Hall. + +He crept by the table, hoping that he could find his way without running +into anything. His hand closed upon the knob of the door opening upon +the back stairs used by Letty-Lou. If he could get up them and across +the upper hall, he could come down the front stairs and catch the +intruder. + +It took Val perhaps two minutes to reach the head of the front stairs, +and each minute seemed a half-hour in length. From below he could hear a +regular _pad, pad_, as if from stocking feet on the stone floor. He drew +a deep breath and started down. + +When he reached the landing he looked over the rail. Upright before the +fireplace was a dim white blur. As he watched, it moved forward. There +was something uncanny about that almost noiseless movement. + +The blur became a thin figure clad in baggy white breeches and loose +shirt. Below the knees the legs seemed to fade into the darkness of the +hall and there was something strange about the outlines of the head. + +Again the thing resumed its padding and Val saw now that it was pacing +the hall in a regular pattern. Which suggested that it was human and was +there with a very definite purpose. + +He edged farther down the stairs. + +"And just what are you doing?" + +If his voice quavered upon the last word, it was hardly his fault. For +when the thing turned, Val saw-- + +It had no face! + +With a startled cry he lunged forward, clutching at the banister to +steady his blundering descent. The thing backed away; already it was +fading into the darkness beside the stairs. As Val's feet touched the +floor of the hall he caught his last glimpse of it, a thin white patch +against the solid paneling of the stairway's broad side. Then it was +gone. When Rupert and Ricky came in a few minutes later and turned on +the lights, Val was still staring at that blank wall, with Satan rubbing +against his ankles. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN + + +Rupert had dismissed Val's story of what he had seen in the hall in a +very lofty manner. When his brother had persisted in it, Rupert +suggested that Val had better keep out of the sun in the morning. For no +trace of the thing which had troubled the house remained. + +Ricky hesitated between believing wholly in Val's tale or just in his +powers of imagination. And between them his family drove him sulky to +bed. He was still frowning, or maybe it was a new frown, when he looked +into the bathroom mirror the next morning as he dressed. For Val knew +that he _had_ seen something in the hall, something monstrous which had +no right to be there. + +What had their rival said before he left? "Play it that way and you +won't be here a month from now." It was just possible--Val paused, half +in, half out of, his shirt. Could last night's adventure have had +anything to do with that threat? Two or three episodes of that sort +might unsettle the strongest nerves and drive the occupants from a house +where such a shadow walked. + +Something else nagged at the boy's memory. Slowly he traced back over +the events of the day before, from the moment when he had watched that +queer swamp car crawl downstream. After the visit of the rival, Lucy had +come to stay. And then Ricky had started for Charity's while he had gone +down to the bayou where he met Jeems. That was it. Jeems! + +When Ricky had hinted that he knew more of the swamp than the Ralestones +did, why had he been so quick to resent that remark? Could it be because +he understood her to mean that he knew more of Pirate's Haven than they +did? + +And the thing in the Long Hall last night had known of some exit in the +wall that the Ralestones did not know of. It had faded into the base of +the staircase. And yet, when Val had gone over the paneling there inch +by inch, he had gained nothing but sore finger tips. + +He tucked his shirt under his belt and looked down to see if Sam Junior +had polished his boots as Lucy had ordered her son to do. Save for a +trace of mud by the right heel, they had the proper mirror-like surface. + +"Mistuh Val," Lucy's penetrating voice made him start guiltily, "is yo' +or is yo' not comin' to brekfas'?" + +"I am," he answered and started downstairs at his swiftest pace. + +The new ruler of their household was standing at the foot of the stairs, +her knuckles resting on her broad hips. She eyed the boy sternly. Lucy +eyed one, Val thought, much as a Scotch nurse Ricky and he had once had. +They had never dared question any of Annie's decrees, and one look from +her had been enough to reduce them to instant order. Lucy's eye had the +same power. And now as she herded Val into the dining-room he felt like +a six-year-old with an uneasy conscience. + +Rupert and Ricky were already seated and eating. That is, Ricky was +eating, but Rupert was reading his morning mail. + +"Yo'all sits down," said Lucy firmly, "an' yo'all eats what's on youah +plate. Yo'all ain' much fattah nor a jay-bird." + +"I don't see why she keeps comparing me to a living skeleton all the +time," Val complained as she departed kitchenward. + +"She told Letty-Lou yesterday," supplied Ricky through a mouthful of +popover, "that you are 'peaked lookin'." + +"Why doesn't she start in on Rupert? He needs another ten pounds or so." +Val reached for the butter. "And he hasn't got a very good color, +either." Val surveyed his brother professionally. "Doesn't get outdoors +enough." + +"No," Ricky's voice sounded aggrieved, "he's too busy having secrets--" + +"Hmm," Rupert murmured, more interested in his letter than in the +conversation. + +"The trouble is that we are not Chinese bandits, Malay pirates, or Arab +freebooters. We don't possess color, life, enough--enough--" + +"Sugar," Rupert interrupted Val, pushing his coffee-cup in the general +direction of Ricky without raising his eyes from the page in his hand. +She giggled. + +"So that's what we lack. Well, now we know. How much sugar should we +have, Rupert? Rupert--Mr. Rupert Ralestone--Mr. Rupert Ralestone of +Pirate's Haven!" Her voice grew louder and shriller until he did lay +down his reading matter and really looked at them for the first time. + +"What do you want?" + +"A little attention," answered Ricky sweetly. "We aren't Chinese, Arabs, +or Malays, but we are kind of nice to know, aren't we, Val? If you'd +only come out of your subconscious, or wherever you are most of the +time, you'd find that out without being told." + +Rupert laughed and pushed away his letters. "Sorry. I picked up the bad +habit of reading at breakfast when I didn't have my table brightened by +your presence. I know," he became serious, "that I haven't been much of +a family man. But there are reasons--" + +"Which, of course, you can not tell _us_," flashed Ricky. + +His face lengthened ruefully. He pulled at his tie with an embarrassed +frown. "Not yet, anyway. I--" He fumbled with his napkin. "Oh, well, let +me see how it comes out first." + +Ricky opened her eyes to their widest extent and leaned forward, every +inch of her expressing awe. "Rupert, don't tell me that you are an +_inventor_!" she cried. + +"Now I know that we'll end in the poorhouse," Val observed. + +Rupert had recovered his composure. "'I yam what I yam,'" he quoted. + +"Very well. Keep it to yourself then," pouted Ricky. "We can have +secrets too." + +"I don't doubt it." He glanced at Val. "Unfortunately you always tell +them. See any more bogies last night, Val? Did a big, black, formless +something reach out from under the bed and clutch at you?" + +But his brother refused to be drawn. "No, but when it does I'll sic it +onto you. A big, black, formless something is just what you need. And +I'll--" + +"Am I interrupting?" Charity stood in the door. "Goodness! Haven't you +finished breakfast yet? Do you people know that it is almost ten?" + +"Madam, we have banished time." Rupert drew out the chair at his left. +"Will you favor us with your company?" + +"I thought you were going to be busy today," said Ricky as she rang for +Letty-Lou and a fresh cup of coffee for their guest. + +"So did I," sighed Charity. "And I should be. I've got this order, you +know, and now I can't get any models. Why there should be a sudden +dearth of them right now, I can't imagine. I thought I could use Jeems +again, but somehow he isn't the type." She raised her cup to her lips. + +"Are you doing story illustrations?" asked Rupert, more alive now than +he had been all morning. + +"Yes. A historical thriller for a magazine. They want a full-page cut +for the first chapter and a half-page to illustrate the most exciting +scene. Then there're innumerable smaller ones. But the two large ones +are what I'm worrying about. I like to get the important stuff finished +first, and now I simply can't get models who are the right types." + +"What's the story about?" demanded Ricky. + +"It's laid in Haiti during the French invasion led by Napoleon's +brother-in-law, the one who married Pauline. All voodoo and aristocratic +young hero and beautiful maiden pursued by an officer of the black +rebels. And," she almost wailed, "here I am with the clothes spread all +over my bed--the right costumes, you know--with no one to wear them. I +went over to the Corners this morning and called Johnson--he runs a +registration office for models--but he couldn't promise me anyone." She +bit absent-mindedly into a round spiced roll Ricky had placed before +her. + +"Wait!" She laid down the roll in a preoccupied fashion and stared +across the table. "Val, stand up." + +Wondering, he pushed back his chair and arose obediently. + +"Turn your head a little more to the right," Charity ordered. "There, +that's it! Now try to look as if there were something all ready to +spring at you from that corner over there." + +For one angry moment he thought that she had been told of what had +happened the night before and was baiting him, as the others had done. +But a sidewise glance showed him that her interest lay elsewhere. So he +screwed up his features into what he fondly hoped was a grim and deadly +smile. + +"For goodness sake, don't look as if you had eaten green apples," Ricky +shot at him. "Just put on that face you wear when I show you a new hat. +No, not that sneering one; the other." + +Rupert threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Better let him alone, +Ricky. After all, it's _his_ face." + +"I'm glad that someone has pointed out that fact," Val said stiffly, +"because--" + +"Oh, be quiet!" Charity leaned forward across the table. "Yes," she +nodded, "you'll do." + +"For what?" Val asked, slightly apprehensive. + +"For my hero. Of course your hair is too short and you are rather too +youthful, but I can disguise those points. And," she turned upon Ricky, +"you can be the lady in distress. Which gives me another idea. Do you +suppose that I might use your terrace for a background and have that big +chair, the one with the high back?" she asked Rupert. + +"You may have anything you want within these walls," he answered lightly +enough, but it was clear that he really meant it. + +"What am I supposed to do?" Val asked. + +Charity considered. "I think I'll try the action one first," she said +half to herself. "That's going to be the most difficult. Ricky, will you +send one of Lucy's children over with me to help carry back the costumes +and my material--" She was already at the door. + +"Val and I will go instead," Ricky replied. + +Some twenty minutes later Val was handed a suitcase and told to use the +contents to cover his back. Having doubts of the wisdom of the whole +affair, he went reluctantly upstairs to obey. But the result was not so +bad. The broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted coat did not fit him ill, +though the shiny boots were at least a size too large. Timidly he went +down. Ricky was the first to see him. + +"Val! You look like something out of _Lloyds of London_. Rupert, look at +Val. Doesn't he look wonderful?" + +Having thus made public his embarrassment, she ran to the mirror to +finish her own prinking. The high-waisted Empire gown of soft green +voile made her appear taller than usual. But she walked with a little +shuffle which suggested that her ribbon-strapped slippers fitted her no +better than Val's boots did him. Charity was coaxing Ricky's tight +fashionable curls into a looser arrangement and tying a green ribbon +about them. This done, she turned to survey Val. + +"I thought so," she said with satisfaction. "You are just what I want. +But," the tiny lines about her eyes crinkled in amusement, "at present +you are just a little too perfect. Do you realize that you have just +fought off an attack, led by a witch doctor, in which you were wounded; +that you have struggled through a jungle for seven hours in order to +reach your betrothed; and that you are now facing death by torture? I +hardly think that you should look as if you had just stepped out of the +tailor's--" + +"I've done all that?" Val demanded, somewhat staggered. + +"Well, the author says you have, so you've got to look it. We'd better +muss you up a bit. Let's see." She tapped her fingernail against her +teeth as she looked him up and down. "Off with that coat first." + +He wriggled out of the coat and stood with the glories of his ruffled +shirt fully displayed. "Now what?" he asked. + +"This," she reached forward and ripped his left sleeve to the shoulder. +"Untie that cravat and take it off. Roll up your other sleeve above the +elbow. That's right. Ricky, you muss up his hair. Let a lock of it fall +across his forehead. No, not there--there. Good. Now he's ready for the +final touches." She went to the table where her paints had been left. +"Let's see--carmine, that ought to be right. This is water-color, Val, +it'll all wash off in a minute." + +Across his smooth tanned cheek she dribbled a jagged line of scarlet. +Then instructing Ricky to bind the torn edge of his sleeve above his +elbow, she also stained the bandage. "Well?" she turned to Rupert. + +"He looks as though he had been through the wars all right," he agreed. +"But what about the costume?" + +"Oh, we needn't worry about that. They knew I'd have to do this, so they +duplicated everything. Now for you, Ricky. Pull your sleeve down off +your shoulder and see if you can tear the skirt up from the hem on that +side--about as far as your knee. Yes, that's fine. You're ready now." + +Rupert picked up from the table a sword and a long-barrelled dueling +pistol and led the way out onto the terrace. Charity pointed to the big +chair in the sunlight. + +"This will probably be hard for you two," she warned them frankly. "If +you get tired, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll give you a rest every ten +minutes. Val, you sit down in the chair. Slump over toward that arm as +if you were about finished. No, more limp than that. Now look straight +ahead. You are on the terrace of Beauvallet. Beside you is the girl you +love. You are all that stands between her and the black rebels. Now take +this sword in your right hand and the pistol in your left. Lean forward +a little. There! Now don't move; you've got just the pose I want. Ricky, +crouch down by the side of his chair with your arm up so that you can +touch his hand. You're terrified. There's death, horrible death, before +you!" + +Val could feel Ricky's hand quiver against his. Charity had made them +both see and feel what she wanted them to. They weren't in the peaceful +sunlight on the terrace of Pirate's Haven; they were miles farther south +in the dark land of Haiti, the Haiti of more than a hundred years ago. +Before them was a semitropical forest from which at any moment might +crawl--death. Val's hand tightened on the sword hilt; the pistol butt +was clammy in his grip. + +Rupert had put up the easel and laid out the paints. And now, taking up +her charcoal, Charity began to sketch with clear, clean strokes. + +Her models' unaccustomed muscles cramped so that when they shifted +during their rest periods they grimaced with pain. Ricky whispered that +she did not wonder models were hard to get. After a while Rupert went +away without Charity noticing his leaving. The sun burned Val's cheek +where the paint had dried and he felt a trickle of moisture edge down +his spine. But Charity worked on, thoroughly intent upon what was +growing under her brushes. + +It must have been close to noon when she was at last interrupted. + +"Hello there, Miss Biglow!" + +Two men stood below the terrace on a garden path. One of them waved his +hat as Charity looked around. And behind them stood Jeems. + +"Go away," said the worker, "go away, Judson Holmes. I haven't any time +for you today." + +"Not after I've come all the way from New York to see you?" he asked +reproachfully. "Why, Charity!" He had the reddest hair Val had ever +seen--and the homeliest face--but his small-boy grin was friendliness +itself. + +"Go away," she repeated stubbornly. + +"Nope!" He shook his head firmly. "I'm staying right here until you +forget that for at least a minute." He motioned toward the picture. + +With a sigh she put down her brush. "I suppose I'll have to humor you." + +"Miss Charity," Jeems had not taken his eyes from the two models since +he had arrived and he did not move them now, "what're they all fixed up +like that fur?" + +"It's a picture for a story," she explained. "A story about Haiti in the +old days--" + +"Ah reckon Ah know," he nodded eagerly, his face suddenly alight. +"That's wheah th' blacks kilt th' French back in history times. Ah got +me a book 'bout it. A book in handwritin', not printin'. Pčre Armand +larned me to read it." + +Judson Holmes' companion moved forward. "A book in handwriting," he said +slowly. "Could that possibly mean a diary?" + +Charity was wiping her hands on a paint rag. "It might. New Orleans was +a port of refuge for a great many of the French who fled the island +during the slave uprising. It is not impossible." + +"I've got to see it! Here, boy, what's your name?" He pounced upon +Jeems. "Can you get that book here this afternoon?" + +Jeems drew back. "Ah ain't gonna bring no book heah. That's mine an' you +ain't gonna set eye on it!" With that parting shot he was gone. + +"But--but--" protested the other, "I've got to see it. Why, such a find +might be priceless." + +Mr. Holmes laughed. "Curb your hunting instincts for once, Creighton. +You can't handle a swamper that way. Let's go and see Charity's +masterpiece instead." + +"I don't remember having asked you to," she observed. + +"Oh, see here now, wasn't I the one who got you this commission? And +Creighton here is that strange animal known as a publisher's scout. And +publishers sometimes desire the services of illustrators, so you had +better impress Creighton as soon as possible. Well," he looked at the +picture, "you have done it!" + +Even Creighton, who had been inclined to stare back over his shoulder at +the point where Jeems disappeared, now gave it more than half his +attention. + +"Is that for _Drums of Doom_?" he asked becoming suddenly crisp and +professional. + +"Yes." + +"Might do for the jacket of the book. Have Mr. Richards see this. +Marvelous types, where did you get them?" he continued, looking from the +canvas to Ricky and Val. + +"Oh, I am sorry. Miss Ralestone, may I present Mr. Creighton, and Mr. +Holmes, both of New York. And this," she smiled at Val, "is Mr. Valerius +Ralestone, the brother of the owner of this plantation. The family, I +believe, has lived here for about two hundred and fifty years." + +Creighton's manner became a shade less brusque as he took the hand Ricky +held out to him. "I might have known that no professional could get that +look," he said. + +"Then this isn't your place?" Mr. Holmes said to Charity after he had +greeted the Ralestones. + +"Mine? Goodness no! I rent the old overseer's house. Pirate's Haven is +Ralestone property." + +"Pirate's Haven." Judson Holmes' infectious grin reappeared. "A rather +suggestive name." + +"The builder intended to name it 'King's Acres' because it was a royal +grant," Val informed him. "But he was a pirate, so the other name was +given it by the country folk and he adopted it. And he was right in +doing so because there were other freebooters in the family after his +time." + +"Yes, we are even equipped with a pirate ghost," contributed Ricky with +a mischievous glance in her brother's direction. + +Holmes fanned himself with his hat. "So romance isn't dead after all. +Well, Charity, shall we stay--in town I mean?" + +"Why?" a thin line appeared between her eyes as if she had little liking +for such a plan. + +"Well, Creighton is here on the track of a mysterious new writer who is +threatening to produce a second _Gone with the Wind_. And I--well, I +like the climate." + +"We'll see," muttered Charity. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +INTO THE SWAMP + + +In spite of the fact that they received but lukewarm encouragement from +Charity, both Holmes and Creighton lingered on in New Orleans. Mr. +Creighton made several attempts to get in touch with Jeems, whom he +seemed to suspect of concealing vast literary treasures. And he spent +one hot morning going through the trunk of papers which the Ralestones +had found in the storage-room. Ricky commented upon the fact that being +a publisher's scout was almost like being an antique buyer. + +Holmes was a perfect foil for his laboring friend. He lounged away his +days draped across the settee on Charity's gallery or sitting down on +the bayou levee--after she had chased him away--pitching pebbles into +the water. He told all of them that it was his vacation, the first one +he had had in five years, and that he was going to make the most of it. +Companioned by Creighton, he usually enlarged the family circle in the +evenings. And the tales he could tell about the far corners of the earth +were as wildly romantic as Rupert's--though he did assure his listeners +that even Tibet was very tame and well behaved nowadays. + +Charity had finished the first illustration and had started another. +This time Ricky and Val appeared polished and combed as if they had just +stepped out of a ball-room of a governor's palace--which they had, +according to the story. It was during her second morning's work upon +this that she threw down her brush with a snort of disgust. + +"It's no use," she told her models, "I simply can't work on this now. +All I can see is that scene where the hero's mulatto half-brother +watches the ball from the underbrush. I've got to do that one first." + +"Why don't you then?" Ricky stretched to relieve cramped muscles. + +"I would if I could get Jeems. He's my model for the brother. He's +enough like you, Val, for the resemblance, and his darker tan is just +right for color. But he won't come back while Creighton's here. I could +wring that man's neck!" + +"But Creighton left for Milneburg this morning," Val reminded her. +"Rupert told him about the old voodoo rites which used to be celebrated +there on June 24th, St. John's Eve, and he wanted to see if there were +any records--" + +"Yes. But Jeems doesn't know he's gone. If we could only get in touch +with him--Jeems, I mean." + +"Miss 'Chanda!" + +Sam Two, as they had come to call Sam's eldest son and heir, was +standing on the lowest step of the terrace, holding a small covered +basket in his hands. + +"Yes?" + +"Letty-Lou done say dis am fo' yo'all, Miss 'Chanda." + +"For me?" Ricky looked at the offering in surprise. "But what in the +world--Bring it here, Sam." + +"Yas'm." + +He laid the basket in Ricky's outstretched hands. + +"I've never seen anything like this before." She turned it around. "It +seems to be woven of some awfully fine grass--" + +"That's swamp work." Charity was peering over Ricky's shoulder. "Open +it." + +Inside on a nest of raw wild cotton lay a bracelet of polished wood +carved with an odd design of curling lines which reminded Val of Spanish +moss. And with the circlet was a small purse of scaled hide. + +"Swamp oak and baby alligator," burst out Charity. "Aren't they +beauties?" + +"But who--" began Ricky. + +Val picked up a scrap of paper which had fluttered to the floor. It was +cheap stuff, ruled with faint blue lines, but the writing was bold and +clear: "Miss Richanda Ralestone." + +"It's yours all right." He handed her the paper. + +"I know." She tucked the note away with the gifts. "It was Jeems." + +"Jeems? But why?" her brother protested. + +"Well, yesterday when I was down by the levee he was coming in and I +knew that Mr. Creighton was here and I told him. So," she colored +faintly, "then he took me across the bayou and I got some of those big +swamp lilies that I've always wanted. And we had a long talk. Val, Jeems +knows the most wonderful things about the swamps. Do you know that they +still have voodoo meetings sometimes--way back in there," she swept her +hand southward. "And the fur trappers live on house-boats, renting their +hunting rights. But Jeems owns his own land. Now some northerners are +prospecting for oil. They have a queer sort of car which can travel +either on land or water. And Pčre Armand has church records that date +back to the middle of the eighteenth century. And--" + +"So that's where you were from four until almost six," Val laughed. "I +don't know that I approve of this riotous living. Will Jeems take me to +pick the lilies too?" + +"Maybe. He wanted to know why you always moved so carefully. And I told +him about the accident. Then he said the oddest thing--" She was staring +past Val at the oaks. "He said that to fly was worth being smashed up +for and that he envied you." + +"Then he's a fool!" her brother said promptly. "Nothing is worth--" Val +stopped abruptly. Five months before he had made a bargain with himself; +he was not going to break it now. + +"Do you know," Ricky said to Charity, "if you really need Jeems this +morning, I think I can get him for you. He told me yesterday how to find +his cabin." + +"But why--" The objection came almost at once from Charity. Val thought +she was more than a little surprised that Jeems, who had steadfastly +refused to give her the same information, had supplied it so readily to +Ricky whom he hardly knew at all. + +"I don't know," answered Ricky frankly. "He was rather queer about it. +Kept saying that the time might come when I would need help, and things +like that." + +"Charity," Val was putting her brushes straight, "I learned long ago +that nothing can be kept from Ricky. Sooner or later one spills out his +secrets." + +"Except Rupert!" Ricky aired her old grievance. + +"Perhaps Rupert," her brother agreed. + +"Anyway, I do know where Jeems lives. Do you want me to get him for you, +Charity?" + +"Certainly not, child! Do you think that I'd let you go into the swamp? +Why, even men who know something of woodcraft think twice before +attempting such a trip without a guide. Of course you're not going! I +think," she put her paint-stained hand to her head, "that I'm going to +have one of my sick headaches. I'll have to go home and lie down for an +hour or two." + +"I'm sorry." Ricky's sympathy was quick and warm. "Is there anything I +can do?" + +Charity shook her head with a rueful smile. "Time is the only medicine +for one of these. I'll see you later." + +"Just the same," Ricky stood looking after her, "I'd like to know just +what is going on in the swamp right now." + +"Why?" Val asked lightly. + +"Because--well, just because," was her provoking answer. "Jeems was so +odd yesterday. He talked as if--as if there were some threat to us or +him. I wonder if there is something wrong." She frowned. + +"Of course not!" her brother made prompt answer. "He's merely gone off +on one of those mysterious trips of his." + +"Just the same, what if there were something wrong? We might go and +see." + +"Nonsense!" Val snapped. "You heard what Charity said about going into +the swamp alone. And there is nothing to worry about anyway. Come on, +let's change. And then I have something to show you." + +"What?" she demanded. + +"Wait and see." His ruse had succeeded. She was no longer looking +swampward with that gleam of purpose in her eye. + +"Come on then," she said, prodding him into action. + +Val changed slowly. If one didn't care about mucking around in the +garden, as Ricky seemed to delight in doing, there was so little in the +way of occupation. He thought of the days as they spread before him. A +little riding, a great amount of casual reading and--what else? Was the +South "getting" him as the tropics are supposed to "get" the +Northerners? + +That unlucky meeting with a mountaintop had effectively despoiled him of +his one ambition. Soldiers with game legs are not wanted. He couldn't +paint like Charity, he couldn't spin yarns like Rupert, he possessed a +mind too inaccurate to cope with the intricacies of any science. And as +a business man he would probably be a good street cleaner. + +What was left? Well, the surprise he had promised Ricky might cover the +problem. As he reached for a certain black note-book, someone knocked on +his door. + +"Mistuh Val, wheah's Miss 'Chanda? She ain't up heah an' Ah wan's to--" + +Lucy stood in the hall. The light from the round window was reflected +from every corrugated wave of her painfully marcelled hair. Her vast +flowered dress had been thriftily covered with a dull-green bib-apron +and she had changed her smart slippers for the shapeless gray relics she +wore indoors. Just now she looked warm and tired. After all, running two +households was something of a task even for Lucy. + +"Why, she should be in her room. We came up to change. Miss Charity's +gone home with a headache. What was it you wanted her for?" + +"Dese heah cu'ta'ns, Mistuh Val"--she thrust a mound of snowy and +beruffled white stuff at him--"dey has got to be hung. An' does Miss +'Chanda wan' dem in her room or does she not?" + +"Better put them up. I'll tell her about it. Here wait, let me open that +door." + +Val looked into Ricky's room. As usual, it appeared as though a +whirlwind, a small whirlwind but a thorough one, had passed through it. +Her discarded costume lay tumbled across the bed and her slippers lay on +the floor, one upside down. He stooped to set them straight. + +"It do beat all," Lucy said frankly as she put her burden down on a +chair, "how dat chile do mak' a mess. Now yo', Mistuh Val, jest put +eberythin' jest so. But Miss 'Chanda leave eberythin' which way afore +Sunday! Looka dat now." She pointed to the half-open door of the closet. +A slip lay on the floor. Ricky must have been in a hurry; that was a +little too untidy even for her. + +A sudden suspicion sent Val into the closet to investigate. Ricky's +wardrobe was not so extensive that he did not know every dress and +article in it very well. It did not take him more than a moment to see +what was missing. + +"Did Ricky go riding?" Val asked. "Her habit is gone." + +"She ain' gone 'cross de bayo' fo' de hoss," answered Lucy, reaching for +the curtain rod. "An' anyway, Sam done took dat critter down de road fo' +to be shoed." + +"Then where--" But Val knew his Ricky only too well. + +She had a certain stubborn will of her own. Sometimes opposition merely +drove her into doing the forbidden thing. And the swamp had been +forbidden. But could even Ricky be such a fool? Certain memories of the +past testified that she could. But how? Unless she had taken Sam's +boat-- + +Without a word of explanation to Lucy, he dashed out of the room and +downstairs at his best pace. As he left the house Val broke into a +stumbling run. There was just a chance that she had not yet left the +plantation. + +But the bayou levee was deserted. And the post where Sam's boat was +usually moored was bare of rope; the boat was gone. Of course Sam Two +might have taken it across the stream to the farm. + +That hope was extinguished as the small brown boy came out of the bushes +along the stream side. + +"Sam, have you seen Miss 'Chanda?" Val demanded. + +"Yessuh." + +"Where?" Carrying on a conversation with Sam Two was like prying +diamonds out of a rock. He possessed a rooted distaste for talking. + +"Heah, suh." + +"When?" + +"Jest a li'l bitty 'go." + +"Where did she go?" + +Sam pointed downstream. + +"Did she take the boat?" + +"Yessuh." And then for the first time since Val had known him Sam +volunteered a piece of information. "She done say she a-goin' in de +swamp." + +Val leaned back against the hole of one of the willows. Then she had +done it! And what could he do? If he had any idea of her path, he could +follow her while Sam aroused Rupert and the house. + +"If I only knew where--" he mused aloud. + +"She a-goin' to see dat swamper Jeems," Sam continued. "Heh, heh," a +sudden cackle of laughter rippled across his lips. "Dat ole swamper +think he so sma't. Think no one fin' he house--" + +"Sam!" Val rounded upon him. "Do you know where Jeems lives?" + +"Yessuh." He twisted the one shoulder-strap of his overalls and Val +guessed that his knowledge was something he was either ashamed of or +afraid to tell. + +"Can you take me there?" + +He shook his head. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere, Ah ain'!" + +"But, Sam, you've got to! Miss 'Chanda is in there. She may be lost. +We've got to find her!" Val insisted. + +Sam's thin shoulders shook and he slid backward as if to avoid the white +boy's reach. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere," he repeated stubbornly. "Effen +yo'all wants to go in dere--Looky, Mistuh Val, Ah tells yo'all de way +an' yo'all goes." He brightened at this solution. "Yo'all kin take +pappy's othah boat; it am downstream dere, behin' dem willows. Den +yo'all goes down to de secon' big pile o' willows. Behin' dem is a li'l +bitty bayo' goin' back. Yo'all goes up dat 'til yo'all comes to a fur +rack. Den dat Jeems got de way marked on de trees." + +With that he turned and ran as if all the terrors of the night were on +his trail. There was nothing for Val to do but to follow his directions. +And the longer he lingered before setting out the bigger lead Ricky was +getting. + +He found the canoe behind the willows as Sam had said. Awkwardly he +pushed off, hoping that Lucy would pry the whole story out of her son +and put Rupert on their track as soon as possible. + +The second clump of willows was something of a landmark, a huge matted +mass of sucker and branch, the lower tips of the long, frond-like twigs +sweeping the murky water. A snake swimming with its head just above the +surface wriggled to the bank as Val cut into the small hidden stream Sam +had told him of. + +Vines and water plants had almost choked this, but there was a passage +through the center. And one tough spike of vegetation which snapped back +into his face bore a deep cut from which the sap was still oozing. The +small stinging flies and mosquitoes followed and hung over him like a +fog of discomfort. His skin was swollen and rough, irritated and +itching. And in this green-covered way the heat seemed almost solid. +Drops of moisture dripped from forehead and chin, and his hair was +plastered tight to his skull. + +Frogs leaped from the bank into the water at the sound of his coming. In +the shallows near the bank, crawfish scuttled under water-logged leaves +and stones at this disturbance of their world. Twice the bayou widened +out into a sort of pool where the trees grew out of the muddy water and +all sorts of lilies and bulb plants blossomed in riotous confusion. + +Once a muskrat waddled into the protection of the bushes. And Val saw +something like a small cat drinking at a pool. But that faint shadow +disappeared noiselessly almost before the water trickled from his +upraised paddle. + +Clumps of wild rice were the meeting grounds for flocks of screaming +birds. A snow-white egret waded solemnly across a mud-rimmed pocket. And +once a snake, more dangerous than the swimmer Val had first encountered, +betrayed its presence by the flicker of its tongue. + +The smell of the steaming mud, the decaying vegetation, and the nameless +evils hidden deeper in this water-rotted land was an added torment. The +boy shook a large red ant from its grip in the flesh of his hand and +wiped the streaming perspiration from his face. + +It was then that the canoe floated almost of its own volition into a +dead and distorted strip of country. Black water which gave off an evil +odor covered almost half an acre of ground. From this arose the twisted, +gaunt gray skeletons of dead oaks. To complete the drear picture a row +of rusty-black vultures sat along the broad naked limb of the nearest of +these hulks, their red-raw heads upraised as they croaked and sidled up +and down. + +[Illustration: _The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead +and distorted strip of country._] + +But the bayou Val was following merely skirted this region, and in a few +moments he was again within the shelter of flower-grown banks. Then he +came upon a structure which must have been the fur rack Sam Two had +alluded to, for here was their other boat moored to a convenient willow. + +Val fastened the canoe beside it. The turf seemed springy, though here +and there it gave way to patches of dark mud. It was on one of these +that Ricky had left her mark in the clean-cut outline of the sole of her +riding-boot. + +With a last desperate slap at a mosquito Val headed inland, following +with ease that trail of footprints. Ricky was suffering, too, for her +rashness he noted with satisfaction when he discovered a long curly hair +fast in the grip of a thorny branch he scraped under. + +But the path was not a bad one. And the farther he went the more solid +and the dryer it became. Once he passed through a small clearing, +man-made, where three or four cotton bushes huddled together forlornly +in company with a luxuriant melon patch. + +And the melon patch was separated by only a few feet of underbrush from +Jeems' domain. In the middle of a clearing was a sturdy platform, +reinforced with upright posts and standing about four feet from the +surface of the ground. On this was a small cabin constructed of slabs of +bark-covered wood. As a dwelling it might be crude, but it had an air of +scrupulous neatness. A short distance to one side of the platform was a +well-built chicken-run, now inhabited by five hens and a ragged-tailed +cock. + +The door of the cabin was shut and there were no signs of life save the +chickens. But as Val lowered himself painfully onto the second step of +the ladder-like stairs leading up to the cabin, he thought he heard +someone moving around. Glancing up, he saw Ricky staring down at him, +open-mouthed. + +"Hello," she called, for one of the few times in her life really +astounded. + +"Hello," Val answered shortly and shifted his weight to try to relieve +the ache in his knee. "Nice day, isn't it?" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE! + + +"Val! What are you doing here?" she demanded. + +"Following you. Good grief, girl," he exploded, "haven't you any better +sense than to come into the swamp this way?" + +Ricky's mouth lost its laughing curve and her eyes seemed to narrow. She +was, by all the signs, distinctly annoyed. + +"It's perfectly safe. I knew what I was doing." + +"Yes? Well, I will enjoy hearing Rupert's remarks on that subject when +he catches up with us," snapped her brother. + +"Val!" She lost something of her defiant attitude. He guessed that for +all her boasted independence his sister was slightly afraid of Mr. +Rupert Ralestone. "Val, he isn't coming, too, is he?" + +"He is if he got my message." Val stretched his leg cautiously. The +cramp was slowly leaving the muscles and he felt as if he could stand +the remaining ache without wincing. "I sent Sam Two back to tell Rupert +where his family had eloped to. Frankly, Ricky, this wasn't such a smart +trick. You know what Charity said about the swamps. Even the little I've +seen of them has given me ideas." + +"But there was nothing to it at all," she protested. "Jeems told me just +how to get here and I only followed directions." + +Val chose to ignore this, being hot, tired, and in no mood for one of +those long arguments such as Ricky enjoyed. "By the way, where is +Jeems?" He looked about him as if he expected the swamper to materialize +out of thin air. + +Ricky sat down on the edge of the platform and dangled her booted feet. +"Don't know. But he'll be here sooner or later. And I don't feel like +going back through the swamp just yet. The flies are awful. And did you +see those dreadful vultures on that dead tree? What a place! But the +flowers are wonderful and I saw a real live alligator, even if it was a +small one." She rubbed her scarf across her forehead. "Whew! It seems +hotter here than it does at home." + +"This outing was all your idea," Val reminded her. "And we'd better be +getting back before Rupert calls out the Marines or the State Troopers +or something to track us down." + +Ricky pouted. "Not going until I'm ready. And you can't drag me if I dig +my heels in." + +"I have no desire to be embroiled in such an undignified struggle as you +suggest," he told her loftily. "But neither do I yearn to spend the day +here. I'm hungry. I wonder if our absent host possesses a larder?" + +"If he does, you can't raid it," Ricky answered. "The door's locked, and +that lock," she pointed to the bright disk of brass on the solid cabin +door, "is a good one. I've already tried a hairpin on it," she added +shamelessly. + +They sat awhile in silence. A wandering breeze had found its way into +the clearing, and with it came the fragrance of flowers blossoming under +the sun. The chicken family were pursuing a worm with more energy than +Val decided he would have cared to expend in that heat, and a heavily +laden bee rested on the lip of a sunflower to brush its legs. Val's +eyelids drooped and he found himself thinking dreamily of a hammock +under the trees, a pillow, and long hours of lazy dozing. At the same +time a corner of his brain was sending forth nagging messages that they +should be up and off, back to their own proper world. But he simply did +not have the will power to get up and go. + +"Nice place," he murmured, looking about with more approbation than he +would have granted the clearing some ten minutes earlier. + +"Yes," answered Ricky. "It would be nice to live here." + +Val was beginning to say something about "no bathtubs" when a sound +aroused them from their lethargy. Someone was coming down the path. +Ricky's hand fell upon her brother's shoulder. + +"Quick! Up here and behind the house," she urged him. + +Not knowing just why he obeyed, Val scrambled up on the tiny platform +and scuttled around behind the cabin. Why they should hide thus from +Jeems who had given Ricky directions for reaching the place and had +asked her to come, was more than he could understand. But he had a +faint, uneasy feeling of mistrust, as if they had been caught off guard +at a critical moment. + +"This the place, Red?" The clipped words sounded clear above the murmurs +of life from swamp and woods. + +"Yeah. Bum-lookin' joint, ain't it? These guys ain't got no brains; they +like to live like this." The contempt of the second speaker was only +surpassed by the stridency of his voice. + +"What about this boy?" asked the first. + +"Dumb kid. Don't know yet who his friends is." There was a satisfied +grunt as the speaker sat down on the step Val had so lately vacated. +Ricky pressed closer to her brother. + +"What about the cabin?" + +"He ain't here. And it's locked, see? Yuh'd think he kept the crown +jewels there." The tickling scent of a cigarette drifted back to the two +in hiding. "Beats me how he slipped away this morning without Pitts +catching on. For two cents I'd spring that lock of his--" + +"Isn't worth the trouble," replied the other decisively. "These trappers +have no money except at the end of the fur season, and then most of them +are in debt to the storekeepers." + +"Then why--" + +"I sometimes wonder," the voice was coldly cutting, "why I continue to +employ you, Red. What profit would I find in a cabin like this? I want +what he knows, not what he has." + +Having thus reduced his henchman to silence, the speaker went on +smoothly, as if he were thinking aloud. "With Simpson doing so well in +town, we're close to the finish. This swamper must tell us--" His voice +trailed away. Except for the creaking of wood when the sitter shifted +his position, there was no other sound. + +Then Red must have grown restless, for someone stamped up to the +platform and rattled the chain on the cabin door aggressively. Val +flattened back against the wall. What if the fellow took it into his +head to walk around? + +"Gonna wait here all day?" demanded Red. + +"As it is necessary for me to have a word with him, we will. This waste +of time is the product of Pitts' stupidity. I shall remember that. It is +entirely needless to use force except as a last resource. Now that this +swamper's suspicions are aroused, we may have trouble." + +"Yeah? Well, we can handle that. But how do yuh know that this guy has +the stuff?" + +"I can at least believe the evidence of my own eyes," the other replied +with bored contempt. "I came down river alone the night of the storm and +saw him on the levee. He has a way of getting into the house all right. +I saw him in there. And he doesn't go through any of the doors, either. +I must know how he does it." + +"All right, Boss. And what if you do get in? What are we supposed to be +lookin' for?" + +"What those bright boys up there found a few days ago. That clerk told +us that they'd discovered whatever the girl was talking about in the +office that day. And we've got to get that before Simpson comes into +court with his suit. I'm not going to lose fifty grand." The last +sentence ended abruptly as if the speaker had snapped his teeth shut +upon a word like a dog upon its quarry. + +"What does this guy Jeems go to the house for?" asked Red. + +"Who knows? He seems to be hunting something too. But that's not our +worry. If it's necessary, we can play ghost also. I've got to get into +that house. If I can do it the way this Jeems does, without having to +break in--so much the better. We don't want the police ambling around +here just now." + +Val stiffened. It didn't require a Sherlock Holmes to get the kernel of +truth out of the conversation he had overheard. "Night of the storm," +"play ghost," were enough. So Jeems had been the ghost. And the swamper +knew a secret way into the house! + +"Wait," Ricky's lips formed the words by his ear as Val stirred +restlessly. "Someone else is coming." + +"I don't like the set-up in town," Red was saying peevishly. "That +smooth mouthpiece is asking too darn many questions. He's always asking +Simpson about things in the past. If you hadn't got Sim that family +history to study, he'd been behind bars a dozen times by now." + +"And he had better study it," commented the other dryly, "because he is +going to be word perfect before the case comes to court, if it ever +does. There are not going to be any slip-ups in this deal." + +"'Nother thing I don't like," broke in the other, "is this Waverly guy. +I don't like his face." + +"No? Well, doubtless he would change it if you asked him to. And I do +not think it is wise of you to be too critical of plans which were made +by deeper thinkers than yourself. Sometimes, Red, you weary me." + +There was no reply to that harsh judgment. And now Val could hear what +Ricky had heard earlier--a faint swish as of a paddle through water. +Again Ricky's lips shaped words he could barely hear. + +"Spur of bayou runs along here in back. Someone coming up from there." + +"Jeems?" + +"Maybe." + +"We'd better--" Val motioned toward the front of the cabin. Ricky shook +her head. Jeems was to be allowed to meet the intruders unwarned. + +"This swamper may be tough," ventured Red. + +"We've met hard cases before," answered the other significantly. + +Red moved again, as if flexing his muscles. + +"One boy, and a small one at that, shouldn't force you to undergo all +that preparation," goaded the Boss. + +Ricky must get away at once, her brother decided. Stubbornness or no +stubbornness, she must go this time. Why he didn't think of going +himself Val never afterwards knew. Perhaps he possessed a spark of the +family love of danger, after all, but mostly he clung to his perch +because of that last threat. Whoever Jeems was or whatever he had done, +he was one and alone. And he might relish another player on his side. +But Ricky must go. + +He said as much in a fierce whisper, only to have her grin recklessly +back at him. In pantomime she gestured that he might try to make her. +Val decided that he should have known the result of his efforts. Ricky +was a Ralestone, too. And short of throwing her off the platform and so +unmasking themselves completely, he could not move her against her will. + +"No," she whispered. "They're planning trouble for Jeems. He'll probably +need us." + +"Well," Val cautioned her, "if it gets too rough, you've got to promise +to cut downstream for help. We'll be able to use it." + +She nodded. "It's a promise. But we've got to stand by Jeems if he needs +us." + +"If he does--" Val was still suspicious. "He may fall in with their +suggestions." + +Ricky shook her head. "He isn't that kind. I don't care if he _has_ been +playing ghost." + +Someone was walking along the path among the bushes bordering the back +of the clearing. Although they could hear no sound, they could mark the +passing of a body by the swish of the foliage. Val lay, face down, on +the platform and reached for a stick of wood lying on the ground below. +Somehow he did not like to think of being caught empty-handed when the +excitement began. + +"Hello." It was Red, suddenly genial. The Ralestones could almost feel +the radiance of the smile which must have split his face. + +"Whatta yo' doin' heah?" That was Jeems, and his demand was sharply +hostile. + +"Now, bub, don't get us wrong." That was Red, still genial. "I know my +pal sorta flew off his base this mornin'. But it was all in fun, see? So +we kinda wanted yuh to stick around till he came and not do the run-out +on us. And now the Boss has come down here so we can talk business all +friendly like." + +"Shut up, Red!" Having so bottled his companion's flow of words, the +other spoke directly to Jeems. "My men made a mistake. All right. That's +over and done with; they'll get theirs. Now let's get down to business. +What do you know about that big plantation up river, the one called +'Pirate's Haven'?" + +"Nothin'." Jeems' answer was clear. The hostility was gone from his +voice; nothing remained but an even tonelessness. + +"Come now, I know you have reason to be hot. But this is business. I'll +make it worth your while--" + +"Nothin'," answered Jeems as concisely as before. + +"You can't expect us to believe that. I followed you one night." + +"Yo' did?" The challenge was unmistakable. + +"I did. So you see I know something of you. Something which even the +present owner does not. Say the ghost in the hall, for example." + +There was the sound of a deeply drawn breath. + +"So you see it is to your advantage to listen to us," continued the Boss +smoothly. + +"What do you want?" + +Val knew disappointment at that question. Would Jeems surrender as +easily as that? + +"Just an explanation of how you get into the house unseen." + +"Yo'll nevah know!" The swamper's reply came swift and clear. + +"No? Well, I'd think twice before I held to that answer if I were you," +purred the other softly. "A word to the Ralestones about those nightly +walks of yours--" + +"Won't give yo' what yo' want," replied Jeems shrewdly. + +"I see. Perhaps I have been using the wrong approach," observed the Boss +composedly. "You work for a living, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you know the value of money. What is your price? Come on, we won't +haggle." + +The Boss' impatience colored his tone. "How much do you want for this +information?" + +"Nothin'!" + +"Nothing?" + +"Ah ain't said nothin' an' Ah ain't a-goin' to say nothin'. An' yo' +bettah be a-gittin' offen this heah land of mine afo'--" + +"Before what, swamper?" Red was taking a hand in the game. + +"Yo' can't fright'n me with that gun," came calmly enough from Jeems. +"Yo' ain't a-goin' to risk shootin'--" + +"There ain't no witnesses here, kid. And there ain't no law back in +these swamps. Yuh're gonna tell the Boss what he wants to know an' +yuh're gonna spill it quick, see? I know some ways of making guys +squeal--" + +At that suggestion Val's fingers tightened on his club and Ricky choked +back a cry as her brother crept toward the corner of the cabin. Their +melodrama was fast taking on the color of tragedy. + +"So yuh better speak up." Red was still encouraging Jeems. + +There was no immediate answer from the swamper, but Ricky touched Val's +arm and nodded toward the bushes. She had decided that it was time for +her to leave. He agreed eagerly. She dropped lightly to the ground and +he watched her crawl away unnoticed by those in front who were so intent +upon the baiting of their quarry. + +"Three minutes, swamper!" + +Ricky was gone, free from whatever might develop. Val edged forward and +for the first time peered around the corner of the cabin. The two +assailants were still only voices, but he could see Jeems. The swamper's +face was bruised and there was a smear of dried blood across one cheek +as if he had already been roughly handled. But he stood at ease, facing +the cabin. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides and he was +seemingly unconcerned by what confronted him. Suddenly his eyes +flickered to the bushes at one side. Had Ricky betrayed herself, Val +wondered breathlessly. + +Clear now of the cabin, Val wriggled his way around the platform. In a +minute he would be able to see the Boss and Red. He gripped the club. + +Then Jeems stared straight into his face. But the swamper gave no sign +of seeing Val. And that, to the boy's mind, was the greatest feat of all +that afternoon. For Val knew that if he had been in Jeems' place he +would have betrayed them both in his surprise. + +The others were at last visible, their backs to Val. Nervously he sized +them up. The Boss was tall and thin, but his movements suggested +possession of wiry strength. Red, his brick-colored hair making him easy +to identify, was shorter and thick across the shoulders, but his +waistline was also thick and the boy thought that his wind was bad. Of +the two, the Boss was the more dangerous. Red might lose his head in a +sudden attack, but not the Boss. Val decided to tackle the latter. + +Slowly he got from his knees to his feet. After the first quick glance, +Jeems hadn't looked at him, but Val knew that the swamper was ready and +waiting to take advantage of any diversion he might make. + +"Three minutes are up, swamper. So yuh've decided to be tough, eh?" + +"Whatta yo' wanna know?" Jeems' question was silly but it held their +attention. + +"We have told you several times," answered the Boss, his temper +beginning to fray visibly. "What is the trick of getting into that +house?" + +"Well," Jeems raised his hand to rub his ear, "yo' turn to the left--" + +So he agreed with the listener. Val was to take the Boss on his left. He +gathered his feet under him for the leap which he hoped would land him +full upon the invader. + +"Yes?" prompted the man impatiently as Jeems hesitated. At that moment +Val sprang. + +But his game leg betrayed him again. Instead of landing cleanly upon the +other, he came down draggingly across the Boss' shoulders. The gun +roared and then the attacked man lashed back a vicious blow which split +the skin over Val's cheek-bone. + +For the next three minutes Val was more than occupied. His opponent was +a dirty fighter, and when he had recovered from his surprise he was more +than the boy could handle. Val's club was twisted out of his hands, and +he found himself fighting wildly to keep the man's clawing fingers from +his eyes. They were both rolling on the ground, flailing out at each +other. Twice Val tasted his own blood when one of the enemy's vicious +jabs glanced along his face. Either blow would have finished Val had it +landed clean. + +Then in a sudden turn the Boss caught him in a deadly body-lock which +left him half-stunned and panting, at his mercy. And there was no mercy +in the man. When Val looked up into that flushed, snarling face, he knew +that he was as hopeless as a trapped animal. The man could--and +would--finish him at his leisure. + +"This way, Rupert! Sam!" the cry reached even Val's dulled ears. + +The man above him stirred. The boy saw the blood-lust fade from his eyes +and apprehension take its place. He got to his feet, launching a last +bruising kick at Val's ribs before he limped across the clearing. On his +way he hauled Red to his feet. They were going, not toward the path from +the bayou, but around the house on the trail that Jeems had followed. +Val struggled up and looked around. The turf was torn and gouged. In the +dust lay his club and Red's revolver. + +And by the steps lay something else, a slight brown figure. Painfully +the boy got to his feet and lurched across to Jeems. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST + + +The swamper was lying on his back, his eyes closed. From a great purple +welt across his forehead the blood oozed sluggishly. When Val touched +him he moaned faintly. + +"Val! Are you hurt? What's the matter?" Ricky was upon them like a +whirlwind out of the bush. + +"Jeems stopped a nasty one," her brother panted. + +"Is he--" She dropped down in the dust beside them. + +"He's knocked out, and he'll have a bad headache for some time, but I +don't think it's any worse than that." + +Ricky had pulled out a microscopic bit of handkerchief and was dabbing +at the blood in an amateurish way. Jeems moaned and turned his head as +if to get away from her ministrations. + +"Where's Rupert--and Sam?" Val looked toward the path. "They were with +you, weren't they?" + +Ricky shook her head. "No. That was just what you call creating a +diversion. For all I know, they're busy at home." + +Her brother straightened. "Then we've got to get out of here--fast. +Those two left because they were rattled, but when they have had a +chance to cool off they'll be back." + +"What about Jeems?" + +"Take him with us, of course. We won't be able to manage the canoe. But +you brought the outboard, so we'll go in that and tow the canoe. We +ought to have something to cover his head." Val regarded the bleeding +wound doubtfully. + +Without answering, Ricky leaned forward and began systematically going +through Jeems' pockets. In the second she found a key. Val took it from +her and hobbled up the cabin steps. For a wonder, he thought thankfully, +the key was the right one. The lock clicked and he went in. + +Like the clearing, the interior of the one-room shack was neat, a place +for everything and everything in its place. Under the window in the far +wall was a small chest of some dark polished wood. Save for its size, it +was not unlike the chests the Ralestones had found in their store-room. +Opposite it was a wooden cot, the covers smoothly spread. A stool, a +blackened cook stove, and a solid table with an oil lamp were the extent +of the furnishings. Lines of traps hung on the walls, along with the +wooden boards for the stretching of drying skins, and there was a +half-finished grass basket lying on top of the chest. + +Val hefted a stoneware jug. They had no time to hunt for a spring. And +if this contained water, they would need it. At the resulting gurgle +from within, he set it by the door and returned to rob the cot of pillow +and the single coarse but clean sheet. + +Ricky tore the sheet and made a creditable job of washing and bandaging +the ugly bruise. Jeems drank greedily when they offered him water but he +did not seem to recognize them. In answer to Ricky's question of how he +felt, he muttered something in the swamp French of the Cajuns. But he +was uneasy until Val locked the cabin door and put the key in his hand. + +"How are we going to get him to the boat?" asked Ricky suddenly. + +"Carry him." + +"But, Val--" for the first time she looked at her brother as if she +really saw him--"Val, you're hurt!" + +"Just a little stiff," he hastened to assure her. "Our late visitors +play rather rough. We'll manage all right. I'll take his shoulders and +you his feet." + +They wavered drunkenly along the path. Twice Val stumbled and regained +his balance just in time. Ricky had laid the pillow across their +burden's feet, declaring that she would need it when they got to the +boat. Val passed the point of aching misery--when he thought that he +could not shuffle forward another step--and now he came into what he had +heard called "second wind." By fixing his eyes on a tree or a bush a +step or two ahead and concentrating only upon passing that one, and then +that, and that, he got through without disgracing himself. + +At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat. Val +had no doubt that a woodsman might have done the whole job better in +much less time and without a tenth of the effort they had expended. But +all he ever wondered afterward was how they ever did it at all. + +[Illustration: _At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into +the boat._] + +It was when Ricky had made their passenger as comfortable as she could +in the bottom of the boat, steadying his head across her knees, that her +brother partially relaxed. + +"Val, you run the engine," she said without looking up. + +He dragged himself toward the stern of the boat, remembering too late, +when he had cast off, that he had not taken the canoe in tow. The engine +coughed, sputtered, and then settled down to a steady _putt-putt_. They +were off. + +"Val, do you--do you think he is badly hurt?" + +He dared not look down; it required all his powers of concentration on +what lay before them to keep his hand steady. + +"No. We'll get a doctor when we get back. He'll come around again in no +time--Jeems, I mean." + +But would he? Head injuries were sometimes more serious than they +seemed, Val remembered dismally. + +It was not until they came out into the main bayou that Jeems roused +again. He looked up at Ricky in a sort of dull surprise, and then his +gaze shifted to Val. + +"What--" + +"We won the war," Val tried to grin, an operation which tore his mask of +dried blood, "thanks to Ricky. And now we're going home." + +At that, Jeems made a violent effort to sit up. + +"_Non_!" his English deserted him and he broke into impassioned French. + +"Yes," Val replied firmly as Ricky pushed the swamper down. "Of course +you're coming with us. You've had a nasty knock on the head that needs +attention." + +"Ah'm not a-goin' to no hospital!" His eyes burned into Val's. + +"Certainly not!" cried Ricky. "You're bound for our guest-room. Now keep +quiet. We'll be there soon." + +"Ah ain't a-goin'," he declared mutinously. + +"Don't be silly," Ricky scolded him; "we're taking you. Does Val have to +come and hold you down?" + +"Ah can't!" His eyes flickered from Val's face to hers. There was +something more than independence behind that firm refusal. "Ah ain't +a-goin' theah." + +"Why not?" + +He seemed to shrink from her. "It ain't fitten," he murmured. + +"How perfectly silly," laughed Ricky. But Val thought that he +understood. + +"Because of the secret you know?" he asked quietly. + +The pallor beneath Jeems' heavy tan vanished in a flush of slow-burning +red. "Ah reckon so," he muttered, but he met Val's eyes squarely. + +"Let's leave all explanations until later," Val suggested. + +"Ah played haunt!" the confession came out of the swamper in a rush. + +"Then you _were_ my faceless ghost?" + +Jeems tried to nod and the action printed a frown of pain between his +eyes. + +"Why? Didn't you want us to live there?" asked Ricky gently. + +"Ah was huntin'--" + +"What for?" + +The frown became one of puzzlement. "Ah don't know--" His voice trailed +off into a thin whisper as his eyes closed wearily. Val signaled Ricky +to keep quiet. + +"Ahoy there!" Along the bank toward them came Rupert and after him Sam. +Beyond them lay the Ralestone landing. Val headed inshore. + +"Just what does this mean--Val! Has there been an accident?" The +irritation in Rupert's voice became hot concern. + +"An intended one," his brother replied. "We've got the real victim here +with us." + +They tied up to the landing and Sam came down to hand out Jeems who +apparently had lapsed into unconsciousness again. + +"You'd better call a doctor," Val told Rupert. "Jeems has a head wound." + +But Rupert had already taken charge of affairs with an efficiency which +left Val humbly grateful. The boy didn't even move to leave the boat. It +was better just to sit and watch other people scurry about. Sam had +started for the house, carrying Jeems as if the long-legged swamper was +the same age and size as his own small son. Ricky dashed on ahead to +warn Lucy. Rupert had Sam Two by the collar and was giving him +instructions for catching Dr. LeFrode, who was probably making his +morning rounds and might be found at the sugar-mill where one of the +feeders had injured his hand. Sam Two's sister had seen the doctor on +his way there a scant ten minutes earlier. + +Val watched all this activity dreamily. Everything would be all right +now that Rupert was in charge. He could relax-- + +"Now," his brother turned upon Val, "just what did--What's the matter +with you?" + +"Tired, I guess," Val said ruefully. But Rupert was already in the boat, +getting the younger boy to his unsteady feet. + +"Can you make it to the house?" he asked anxiously. + +"Sure. Just give me an arm till I get on the landing." + +But when Val had crawled up on the levee he did not feel at all like +walking to the house. Then Rupert's arm was about his thin shoulders and +he thought that he could make it if he really tried. + +The garden path seemed miles long, and it was not until Val had the soft +cushions of the hall couch under him that he felt able to tell his +story. But at that moment the short, stout doctor came through the door +in a rush. Sam Two had led him to believe that half the household had +been murdered. At first Dr. LeFrode started toward Val, until in alarm +the boy swung his feet to the floor and sat up, waving the man to the +stairway where Ricky hovered to act as guide. + +Then Val was alone, even Sam Two having edged upstairs to share in the +excitement. The boy sank back on his pillows and wondered where their +late assailants were now, and why they had been so determined to learn +Jeems' secret. As Ricky had said once before, the Ralestones seemed to +have been handed a gigantic tangle without ends, only middle sections, +and had been told to unravel it. + +Boot heels clicked on the stone flooring. Val turned his head cautiously +and tried not to wince. Rupert was coming in with a bowl of water, from +which steam still arose. Across his arm lay a towel and in his other +hand was their small first-aid kit. + +"Suppose we do a little patching," he suggested. "Your face at present +is not all it might be. What did you and your swamp friend do--run into +a mowing machine?" He swabbed delicately at the cut the Boss had opened +across Val's cheek-bone, and at another by his mouth. + +"I thought it might be that for a moment--a mowing machine, I mean. No, +we just met a couple of gentlemen--enterprising fellows who wanted to +see more of this commodious mansion of ours--" Val's words faded into a +sharp hiss as Rupert applied iodine with a liberal hand. "They seemed to +think that Jeems knew a lot about Pirate's Haven and they were going to +persuade him to tell all. Only it didn't turn out the way they had +planned." + +"Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face was +swollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this sudden +talkativeness. + +"Due partly to me, but mostly to Ricky. She--ah--created the necessary +diversion. I had sort of lost interest at the time. I know so little +about gouging and biting in clinches." + +"Dirty fighters?" + +"Well, soiled anyway. But if the Boss isn't nursing a cracked wrist, it +isn't my fault. I don't know what Jeems did to Red, but he, too, +departed in a damaged condition. Do you have to do that?" Val demanded +testily, squirming as Rupert ran his hands lightly over the boy's +shoulders and down his ribs, touching every bruise to tingling life. + +"Just seeing the extent of the damage," he explained. + +"You don't have to see, I can feel!" Val snapped pettishly. + +Rupert got to his feet. "Come on." + +"Where?" + +"Oh, a hot bath and then bed. You'll be taking an interest in life again +about this time tomorrow. I think LeFrode had better see you too." + +"No," Val objected. "I'm not a child." + +Rupert grinned. "If you'd rather I carried you--" + +There was no opposing Rupert when he was in that mood, as his brother +well knew. Val got up slowly. + +The program that Rupert had outlined was faithfully carried out. Half an +hour later Val found himself between sheets, blinking at the ceiling +drowsily. When two cracks overhead wavered together of their own accord, +his eyes closed. + +"--still sleeping?" whispered someone at his side much later. + +"Yes, best thing for him." + +"Was he badly hurt?" + +"No, just banged around more than was good for him." + +Val opened his eyes. It must have been close to dusk, for the sunlight +was red across the bedclothes. Rupert stood by the window and Ricky was +in the doorway, a tray of covered dishes in her hands. + +"Hello!" Val sat up, grimacing at the twinge of pain across his back. +"What day is this?" + +Rupert laughed. "Still Tuesday." + +"How's Jeems?" + +"Doing very well. I've had to have Rupert in to frighten him into +staying in bed," Ricky said. "The doctor thinks he ought to be there a +couple of days at least. But Jeems doesn't agree with him. Between +keeping Jeems in bed and keeping Rupert out of the swamp I've had a full +day." + +Rupert sat down on the foot of the bed. "You'd know this Boss and Red +again, wouldn't you?" + +"Of course." + +"Then you'll probably have a chance to identify them." There was a grim +look about Rupert's jaw. "Ricky's told me all that you overheard. I +don't know what it means but I've heard enough for me to get in touch +with LeFleur. He'll be out tomorrow morning. And once we get something +to work on--" + +"I'm beginning to feel sorry for our swamp visitors," Val interrupted. + +"They'll be sorry," hinted Rupert darkly. "How about you, Val, beginning +to feel hungry?" + +"Now that you mention it, I _am_ discovering a rather hollow ache in my +center section. Supper ready?" + +"Half an hour. I'll bring you up a tray--" began Ricky. + +But Val had thrown back the sheet and was sitting on the side of the +bed. "Oh, no, you don't! I'm not an invalid yet." + +Ricky glanced at Rupert and then left. Val reached for his shirt +defiantly. But his brother raised no objection. The painful stiffness +Val had felt at first wore off and he was able to move without feeling +as if each muscle were tied in cramping knots. + +"May I pay Jeems a visit?" he asked as they went out into the hall. +Rupert nodded toward a door across the corridor. + +"In there. He's a stubborn piece of goods. Reminds me of you at times. +If he'd ever get rid of that scowl of his, he'd be even more like you. +He warms to Ricky, but you'd think I was a Chinese torturer the way he +acts when I go in." There was a shade of irritation in Rupert's voice. + +"Maybe he's afraid of you." + +"But what for?" Rupert stared at the boy in open surprise. + +"Well, you do have rather a commanding air at times," Val countered. If +Ricky had told Rupert nothing of Jeems' confession, he wasn't going to. + +"So that's what you really think of me!" observed Rupert. "Go reason +with that wildcat of yours if you want to. I'm beginning to believe that +you are two of a kind." He turned abruptly down the hall. + +Val opened the door of the bedroom. The sunlight was fading fast and +already the corners of the large room were filled with the gray of dusk. +But light from the windows swept full across the bed and its occupant. +Val hobbled stiffly toward it. + +"Hello." The brown face on the pillow did not change expression as Val +greeted the swamper. "How do you feel now?" + +"Bettah," Jeems answered shortly. "Ah'm good but they won't le' me up." + +"The Doc says you're in for a couple of days," Val told him. + +Somehow Jeems looked smaller, shrunken, as he lay in that oversized bed. +And he had lost that air of indolent arrogance which had made him seem +so independent in their swamp and garden meetings. It was as if Val were +looking down upon a younger and less confident edition of the swamper he +had known. + +"What does he think?" There was urgency in that question. + +"Who's he?" + +"Yo' brothah." + +"Rupert? Why, he's glad to have you here," Val answered. + +"Does he know 'bout--" + +Val shook his head. + +"Tell him!" ordered the swamper. "Ah ain't a-goin' to stay undah his +ruff lessen he knows. 'Tain't fitten." + +At this clean-cut statement of the laws of hospitality, Val nodded. "All +right. I'll tell him. But what were you after here, Jeems? I'll have to +tell him that, too, you know. Was it the Civil War treasure?" + +Jeems turned his head slowly. "No." Again the puzzled frown twisted his +straight, finely marked brows. "What do Ah want wi' treasure? Ah don't +know what Ah was lookin' fo'. Mah grandpappy--" + +"Val, supper's ready," came Rupert's voice from the hall. + +Val half turned to go. "I've got to go now. But I'll be back later," he +promised. + +"Yo'll tell him?" Jeems stabbed a finger at the door. + +"Yes; after supper. I promise." + +With a little sigh Jeems relaxed and burrowed down into the softness of +the pillow. "Ah'll be awaitin'," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS-- + + +It had been on of those dull, weepy days when a sullen drizzle clouded +sky and earth. In consequence, the walls and floors of Pirate's Haven +seemed to exude chill. Rupert built a fire in the hall fireplace, but +none of the family could say that it was a successful one. It made a +nice show of leaping flame accompanied by fancy lighting effects but +gave forth absolutely no heat. + +"Val?" + +The boy started guiltily and thrust his note-book under the couch +cushion as Charity came in. Tiny drops of rain were strung along the +hairs which had blown free of her rain-cape hood like steel beads along +a golden wire. + +"Yes? Don't come here expecting to get warm," he warned her bitterly. +"We are very willing but the fire is weak. Looks pretty, doesn't it?" He +kicked at a charred end on the hearth. "Well, that's all it's good for!" + +"Val, what sort of a mess have you and Jeems jumped into?" she asked as +she handed him her dripping cape. + +"Oh, just a general sort of mess," he answered lightly. "Jeems had +callers who forgot their manners. So Ricky and I breezed in and brought +the party to a sudden end--" + +"As I can see by your black eye," she commented. "But what has Jeems +been up to?" + +Val was suddenly very busy holding her cape before that mockery of a +blaze. + +"Why don't you ask him that?" + +"Because I'm asking you. Rupert came over last night and sat on my +gallery making very roundabout inquiries concerning Jeems. I pried out +of him the details of your swamp battle. But I want to know now just +what Jeems has been doing. Your brother is so vague--" + +"Rupert has the gift of being exasperatingly uncommunicative," his +brother told her. "The story, so far as I know, is short and simple. +Jeems knows a secret way into this house. In addition, his grandfather +told him that the fortune of the house of Jeems is concealed +here--having been very hazy in his description of the nature of said +fortune. Consequently, grandson has been playing haunt up and down our +halls trying to find it. + +"His story is as full of holes as a sieve but somehow one can't help +believing it. He has explained that he has the secret of the outside +entrance only, and not the one opening from the inside. In the meantime +he is in bed--guarded from intrusion by Ricky and Lucy with the same +care as if he were the crown jewels. So matters rest at present." + +"Neatly put." She dropped down on the couch. "By the way, do you realize +that you have ruined your face for my uses?" + +Val fingered the crisscrossing tape on his cheek. "This is only +temporary." + +"I certainly hope so. That must have been some battle." + +"One of our better efforts." He coughed in mock modesty. "Ricky saved +the day with alarms and excursions without. Rupert probably told you +that." + +"Yes, he can be persuaded to talk at times. Is he always so silent?" + +"Nowadays, yes," he answered slowly. "But when we were younger--You +know," Val turned toward her suddenly, his brown face serious to a +degree, "it isn't fair to separate the members of a family. To put one +here and one there and the third somewhere else. I was twelve when +Father died, and Ricky was eleven. They sent her off to Great-aunt +Rogers because Uncle Fleming, who took me, didn't care for a girl--" + +"And Rupert?" + +"Rupert--well, he was grown, he could arrange his own life; so he just +went away. We got a letter now and then, or a post-card. There was money +enough to send us to expensive schools and dress us well. It was two +years before I really saw Ricky again. You can't call short visits on +Sunday afternoons seeing anyone. + +"Then Uncle Fleming died and I was simply parked at Great-aunt +Rogers'. She"--Val was remembering things, a bitter look about +his mouth--"didn't care for boys. In September I was sent to a military +academy. I needed discipline, it seemed. And Ricky was sent to Miss +Somebody's-on-the-Hudson. Rupert was in China then. I got a letter from +him that fall. He was about to join some expedition heading into the +Gobi. + +"Ricky came down to the Christmas hop at the academy, then Aunt Rogers +took her abroad. She went to school in Switzerland a year. I passed from +school to summer camp and then back to school. Ricky sent me some +carvings for Christmas--they arrived three days late." + +He stared up at the stone mantel. "Kids feel things a lot more than +they're given credit for. Ricky sent me a letter with some tear stains +between the lines when Aunt Rogers decided to stay another year. And +that was the year I earned the reputation of being a 'hard case.' + +"Then Ricky cabled me that she was coming home. I walked out of school +the same morning. I didn't even tell anyone where I was going. Because I +had money enough, I thought I would fly. And that, dear lady, is the end +of this very sad tale." He grinned one-sidedly down at her. + +"It was then that--that--" + +"I was smashed up? Yes. And Rupert came home without warning to find +things very messy. I was in the hospital when I should have been in some +corrective institution, as Aunt Rogers so often told me during those +days. Ricky was also in disgrace for speaking her mind, as she does now +and then. To make it even more interesting, our guardian had been +amusing himself by buying oil stock with our capital. Unfortunately, oil +did not exist in the wells we owned. Yes, Rupert had every right to be +anything but pleased with the affairs of the Ralestones. + +"He swept us off here where we are still under observation, I believe." + +"Then you don't like it here?" + +"Like it? Madam, 'like' is a very pallid word. What if you were offered +everything you ever wished for, all tied up in pink ribbons and laid on +your door-step? What would your reaction be?" + +"So," she was staring into the fire, "that's the way of it?" + +"Yes. Or it would be if--" He stooped to reach for another piece of +wood. The fire was threatening to die again. + +"What is the flaw in the masterpiece?" she asked quietly. + +"Rupert. He's changed. In the old days he was one of us; now he's a +stranger. We're amusing to have around, someone to look after, but I +have a feeling that to him we don't really exist. We aren't real--" Val +floundered trying to express that strange, walled-off emotion which so +often held him in this grown-up brother's presence. "Things like this +'Bluebeard's Chamber' of his--that isn't like the Rupert we knew." + +"Did you ever think that he might be shy, too?" she asked. "He left two +children and came home to find two distrustful adults. Give him his +chance--" + +"Charity!" Ricky ran lightly downstairs. "Why didn't Val tell me you had +come?" + +"I just dropped in to inquire concerning your patient." + +"He's better-tempered than Val," declared Ricky shamelessly. "You'll +stay to dinner of course. We're having some sort of crab dish that Lucy +seems to think her best effort. Rupert will be back by then, I'm sure; +he's out somewhere with Sam. There's been some trouble about trespassers +on the swamp lands. Goodness, won't this rain ever stop?" + +As if in answer to her question, there came a great gust of wind and +rain against the door, a blast which shook the oak, thick and solid as +it was. And then came the thunder of the knocker which Letty-Lou had +polished into shining life only the day before. + +Val opened the door to find Mr. Creighton and Mr. Holmes huddled on the +mat. They came in with an eagerness which was only surpassed by Satan, +wet and displaying cold anger towards his mistress, whom he passed with +a disdainful flirt of his tail as he headed for that deceptive fire. + +"You, again," observed Charity resignedly as Sam Two was summoned and +sent away again draped with wet coats and drenched hats. + +"Man"--Holmes argued with Satan for the possession of the +hearth-stone--"when it rains in this country, it rains. A branch of your +creek down there is almost over the road--" + +"Bayou, not creek," corrected Charity acidly. Lately she had shown a +marked preference for Holmes' absence rather than his company. + +"I stand corrected," he laughed; "a branch of your bayou." + +"If you found it so unpleasant, why did you--" began Charity, and then +she flushed as if she had suddenly realized that that speech was too +rude even for her recent attitude. + +"Why did we come?" Holmes' crooked eyebrow slid upward as his face +registered mock reproof. "My, my, what a warm welcome, my dear." He +shook his head and Charity laughed in spite of herself. + +"Don't mind my bearishness," she made half apology. "You know what +pleasant moods I fall into while working. And this rain is depressing." + +"But Miss Biglow is right." Creighton smiled his rare, shy smile. +Brusque and impatient as he was when on business bent, he was awkwardly +uncomfortable in ordinary company. The man, Val sometimes thought +privately, lived, ate, slept books. Save when they were the subject of +conversation, he was as out of his element as a coal-miner at the +ballet. "We should explain the reason for this--this rather abrupt +call." He fingered his brief-case, which he still clutched, nervously. + +"Down to business already." Holmes seated himself on the arm of Ricky's +chair. "Very well, out with it." + +Creighton smiled again, laid the case across his knees, and looked +straight at Ricky. For some reason he talked to her, as if she above all +others must be firmly convinced of the importance of his mission. + +"It is a very queer story, Miss Ralestone, a very queer--" + +"Said the mariner to the wedding guest." Holmes snapped his fingers at +Satan, who contemptuously ignored him. "Or am I thinking of the Whiting +who talked to the Snail?" + +"Perhaps I had better begin at the beginning," continued Creighton, +frowning at Holmes who refused to be so suppressed. + +"Why be so dramatic about it, old man? It's very simple, Miss Ricky. +Creighton has lost an author and he wants you to help find him." + +When Ricky's eyes involuntarily swept about the room, Val joined in the +laughter. "No, it isn't as easy as all that, I'm afraid." Creighton had +lost his nervous shyness. "But what Holmes says is true. I have lost an +author and do hope that you can help me locate the missing gentleman--or +lady. Two months ago an agent sent a manuscript to our office for +reading. It wasn't complete, but he thought it was well worth our +attention. It was. + +"Although there were only five chapters finished, the rest being but +synopsis and elaborated scenes, we knew that we had something--something +big. We delayed reporting upon it until Mr. Brewster--our senior +partner--returned from Europe. Mr. Brewster has the final decision on +all manuscripts; he was as well pleased with this offering as we were. +Frankly, we saw possibilities of another great success such as those two +long historical novels which have been so popular during the past few +years. + +"Queerly enough, the author's name was not upon the papers sent us by +the agent--that is, his proper name; there was a pen-name. And when we +applied to Mr. Lever, the agent, we received a most unpleasant shock. +The author's real name, which had been given in the covering letter +mailed with the manuscript to Mr. Lever, had most strangely disappeared, +due to some carelessness in his office. + +"Now we have an extremely promising book and no author--" + +"What I can't understand," cut in Holmes, "is the modesty of the author. +Why hasn't he written to Lever?" + +"That is the most unfortunate part of the whole affair." Mr. Creighton +shook his head. "Lever recalled that the chap had said in the letter +that if Lever found the manuscript unsalable he should destroy it, as +the writer was moving about and had no permanent address. The fellow +added that if he didn't hear from Lever he would assume that it was not +acceptable. Lever wrote to the address given in the letter to +acknowledge receipt, but that was all." + +"Mysterious," Val commented, interested in spite of himself. + +"Just so. Lever deduced from the tone of the letter that the writer was +very uncertain of his own powers and hesitated to submit his manuscript. +And yet, what we have is a very fine piece of work, far beyond the +ability of the average beginner. The author must have written other +things. + +"The novel is historical, with a New Orleans setting. Its treatment is +so detailed that only one who had lived here or had close connections +with this country could have produced it. Mr. Brewster, knowing that I +was about to travel south, asked me to see if I could discover our +missing author through his material. So far I have failed; our man is +unknown to any of the writers of the city or to any of those interested +in literary matters. + +"Yet he knows New Orleans and its history as few do today except those +of old family who have been born and bred here. Dr. Hanly Richardson of +Tulane University has assured me that much of the material used is +authentic--historically correct to the last detail. And it was Dr. +Richardson who suggested that several of the scenes must have actually +occurred, becoming with the passing of time part of the tradition of +some aristocratic family. + +"The period of the story is that time of transition when Louisiana +passed from Spain to France and then under the control of the United +States. It covers the years immediately preceding the Battle of New +Orleans. Unfortunately, those were years of disturbance and change. +Events which might have been the talk of the town, and so have found +description in gossipy memoirs, were swallowed by happenings of national +importance. It is, I believe, in intimate family records only that I can +find the clue I seek." + +"Which scenes"--Ricky's eyes shone in the firelight--"are those Dr. +Richardson believes real?" + +"Well, he was very certain that the duel of the twin brothers must have +occurred--Why, Mr. Ralestone," he interrupted himself as the stick Val +was about to place on the fire fell from his hands and rolled across the +floor. "Mr. Ralestone, what is the matter?" + +Across his shoulder Ricky signaled her brother. And above her head Val +saw Holmes' eyes narrow shrewdly. + +"Nothing. I'm sorry I was so clumsy." Val stooped hurriedly to hide his +confusion. + +"A duel between twin brothers." Ricky twisted one of the buttons which +marched down the front of her sport dress. "That sounds exciting." + +"They fought at midnight"--Creighton was enthralled by the story he was +telling--"and one was left for dead. The scene is handled with restraint +and yet you'd think that the writer had been an eye-witness. Now if such +a thing ever did happen, there would have been a certain amount of talk +afterwards--" + +Charity nodded. "The slaves would have spread the news," she agreed, +"and the person who found the wounded twin." + +Val kept his eyes upon the hearth-stone. There was no stain there, but +his vivid imagination painted the gray as red as it had been that cold +night when the slave woman had come to find her master lying there, his +brother's sword across his body. Someone had used the story of the +missing Ralestone. But who today knew that story except themselves, +Charity, LeFleur, and some of the negroes? + +"And you think that some mention of such an event might be found in the +papers of the family concerned?" asked Ricky. She was leaning forward in +her chair, her lips parted eagerly. + +"Or in those of some other family covering the same period," Creighton +added. "I realize that this is an impertinence on my part, but I wonder +if such mention might not be found among the records of your own house. +From what I have seen and heard, your family was very prominent in the +city affairs of that time--" + +Ricky stood up. "There is no need to ask, Mr. Creighton. My brother and +I will be most willing to help you. Unfortunately, Rupert is very much +immersed in a business matter just now, but Val and I will go through +the papers we have." + +Val choked down the protest that was on his lips just in time to nod +agreement. For some reason Ricky wanted to keep the secret. Very well, +he would play her game. At least he would until he knew what lay behind +her desire for silence. + +"That is most kind." Creighton was beaming upon both of them. "I cannot +tell you how much I appreciate your coöperation in this matter--" + +"Not at all," answered Ricky with that deceptive softness in her voice +which masked her rising temper. "We are only too grateful to be allowed +to share a secret." + +And then her brother guessed that she did not mean Creighton's secret +but some other. She crossed the room and rang the bell for Letty-Lou to +bring coffee. Something triumphant in her step added to Val's suspicion. +Like the Englishman of Kipling's poem, Ricky was most to be feared when +she grew polite. He turned in time to see her wink at Charity. + +Rupert came in just then, wet and thoroughly out of sorts, full of the +evidences he had discovered on Ralestone lands bordering the swamp that +strangers had been camping there. Their guests all stayed to supper, +lingering long about the table to discuss Rupert's find, so that Val did +not get a chance to be alone with Ricky to demand an explanation. And +for some reason she seemed to be adroitly avoiding him. He did have her +almost cornered in the upper hall when Letty-Lou came up behind him and +plucked at his sleeve. + +"Mistuh Val," she said, "dat Jeems boy done wan' to see yo'all." + +"Bother Jeems!" Val exploded, his eyes on Ricky's back. But he stepped +into the bedroom where the swamper was still imprisoned by Lucy's +orders. + +The boy was propped up on his pillows, looking out of the window. His +body was tense. At the sound of Val's step he turned his bandaged head. + +"Can't yo' git me outa heah?" he demanded. + +"Why?" + +"The watah's up!" His eyes were upon the water-filled darkness of the +garden. + +"But that's all right," the other assured him. "Sam says that it won't +reach the top of the levee. At the worst, only the lower part of the +garden will be flooded." + +Jeems glanced at Val over his shoulder and then without a word he edged +toward the side of the bed and tried to stand. But with a muffled gasp +he sank back again, pale and weak. Awkwardly Val forced him back against +his pillows. + +"It's all right," he assured him again. + +But in answer the swamper shook his head violently, "It ain't all right +in the swamp." + +In a flash Val caught his meaning. Swampers lived on house-boats for the +most part, and the boats will outride all but unusual floods. But Jeems' +cabin was built on land, land none too stable even in dry weather. The +swamp boy touched Val's hand. + +"It ain't safe. Two of them piles is rotted. If the watah gits that far, +they'll go." + +"You mean the piles holding up your cabin platform?" Val asked. + +He nodded. For a second Val caught a glimpse of forlorn loneliness +beneath the sullen mask Jeems habitually wore. + +"But there's nothing you can do now--" + +"It ain't the cabin. Ah gotta git the chest--" + +"The one in the cabin?" + +His black eyes were fixed upon Val's, and then they swerved and rested +upon the wall behind the young Ralestone. + +"Ah gotta git the chest," he repeated simply. + +And Val knew that he would. He would get out of bed and go into the +swamp after that treasure of his. Which left only one thing for Val to +do. + +"I'll get the chest, Jeems. Let me have your key to the cabin. I'll take +the outboard motor and be back before I'm missed." + +"Yo' don't know the swamp--" + +"I know how to find the cabin. Where's the key?" + +"In theah," he pointed to the highboy. + +Val's fingers closed about the bit of metal. + +"Mistuh," Jeems straightened, "Ah won't forgit this." + +Val glanced toward the downpour without. + +"Neither will I, in all probability," he said dryly as he went out. + +It had been on just such a night as this that the missing Ralestone had +gone out into the gloom. But he was coming back again, Val reminded +himself hurriedly. Of course he was. With a shake he pulled on his +trench-coat and slipped out the front door unseen. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS + + +The rain, fine and needle-like, stung Val's face. There were ominous +pools of water gathering in the garden depressions. Even the small +stream which bisected their land had grown from a shallow trickle into a +thick, mud-streaked roll crowned with foam. + +But the bayou was the worst. It had put off its everyday sleepiness with +a roar. A chicken coop wallowed by as the boy struggled with the knot of +the painter which held the outboard. And after the coop traveled a dead +tree, its topmost branches bringing up against the plantation landing +with a crack. Val waited for it to whirl on before he got on board his +craft. + +The adventure was more serious than he had thought. It might not be a +case of merely going downstream and into the swamp to the cabin; it +might be a case of fighting the rising water in grim battle. Why he did +not turn back to the house then and there he never knew. What would have +happened if he had? he sometimes speculated afterward. If Ricky had not +come into the garden to hunt him? If together they had not-- + +While Val went with the current, his voyage was ease itself. But when he +strove to cut across and so reach the mouth of the hidden swamp-stream, +he narrowly escaped upsetting. As it was, he fended off some dark blot +bobbing through the water, his palm meeting it with a force that jarred +his bones. + +But he did make the mouth of the swamp-stream. Switching on the strong +search-light in the bow, he headed on. And because he was moving now +against the current, it seemed that he lost two feet for every one that +he advanced. + +The muddy water was whipped into foam where it tore around shrub and +willow. There were no longer any confining banks, only a waste of water +glittering through the dark foliage. The drear habitat of the vultures +was being swept bare by the scouring of the incoming streams, but its +moldy stench still arose stronger than ever, as if some foulness were +being stirred up from its ancient bed. + +It was only by chance that Val found the drying rack which marked the +boundary of Jeems' property. Here the land was higher than the flood, +which had not yet spread inland. He tied the boat to a willow and +splashed ashore. In the lower portions of the path his feet sank into +patches of wet. Something which might have been--and probably was--a +snake oozed away from the beam of his pocket torch. + +The clearing was much as it had been, save that the door of the +chicken-run stood ajar and its feathered population was gone. But under +the cabin Val saw the betraying sparkle of water. The bayou in the rear +must have topped flood level. + +Someone had been there before him. The lock was battered and there had +been an attempt to pry loose its staples, an attempt which had left +betraying gouges on the door frame. But misused as it had been, the lock +yielded to the key and Val went in. Warned by a lapping sound from +beneath, it did not take him long to get the chest, relock the door, and +head back to the boat. + +He was none too soon. Already, in the few moments of his absence, there +were rills cutting across the mud, rills which were growing in strength +and size. And the flood around the drying rack was up a good three +inches. Val dumped the chest into the bow with little ceremony and +climbed in after it, his wet trousers clinging damply to his legs. +Something plate-armored and possessing wicked yellow eyes swam +effortlessly through the light beam--a 'gator bound for the Gulf, +whether he would or no. + +The return as far as the bayou was easy enough, for again the boat was +borne on the current. But when Val faced the torn waters of the river he +experienced a certain tightness of throat and chill of blood. What might +have been the roof of a small shed was passing lumpily as he hesitated. +Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boy +piteously, its eyes green in the light. An eddy sent its ship close to +the boat; the top branches clung a moment to the bow. And to Val's +surprise, the 'coon roused itself to a mighty effort and crossed into +the egg-shell safety the boat offered. Once in the outboard, it +retreated to the bow where it crouched beside the chest and kept a wary +eye on Val's every movement. + +[Illustration: _Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which +stared at the boy piteously, its eyes green in the light._] + +But he could not rescue the wildcat which swept by spitting at the water +from a log, nor the shivering doe which awaited the coming of death, +marooned on an islet which was fast being cut away by the hungry waters. +And all the time the stinging rain fed the flood. + +Val gripped the rudder until the bar was printed deep across his palm. +Soon it would be too late. He must cross now, heading diagonally +downstream to escape the full fury of the current. With a deep breath he +turned out into the bayou. + +It was like fighting some vast animated feather-bed. His greatest +efforts were as nothing against the overpowering sweep seaward. And +there was constant danger from the floating booty of the storm. The +muddy spray lashed his body, filling the bottom of his craft as if it +were a tea-cup. And once the boat was whirled almost around. + +Val was beginning to wonder just how long a swimmer might last in that +black fog of rain, wind, and water when his bow eased into comparatively +quiet water. He had crossed the main current; now was the time to head +upstream. Grimly he did, to begin a struggle which was to take on all +the more horrible properties of a nightmare. For this was many times +worse than his fight against the swamp-stream. + +Twice the engine sputtered protestingly and Val thought of trying to +leap ashore. But stubbornly the outboard fought on. If there ever were a +sturdy ship, fit to be named with Columbus' gallant craft or Hudson's +vessel, it was that frail outboard which buffeted the rising waters of a +Louisiana bayou gone flood mad. + +It achieved the impossible; it crept upstream inch by inch, escaping +disaster after disaster by the thinness of a dime. Since he had +apparently not been born to drown, Val thought as he saw his headlight +touch the tip of the landing, he would doubtless depart this life by +hanging. + +Then his light picked out something else which lay between him and the +landing. The sleek, knife-bowed cruiser certainly did not belong to +Pirate's Haven. And what neighbor would come calling by water on such a +night? It was moored by two thick ropes to a sunken post, and already +the mooring was dragging the bow down. Val headed in toward it, running +the outboard between the stranger and the landing. + +Out of the blackness ashore a shadow arose and waved at him frenziedly. +Then he saw Ricky's white face above her long oil-silk cape. Her hair +was plastered tight to her skull and she was protecting her eyes from +the fury of the rain with her hands. + +Val sent the boat inshore until it bit into the crumbling surface of the +levee with a shock which threatened his balance. Ricky snatched at the +painter and held steady while he jumped. They made the boat fast and Val +landed the chest. The passenger did his own disembarking, making his way +into the garden without a backward look. Then Val demanded an +explanation. + +"What are you doing here?" he tried to out-screech the wind. + +In answer she clapped her wet, muddy hand across his mouth and pulled +him back from the levee. + +They reached the semi-shelter of a rotting summer-house where he put +down the chest. Ricky pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. It was +impossible for them to hear each other without screaming madly. + +"Jeems told me--after you left--Val! How could you be so mad!" + +"I made it." He touched the chest with his toe. "After we had +practically kidnapped him, we couldn't let his belongings just float +away. But why are you out here? And where did that boat come from?" + +"I came out here after Jeems told me. I'm all right." She laughed +shakily. "I've got my oldest clothes on--and this," she touched her +cape. "I couldn't stay in there--waiting--after I knew. And I didn't +want Rupert to ask questions. So I said that I was going to bed with a +headache. Then I slipped out here to the levee. And I hadn't been here +two minutes before that boat came downstream. There were four men in it +and they got out and went into the bushes over there. And, Val, Rupert +is down at the other end of the garden where they are having trouble +with the levee. Holmes and Creighton went down to see if they could +help, too, just after you left. There's nobody but Charity up at the +house with Lucy and Letty-Lou. Val, what are we going to do?" she +appealed to him. + +"First I'll investigate these visitors," he said easily, though he felt +far from easy within. + +"Me too," she said firmly if ungrammatically, and since Val could not +wait to argue, she went along. + +They took the route she had watched the invaders follow, wriggling +through wet bushes and around trees. + +"Val, look out!" She grabbed his arm and so saved him from tumbling +headlong into a black hole in the ground. Vines and a small shrub or two +had been ruthlessly torn out to bare the opening. It was here that the +visitors must have gone to earth. And then Val had a glimmering of the +truth; the "Boss" and his friends had at last found Jeems' private door. + +Prudence urged that they return to the house and send Sam Two or some +other messenger down to the cross-roads store to summon the police by +phone. Prudence however had never successfully advised any Ralestone. +They had a decided taste for fighting their own battles. So, torch in +hand, Val dropped into the hole. And a moment later Ricky slid down to +join him. + +They stood in a rough passage. Stout timbers banked its sides and +guarded the roof. There was a damp underground smell such as Val had +noted in the cellar of the house, but the air was fresh enough. After +the first hasty survey, the boy held his fingers over the bulb of the +flashlight so that only the faintest glimmer escaped to light their +path. + +The passage was short, ending abruptly in a low bricked room. Save for +themselves, a tangle of rotting rope in a far corner, and two lively +black beetles, it was empty. + +"Val," Ricky's throaty whisper reached him, "can't you guess what this +is? The first pirate Ralestone's storage-house!" + +It was a likely enough explanation--though nothing could have been +stored there very long; the place was too damp. Beads of slimy moisture +from the walls dripped slowly down, shining like silver in the light. + +At the other side of the room was a corridor branching away. But this +they barely glanced into, little knowing how that neglect was to prove +disastrous in the end. It was the main door to their right which +interested them most, for that led, so far as Val could determine, +toward the house. And that must have been the one the mysterious +visitors had followed. + +Thus they came into the second of their pirate ancestor's store-rooms. +This one was long and narrow. Three wooden casks eaten with decay and +spotted with fungus stood against the wall, testifying to the use to +which this chamber had been put, though the all-pervading damp could not +have been good for the wine. + +Again a dark archway tempted them on, and the third room into which they +came had a more grim reminder of the scarlet past of the house. For +Ricky stumbled over something which clinked dully. And when Val used the +flash they looked down upon a telltale length of chain ending in an iron +ring, its other end soldered into the wall. + +"Val," Ricky's voice quavered, "did--did they keep people here?" + +"Slaves, perhaps," her brother answered soberly and shoved the rusting +metal aside with his foot. But there were two other chains hanging from +the wall, speaking of past horrors of which he did not care to think. + +And then as their light picked out these damning testimonials, Val +thought that the Ralestones, for all their pride and fine, brave airs, +had been only pirates after all, akin to those whom they were now +hunting through the dark. + +There was a low arched doorway of brick on the right side of the room, +and this they passed through. Beyond were three broad stone steps, worn +a little on the treads, one cracked clear across. These led to a wide +landing paved with brick. Here the walls were brick as well. Ricky +touched one involuntarily and drew back her hand with a little +exclamation of disgust. She wiped her palm vigorously on the wet surface +of her cape. + +Everywhere was the smell of rot and slow, vile decay. In spite of its +historical associations, decided Val, this vault should be sealed +forever from the daylight and left to the sole occupancy of those +nameless things which creep in its dark. The very air, in spite of its +freshness, seemed tainted. + +Another flight of stairs was before them, the treads fashioned of stone +but equipped with a rotted wooden hand-rail. And above was the faint +reflection of light and the sound of voices. Val hesitated and realized +for the first time how foolhardy their expedition was. + +Those above would be prepared to handle interruptions. Val was +determined to keep Ricky out of trouble, and to go on alone was the +rankest folly. But, as he hesitated, the decision was taken out of his +hands, for the light above suddenly became brighter. Grabbing at Ricky's +arm, he stumbled back into the shelter of the archway, pulling her after +him. + +A round circle of light shone plainly at the top of the stairs. Someone +was coming down. Ricky's breath was warm on Val's cheek and she moved +with a faint crackling of her cape which sounded as loud as a +thunderclap in his ears. + +"How're we gonna do it without bustin' the wall down?" demanded an +aggrieved voice from the top of the stairs. "There ain't no knob, no +handle, no nothin' to work it from this side. And these guys what stored +their stuff here in the boot-leggin' days never got into the house." + +"The boy got through, didn't he?" Val knew that voice, the Boss of the +swamp meeting. "Well, if he did, we can." + +"Lissen, Boss, it's a secret, ain't it? An' we gotta know how it works +before we can work it. An' lissen here, you swamp bum, you keep outta my +way--see? I don't care if you were one of Mike Flanigan's boys; that +don't cut no ice with me." This truculent warning must have been +addressed to an unseen companion on the same stair level. The listeners +below heard a faint sound which might have marked a collision and then +the hiss of swamp French spoken hurriedly and angrily. + +"What're you gonna do now, Boss?" + +The light half-way down the stairs paused. "There is some way of opening +that panel--" + +"An' we gotta find it. All right, all right. But tell me how." + +"I don't know whether it will be necessary to open it--from this side." + +"What d'ya mean?" + +"Use that thick skull of yours, Red. Doors swing two ways, don't they? +They can be used either to go in or to go out." + +"Got it!" The thick voice was oily with flattering approval. "We can get +out this way--" + +"Smart work, Red. Did you think that out all by yourself?" asked the +other contemptuously. "Yes, we can come out this way when"--his voice +was sharp with purpose--"we are finished. Send one of these swampers +down to the levee where the men are working. As long as this flood keeps +rising we're safe. Then the other three of us will go for the house. We +may be seen that way, but there's no use spending any more time here +playing tick-tack-toe on that wood up there. We locate what we want, and +if we're cornered we can come out through here to the bayou. Slick +enough." + +"Great stuff, Boss--" Red began. But the rest was muffled, for Ricky and +Val drew back into the room of the chains. There was only one thing to +do now--reach Rupert and the others and prepare to meet these skulkers +in the open. But before they had quite crossed the room Ricky came to +grief. She caught her foot in one of those gruesome chains and stumbled +forward, falling on her hands and knee. The noise of her fall echoed +around the low chamber with betraying clamor. + +A white light beat upon them as Val stooped to aid Ricky. + +"Stop!" came the shout, but Val had only one thought, to dim that light. +He swung back his arm and flung his own flash straight at the other. +There was a grunt of pain and the light fell to the floor. With the +tinkle of breaking glass it went out. Val pulled Ricky to her feet and +threw her toward the door, forgetting everything but the wild panic +which urged him out of that place of foul darkness. They bruised their +hands against the brick as they felt for the opening, and then they were +out in the other chamber. + +"Val," Ricky clung to him, "I've got that little flash I keep under my +pillow at night. Wait a minute until I get it out of my pocket. We can't +find our way out of here without a light." + +Muffled sounds from behind them suggested that their pursuers were on +the trail even without light. After all, given time enough, it would be +easy for them to feel their way out of the vaults. Val hustled Ricky on, +taking his direction from one of the wine-casks he had bumped into. And +before he allowed her to hunt for her torch they stood in the first of +the chambers. + +The light she produced was poor and it flickered warningly. But it was +good enough for them to see the dark opening which led to the outer +world. They ducked into this just as the first of the other party came +cursing into the open. At Val's orders, Ricky switched off the light and +they crept along by the wall, one hand on its guiding surface. + +But the way seemed longer than it had upon their entering. Surely they +should have reached the garden entrance by now. And the surface +underfoot remained level instead of slanting upward. Suddenly Ricky gave +a little cry. + +"We've taken the wrong passage! There's only a blank wall in front of +us!" + +She was right. The torch showed a brick surface across their path, and +Val remembered too late the second passage out of the first chamber. +They must go back and hope to elude the others in the dark. + +"They may have all gone out, thinking we were still ahead of them," he +mused aloud. + +"Well, it's got to be done," Ricky observed, "so we might as well do +it." + +Back they went along the unknown passage. This appeared to run straight +out from the first chamber. But why it had been fashioned and then +walled up they had no way of knowing. Ricky's torch picked out the +entrance at last. + +"Wait," Val cautioned her, "we had better see how the land lies before +we go out in the open." + +They stood listening. Save for the constant drip, drip of water, there +was no sound. + +"I guess it's clear," he said. + +"Wonder where all the water is coming from?" Ricky shivered. + +"Down from the garden. Come on, I think it's safe to have a light now." + +Ricky must have been holding the torch upward when she pressed the +button, for the round circle of light appeared on the supporting timbers +above the door. They both looked up, fascinated for a moment. The old +oak had been laid in a crisscross pattern, the best support possible in +the days when the vaults had been made. + +"How wet--" began Ricky. + +Val cried out suddenly and struck at her. The blow sent her sprawling +some three or four feet back in the passage. There might be time yet to +cover her body with his own, he planned desperately, before-- + +The sound of slipping earth was all about them as Val flung himself +toward Ricky. As he thrust blindly at her body, rolling her back farther +into the tunnel, he felt the first clod strike full upon his shoulder. +Ricky's complaining whimper was the last thing he heard clearly. For in +the dark was the crash of breaking timber. + +He was felled by a stroke across the upper arm, and then came a chill +darkness in which he was utterly swallowed up. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE! + + +Through the dull roaring which filled his ears Val heard a sharp call: + +"Val! Val, where are you? Val!" + +He stared up into utter blackness. + +"Val!" + +"Here, Ricky!" But that thin thread of a whisper surely didn't belong to +him. He tried again and achieved a sort of croak. Something moved behind +him and there was an answering rattle of falling clods. + +"Val, I'm afraid to move," her voice wavered unsteadily. "It seems to be +falling yet. Where are you?" + +The boy tried to investigate, only to find himself more securely +fastened than if he had been scientifically bound. And now that the +mists had cleared from him, his spine and back felt a sharp pain to +which he was no stranger. From his breast-bone down he was held as if in +a vise. + +"Are you hurt, Ricky?" He formed the words slowly. Every breath he drew +thrust a red-hot knife between his ribs. He turned his head toward her, +pillowing his cheek on the gritty clay. + +"No. But where are you, Val? Can't you come to me?" + +"Sorry. Un--unavoidably detained," he gasped. "Don't try any crawling or +the rest may come down on us." + +"Val! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Her questions cut sharply +through the darkness. + +"Banged up a little. No"--he heard the rustle which betrayed her +movements--"don't try to come to me--Please, Ricky!" + +But with infinite caution she came, until her brother felt the edge of +her cape against his face. Then her questing hand touched his throat and +slid downward to his shoulders. + +"Val!" He knew what horror colored that cry as she came upon what +imprisoned him. + +"It's all right, Ricky. I'm just pinned in. If I don't try to move I'm +safe." Quickly he tried to reassure her. + +"Val, don't lie to me now--you're hurt!" + +"It's not bad, really, Ricky--" + +"Oh!" There was a single small cry and a moment of utter silence and +then a hurried rustling. + +"Here." Her hand groped for his head. "I've wadded up my cape. Can I +slip it under your head?" + +"Better not try just yet. Anything might send off the landslide again. +Just--just give me a minute or two to--to sort of catch my breath." +Catch his breath, when every sobbing gasp he drew was a stab! + +"Can't we--can't I lift some of the stuff off?" she asked. + +"No. Too risky." + +"But--but we can't stay here--" Her voice trailed off and it was then +that she must have realized for the first time just what had happened to +them. + +"I'm afraid we'll have to, Ricky," said her brother quietly. + +"But, Val--Val, what if--if--" + +"If we aren't found?" he put her fear into words. "But we will be. +Rupert is doubtless moving a large amount of earth right now to +accomplish that." + +"Rupert doesn't know where we are." She had regained control of both +voice and spirit. "We--we may never be found, Val." + +"I was a fool," he stated plainly a fact which he now knew to be only +too true. + +"I would have come even if you hadn't, Val," she answered generously and +untruthfully. It was perhaps the kindest thing she had ever said. + +Now that the noise of the catastrophe had died away they could hear +again the drip of water. And that sound tortured Val's dry throat. A +glass of cool water--He turned his head restlessly. + +"If we only had a light," came Ricky's wish. + +"The flash is probably buried." + +"Val, will--will it be fun?" + +"What?" he demanded, suddenly alert at her tone. Had the dark and their +trouble made her light-headed? + +"Being a ghost. We--we could walk the hall with Great-uncle Rick; he +wouldn't begrudge us that." + +"Ricky! Stop it!" + +Her answering laugh, though shaky, was sane enough. + +"I do pick the wrong times to display my sense of humor, don't I? Val, +is it so very bad?" + +Something within him crumbled at that question. + +"Not so good, Lady," he replied in spite of the resolutions he had made. + +She brushed back the hair glued by perspiration to his forehead. Ricky +was not gold, he thought, for gold is a rather dirty thing. But she was +all steel, as clean and shining as a blade fresh from the hands of a +master armorer. He made a great effort and found that he could move his +right arm an inch or two. Concentrating all his strength there, he +wriggled it back and forth until he could draw it free from the +wreckage. But his left shoulder and side were numb save for the pain +which came and went. + +"Got my arm free," Val told her exultantly and reached up to feel for +her in the dark. His fingers closed upon coarse cloth. He pulled feebly +and something rolled toward him. + +"What's this?" + +Ricky's hands slid along his arm to the thing he had found. He could +hear her exploring movements. + +"It's some sort of a bundle. I wonder where it came from." + +"Some more remains of the jolly pirate days, I suppose." + +"Here's something else. A bag, I think. Ugh! It smells nasty! There's a +hole in it--Oh, here's a piece of money. At least it feels like money. +There's more in the bag." She pressed a disk about as large as a +half-dollar into Val's palm. + +"Pirate loot--" he began. Anything that would keep them from thinking of +where they were and what had happened was to be welcomed. + +"Val"--he could hear her move uneasily--"remember that old saying: +'Pieces of eight--Ralestones' fate?" + +"All good families have curses," he reminded her. + +"And good families can have--can have accidents, too." + +There could be no answer to that. Nor did Val feel like answering. The +savage pain in his legs and back had given way to a kind of numbness. A +chill not caused by the dank air crawled up his body. What--what if his +injuries were worse than he had thought? What if--if-- + +The dripping of the water seemed louder, and it no longer fell with the +same rhythm. Ricky must be counting money from the bag. He could hear +the clink of metal against stone as she dropped a piece. + +"Don't lose it," he muttered foggily. + +"Lose what?" + +"Your pieces of eight." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You just dropped a piece." + +"I haven't touched--Val, do--do you feel worse?" + +But he had no thought now for his body. If Ricky had not dropped the +money, then what had caused the clink? He ground his cheek against the +clay. _Thud, thud, clink, thud._ That was not water dripping nor coin +rattling. That was the sound of digging. And digging meant-- + +"Ricky! They're digging! I can hear them!" + +Her fingers closed about his free hand until the nails dug into the +flesh. "Where?" + +"I don't know. Listen!" + +The sound had grown in strength until now, though muffled, it sounded +through that part of the passage still remaining open. + +"It comes from this end. From behind that wall. But why should it come +from there?" + +"Does it matter? Val, do you suppose they could hear me if I pounded on +the wall at this side?" + +"You haven't anything heavy enough to pound with." + +"Yes, I have. This package thing that you found. It's quite heavy. Val, +we've got to let them know we're here!" + +She crawled away, moving with caution lest she bring on another slide. +That reassuring _thud, thud_ still sounded. Then, after long minutes, +Val heard the answering blow from their side. Three times Ricky struck +before the rhythm of the digging was broken. Then there was silence +followed by three sharp blows. They had heard! + +Ricky beat a perfect tattoo in joy and was quickly answered. Then the +_thud, thud_ began again, but this time the pace was quickened. + +"They've heard! They're coming!" Ricky's voice shrilled until it became +a scream. "Val, we're found!" + +A clod was loosened somewhere above them and crashed upon the wreckage. +Would the efforts of their rescuers bring on another slide? + +"Be quiet, Ricky," Val croaked a warning, "it's still moving." + +Then there came the sharp clink of metal against stone. "Val," called +Ricky, "they're right against the wall now!" + +"Come back here, away from it. We--we don't want you caught, too," he +answered her. + +Obediently she crawled back to him and again he felt her hand close +about his. The sound of metal grating against stubborn brick filled +their pocket of safety. But as an ominous accompaniment came the soft +hiss of earth sliding onto the wreckage. Which would win to them first, +the rescuers or the second slide? + +There was a vicious grinding noise from the walled end of the passage. A +moment later a blinding ray of light swung in, to focus upon them. + +"Ricky! Val!" + +Val was blinking stupidly at the light, but Ricky had presence of mind +enough to answer. + +"Here we are!" + +"Look out," Val roused enough to warn, "the walls are unsafe!" + +"We're coming through," rang the answer out of the dark. "Stand away!" + +Now that they could see, Val realized for the first time the danger of +their position. A jagged, water-rotted beam half covered with clay and +sand lay across him, and beyond that was a mass of splintered wood and +wet earth. A little sick, he looked up at Ricky. She was staring at the +wreckage. Her eyes were black in a white, mud-smeared face. + +"Val--Val!" His name came as the thinnest of whispers. + +"It isn't as bad as it looks," he said hurriedly. "Something underneath +must be supporting most of the weight or--or I wouldn't be here at all." + +"Val," she repeated, and then, paying no heed to his frantic injunctions +to keep away, she dug at earth and rotten wood with her hands. Using the +long bundle clumsily wrapped in stained canvas, she levered a piece of +beam out of the way so that she might get down on her knees and scoop up +the sand and clay. + +"Ricky! Val!" The light swung ahead as someone scrambled through the +hole in the barrier wall. Then, when the ray held firm upon them, the +headlong rush was checked for a long instant. "Val!" + +"Get her--away," he begged. "Another--slip--" + +But before he had done, a long arm gathered Ricky up as if she had been +a child. "Right," came the firm answer. "Sam, take Miss 'Chanda back. +Then--" + +Val was watching the reflection of the flash on the broken roof above +him. Sand slid in tiny streams down the wall, mingling with the greenish +trickles of water. There were queer blue and green arcs painted on the +brick which had something to do with the hot pain behind his eyes. The +blue turned to orange--to scarlet-- + +"Careful! Right here in the hall, Holmes--" + +The broken earth above him had somehow been changed to a high ceiling, +the chill darkness to blazing light and warmth. + +"Ricky?" he asked. + +"Here, Val." Her face was very close to his. + +"You--are--all--right?" + +"'Course!" But she was crying. "Don't try to talk, Val. You must be +quiet." + +He heard someone moving toward them but he kept his eyes on Ricky's +face. "We did it!" + +"Yes," she answered slowly, "we did it." + +"Val, don't try to talk." Rupert's face showed above Ricky's hunched +shoulder. There was an odd, strained look about his mouth, a smear of +mud across his cheek. But the harsh tone of his voice struck his brother +as dumb as if he had slapped him. + +"Sorry," Val shaped the words stiffly, "all my fault." + +"Nothing's your fault," Ricky's indignant answer cut in. "But--but just +be quiet, Val, until the doctor comes." + +He turned his head slowly. On the hearth-stone stood Charity talking +quietly to Holmes. Just within the circle of the firelight lay a bundle +which he had seen before. But of course, that was the thing they had +found in the passage, which Ricky had used to pound out their answer to +Rupert. + +"Ricky--" Val always believed that it was some instinct out of the past +which forced that whisper out of him--"Ricky, open that package." + +"Why--" she began, but then she got to her feet and went to the bundle, +twisting the tarred rope that fastened it in a vain attempt to undo the +intricate knots. It was Holmes who produced a knife and sawed through +the tough cord. And it was Holmes who unrolled the strips of canvas, +oil-silk, and greasy skins. But it was Ricky who took up what lay within +and held it out so that it reflected both red firelight and golden room +light. + +Her brother's sigh was one of satisfaction. + +For Ricky held aloft by its ponderous hilt a great war sword. There +could be no doubt in any of them--the Luck of Lorne had returned. + +[Illustration: _Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no +doubt in any of them--the Luck of Lorne had returned._] + +"We found it!" breathed Ricky. + +"Put it in its place," Val ordered. + +Without a word, Rupert drew out a chair and scrambled up. Taking from +Ricky's hands the ancient weapon, he slipped it into the niche their +pirate ancestor had made for it. In spite of the years underground, the +metal of hilt and blade was clear. Seven hundred years of history--their +Luck! + +"Everything will come right again," Val repeated as Ricky came back to +him. "You'll see. Everything--will--be--all--right." + +His eyes closed in spite of his efforts. He was back in the darkness +where he could only feel the warmth of Ricky's hands clasped about his. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER + + +"I like Louisiana," drawled Holmes lazily from his perch on the +window-seat. "The most improbable things happen here. One finds secret +passages under houses and medieval war swords stuck in drains. Then +there are 'things that go boomp in the night,' too. It might be worth +settling down here--" + +"Not for you," cut in Charity briskly. "Too far from the bright lights +for you, my man." + +"Just for that," he triumphed, "I shall not return this lost property +found under a cushion of the couch in the hall." + +At the sight of that familiar black note-book, Val shifted uneasily on +his pillows. Rupert got up. + +"Tired, old man?" he asked and reached to straighten one of his +brother's feather-stuffed supports. + +Val shook his head. Being bandaged like a mummy was wearying, but one +had to humor two broken ribs and a fractured collar-bone. + +"Sometimes," replied Charity, "you are just too clever, Mr. Judson +Holmes. That does not happen to be my property." + +"No?" He flipped it open and held it up so that she might see what lay +within. "I'll admit that it isn't your usual sort of stuff, but--" + +She was staring at the drawings. "No, that isn't mine. But who--" + +Ricky got up from the end of Val's cot and went to look. Then she +turned, her eyes shining with excitement. "You're trying them again! +But, Val, you said you never would." + +"Give me that book!" he ordered grimly. But Rupert had calmly collected +the trophy and was turning over the pages one by one. Val made a +horrible face at Ricky and resigned himself to the inevitable. + +"How long have you been doing this sort of thing?" his brother asked as +he turned the last page. + +"Ever so long," Ricky answered for Val brightly. "He used to draw whole +letters of them when we were at school. There were two sets, one for +good days and the other for bad." + +"And now," Val cut in, "suppose we just forget the whole matter. Will +you please let me have that!" + +"Rupert, don't let him go all modest on us now," urged the demon sister. +"One retiring violet in the family is enough." + +"And who is the violet? Your charming self?" inquired Holmes. + +"No." Ricky smiled pleasantly. "Only Mr. Creighton might be interested +in the contents of Bluebeard's Chamber. What do you think, Rupert?" + +At that audacious hint, Val remembered the night of the storm and +Ricky's strange attitude then. + +"So Rupert's the missing author," he commented lightly. "Well, well, +well." + +Charity's indulgent smile faded, and Holmes, suddenly alert, leaned +forward. Rupert stared at Val for a long moment, his face blank. Was he +going to retire behind his wall of reserve from which their venture +underground had routed him? Or was he going to remain the very human +person who had spent eight hours of every day at his brother's beck and +call for the past few weeks? + +"Regular Charlie Chan, aren't you?" he asked mildly. + +Val's sigh of relief was echoed by Ricky. "Thanks--so much," Val replied +humbly in the well-known manner of the famous detective Rupert had +likened him to. + +"Then we are right?" asked Ricky. + +Rupert's eyebrows slid upward. "You seemed too sure to be in doubt," he +commented. + +"Well, I was sure at times. But then no one can ever be really sure of +anything about you," she admitted frankly. + +"But why--" protested Charity. + +"Why didn't I spread the glad tidings that I was turning out the great +American novel?" he asked. "I don't know. Perhaps I am a violet--no?" He +looked pained at Ricky's snort of dissent. "Or perhaps I just don't like +to talk about things which may never come true. When I didn't hear from +Lever, I thought that my worst forebodings were realized and that my +scribbling was worthless. But you know," he paused to fill his pipe, +"writing is more or less like the drug habit. I've told stories all my +life, and I found myself tied to my typewriter in spite of my +disappointment. As for talking about it--well, how much has Val ever +said about these?" He ruffled the pages of the note-book provokingly. + +"Nothing. And you would never have seen those if I could have prevented +it," his brother replied. "Those are for my private satisfaction only." + +"Two geniuses in one family." Ricky rolled her eyes heavenward. "This is +almost too, too much!" + +"Jeems," Val ordered, "you're the nearest. Can't you make her shut up?" + +"Just let him try," said his sister sweetly. The swamper grinned but +made no move to stir from his chair. + +Jeems had become as much a part of Pirate's Haven as the Luck, which Val +could see from his cot glimmering dully in its niche in the Long Hall. +The swamper's confinement in the sick-room had paled his heavy tan and +he had lost the sullen frown which had made him appear so old and +bitter. Now, dressed in a pair of Val's white slacks and a shirt from +his wardrobe, Jeems was as much at ease in his surroundings as Rupert or +Holmes. + +It had been Jeems who had saved Ricky and Val on that night of terror +when they had been trapped in the secret ways of their pirate ancestors. +Sam Two had trailed Ricky to the garden and had witnessed their entering +the tunnel. But his racial fear of the dark unknown had kept him from +venturing in after them. So he had lingered there long enough to see the +invaders come out and take to the river. Catching some words of theirs +about a cave-in, he had gone pelting off to Rupert with the story. + +The investigating party from the levee had discovered, to their horror, +the passage choked for half its length. They were making a futile and +dangerous attempt to clear it when Jeems appeared on the scene. +Letty-Lou having given him a garbled account of events, he had staggered +from his bed in an effort to reach Rupert. He alone knew the underground +ways as well as he knew the garden. And so once getting Rupert's +attention, he had set them to work in the cellar cutting through to the +one passage which paralleled the foundation walls. + +In the weeks which followed their emergence from the threatened tomb, +the swamper had unobtrusively slipped into a place in the household. +While Val was frightening his family by indulging in a bout of fever to +complicate his injuries, Jeems was proving himself a tower of strength +and a person to be relied upon. Even Lucy had once asked his opinion on +the importance of a fire in the hall, and with that his position was +assured. + +Of the invaders they had heard or seen no more, although the police had +visited Pirate's Haven on two separate occasions, interviewing each and +every member of the household. They had also made a half-hearted attempt +to search the swamp. But for all the evidence they found, Ricky and Val +might have been merely indulging in an over-vivid dream. Save that the +Luck hung again in the Long Hall. + +"Seriously, though," Holmes drew Val's thoughts out of the past, "these +are worth-while. Would you mind if I showed them to a friend of mine who +might be interested?" + +Since Rupert had already nodded and Charity had handed him the +note-book, Val decided that he could hardly raise a protest. + +"Rupert," Charity glanced at him, "are you going to see Creighton?" + +"Since all has been discovered," he misquoted, "I suppose that that is +all there is left for me to do." + +"Then you had better do it today; he's planning to leave for the North +tonight," she informed him. + +Rupert came to life. For all his pose of unconcern, he was excited. In +the long days Val had been tied to the cot hurriedly set up in a corner +of the drawing-room on the night of the rescue--it had been thought +wiser to move him no farther than necessary--he had found again the real +Rupert they had known of old. There was little he could conceal from his +younger brother now--or so Val thought. + +"Sam has the roadster," Rupert said. "There's something wrong with the +brakes and I told him to take it to town and have it looked over. +Goodness only knows what time he'll be back." + +"See here, Ralestone," Holmes looked at his wrist-watch, "I've the car I +hired here with me. Let me drive you in. Charity has to go, anyway, and +see about sending off those sketches of hers." + +"Oh, but we were going together," protested Ricky. "I have some shopping +to do." + +"Very simple," Val suggested. "Why don't you all go?" + +"But that would leave you alone." Rupert shook his head. + +"No. There's Jeems." + +"I don't know," Rupert hesitated doubtfully. + +"It doesn't require more than one person to wait on me at present," Val +said firmly. "Now all of you go. But remember, I shall expect the Greeks +to return bearing gifts." + +Holmes saluted. "Right you are, my hearty. Well, ladies, the chariot +awaits without." + +In spite of their protests, Val at last got rid of them. Since he had a +project of his own, he was only too glad to see the last of his +oversolicitous family for awhile. + +Val had never been able to understand why broken ribs or a fractured +collar-bone should chain one to the bed. And since he had recovered from +his wrenched back he was eager to be up and around. In private, with the +protesting assistance of Sam Two, he had made a pilgrimage across the +room and back. And now it was his full intention to be seated on the +terrace when the family came home. + +It was Lucy of all people who aided fortune to give him his opportunity. + +"Mistuh Val," she announced from the doorway as the sound of the car +pulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party, +"dem lights is out agin." + +"Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playing +games?" he asked. + +"Dis heah no-'count!" She dragged out of hiding from behind her +voluminous skirts her second son, a chocolate-brown infant who rejoiced +in the name of Gustavus Adolphus and was generally called "Doff." At +that moment he was sobbing noisily and eyeing Val as if the boy were the +Grand High Executioner of Tartary. "Yo'all tell Mistuh Val whats yo' bin +a-doin'!" commanded his mother, emphasizing her order with a shake. + +"Ain't done nothin'," wailed Doff. "Sam, he give me de penny an' say, +'Le's hab fun.' Den Ah puts de penny in de lil' hole an' den Mammy cotch +me." + +"Doff seems to be the victim, Lucy," Val observed. "Where's Sam?" + +"Ah don' know. But I'se a-goin' to fin' out!" she stated with ominous +determination. "How's Ah a-goin' to git mah ironin' done when dere ain't +no heat fo' de iron? Ah asks yo' dat!" + +"There are some fuses in the pantry and Jeems will put one in for you," +Val promised. + +With a sniff Lucy withdrew, her fingers still hooked in the collar of +her tearful son. Jeems glanced at Val as he went by the boy's cot. And +Val didn't care for what he read into that glance. Had the swamper by +any foul chance come to suspect Val's little plan? + +But it all turned out just as he had hoped. Val made that most momentous +trip in four easy stages, resting on the big chair where Rupert had +spent so many hours, on the bench by the window, in the first of the +deck-chairs by the side of the French doors leading to the terrace, and +then he reached the haven of the last deck-chair and settled down just +where he had intended. And when Jeems returned there was nothing he +could do but accept the fact that Val had fled the cot. + +"Miss Ricky won't like this," he prophesied darkly. "Nor Mr. Rupert +neither. Yo' wouldn't've tried it if they'd been heah." + +"Oh, stop worrying. If you'd been tied to that cot the way I've been, +you'd be glad to get out here, too. It's great!" + +The sun was warm but the afternoon shadow of an oak overhung his seat so +that Val escaped the direct force of the rays. A few feet away Satan +sprawled full length, giving a fine imitation of a cat that had rid +himself of all nine lives, or at least of eight and a half. + +Never had the garden shown so rich a green. Ricky's care had sharpened +the lines of the flower-beds and had set shrubs in their proper places. +And the plants had repaid her with a riot of blossoms. A breeze set the +gray moss to swaying from the branches of the oak. And a green +grasshopper crossed the terrace in four great leaps, almost scraping +Satan's ear in a fashion which might easily have been fatal to the +insect. Val sighed and slipped down lower in his chair. "It's great," he +murmured again. + +"Sure is," Jeems echoed. He dropped down cross-legged beside Val, +disdaining the other chair. + +Satan stretched without opening his eyes and yawned, gaping to the +fullest extent of his jaws and curling his tongue upward so that it +seemed pointed like a snake's. Then he rolled over on his other side and +curled up with his paws under his chin. A bumblebee blundered by Val's +head on its way to visit the morning-glories. He suddenly discovered it +difficult to keep his eyes open. + +"Someone's comin'," observed Jeems. "Ah just heard a car turn in from +the road." + +"But the folks have been gone such a short time," Val protested. + +However, the car which came almost noiselessly down the drive was not +the one in which the family had departed. It had the shape of a sleek +gray beetle, rounded so that it was difficult to tell at first glance +the hood from the rear. It glided to a stop before the steps and after a +moment four passengers disembarked. + +Val simply stared, but Jeems got to his feet in one swift movement. + +For, coming purposefully up the terrace steps, were four men they had +seen before and had very good cause to remember for the rest of their +lives. + +In the lead strutted the rival, a tight smile rendering his unlovely +features yet more disagreeable. Behind him trotted the red-faced +counselor who had accompanied him on his first visit. But matching the +rival step for step was the "Boss," while "Red" brought up the rear in a +tidy fashion. + +"Swell place, ain't it?" demanded the rival, taking no notice of Val or +Jeems. "Make yourselves to home, boys; the place is yours." + +Val gripped the arm of his chair. Sam, Rupert, Holmes--they were all +beyond call. It was left to him to meet this unbelievable invasion +alone. There was a stir beside him. Val glanced up to meet the slightest +of reassuring nods from the swamper. Jeems was with him. + +"Whatcha gonna do with the joint, Brick?" asked Red, tossing his +cigarette down on the flagstones and grinding it to powder with his +heel. + +"I dunno yet." The rival strode importantly toward the front door. + +"You might tell us when you find out," Val suggested quietly. + +With an exaggerated start of surprise the rival turned toward the boy. + +"Oh, so it's you, kid?" + +"Perhaps," Val said softly, "you had better introduce your friends. +After all, I like to know the names of my guests." + +The Boss smiled sardonically and Red grinned. Only the red-faced lawyer +shuffled his feet uneasily and looked from one to another of his +companions with an expression of pleading. But the rival came directly +to the point. + +"Where's that high and mighty brother of yours?" he demanded. + +"Mr. Ralestone will doubtless be very glad to see you," Val evaded, +having no desire for the visitors to discover just how slender his +resources were. "Jeems, you might go and tell him that we have visitors. +Go through the Long Hall, it's nearer that way." He dug the fingernails +of his sound hand into the soft wood of the chair arm. Could Jeems +interpret that hint? Someone must remove and hide the Luck before these +men saw it. + +"Right." The swamper turned on his heel and padded toward the French +windows. + +"No, you don't!" the rival snarled as he moved into line between Jeems +and his objective. "When we want that guy, we'll hunt him out ourselves. +When we're good and ready!" + +"If you don't wish to see my brother, just why did you come?" Val asked +feverishly. He must keep them talking there until he had time to think +of some way of getting that slender blade of steel into hiding. + +"We're movin' in," Red answered casually for them all. + +"How interesting. I think that the police will enjoy hearing that," Val +commented. + +"It's perfectly legal," bleated the lawyer. "We possess a court order to +view the place with the purpose of appraising it for sale." He drew a +stiff paper from the inside pocket of his coat and waved it toward the +boy. + +"Bunk! I don't know much about the law but I do know that you could have +obtained nothing of the kind without our being notified. And just which +one of you has been selected to do the appraising?" + +"Him," answered Red laconically and jerked his thumb at the Boss. + +"So," Jeems stared at him, "since yo' couldn't git what yo' want by +thievin' at night, yo're goin' to try and git it by day." + +"But what are you really after? I'm curious to know. You certainly don't +want a sugar plantation which hasn't been paying its way since the Civil +War. That just isn't reasonable. And you ought to know that we can't +afford to buy you off. We must be living over a gold-mine that we +haven't discovered. Come on, tell us where it is," Val prodded. + +"Cut the cackle," advised Red, "an' le's git down to it." + +"I would advise you to get back in your car and drive out." Val wondered +if his face looked as stiff as it felt. "This visit isn't going to get +you anywhere." + +"We ain't goin' any place, kid," remarked the rival. "You don't seem to +understand. We're stayin' right here. I got rights and the judge has +recognized them. I'm top guy here now." + +"Yeah. Yuh ain't so smart as yuh think yuh are," contributed Red, +scowling at Val. "We ain't gonna leave." + +It wasn't Red's speech, however, that straightened the boy's back and +made Jeems shift his position an inch or two. There was another car +coming up the drive. And since their enemies were all gathered before +them, they could only be receiving friends, or at the worst neutrals. + +But the car which came from between the live-oaks to park behind the +first contained only two passengers. LeFleur and Creighton got out, +stopped in surprise to view the party on the terrace, and then came up, +shoving by Red. + +"Quite a party," Val observed. "But how did you manage to arrive so +opportunely?" + +"We have made a discovery," panted the Creole lawyer; "a very important +discovery. What are these men doing here?" + +"We got a court order to view this house for sale." The rival was +truculent. "An' it's all legal. The mouthpiece says so," he indicated +his counselor. + +"Perhaps," Creighton's cool tones cut through, "you had better introduce +us." There was a decided change in his manner. Gone was his shy +nervousness, his slightly hesitant reserve. It was a keen business man +who stood there now. + +Val grinned. "You see before you the family skeleton. May I introduce +Mr. Ralestone, who firmly believes that he is the Ralestone of Pirate's +Haven? And three other--shall we say gentlemen--whom I myself have never +met formally. Though I did have the pleasure, I believe," he addressed +the Boss directly, "of blackening your eye." + +"Yeah, I'm Ralestone, and I'm gonna have my rights," stated the rival +briskly. + +"You are a descendant of Roderick Ralestone?" asked LeFleur. + +"Yuh know I am. I got proofs!" + +"The man is a liar," Creighton said calmly. + +As they stared at him, LeFleur nodded. Val saw an ugly grin begin to +curve Red's thick lips. + +"Yeah? An how do yuh know that, wise guy?" he asked. + +"Because there is only one Roderick Ralestone in this generation and he +is standing right there. Permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean +Ralestone!" + +The person he turned to was Jeems! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE + + +Val ventured to break the sudden silence which resulted from Creighton's +astonishing statement. + +"But how--why--" + +"Yeah," the rival had collected a measure of his scattered wits, "whatta +yuh mean, wise guy?" + +"Just this--" LeFleur drew himself up and faced the invaders sternly--"I +have only this very morning deposited with the probate court certain +documents making very plain the identity of this young man. Without the +shadow of a doubt he is the only living descendant of Roderick Ralestone +and his wife, Valerie St. Jean de Roche. I have also sworn out a +complaint--" + +Then the Boss took a hand in the game. "The boy's a minor," he observed. + +"Through me," LeFleur returned, "Mr. Rupert Ralestone as nearest of kin +has applied for guardianship and there will be no difficulty in the +settlement of that matter." + +"Yeah!" The rival threw his gloves on the terrace and glared not at +LeFleur but at his own backing. Having stared at the lawyer of his party +until that unfortunate man lost all assurance, he attacked the Boss. +"So, wise guy, what now? We ain't got such a snap as yuh said we were +gonna have. We were gonna move right in and take over the joint, were +we? We didn't have anything to worry about. For once we was playin' with +the law. Yeah, we were. We are nothin' but a gang of mugs. Whatta we +gonna do now, huh? You oughta know. Ain't yuh been doin' our thinkin' +for us all along? We can't grab the land and run. We gotta camp right +here if we're gonna git anything. And how are we gonna--" + +"Simpson!" the Boss's voice was sharp. "Be quiet! You are becoming +wearisome. Gentlemen," he bowed slightly toward LeFleur and Creighton, +"one cannot fight bad luck, and this time Fate smiles upon you. It was a +good idea if it had worked," he added musingly. "Young Ralestone seems +to have gathered all the aces into his hand. Even," the drawl became a +sneer, "even the guardianship of the missing heir, which will mean a +nice sum in the bank for the happy guardian, if all reports are true." + +"What _did_ you want here?" Val asked for the last time. + +The Boss smiled. "I shall leave that mystery for you to unravel, my +wounded hero. It should occupy an idle moment or two. Doubtless all will +be made clear in the fullness of time. As for you," he turned upon +LeFleur, "there is no use in your entertaining any foolish idea of +calling the police. For our invasion today we have a court order; +unhappily it is no longer of use. But we did come here in good faith, as +we are prepared to prove. And all other evidence of any lawbreaking upon +our part rests, I believe, upon the word of two boys, evidence which +might be twisted by a clever lawyer. You may prosecute Simpson for +perjury, of course. But I think that Simpson will not be in this part of +the country long. Yes," he looked about him once more at garden and +house, "it was a very good idea. A pity it did not work. Well, I must be +going before I begin to curse my luck. When a man does that, he +sometimes loses it. You must have found yours, I think." + +"We did," Val answered, but the Boss did not hear him, for he had turned +on his heel and was striding down the terrace. For a moment his +followers hesitated uncertainly and then they were after him. Back into +their sinister beetle-car went the invaders and then they were gone down +the drive, leaving the Ralestones in possession of the victorious field. + +"Now," Val said plaintively, "will somebody please tell me just what +this is all about? Who is Jeems, really?" + +"Just who I said," answered Creighton promptly. "Roderick St. Jean +Ralestone, the only descendant of your pirate ancestor." + +"Bettah tell us the story," suggested the swamper quietly. "Yo' ain't +foolin', are yo', Mistuh Creighton?" + +The New Yorker shook his head. "No, I'm not fooling. But you are not the +first one to question my story." He smiled reminiscently. "Judge Henry +Lane had to see every line of written proof this morning before he would +admit that the tale might be true." + +"But where did you find this 'proof'?" Val demanded as Jeems pulled up +chairs for the lawyer and Creighton. + +"In that chest of Jeems' which you brought out of the swamp on the night +of the storm," he replied promptly. "And, young man," he said to Jeems +indignantly, "if you had let me see those papers of yours a month ago, +instead of waiting until last week, we would have had this matter +cleared up then--" + +"But then we might never have found the Luck!" Val protested. + +"Humph, that piece of steel is historically interesting, no doubt," +conceded Creighton, "but hardly worth risking your life for." + +"No? Well, you heard what that man said just now--that we had found our +luck. It's so; we have had good luck since. But I'm sorry; do get on +with the story of Jeems' box." + +"Ah gave it to him Monday," said the swamper slowly. "But, Mistuh +Creighton, there weren't nothin' in that chest but some books full of +handwritin'--most in some funny foreign stuff--an' a French +prayer-book." + +"Plenty to establish your right to the name and a quarter interest in +the estate," snapped LeFleur. Val thought the lawyer rather resented the +fact that it was Creighton and not he who had found the way out of their +difficulties. + +"Two of those books were ships' logs, kept in the fashion of diaries, +partly in Latin," explained the New Yorker. "The log of the ship +_Annette Marie_ for the years 1814 and 1815 gave us what we wanted. The +master was Captain Roderick Ralestone, although he concealed his name in +a sort of an anagram. After his quarrel with his brother he apparently +went to Lafitte and purchased the ship which he had once commanded for +the smuggler. Then he sailed off into the Gulf to become a free-trader, +with his headquarters first in Georgetown, British Guiana, then in Dutch +Curaçao, and finally at Port-au-Prince, Haiti. It was there that he met +and fell in love with Valerie St. Jean de Roche, the only living child +and heir of the Comte de Roche, who had survived the Terror of the +French Revolution only to fall victim to the rebel slaves on his Haitian +estates. + +"Horribly injured, the Comte de Roche had been saved from death by the +devotion of his daughter and her nurse, a free woman of color. These two +women not only saved his life, but managed to keep him and themselves +alive through the dark years which followed the horrors of the black +uprising and the overthrow of the French rule. The courage of that lady +of France must have been very great. But she was near to the end of her +strength when she met Roderick Ralestone. + +"Against the direct orders of the black despots in the land, young +Ralestone got de Roche and his daughter away on his ship. Her maid chose +to remain among her people. Ralestone hints that she was a sort of +priestess of Voodoo and that it had been her dark powers which had +protected the lives of those she loved. + +"Ralestone took the refugees to Curaçao, but de Roche did not survive. +He lived only long enough to see his daughter married to her rescuer and +to persuade his son-in-law to legally adopt the name of St. Jean de +Roche, that an old and honored family might not be forgotten. The +Comte's only son had been killed by the blacks. + +"So it was as Roderick St. Jean--he dropped the 'de Roche' in time--that +he returned here in 1830. His wife was dead, worn out while yet in her +youth by the horrors of her girlhood. But Roderick brought with him a +ten-year-old boy who had the right to both the name of Ralestone and +that of de Roche. + +"Roderick himself was greatly changed. Years of free-trading, both in +the Gulf and in the South Seas, had made him wholly sailor. A cutlass +cut disfigured his face and altered the line of his mouth. Anyone who +had known Roderick Ralestone would have little interest in Captain St. +Jean, the merchant adventurer. He discusses this point at some length in +his log, always concealing his real name. + +"For the space of a year or two he was content to live quietly. He even +opened a small shop and dealt in luxuries from the south. Then the +desire to wander, which must have been the key-note of his life, drove +him out into the world again. He placed his son in the care of a certain +priest, whom he trusted, and went south to become one of the visionary +revolutionists who were fighting their way back and across South and +Central America. In one bloody engagement he fell, as his son notes in +the old logs which he was now using to record his own daily +experiences." + +"Ricky said," Val mused, "that Roderick Ralestone never died in his bed. +What became of the son?" + +"Father Justinian wanted him to enter the Church, but in spite of his +strict training he had no vocation. The money his father had left with +the priest was enough to establish him in a small coastwise trading +venture, and later he developed a flatboat freight service running +upriver to Nashville." + +"But didn't he ever try to get in touch with the Ralestones?" Val asked. + +"No. When Roderick Ralestone sailed from New Orleans he seems to have +determined to cut himself off from the past entirely. As I said, he used +an anagram to hide his name all the way through the log, and doubtless +his son never knew that there was anything strange about his father's +past. Laurent St. Jean, the son, prospered. Just before the outbreak of +the Civil War he was reckoned one of the ten wealthiest men of his +native city. + +"But that wealth vanished in the war when shipping no longer went forth +from the port. I did come across one interesting fact in Laurent's notes +covering those years. In 1861 Laurent St. Jean built a blockade-runner +called the _Red Bird_. His backer in the venture was a Mr. Ralestone of +Pirate's Haven. So once Ralestone did meet Ralestone without being aware +of the fact. + +"Laurent St. Jean was imprisoned by 'Beast' Butler, along with other +prominent men of the city, when the Yankees captured New Orleans. And he +died in 1867 from a lingering illness contracted during his +imprisonment. His son, René St. Jean, came home from war to find himself +ruined. His father's shipping business existed on paper only. Having the +grit and determination of his grandfather, he struggled along for almost +ten years trying to get back on his feet. But those were dark years for +the whole country. + +"In 1876 St. Jean gave up the struggle. With his Creole wife and their +two sons he moved into the swamps. Working first as a guide and trapper +and then as a hunter of birds, he managed to make a sparse living. His +eldest son followed in his footsteps, but the younger took to the sea. +Roderick St. Jean, the eldest son, died of yellow fever in 1890. He left +one son to the guardianship of his brother who had come home from the +sea. That son came to look upon his uncle as his father and the real +relationship between them was half forgotten. + +"But René St. Jean the second was curious. He knew something of the +world and he was interested in the past. It was his custom to do a great +amount of reading, especially reading which concerned the history of his +own state and city. And once he was inclined to get out the old sea +chest which had been moved with the family for so many years. Then he +must have discovered his relationship to the Ralestones; perhaps he +solved the anagram or found the pasted pages in the prayer-book-- + +"He was not ambitious for himself, but he wanted a better chance for his +foster-son and nephew than the one he had had. So he endeavored to prove +his claim to this property. Unfortunately, the lawyer he trusted was a +shyster of the worst sort. He himself had no belief in his client's +story and merely bled him for small sums each month without ever really +looking into the matter." + +"Gran'pappy said he was tryin' to git his rights," broke in Jeems. "He +nevah tol' mah pappy what he knowed. An' he wouldn't let anyone see into +that chest--he kep' it undah his bed. Then aftah Pappy died of the +fever--'long with mah mothah--Gran'pappy cotched it too. An' the doctah +said that was what made him so fo'getful aftahwards. He stopped goin' in +town; but he came heah--'huntin' his rights,' he said. An' he tol' me +that our fortune was hidden heah. 'Course," Jeems looked at them +apologetically, "it soun's sorta silly, but when Gran'pappy tol' yo' +things yo' kinda believed 'em. So aftah he died Ah usta come huntin' +heah too. An' then when Ah opened the chest and foun' these--" From his +breast pocket he drew a wash-leather bag and opened it. + +He held out to Val a chain of gold mesh ending in a carnelian carved +into a seal. "This is youah crest," he pointed to the seal. "Ah took it +in town an' a man at the museum tol' me about it. An' this heah is +Ralestone, too," he indicated a small miniature painted on a slip of +yellowed ivory. Val was looking at the face of the Ralestone rebel, as +near like the water-color copy Charity had made of the museum portrait +as one pea is to its pod-mate. Creighton took up the small painting. + +"Hm-m," he looked from the ivory to Jeems and then to Val, "this is the +final proof. Either one of you might have sat for this. You have the +same coloring and features. If it were not for a slight difference of +expression you might pass for twins. At any rate, there is no denying +that you are both Ralestones." + +"I don't think that we'll ever attempt to deny it," Val laughed. "But +you were right, Jeems--I mean Roderick," he said to his newly discovered +cousin, "you do have as much right here as we do." + +Jeems colored. "Ah'm sorry for sayin' that," he confessed. "Ah thought +yo' were right smart and too good for us. An' Ah'm sorry Ah played +ha'nt. But Ah didn't expec' yo' would evah see me, only the niggahs, an' +I didn't care 'bout them. Ah always came when yo' were 'way or in bed." + +"Well, you've explained your interest in the place," Val assented, "but +what about the rival? Why did he appear?" + +"It started in a blackmail plot. Your family have been wealthy, you +know," explained LeFleur. "But then the scheme became more serious when +the oil prospectors aroused interest in the swamp. Already several men +whose property bounds yours have been approached by the Central American +Oil Company with an offer for their land. It would not at all surprise +me if you were asked to dispose of your swamp wasteland for a good +price. And the rumor of oil is what made the rival, as you call him, try +to press his false claim instead of merely holding it over you as a +threat." + +"The Luck is certainly doing its stuff," Val observed. "Here's the lost +heir found, oil-wells bubbling at our back door--" + +"I would hardly say that, Mr. Valerius," remonstrated LeFleur. + +"They may bubble yet," the boy assured him airily. "I wouldn't put it +beyond the power of that length of Damascus steel to make wells bubble. +Oil-wells bubbling," Val continued from the point where the lawyer had +interrupted him, "Rupert turning out to be the missing author--" + +"What was that?" demanded Creighton sharply. He was on the point of +handing a small book to Jeems. + +"We just discovered that Rupert is your missing author," Val explained. +"Didn't you guess when you heard the story of the missing Ralestone? The +family went into town to tell you all about it; that's why we were alone +when the invaders arrived." + +"Mr. Ralestone my missing author! No, I didn't guess. I was too +interested in the story--but I should have! How stupid!" He looked down +at the book he still held and then put it into the swamper's hand. +"Between the pages of the prayer-book, covering the offices for St. +Louis' Day, you'll find the birth certificate for Laurent St. Jean with +his right name," he said. "That's a very important paper to keep, young +man. Mr. Ralestone my author." He wiped his forehead with the +handkerchief from his breast-pocket. "How stupid of me not to have seen +at once. But why--" + +"He had some idea that his stuff was no good when he didn't hear from +that agent," Val explained, "so he just tried to forget the whole +matter." + +"But I have to see him, I have to see him at once." The New Yorker +looked about him as if by will-power alone he could summon Rupert to +stand before him on the terrace. + +"Stay to supper and you will," Val invited. "Ricky and I discovered him +for you just as we promised we would. But then you've given us Rod in +return. I am not," Val told his cousin, "going to call you Rick even +though there is a tradition for it. There are too many 'Ricks' +complicating the family history now. I think you had better be 'Rod'." + +"Anythin' yo' say," he grinned. + +For the third time that afternoon Val heard a car coming up the drive. + +"If this should turn out to be the Grand Chan of Tartary or the Lama of +Peru I shall not be one iota surprised," he announced. "After what I've +been through this afternoon, nothing, absolutely nothing, would surprise +me. Oh, it's only the family." + +With the impatience of one who has a good earth-shaking shock ready to +administer, he watched his wandering relatives disembark. Charity and +Holmes were still with them and a sort of aura of disappointment hung +over the group. Then Ricky looked up and with a cry of joy came up the +terrace steps in what seemed like a single leap. + +"Oh, Mr. Creighton," she began when Val lifted his hand. "Let me tell +it," he begged, "I've been waiting for a chance like this for years." +Ricky was obediently silent, thinking that he wished to break the +mystery of the author. But Jeems and LeFleur understood that it was to +them Val appealed. + +"Val, what are you doing out of bed?" was Rupert's first question. + +"Saving the old homestead while you went joy-riding. We had visitors +this afternoon." + +"Visitors? Who?" he began when his brother silenced him with a frown. + +"Oh, let's not go into that now," Val said hurriedly. "There is +something more important to be discussed. Since you left this afternoon +we have had an addition to the family." + +"An addition to the family," puzzled Ricky. "What do you mean?" + +"Rick Ralestone has come back," Val announced. + +"Val, hadn't you better go back to bed?" suggested his sister. + +"Not now," he grinned at her. "I haven't lost my mind yet, nor am I +raving. Ladies and gentlemen," Val prepared to echo Creighton's speech +of an hour before, "permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean de Roche +Ralestone, the missing heir!" + +With an impish grin Val had never seen on his face before, Jeems clicked +his heels in a creditable imitation of a court bow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS + + +"Such a nice domestic scene," Val observed. + +Ricky looked up from the bowl into which she was shelling peas. "Now +just what do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously. + +"Nothing, nothing at all. It's getting so I can't say a word around here +without you suspecting some sort of a catch in it," her brother +complained. He shifted the drawing-board Rod had fixed up for him an +inch or two. Although Val's arm was at last out of the sling, he was not +supposed to use it unless absolutely necessary. + +"Well, after that afternoon when you made the missing heir appear like a +rabbit out of a hat--" began his sister. + +"Rod," Val called down to where their cousin was busied over the +stretching of the new badminton net, "did you hear that? She referred to +you as a rabbit--deliberately." + +"Hm-m," Rod answered in absent-minded fashion. "That cat of Miss +Charity's just walked away with one of those feathered things yo' bat +'round." + +"Let us hope that he returns it in time," Val said; "otherwise I can +prophesy that you are going to spend the rest of the morning crawling +around under hedges and things hunting for him and it. Ricky will not be +balked. If she says that we are going to play badminton--well, we are +going to play badminton." + +"I think that you might help too." Ricky attacked a fresh pod viciously +as their cousin came up on the terrace. He stopped for a moment by +Ricky's chair, long enough to gather the pods together on the paper she +had put down for them, piling them up in a more orderly fashion than she +was capable of. + +"Doing what?" Val inquired. "You know that Lucy has chased everyone out +of the house. And now that Rod has finished setting out the lawn sports, +what is there left to do? By the way, did Sam mend that croquet mallet, +the one with the loose head?" + +"The one that you broke hitting the stone with when you aimed at your +ball yesterday?" she asked sweetly. "Yes, I saw to that this morning." + +"Then what more is there to worry about? Let the party begin." Val +reached for his box of pencils. + +That afternoon promptly at three-thirty the Ralestones of Pirate's Haven +were going to give their first party. They had lived, eaten, and slept +with the idea of a party for the past week until Rupert rebelled and +disappeared for the morning, taking Charity with him. He declared before +he left that the house was no longer habitable for anyone above the +mental level of a party-mad monomaniac, a statement with which Val +privately agreed. But Ricky did trap him before he got the roadster out +and made him promise to bring home two pounds of salted nuts and some +more ice, because she simply knew that they wouldn't have enough. + +Ricky dropped the last of the peas into the bowl and leaned back in her +canvas deck-chair. "I'm going to wear green," she murmured dreamily, +"with that leaf thing in my hair. And Charity's going to wear her rose, +the one that swishes when she walks." + +"I think I'll appear in saffron," Val announced firmly. "Somehow I feel +like saffron. How about you, Rod?" + +The thin, efficient, brown-faced person who was Roderick St. Jean de +Roche Ralestone, to grant him his full name, stretched lazily and +transferred a fistful of Ricky's peas to his mouth, a mouth which was no +longer sullen. At Val's question he raised his shoulders in one of his +French shrugs and considered. + +"Yellow, with lilies behind mah ears," he grinned at Ricky. "Bettah give +them somethin' to stare at; they'll all be powerful interested, anyway." + +"Yes, the lost viscount," Val agreed. "Of course, you're really only a +Lord like me, but it sounds better to say 'the lost viscount.' You'll +share the limelight with Rupert and the Luck, so you'd better take that +pair of my flannels which haven't turned quite yellow yet." + +Rod shook his head. "This time Ah have mah own. Ah went in town shoppin' +yesterday. It's mah turn to share clothes. Youah brothah told me to get +yo' some shirts. So Ah did. Lucy put them in the top drawer." + +"Don't tell me," Val begged, aroused by this news, "that we are actually +able to afford some new clothes again?" + +Rod nodded and Ricky sat up. "Don't be silly," she said, "we're +comfortably well off. With Rupert writing books, and a lot of oil or +something in the swamp, why, what have we got to worry about? And next +fall Rod's going to college and I'm taking that course in dress +designing and Rupert's going to write another book and--and--" Her +inventive powers failed as Holmes came out on the terrace. + +"Hello there." Val glanced at his watch. "I don't want to seem +inhospitable, but you're about four hours too early. We haven't even +crawled into our party duds." + +"So I see. But this isn't a social call. By the way, where's Charity?" + +"Oh, she went off with Rupert this morning," answered Ricky. "And I +think it was mean of them, running out on us that way, when there was so +much to do." + +It seemed to Val that there was a faint shadow of irritation across the +open good nature of Holmes' smile when he heard her answer. "That damsel +is becoming very elusive nowadays," he observed as he sat down. "But now +for business." + +"More business? Not another oil-well!" Ricky expressed her surprise +vividly with upflung hands. + +"Not an oil-well, no. Just this--" He pulled Val's black note-book from +his pocket. "Now I am not going to tell you that I have shown them to a +publisher and that he wants fifty thousand or so at five dollars apiece. +But I did show them to that friend I spoke of. He isn't very well known +at present but he will be some day. His name is Fenly Moss and he is +interested in animated cartoons. He has some ideas that sound rather big +to me. + +"Fen says that these animal drawings of yours show promise and he wants +to know whether you ever thought of trying something along his line?" + +Val shook his head, impatient to hear the rest. + +"Well, he's in town right now on his vacation and he's coming out to see +you tomorrow. I advise you, Ralestone, that if Fen makes you the +proposition I think he's going to, to grab it. It'll mean hard work for +you and plenty of it, but there is a future to it." + +"I don't know how to thank you," the boy began when Holmes frowned at +him half-seriously. "None of that. I was really doing Fen a favor, but +you needn't tell him that. Do you know how long Charity and your brother +are going to be gone?" + +"No. But they'll be back for lunch," Ricky said. "If they remember +lunch--they're getting so vague lately. Val went out to call them to +dinner last night and it took him a good five minutes to get them out of +the garden." + +"Five? Nearer ten," scoffed her brother. + +Holmes got up abruptly. "Well, I'll be drifting. When is this binge of +yours?" + +"Three-thirty, which really means four," answered Ricky. "Aren't you +going to stay to lunch?" + +The New Yorker shook his head. "Sorry, I've another engagement. Thanks +just the same." + +"Thank _you_!" Val waved the note-book as he vanished. "Wonder why he +hurried off that way?" + +"Mad to think that Miss Charity was gone," answered Rod shrewdly. "Yo've +had that board long enough." He calmly possessed himself of Val's +drawing equipment. "Time to rest." + +"Yes, grandfather," his cousin assented meekly. + +Ricky slapped at a fly. "It seems to get hotter and hotter," she said. +From the breast pocket of her sport dress she produced a handkerchief +and mopped her face. Then she looked at the handkerchief in surprise. + +"What's the matter? Some face come off along with the paint?" asked Val. + +"No. But I just remembered what this is--our clue!" + +"You mean the handkerchief we found in the hall? I wonder who--" + +Rod reached up and took it out of her hand. + +"Mine. Miss Charity gave me a dozen last Christmas." + +"Then you left it there," Ricky laughed. "Well, that solves the last of +our mysteries." + +"All present or accounted for," Val agreed as around the house came +Rupert and their tenant. + +"So there you are," began Ricky. "And I'd like to know what you've been +doing all morning--" + +"Would you really?" asked Rupert. + +Ricky stared at him for a long moment and then she arose before +transferring her gaze to Charity. It might have been sunburn or the heat +Ricky had complained of which colored the cheeks of the Boston Biglow. + +"Rod! Val!" cried Ricky. "Where are your manners?" As she sank forward +in a deep and graceful curtsy she added, "Can't you see that Rupert has +brought home his Marchioness?" + +"Now that," said Val, as he held out his hand to the new mistress of +Pirate's Haven, "is what I call 'Ralestone Luck.'" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ralestone Luck, by Andre Norton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALESTONE LUCK *** + +***** This file should be named 18817-8.txt or 18817-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/8/1/18817/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ralestone Luck + +Author: Andre Norton + +Illustrator: James Reid + +Release Date: July 13, 2006 [EBook #18817] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALESTONE LUCK *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/ianrl001.jpg"><img src="images/ianrl001.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>RALESTONE LUCK</h1> + +<h2>By ANDRÉ NORTON</h2> + +<h4><i>Author of</i> The Prince Commands</h4> + +<h4>ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES REID</h4> + + +<h4>D. APPLETON-CENTURY COMPANY<br /> +INCORPORATED<br /> +NEW YORK 1938 LONDON</h4> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright,</span> 1938, <span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">D. Appleton-Century Company, Inc.</span><br /></h4> + +<h4>All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced +in any form without permission of the publisher.</h4> + +<h4>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</h4> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/ianrl004.jpg"><img src="images/ianrl004.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + + +<h4>TO<br /> +D. B. N.<br /> +<i>In return for many miles of proof so diligently read</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl002" id="ianrl002"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl002.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4><i>"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question +brought the well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by +the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!"</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/ianrl007.jpg"><img src="images/ianrl007.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. THE RALESTONES COME HOME</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. PISTOLS FOR TWO—COFFEE FOR ONE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. BY OUR LUCK!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. INTO THE SWAMP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS—</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. PIECES OF EIGHT—RALESTONES' FATE!</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + +<p><a href="#ianrl002">"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought the +well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, +by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl063">"I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis is Letty-Lou"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl091">Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl117">"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity said</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl127"><i>Zzzzzrupp</i>! Satan was industriously ripping the remnants of lining from +its interior</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl183">The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead and distorted +strip of country</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl207">At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl241">Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boy +piteously, its eyes green in the light</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ianrl267">Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no doubt in any of +them—the Luck of Lorne had returned</a></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>RALESTONE LUCK</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>How hold ye Lorne?</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the oak leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the sea wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the broadsword blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus hold we Lorne!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The oak leaf is dust,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The sea wave is gone,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The broadsword is rust,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>How now hold ye Lorne?</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE RALESTONES COME HOME</h3> + + +<p>"Once upon a time two brave princes and a beautiful princess set out to +make their fortunes—" began the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy by the +roadster.</p> + +<p>"Royalty is out of fashion," corrected Ricky Ralestone somewhat +indifferently. "Can't you do better than that?" She gave her small, pert +hat an exasperated tweak which brought the unoffending bowl-shaped bit +of white felt into its proper position over her right eyebrow. "How long +does it take Rupert to ask a single simple question?"</p> + +<p>Her brother Val watched the gas gage on the instrument board of the +roadster fluctuate wildly as the attendant of the station shook the hose +to speed the flow of the last few drops. Five gallons—a dollar ten. Did +he have that much? He began to assemble various small hoards of change +from different pockets.</p> + +<p>"Do you think we're going to like this?" Ricky waved her hand vaguely in +a gesture which included a dilapidated hot-dog stand and a stretch of +road white-hot under the steady baking of the sun.</p> + +<p>"Well, I think that Pirate's Haven is slightly different from our +present surroundings. Where's your proper pride? Not everyone can be +classed among the New Poor," Val observed judiciously.</p> + +<p>"Nobility in the bread line." His sister sniffed with what she fondly +believed was the air of a Van Astor dowager.</p> + +<p>"Nobility?"</p> + +<p>"We never relinquished the title, did we? Rupert's still the Marquess of +Lorne."</p> + +<p>"After some two hundred years in America I am afraid that we would find +ourselves strangers in England. And Lorne crumbled to dust long ago."</p> + +<p>"But he's still Marquess of Lorne," she persisted.</p> + +<p>"All right. And what does that make you?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Richanda, of course, silly. Can't you remember the wording of the +old charter? And you're Viscount—"</p> + +<p>"Wrong there," Val corrected her. "I'm only a lord, by courtesy, unless +we can bash Rupert on the head some dark night and chuck him into the +bayou."</p> + +<p>"Lord Valerius." She rolled it upon her tongue. "Marquess, Lady, and +Lord Val, out to seek their fortunes. Pity we can't do it in the +traditional family way."</p> + +<p>"But we can't, you know," he protested laughingly. "I believe that +piracy is no longer looked upon with favor by the more solid members of +any community. Though plank-walking is an idea to keep in mind when the +bill collectors start to draw in upon us."</p> + +<p>"Here comes Rupert at last. Rupert," she raised her voice as their elder +brother opened the door by the driver's seat, "shall we all go and be +pirates? Val has some lovely gory ideas."</p> + +<p>"Not just yet anyway—we still have a roof over our heads," he answered +as he slid in behind the wheel. "We should have taken the right turn a +mile back."</p> + +<p>"Bother!" Ricky surveyed as much of her face as she could see in the +postage-stamp mirror of her compact. "I don't think I'm going to like +Louisiana."</p> + +<p>"Maybe Louisiana won't care for you either," Val offered slyly. "After +all, we dyed-in-the-wool Yanks coming to live in the deep South—"</p> + +<p>"Speak for yourself, Val Ralestone." She applied a puff carefully to the +tip of her upturned nose. "Since we've got this barn of a place on our +hands, we might as well live in it. Too bad you couldn't have persuaded +our artist tenant to sign another lease, Rupert."</p> + +<p>"He's gone to spend a year in Italy. The place is in fairly good +condition though. LeFleur said that as long as we don't use the left +wing and close off the state bedrooms, we can manage nicely."</p> + +<p>"State bedrooms—" Val drew a deep breath which was meant to be one of +reverence but which turned into a sneeze as the roadster's wheels raised +the dust. "How does it feel to own such magnificence, Rupert?"</p> + +<p>"Not so good," he replied honestly. "A house as big as Pirate's Haven is +a burden if you don't have the cash to keep it up properly. Though this +artist chap did make a lot of improvements on his own."</p> + +<p>"But think of the Long Hall—" began Ricky, rolling her eyes heavenward.</p> + +<p>"And just what do you know about the Long Hall?" demanded Rupert.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's where dear Great-great-uncle Rick's ghost is supposed to +walk, isn't it?" she asked innocently. "I hope that our late tenant +didn't scare him away. It gives one such a blue-blooded feeling to think +of having an active ghost on the premises. A member of one's own family, +too!"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Teach him—or it—some parlor tricks and we'll show it—or +him—off every afternoon between three and four. We might even be able +to charge admission and recoup the family fortune," Val suggested +brightly.</p> + +<p>"Have you no reverence?" demanded his sister. "And besides, ghosts only +walk at night."</p> + +<p>"Now that's something we'll have to investigate," Val interrupted her. +"Do ghosts have union rules? I mean, I wouldn't want Great-great-uncle +Rick to march up and down the carriage drive with a sign reading, 'The +Ralestones are unfair to ghosts,' or anything like that."</p> + +<p>"We'll have to use the Long Hall, of course," cut in Rupert, as usual +ignoring their nonsense. "And the old summer drawing-room. But we can +shut up the dining-room and the ball-room. We'll eat in the kitchen, and +that and a bedroom apiece—"</p> + +<p>"I suppose there are bathrooms, or at least a bathroom," his brother +interrupted. "Because I don't care to rush down to the bayou for a good +brisk plunge every time I get my face dirty."</p> + +<p>"Harrison put in a bathroom at his own expense last fall."</p> + +<p>"For which blessed be the name of Harrison. If he hadn't gone to Italy, +he would have rebuilt the house. How soon do we get there? This touring +is not what I thought it might be—"</p> + +<p>The crease which had appeared so recently between Rupert's eyes +deepened.</p> + +<p>"Leg hurt, Val?" he asked quietly, glancing at the slim figure sharing +his seat.</p> + +<p>"No. I'm expressing curiosity this time, old man, not just a whine. But +if we're going to be this far off the main highway—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's not far from the city road. We ought to be seeing the +gate-posts any moment now."</p> + +<p>"Prophet!" Ricky leaned forward between them. "See there!"</p> + +<p>Two gray stone posts, as firmly planted by time as the avenue of +live-oaks they headed, showed clearly in the afternoon light. And from +the nearest, deep carven in the stone, a jagged-toothed skull, crowned +and grinning, stared blankly at the three in the shabby car. Beneath it +ran the insolent motto of an ancient and disreputable clan, "What I +want—I take!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/ianrl012.jpg"><img src="images/ianrl012.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + +<p>"This is the place all right—I recognize Joe there." Val pointed to the +crest. "Good old Joe, always laughing."</p> + +<p>Ricky made a face. "Horrid old thing. I don't see why we couldn't have +had a swan or something nice to swank about."</p> + +<p>"But then the Lords of Lorne were hardly a nice lot in their prime," Val +reminded her. "Well, Rupert, let's see the rest."</p> + +<p>The car followed a graveled drive between tall bushes which would have +been the better for a pruning. Then the road made a sudden curve and +they came out upon a crescent of lawn bordering upon a stone-paved +terrace three steps above. And on the terrace stood the home a Ralestone +had not set foot in for over fifty years—Pirate's Haven.</p> + +<p>"It looks—" Ricky stared up, "why, it looks just like the picture Mr. +Harrison painted!"</p> + +<p>"Which proves why he is now in Italy," Val returned. "But he did capture +it on canvas."</p> + +<p>"Gray stone—and those diamond-paned windows—and that squatty tower. +But it isn't like a Southern home at all! It's some old, old place out +of England."</p> + +<p>"Because it was built by an exile," said Rupert softly. "An exile who +loved his home so well that he labored five years in the wilderness to +build its duplicate. Those little diamond-paned windows were once +protected with shutters an inch thick, and the place was a fort in +Indian times. But it is strange to this country. That's why it's one of +the show places. LeFleur asked me if we would be willing to keep up the +custom of throwing the state rooms open to the public one day a month."</p> + +<p>"And shall we?" asked Ricky.</p> + +<p>"We'll see. Well, don't you want to see the inside as well as the out?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! Val, you lazy thing, get out!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, m'lady." He swung open the door and climbed out stiffly. +Although he wouldn't have confessed it for any reason, his leg had been +aching dully for hours.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," Ricky hesitated on the first terrace step, bending down +to put aside a trail of morning-glory vine which clutched at her ankle, +"I've just remembered!"</p> + +<p>"What?" Rupert looked up from the grid where he was unstrapping their +luggage.</p> + +<p>"That we are the very first Ralestones to—to come home since +Grandfather Miles rode away in 1867."</p> + +<p>"And why the sudden dip into ancient history?" Val inquired as he limped +around to help Rupert.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," her eyes were fast upon moss-greened wall and ponderous +door hewn of a single slab of oak, "except—well, we are coming home at +last. I wonder if—if they know. All those others. Rick and Miles, the +first Rupert and Richard and—"</p> + +<p>"That spitfire, the Lady Richanda?" Rupert smiled. "Perhaps they do. No, +leave the bags here, Val. Let's see the house first."</p> + +<p>Together the Ralestones crossed the terrace and came to stand by the +front door which still bore faint scars left by Indian hatchets. But +Rupert stooped to insert a very modern key into a very modern lock. +There was a click and the door swung inward before his push.</p> + +<p>"The Long Hall!" They stood in something of a hesitant huddle at the end +of a long stone-floored room. Half-way down its length a wooden +staircase led up to the second floor, and directly opposite that a great +fireplace yawned mightily, black and bare.</p> + +<p>A leather-covered lounge was directly before this, flanked by two square +chairs. And by the stairs was an oaken marriage chest. Save for two skin +rugs, these were all the furnishings.</p> + +<p>But Ricky had crossed hesitatingly to that cavernous fireplace and was +standing there looking up as her brothers joined her.</p> + +<p>"There's where it was," she said softly and pointed to a deep niche cut +into the surface of the stone overmantel. That niche was empty and had +been so for more than a hundred years—to their hurt. "That was where +the Luck—"</p> + +<p>"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought the +well-remembered answer to Val's lips:</p> + +<p>"By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we +Lorne!"</p> + +<p>"The oak leaf is dust," murmured Ricky, "the sea wave is gone, the +broadsword is rust, how now hold ye Lorne?"</p> + +<p>Her brothers answered her together:</p> + +<p>"By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne!"</p> + +<p>"And we've got to get it back," she said. "We've just got to! When the +Luck hangs there again, we—"</p> + +<p>"Won't have anything left to worry about," Val finished for her. "But +that's a very big order, m'lady. Short of catching Rick's ghost and +forcing him to disclose the place where he hid it, I don't see how we're +going to do it."</p> + +<p>"But we are going to," she answered confidently. "I know we are!"</p> + +<p>"A good thing," Rupert broke in, a hint of soberness beneath the +lightness of his tone as he looked about the almost bare room and then +at the strained pallor of Val's thin face. "The Ralestones have been +luckless too long. And now suppose we take possession of this commodious +mansion. I suggest that we get settled as soon as possible. I don't like +the looks of the western sky. We're probably going to have a storm."</p> + +<p>"What about the car?" Val asked as his brother turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Harrison used the old carriage house as a garage. I'll run it in there. +You and Ricky better do a spot of exploring and see about beds and food. +I don't know how you feel," he went on grimly, "but after last night I +want something softer than a dozen rocks to sleep on."</p> + +<p>"I told you not to stop at that tourist place," began Ricky smugly. "I +said—"</p> + +<p>"You said that a house painted that shade of green made you slightly +ill. But you didn't say anything about beds," Val reminded her as he +shed his coat and hung it on the newel-post. "And since the Ralestone +family have definitely gone off the gold or any other monetary standard, +it's tourist rests or the poorhouse for us."</p> + +<p>"Probably the poorhouse." Rupert sounded resigned. "Now upstairs with +you and get out some bedding. LeFleur said in his letter that the place +was all ready for occupancy. And he stocked up with canned stuff."</p> + +<p>"I know—beans! Just too, too divine. Well, let's know the worst." Ricky +started up the stairs. "I suppose there are electric lights?"</p> + +<p>"Got to throw the main switch first, and I haven't time to do that now. +Here, Val." Rupert tossed him his tiny pocket torch as he turned to go. +The door closed behind him and Ricky looked over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"This—this is rather a darkish place, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Not so bad." Val considered the hall below, which seemed suddenly +peopled by an overabundance of oddly shaped shadows.</p> + +<p>"No," her voice grew stronger, "not so bad. We're together anyway, Val. +Last year I thought I'd die, shut up in that awful school, and then +coming home to hear—"</p> + +<p>"About me making my first and last flight. Yes, not exactly a rest cure +for any of us, was it? But it's all over now. The Ralestones may be down +but they're not out, yet, in spite of Mosile Oil and those coal-mines. +D'you know, we might use some of that nice gilt-edged stock for +wall-paper. There's enough to cover a closet at least. Here we are, +Rupert from beating about the globe trying to be a newspaper man, you +straight from N'York's finest finishing-school, and me—well, out of the +plainest hospital bed I ever saw. We've got this house and what Rupert +managed to clear from the wreck. Something will turn up. In the +meantime—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she prompted.</p> + +<p>"In the meantime," he went on, leaning against the banister for a +moment's rest, "we can be looking for the Luck. As Rupert says, we need +it badly enough. Here's the upper hall. Which way now?"</p> + +<p>"Over to the left wing. These in front are what Rupert refers to as +'state bedrooms.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" He opened the nearest door and whistled softly. "Not so bad. +About the size of a small union station and provided with all the +comforts of a tomb. Decidedly not what we want."</p> + +<p>"Wait, here's a plaque set in the wall. Look!" She ran her finger over a +glass-covered square.</p> + +<p>"Regulations for guests, or a floor plan to show how to reach the +dining-room in the quickest way," her brother suggested.</p> + +<p>"No." She read aloud slowly:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'<span class="smcap">This Room Was Occupied by General Andrew Jackson, the Victor +of the Battle of New Orleans, upon the Tenth Day after the +Battle</span>.'"</p></div> + +<p>"Whew! 'Old Hickory' here! But I thought that the Ralestones were more +or less under a cloud at that time," commented Val.</p> + +<p>"History—"</p> + +<p>"In the making. Quite so. Now may I suggest that we find some slumber +rooms slightly more modern? Rupert is apt to become annoyed at undue +delay in such matters."</p> + +<p>They went down the hall and turned into a short cross corridor. From a +round window at the far end a ray of sun still swept in, but it was a +sickly, faded ray. The storm Rupert had spoken of could not be far off.</p> + +<p>"This is the right way. Mr. Harrison had these little numbers put on the +doors for his guests," Ricky pointed out. "I'll take 'three'; that was +marked on the plan he sent us as a lady's room. You take that one across +the hall and let Rupert have the one next to you."</p> + +<p>The rooms they explored were not as imposing as the one which had +sheltered Andrew Jackson for a night. Furnished with chintz-covered +chairs, solid mahogany bedsteads and highboys, they were pleasant enough +even if they weren't chambers to make an antique dealer "Oh!" and "Ah!" +Val discovered with approval some stiff prints of mathematically correct +clippers hung in exact patterns on his walls, while Ricky's room held +one treasure, a dainty dressing-table.</p> + +<p>A small door near the end of the hall gave upon a linen closet. And +Ricky, throwing her short white jacket and hat upon the chair in her +room, set about making beds, having given Val strict orders to return to +the lower hall and sort out the luggage before bringing it up.</p> + +<p>As he reached the wide landing he stopped a moment. Since that winter +night, almost a year in the past, when a passenger plane had decided—in +spite of its pilot—to make a landing on a mountainside, he had learned +to hobble where he had once run. The accident having made his right leg +a rather accurate barometer, that crooked bone was announcing the +arrival of the coming storm with a sharp pain or two which shot +unexpectedly from knee to ankle. One such caught him as he was about to +take a step and threw him suddenly off balance.</p> + +<p>He clutched at a dim tapestry which hung across the wall and tumbled +through a slit in the fabric—which smelled of dust and moth balls—into +a tiny alcove flanking a broad, well-cushioned window-seat under tall +windows. Below him in a riot of bushes and hedges run wild, lay the +garden. Somewhere beyond must lie Bayou Mercier leading directly to Lake +Borgne and so to the sea, the thoroughfare used by their pirate +ancestors when they brought home their spoil.</p> + +<p>The green of the rank growth below, thought Val, seemed intensified by +the strange yellowish light. A moss-grown path led straight into the +heart of a jungle where sweet olive, banana trees, and palms grew in a +matted mass. Harrison might have done wonders for the house but he had +allowed the garden to lapse into a wilderness.</p> + +<p>"Val!"</p> + +<p>"Coming!" he shouted and pushed back through the curtain. He could hear +Rupert moving about the lower hall.</p> + +<p>"Just made it in time," he said as the younger Ralestone limped down to +join him. "Hear that?"</p> + +<p>A steady pattering outside was growing into a wild dash of wind-driven +rain. It was dark and Rupert himself was but a blur moving across the +hall.</p> + +<p>"Do you still have the flash? Might as well descend into the lower +regions and put on the lights."</p> + +<p>They crossed the Long Hall, passing through another large chamber where +furniture huddled under dust covers, and then into a small +cupboard-lined passage. This gave upon a dark cavern where Val's hand +scraped a table top only too painfully as he went. Then Rupert found the +door leading to the cellar, and they went down and down into inky +blackness upon which their thread of torch-light made little impression.</p> + +<p>The damp, unpleasant scent of mold and wet grew stronger as they +descended, and their fingers brushed slime-touched walls.</p> + +<p>"Phew! Not very comfy down here," Val protested as Rupert threw the +torch beam along the nearest wall. With a grunt of relief he stepped +forward to pull open the door of a small black box. "That does it," he +said as he threw the switch. "Now for the topside again and some +supper."</p> + +<p>They negotiated the steps and found the button which controlled the +kitchen lights. The glare showed them a room on the mammoth scale +suggested by the Long Hall. A giant fireplace still equipped with +three-legged pots, toasting irons, and spits was at one side, its brick +oven beside it. But a very modern range and sink faced it.</p> + +<p>In the center of the room was a large table, while along the far wall +were closed cupboards. Save for its size and the novelty of the +fireplace, it was an ordinary kitchen, complete to red-checked curtains +at the windows. Pleasant and homey, Val thought rather wistfully. But +that was before the coming of that night when Ricky walked in the garden +and he heard something stir in the Long Hall—which should have been +empty—</p> + +<p>"Val! Rupert!" A cry which started valiantly became a wail as it echoed +through empty rooms. "Where are yo-o-ou!"</p> + +<p>"Here, in the kitchen," Val shouted back.</p> + +<p>A moment later Ricky stood in the doorway, her face flushed and her +usually correct curls all on end.</p> + +<p>"Mean, selfish, utterly selfish pigs!" she burst out. "Leaving me all +alone in the dark! And it's so dark!"</p> + +<p>"We just went down to turn on the lights," Val began.</p> + +<p>"So I see." With a sniff she looked about her. "It took two of you to do +that. But it only required one of me to make three beds. Well, this is a +warning to me. Next time—" she did not finish her threat. "I suppose +you want some supper?"</p> + +<p>Rupert was already at the cupboards. "That," he agreed, "is the general +idea."</p> + +<p>"Beans or—" Ricky's hand closed upon Val's arm with a nipper-like grip. +"What," her voice was a thin thread of sound, "was that?"</p> + +<p>Above the steady beat of the rain they heard a noise which was half +scratch, half thud. Under Rupert's hand the latch of the cupboard +clicked.</p> + +<p>"Back door," he said laconically.</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you open it?" Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Val +longed to twist out of her grip.</p> + +<p>The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanying +bolt.</p> + +<p>"Something's there," breathed Ricky.</p> + +<p>"Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind," Val +assured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden.</p> + +<p>The door came back, letting in a douche of cold rain and a black shadow +which leaped for the security of the center of the room.</p> + +<p>"Look!" Ricky laughed unsteadily and released Val's arm.</p> + +<p>In the center of the neat kitchen, spitting angrily at the wet, stood a +ruffled and oversized black tom-cat.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE</h3> + + +<p>"Nice of you to drop in, old man," commented Rupert dryly as he shut the +door. "But didn't anyone ever mention to you that gentlemen wipe their +feet before entering strange houses?" He surveyed a line of wet paw +prints across the brick floor.</p> + +<p>"Did he get all wet, the poor little—" Ricky was on her knees, +stretching out her hand and positively cooing. The cat put down the paw +he had been licking and regarded her calmly out of round, yellow eyes. +Then he returned to his washing. Val laughed.</p> + +<p>"Evidently he is used to the strong, silent type of human, Ricky. I +wonder where he belongs."</p> + +<p>"He belongs to us now. Yes him does, doesn't him?" She attempted to +touch the visitor's head. His ears went back and he showed sharp teeth +in no uncertain manner.</p> + +<p>"Better let him alone," advised Rupert. "He doesn't seem to be the kind +you can cuddle."</p> + +<p>"So I see." Ricky arose to her feet with an offended air. "One would +think that I resembled the more repulsive members of my race."</p> + +<p>"In the meantime," Rupert again sought the cupboard, "let's eat."</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, fed and well content (even Satan, as the Ralestones +had named their visitor because of his temperament, having condescended +to accept some of the better-done bits of bacon), they sat about the +table staring at the dishes. Now it is a very well-known fact that +dishes do <i>not</i> obligingly leap from a table into a pan of well-soaped +water, slosh themselves around a few times, and jump out to do a spot of +brisk rubbing down. But how nice it would be if they did, thought Val.</p> + +<p>"The dishes—" began Ricky in a faint sort of way.</p> + +<p>"Must be done. We gather that. How utterly nasty bacon grease looks when +it's congealed." Her younger brother surveyed the platter before him +with mournful interest.</p> + +<p>"And the question before the house is, I presume, who's going to wash +them?" Rupert grinned. "This seems to be as good a time as any to put +some sort of a working plan in force. There is a certain amount of +so-called housework which has to be done. And there are three of us to +do it. It's up to us to apportion it fairly. Shall we say, let everyone +care for his or her own room—"</p> + +<p>"There are also the little matters of washing, and ironing, and +cleaning," Ricky broke in to remind him.</p> + +<p>"And we're down to fifty a month in hard cash. But the tenant farmer on +the other side of the bayou is to supply us with fresh fruit and +vegetables. And our wardrobes are fairly intact. So I think that we can +afford to hire the washing done. We'll take turns cooking—"</p> + +<p>"Who's elected to do the poisoning first?" Val inquired with interest. +"I trust we possess a good cook-book?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll take breakfast tomorrow morning," Rupert volunteered. +"Anyone can boil coffee and toast bread. As for dishes, we'll all pitch +in together. And suppose we start right now."</p> + +<p>When the dishes were back again in their neat piles on the cupboard +shelves, Ricky vanished upstairs, to come trailing down again in a +house-coat which she fondly imagined made her look like one of the +better-known screen sirens. The family gathered in an aimless way before +the empty fireplace of the Long Hall. Rupert was filling a black pipe +which allowed him to resemble—in very slight degree, decided Val—an +explorer in an English tobacco advertisement. Val himself was stretched +full length on the couch with about ten pounds of cat attempting to rest +on his center section in spite of his firm refusal to allow the same.</p> + +<p>"Br-r-r!" Ricky shivered. "It's cold in here."</p> + +<p>"Probably just Uncle Rick passing through—not the weather. No, cat, you +may not sit on that stomach. It's just as full of bacon as yours is and +it wants a nice long rest." Val swept Satan off to the floor and he +resignedly went to roost by the boy's feet in spite of the beguiling +noises Ricky made to attract his attention.</p> + +<p>"These stone houses are cold." Rupert scratched a match on the sole of +his shoe. "We ought to have flooring put down over this stone paving. I +saw some wood stacked up in an outhouse when I put the car away. We'll +have it in tomorrow and see what we can do about a fire in the evening."</p> + +<p>"And I thought the South was always warm." Ricky examined her hands. +"Whoever," she remarked pleasantly, "took my hand lotion better return +it. The consequences might not be very attractive."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you packed it this morning?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>"But of—" Her fingers went to her mouth. "I wonder if I did? I've just +got to have some. We'll drive to town tomorrow and get a bottle."</p> + +<p>"Thirty miles or so for a ten-cent bottle of gooey stuff," Val +protested.</p> + +<p>"Good idea." Rupert stood with his back to the fireplace as if there +really were a flame or two within its black emptiness. "I've some papers +that LeFleur wants to see. Then there're our boxes at the freight +station to arrange transportation for, and we'll have to see about +getting a newspaper and—"</p> + +<p>"Make a list," murmured his brother.</p> + +<p>Rupert dropped down upon the wide arm of Ricky's chair and with her only +too willing aid set to work. Val eyed them drowsily. Rupert and +Ricky—or to give her her very formal name in full—Richanda Anne, were +"Red" Ralestones, possessing the thin, three-cornered faces, the dark +mahogany hair, the sharply defined cheek-bones which had been the mark +of the family as far back in history as portraits or written +descriptions existed. The "Red" Ralestones were marked also by height +and a suppleness of body and movement. The men had been fine swordsmen, +the ladies noted beauties. But they were also cursed, Val remembered +vividly, with uncertain tempers.</p> + +<p>Rupert had schooled himself to the point where his emotions were +mastered by his will. But Val had seen Ricky enjoy full tantrums, and +the last occasion was not so long ago that the scene had become misty in +his memory. Generous to the point of self-beggary, loyal to a fault, and +incurably romantic, that was a "Red" Ralestone.</p> + +<p>Val himself was a "Black" Ralestone, which was a very different thing. +They were a new growth on the family tree, a growth which appeared after +the Ralestones had been exiled to colonial America. His black hair, his +long, dark face of no particular beauty marked with straight, black +brows set in a perpetual frown—that was the sign of a "Black" +Ralestone. They were as strong-willed as the "Reds," but their anger +could be controlled to icy rage.</p> + +<p>"Now that you have spent the monthly income," Val suggested as Rupert +added up a long column of minute figures scrawled across the first page +of his pocket note-book, "let's really get away from economics for one +evening. The surroundings suggest something more romantic than dollars +and cents. After all, when did a pirate ever show a saving disposition? +Would the first Roderick—"</p> + +<p>"The Roderick who brought home the Luck?" Ricky laughed. "But he brought +home a fortune, too, didn't he, Rupert?"</p> + +<p>Her brother relit his pipe. "Yes, but a great many lords came home from +the Crusades with their pockets filled. Sir Roderick de la Stone thought +the Luck worth his entire estate even after he was made Baron +Ralestone."</p> + +<p>Ricky shivered delicately. "Not altogether nice people, those ancestors +of ours," she observed.</p> + +<p>"No," Val grinned. "By rights this room should be full of ghosts instead +of the beat of just one. How many Ralestones died violently? Seven or +eight, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"But the ones who died in England should haunt Lorne," argued Ricky, +half seriously.</p> + +<p>"Well then, that sort of confines us to the crews of the ships our +great-great-great-grandfather scuttled," her brother replied.</p> + +<p>"Rupert," Ricky turned and asked impulsively, "do you really believe in +the Luck?"</p> + +<p>Rupert looked up at the empty niche. "I don't know—No, I don't. Not the +way that Roderick and Richard and all the rest did. But something that +has seven hundred years of history behind it—that means a lot."</p> + +<p>"'Then did he take up ye sword fashioned by ye devilish art of ye East +from two fine blades found in ye tomb,'" Val quoted from the record of +Brother Anselm, the friar who had accompanied Sir Roderick on his +crusading. "Do you suppose that that part's true? Could the Luck have +been made from two other swords found in an old tomb?"</p> + +<p>"Not impossible. The Saracens were master metal workers. Look at the +Damascus blades."</p> + +<p>"It all sounds like a fairy-tale," commented Ricky. "A sword with magic +powers beaten out of two other swords found in a tomb. And the whole +thing done under the direction of an Arab astrologer."</p> + +<p>"You've got to admit," broke in Val, "that Sir Roderick had luck after +it was given to him. He came home a wealthy man and he died a Baron. And +his descendants even survived the Wars of the Roses when four-fifths of +the great English families were wiped out."</p> + +<p>"'And fortune continued to smile,'" Rupert took up the story, "'until a +certain wild Miles Ralestone staked the Luck of his house on the turn of +a card—and lost.'"</p> + +<p>"O-o-oh!" Ricky squirmed forward in her chair. "Now comes the pirate. +Tell us that, Rupert."</p> + +<p>"You know the story by heart now," he objected.</p> + +<p>"We never heard it here, where some of it really happened. Tell it, +please, Rupert!"</p> + +<p>"In your second childhood?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not out of my first yet," she answered promptly. "Pretty please, +Rupert."</p> + +<p>"Miles Ralestone, Marquess of Lorne," he began, "rode with Prince Rupert +of the Rhine. He was a notorious gambler, a loose liver, and a cynic. +And he even threw the family Luck across the gaming table."</p> + +<p>"'The Luck went from him who did it no honor,'" Val repeated slowly. "I +read that in that old letter among your papers, Rupert."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the Luck went from him. He survived Marston Moor; he survived the +death of his royal master, Charles the First, on the scaffold. He lived +long enough to witness the return of the Stuarts to England. But the +Luck was gone, and with it the good fortune of his line. Rupert, his +son, was but a penniless hanger-on at the royal court; the manor of +Lorne a fire-gutted wreckage.</p> + +<p>"Rupert followed James Stuart from England when that monarch became a +fugitive to escape the wrath of his subjects. And the Marquess of Lorne +sank to the role of pot-house bully in the back lanes of Paris."</p> + +<p>"And then?" prompted Val.</p> + +<p>"And then a miracle occurred. Rupert was employed by his master on a +secret mission to London, and there the Luck came again into his hands. +Perhaps by murder. But he died miserably enough of a heavy cold got by +lying in a ditch to escape Dutch William's soldiers."</p> + +<p>"'So is this perilous Luck come again into our hands. Then did I +persevere to mend the fortunes of my house.' That's what Rupert's son +Richard wrote about the Luck," Ricky recalled. "Richard, the first +pirate."</p> + +<p>"He did a good job of fortune mending," commented Val dryly. "Married +one of the wealthiest of the French king's wards and sailed for the +French West Indies all in a fortnight. Turned pirate with the approval +of the French and took to lifting the cargoes of other pirates."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet that most of his success was due to the Lady Richanda," +observed Ricky. "She sailed with him dressed in man's clothes. Remember +that miniature of her that we saw in New York, the one in the museum? +All the 'Black' Ralestones are supposed to look like her. Hear that, +Val?"</p> + +<p>"At least it was the Lady Richanda who persuaded her husband to settle +ashore," said Rupert. "She was personally acquainted with Bienville and +Iberville who were proposing to rule the Mississippi valley for France +by building a city near the mouth of the river. And 'Black Dick,' the +pirate, obtained a grant of land lying along Lake Borgne and this bayou. +Although the city was not begun until 1724, this house was started in +1710 by workmen imported from England.</p> + +<p>"The house of an exile," Rupert continued slowly. "Richard Ralestone was +born in England, but he left there in his tenth year. In spite of the +price on his head, he crept back to Devon in 1709 to see Lorne for the +last time. And it was from the rude sketches he made of ruined Lorne +that Pirate's Haven was planned."</p> + +<p>"Why, we saw those sketches!" Ricky's eyes shone with excitement. "Do +you remember, Val?"</p> + +<p>Her brother nodded. "Must have cost him plenty to do it," he replied. +"Richard had an immense personal fortune of his own gained from piracy, +and he spared no expense in building. The larger part of the stone in +these walls was brought straight from Europe, just as they later brought +the paving blocks for the streets of New Orleans. When he had done—and +the place was five years a-building because of Indian troubles and other +disturbances—he settled down to live in feudal state. Some of his +former seamen rallied around him as a guard, and he imported blacks from +the islands to work his indigo fields.</p> + +<p>"The family continued to prosper through both French and Spanish +domination until the time of American rule."</p> + +<p>"Now for Uncle Rick." Ricky settled herself with a wriggle. "This is +even more exciting than Pirate Dick."</p> + +<p>"In the year 1788, the time of the great fire which destroyed over half +of New Orleans, twin boys were born at Pirate's Haven. They came into +their heritage early, for their parents died of yellow fever when the +twins were still small children.</p> + +<p>"Those were restless times. New Orleans was full of refugees. From +Haiti, where the revolting blacks were holding a reign of terror, and +from France, where to be a noble was to be a dead one, came hundreds. +Even members of the royal house, the Duc d'Orleans and his brother, the +Duc de Montpensier, came for a space in 1798.</p> + +<p>"The city had always been more or less lawless and intolerant of +control. Like the New Englanders of the eighteenth century, many +respected merchants were also smugglers."</p> + +<p>"And pirates," suggested Val.</p> + +<p>"The king of smugglers was Jean Lafitte. His forge—where his slaves +shaped the wrought-iron which was one of the wonders of the city—was a +fashionable meeting-place for the young bloods. He was the height of wit +and fashion—daring openly to placard the walls of the town with his +notices of smugglers' sales.</p> + +<p>"And Roderick Ralestone, the younger of the twins, became one of +Lafitte's men. In spite of the remonstrances of his brother Richard, +young Rick withdrew to Barataria with Dominque You and the rest of the +outlawed captains.</p> + +<p>"In the winter of 1814 matters came to a head. Richard wanted to marry +an American girl, the daughter of one of Governor Claiborne's friends. +Her father told him very pointedly that since the owners of Pirate's +Haven seemed to be indulging in law breaking, such a marriage was out of +the question. Aroused, Richard made a secret inspection of certain +underground storehouses which had been built by his pirate +great-grandfather and discovered that Rick had put them in use again for +the very same purpose for which they had been first intended—the +storing of loot.</p> + +<p>"He waited there for his brother, determined to have it decided once and +for all. They quarreled bitterly. Both were young, both had bad tempers, +and each saw his side as the right of the matter—"</p> + +<p>"Regular Ralestones, weren't they?" commented Val slyly.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," agreed Rupert. "Well, at last Richard started for the +house, his brother in pursuit.</p> + +<p>"Then they fought, here in this very hall. And not with words this time, +but with the rapiers Richard had brought back from France. A slave named +Falesse, who had been the twins' childhood nurse, was the only witness +to the end of that duel. Richard lay face down across the hearth-stone +as she came screaming down the stairs."</p> + +<p>Ricky was studying the gray stone.</p> + +<p>"By rights," Val agreed with her unspoken thought, "there ought to be a +stain there. Unfortunately for romance, there isn't."</p> + +<p>"Rick was standing by the door," Rupert continued. "When Falesse reached +his brother, he laughed unsteadily and half raised his sword in a +duelist's salute. Then he was gone. But there were two swords on the +floor. And that niche was empty.</p> + +<p>"When he fled into the night storm with his brother's blood staining his +hands, Rick Ralestone took the Luck of his house with him.</p> + +<p>"After almost a year of invalidism, Richard recovered. He never married +his American beauty. But in 1819 he took a wife, a young Creole lady +widowed by the Battle of New Orleans. Of Rick nothing was heard again, +although his brother searched diligently for more than thirty years."</p> + +<p>"How," Val grinned at his brother, "did Richard explain the little +matter of the ghost which is supposed to walk at night?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But when the Civil War broke out, Richard's son Miles was +the master of Pirate's Haven. The once-great fortune of the family had +shrunk. Business losses in the city, floods, a disaster at sea, had +emptied the family purse—"</p> + +<p>"The Luck getting in its dirty work by remote control," supplied the +irrepressible Val.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Young Miles had married in his teens, and the call to the +Confederate colors brought both his twin sons under arms as well as +their father.</p> + +<p>"Miles, the father, fell in the First Battle of Bull Run. But Miles, the +son and elder of the twins, a lieutenant of cavalry, came out of the war +the only surviving male of his family.</p> + +<p>"His brother Richard had been wounded and was home on sick leave when +the Northerners occupied New Orleans. Betrayed by one of his former +slaves, a mulatto who bore a grudge against the family, he was murdered +by a gang of bullies and cutthroats who had followed the invading army.</p> + +<p>"Richard had been warned of their raid and had managed to hide the +family valuables in a secret place—somewhere within this very hall, +according to tradition."</p> + +<p>Val and Ricky sat up and looked about with wondering interest.</p> + +<p>"But Richard was shot down in cold blood when he refused to reveal the +hiding-place. His brother and some scouts, operating south without +orders, arrived just in time to witness the last act. Miles Ralestone +and his men summarily shot the murderers. But where Richard had so +carefully concealed the last of the family treasure was never +discovered.</p> + +<p>"The war beggared the Ralestones. Miles went north in search of better +luck, and this place was allowed to molder until it was leased in 1879 +to a sugar baron. In 1895 it was turned over to a family distantly +connected with ours. And since then it has been leased. We have had in +all four tenants."</p> + +<p>"But," Ricky broke in, "since the Luck went we have not prospered. And +until it returns—"</p> + +<p>Rupert tapped out his pipe against one of the fire irons. "It's nothing +but a folk-tale," he told her.</p> + +<p>"It isn't!" Ricky contradicted him vehemently. "And we've made a good +beginning anyway. We've come back."</p> + +<p>"If Rick took the Luck with him, I don't see how we have an earthly +chance of finding it again," Val commented.</p> + +<p>"It came back once before after it had gone from us," reminded his +sister. "And I think that it will again. At least I'll hope so."</p> + +<p>"Outside of the superstition, it would be well worth having. The names +of the heads and heirs of the house are all engraved along the blade, +from Sir Roderick on down. Seven hundred years of history scratched on +steel." Rupert stretched and then glanced at his wrist-watch. "Ten to +ten, and we've had a long day. Who's for bed?"</p> + +<p>"I am, for one." Val swung his feet down from the couch, disturbing +Satan who opened one yellow eye lazily.</p> + +<p>Ricky stood by the fireplace fingering the wreath of stiff flowers +carved in the stone. Val took her by the arm.</p> + +<p>"No use wondering which one you push to reveal the treasure," he told +her.</p> + +<p>She looked up startled. "How did you know what I was thinking about?" +she demanded.</p> + +<p>"My lady, your thoughts, like little white birds—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go to bed, Val. When you get poetical I know you need sleep. Just +the same," she hesitated with one foot on the first tread of the stair, +"I wonder."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR</h3> + + +<p>Val lay trapped in an underground cavern, chained to the floor. An +unseen monster was creeping up his prostrate body. He could feel its hot +breath on his cheek. With a mighty effort he broke his bonds and threw +out his arms in an attempt to fight off his tormentor.</p> + +<p>The morning sun was warm across his pillow, making him blink. On his +chest stood Satan, kneading the bedclothes with his front paws and +purring gently. From the open window came a fresh, rain-washed breeze.</p> + +<p>Having aroused the sleeper, Satan deserted his post to hang half-way out +the window, intent upon the housekeeping arrangements of several birds +who had built in the hedges below. A moment later Val elbowed him aside +to look out upon the morning.</p> + +<p>It was a fine one. Wisps of mist from the bayou still hung about the +lower garden, but the sun had already dried the brick-paved paths. A bee +blundered past Val's nose, and he realized that it might be well to +close the screen hanging shutter-like outside.</p> + +<p>From the direction of the hidden water came the faint <i>putt-putt</i> of a +motor-boat, but inside Pirate's Haven there was utter silence. As yet +the rest of the family were not abroad. Val dropped his pajamas in a +huddle by the bed and dressed leisurely, feeling very much at peace with +this new world. Perhaps that was the last time he was to feel so for +many days to come. He stole cautiously out of his room and tiptoed down +halls and dark stairs, wanting to be alone while he discovered Pirate's +Haven for himself.</p> + +<p>The Long Hall looked chilly and bleak, even though patches of sunlight +were fighting the usual gloom. On the hearth-stone lay a scrap of white, +doubtless Ricky's handkerchief. Val flung open the front door and +stepped out on the terrace, drawing deep lungfuls of the morning air. +The blossoms on the morning-glory vines which wreathed the edge of the +terrace were open to the sun, and the birds sang in the bushes below. +Satan streaked by and disappeared into the tangle. It was suddenly very +good to be alive. The boy stretched luxuriously and started to explore, +choosing the nearest of the crazy, wandering paths which began at the +circle of the old carriage drive.</p> + +<p>Here was evidence of last night's storm. Wisps of Spanish moss, torn +from the great live-oaks of the avenue and looking like tufts of coarse +gray horsehair, lay in water-logged mats here and there. And in the open +places, the grass, beaten flat, was just beginning to rise again.</p> + +<p>A rabbit scuttled across the path as it went down four steps of broken +stone into a sort of glen. Here some early owner of the plantation had +made an irregular pool of stone to be fed by the trickle of a tiny +spring. Frogs the size of postage-stamps leaped panic-stricken for the +water when Val's shadow fell across its rim. A leaden statue of the boy +Pan danced joyously on a pedestal above. Ricky would love this, thought +her brother as he dabbled his fingers in the chill water trying to catch +the stem of the single lily bud.</p> + +<p>Out of nowhere came a turtle to slide into the depths of the pool. The +sun was very warm across Val's bowed shoulders. He liked the garden, +liked the plantation, even liked the circumstances which had brought +them there. Lazily he arose and turned.</p> + +<p>By the steps down which he had come stood a slight figure in a faded +flannel shirt and mud-streaked overalls. His bare brown feet gripped the +stones as if to get purchase for instant flight.</p> + +<p>"Hello," Val said questioningly.</p> + +<p>The new-comer eyed young Ralestone warily and then his gaze shifted to +the bushes beyond.</p> + +<p>"I'm Val Ralestone." Val held out his hand. To his astonishment the +stranger's mobile lips twisted in a snarl and he edged crabwise toward +the bushes bordering the glen.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" Val demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>"Ah has got as much right heah as yo' all," the boy answered angrily. +And with that he turned and slipped into a path at the far end of the +glen.</p> + +<p>Aroused, Val hurried after him to reach the bayou levee. The quarry was +already in midstream, wielding an efficient canoe paddle. On impulse Val +shouted after him, but he never turned. A rifle lay across his knees and +there were some rusty traps in the bottom of the flimsy canoe. Then Val +remembered that Pirate's Haven lay upon the fringe of the muskrat swamps +where Cajun and American squatters still carried on the fur trade of +their ancestors.</p> + +<p>But as Val stood speeding the departure of the uninvited guest, another +canoe put off from the opposite shore of the bayou and came swinging +across toward the rough wooden landing which served the plantation. A +round brown face grinned up at Val as a powerful negro clambered ashore.</p> + +<p>"Is dey up at de big house now?" he asked cheerily as he came up.</p> + +<p>"If you mean the Ralestones, why, we got here last night," Val answered.</p> + +<p>"Yo'all is Mistuh Ralestone, suh?" He took off his wide-brimmed straw +hat and twisted it in his oversized hands.</p> + +<p>"I'm Valerius Ralestone. My brother Rupert is the owner."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mistuh Ralestone, suh, I'se yo'all's fahmah from 'cross wata. +Mistuh LeFleah, he says dat yo'all is come to live heah agin. So mah +woman, she says dat Ah should see if yo'all is heah yet and does yo'all +want anythin'. Lucy, she's bin a-livin' heah, dat is, her mammy and +pappy and her pappy's mammy and pappy has bin heah since befo' old Massa +Ralestone done gone 'way. So Lucy, she jest nachely am oneasy 'bout +yo'all not gettin' things comfo'ble."</p> + +<p>"That is kind of her," Val answered heartily. "My brother said something +last night about wanting to see you today, so if you'll come up to the +house—"</p> + +<p>"I'se Sam, Mistuh Ralestone, suh. Ah done work heah quite a spell now."</p> + +<p>"By the way," Val asked as they went up toward the house, "did you see +that boy in the canoe going downstream as you crossed? I found him in +the garden and the only answer he would give to my questions was that he +had as much right there as I had. Who is he?"</p> + +<p>The wide smile faded from Sam's face. "Mistuh Ralestone, suh, effen dat +no-'count trash comes 'round heah agin, yo'all bettah jest call de +policemans. Dey's nothin' but poah white trash livin' down in de swamp +places an' dey steals whatevah dey kin lay han' on. Was dis boy big like +yo'all, wi' black hair an' a thin face?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Dat's de Jeems boy. He ain't got no mammy nor pappy. He lives jest like +de wil' man wi' a li'l huntin' an' a big lot stealin'. He talk big. Say +he belongs in de big house, not wi' swamp folks. But jest yo'all pay no +'tenshun to him nohow."</p> + +<p>"Val! Val Ralestone! Where are you?" Ricky's voice sounded clear through +the morning air.</p> + +<p>"Coming!" he shouted back.</p> + +<p>"Well, make it snappy!" she shrilled. "The toast has been burnt twice +and—" But what further catastrophe had occurred her brother could not +hear.</p> + +<p>"Yo'all wants to git to de back do', Mistuh Ralestone, suh? Dere's a +sho't-cut 'cross dis-a-way." Sam turned into a side path and Val +followed.</p> + +<p>Ricky was at the stove gingerly shifting a coffee-pot as her brother +stepped into the kitchen. "Well," she snapped as he entered, "it's about +time you were showing up. I've simply cracked my voice trying to call +you, and Rupert's been talking about having the bayou dragged or +something of the kind. Where have you been, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Getting acquainted with our neighbors. Ricky," he called her attention +to the smiling face just outside the door, "this is Sam. He runs the +home farm for us. And his wife is a descendant of the Ralestone house +folks."</p> + +<p>"Yassuh, dat's right. We's Ralestone folks, Miss 'Chanda. Mah Lucy done +sen' me ovah to fin' out what yo'all is a-needin' done 'bout de place. +She was in yisteday afo' yo'all come an' seed to de dustin' an' sich—"</p> + +<p>"So that's why everything was so clean! That was nice of her—"</p> + +<p>"Yo'all is Ralestones, Miss 'Chanda. An' Lucy say dat de Ralestones am +a-goin' to fin' dis place jest ready for dem when dey come." He beamed +upon them proudly. "Lucy, she am a-goin' be heah jest as soon as she +gits de chillens set for de day. I'se come fust so's Ah kin see wat +Mistuh Ralestone done wan' done wi dem rivah fiel's—"</p> + +<p>"Where is Rupert?" Val broke in.</p> + +<p>"Went out to see about the car. The storm last night wrecked the door of +the carriage house—"</p> + +<p>"Zat so?" Sam's eyes went round. "Den Ah bettah be a-gittin' out an' see +'bout it. 'Scuse me, suh. 'Scuse me, Miss 'Chanda." With a jerk of his +head he left them. Val turned to Ricky.</p> + +<p>"We seem to have fallen into good hands."</p> + +<p>"It's my guess that his Lucy is a manager. He just does what she tells +him to. I wonder how he knew my name?"</p> + +<p>"LeFleur probably told them all about us."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it odd—" she turned off the gas, "'Ralestone folks.'"</p> + +<p>"Loyalty to the Big House," her brother answered slowly. "I never +thought that it really existed out of books."</p> + +<p>"It makes me feel positively feudal. Val, I was born about a hundred +years too late. I'd like to have been the mistress here when I could +have ridden out in a victoria behind two matched bays, with a coachman +and a footman up in front and my maid on the little seat facing me."</p> + +<p>"And with a Dalmatian coach-hound running behind and at least +three-fourths of the young bloods of the neighborhood as a mounted +escort. I know. But those days are gone forever. Which leads me to +another subject. What are we going to do today?"</p> + +<p>"The dishes, for one thing," Ricky began ticking the items off on her +fingers, "and then the beds. This afternoon Rupert wants us—that is, +you and me—to drive to town and do some errands."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, the list you two made out last night. Well, now that that's +all settled, suppose we have some breakfast. Has Rupert been fed or is +he thinking of going on a diet?"</p> + +<p>"He'll be in—"</p> + +<p>"Said she with perfect faith. All of which does not satisfy the pangs of +hunger."</p> + +<p>"Where's Lovey?"</p> + +<p>"If you are using that sickening name to refer to Satan—he's +out—hunting, probably. The last I saw of him he was shooting head first +for a sort of bird apartment house over to the left of the front door. +Here's Rupert. Now maybe we may eat."</p> + +<p>"I've got something to tell you," hissed Ricky as the missing member of +the clan banged the screen door behind him. Having so aroused Val's +curiosity, she demurely went around the table to pour the coffee.</p> + +<p>"How's the carriage house?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>"Sam thinks he can fix it with some of that lumber piled out back of the +old smoke-house." Rupert reached for a piece of toast. "What do you +think of our family retainer?"</p> + +<p>"Seems a good chap."</p> + +<p>"LeFleur says one of the best. Possesses a spark of ambition and is +really trying to make a go of the farm, which is more than most of them +do around here. His wife, by all accounts, is a wonder. Used to be the +cook-housekeeper here when the Rafaels had the place. LeFleur still +talks about the two meals he ate here then. Sam tells me that she is +planning to take us in hand."</p> + +<p>"But we can't afford—" began Ricky.</p> + +<p>"I gathered that money does not come into the question. The lady is +rather strong-willed. So, Ricky," he laughed, "we'll leave you two to +fight it out. But Lucy may be able to find us a laundress."</p> + +<p>"Which reminds me," Ricky took a crumpled piece of white cloth from her +pocket, "if this is yours, Rupert, you deserve to do your own washing. I +don't know what you've got on it; looks like oil."</p> + +<p>He took it from her and straightened out a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Not guilty this time. Ask little brother here." He passed over the +dirty linen square. It was plain white—or it had been white before +three large black splotches had colored it—without an initial or +colored edge.</p> + +<p>"I think he's prevaricating, Ricky," Val protested. "This isn't mine. +I'm down to one thin dozen and those are the ones you gave me last +Christmas. They have my initials on."</p> + +<p>Ricky took back the disputed square. "That's funny. It certainly isn't +mine. I'm sure one of you must be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Rupert.</p> + +<p>"Because I found it on the hearth-stone in the hall this morning. It +wasn't there last night or one of us would have seen it and picked it +up, 'cause it was right there in plain sight."</p> + +<p>"Sure it isn't yours, Val?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Positive."</p> + +<p>"Queer," murmured Rupert and reached for it again. "It's a good quality +of linen and it's almost new." He held it to his nose. "That's oil on +it. But how—?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder—" Val mused.</p> + +<p>"What do you know?" asked Ricky.</p> + +<p>"Well—Oh, it isn't possible. He wouldn't carry a handkerchief," her +brother said half to himself.</p> + +<p>"Who wouldn't?" asked Rupert. Then Val told them of his meeting with the +boy Jeems and what Sam had had to say of him.</p> + +<p>"Don't know whether I exactly like this." Rupert folded the mysterious +square of stained linen. "As you say, Val, a boy like that would hardly +carry a handkerchief. Also, you met him in the garden, while—"</p> + +<p>"The person who left that was in this house last night!" finished Ricky. +"And I don't like that!"</p> + +<p>"The door was locked and bolted when I came down this morning," Val +observed.</p> + +<p>Rupert nodded. "Yes, I distinctly remember doing that before I went up +to bed last night. But when I was going around the house this morning I +discovered that there are French doors opening from the old ball-room to +the terrace, and I didn't inspect their fastening last night."</p> + +<p>"But who would want to come in here? There are no valuables left except +furniture. And it would take three or four men and a truck to collect +that. I don't see what he was after," puzzled Ricky.</p> + +<p>Rupert arose from the table. "We have, it seems, a mystery on our hands. +If you want to amuse yourselves, my children, here's the first clue. +I've got to get back to the carriage house and my labors there."</p> + +<p>He dropped the handkerchief on the table and left. Ricky reached for the +"clue." "Awfully casual about it, isn't he?" she said. "Just the same, I +believe that this is a clue and I know what our visitor was after, too," +she finished triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The treasure Richard Ralestone hid when the Yankee raiders came."</p> + +<p>"Well, if our unknown visitor has as little in the way of clues as we +have, he'll be a long time finding it."</p> + +<p>"And we're going to beat him to it! It's somewhere in the Hall, and the +secret—"</p> + +<p>"See here," Val interrupted her, "what were you about to tell me when +Rupert came in?"</p> + +<p>She put the handkerchief in the breast pocket of her sport dress, +buttoning the flap over it.</p> + +<p>"Rupert's got a secret."</p> + +<p>"What kind?"</p> + +<p>"It has to do with those two brief-cases of his. You know, the ones he +was so particular about all the way down here?"</p> + +<p>Val nodded. Those bulging brief-cases had apparently contained the +dearest of his roving brother's possessions, judging from the way Rupert +had fussed if they were a second out of his sight.</p> + +<p>"This morning when I came downstairs," Ricky continued, "he was sneaking +them into that little side room off the dining-room corridor, the one +which used to be the old plantation office. And when he came out and saw +me standing there, he deliberately turned around and locked the door!"</p> + +<p>"Whew!" Val commented.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I felt that way too. So I simply asked him what he was doing and +he made some silly remark about Bluebeard's chamber. He means to keep +his old secret, too, 'cause he put the key on his key-ring when he +didn't know I was watching him."</p> + +<p>"This is not the place for a rest cure," her brother observed as he +started to scrape and stack the dishes. "First someone unknown leaves +his handkerchief for a calling card and then Rupert goes Fu Manchu on +us. To say nothing of the rugged and unfriendly son of the soil whom I +found bumping around the garden where he had no business to be."</p> + +<p>"What was he like anyway?" asked his sister as she dipped soap flakes +into the dish-water with a liberal hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thin, and awfully brown. But not bad looking if it weren't for his +mouth and that scowl of his. And he very distinctly doesn't like us. +About my build, but quicker on his feet, tough looking. I wouldn't care +to try to stop him doing anything he wanted to do."</p> + +<p>"My dear, are you describing Clark Gable or someone you met in our +garden this morning?" she demanded sweetly.</p> + +<p>"Very well," Val retorted huffily into the depths of the oatmeal pan he +was wiping, "you catch him next time."</p> + +<p>"I will," was her serene answer as she wrung out the dish-cloth.</p> + +<p>They went on to the upstairs work and Val received his first lesson in +the art of bed-making under his sister's extremely critical tuition. It +seemed that corners must be square and that dreadful things were likely +to happen when wrinkles were not smoothed out. This exercise led them +naturally to unpacking the remainder of the hand baggage and putting +things away. It was after ten before Val came downstairs crab-fashion, +wiping off each step behind him as he came with one of Ricky's three +dust-cloths.</p> + +<p>He paused on the landing to pull back the tapestry curtain and open the +windows above the alcove seat, letting in the freshness of the morning +to rout some of the dank chill of the hall. Kneeling there, he watched +Rupert come around the house. Rupert had shed his coat and his sleeves +were rolled up almost to his shoulders. There was a streak of black +across his cheek and a large rip almost separated the collar from his +shirt. Although he looked hot, cross, and tired, more like a day-laborer +than a gentleman plantation owner whose ancestors had always "planted +from the saddle," his stride had a certain buoyancy which it had lacked +the day before.</p> + +<p>With an idea of escaping Ricky by joining his brother, Val hurried +downstairs and headed kitchenward. But his sister was there before him +looking over a collection of knives of various lengths.</p> + +<p>"Preparing for a little murder or two?" Val asked casually.</p> + +<p>She jumped and dropped a paring knife.</p> + +<p>"Val, don't do that! I wish you'd whistle or something while you're +walking around in those tennis shoes. I can't hear you move. I'm looking +for something to cut flowers with. There don't seem to be any scissors +except mine and I'm not going to use those."</p> + +<p>"Take dat, Miss 'Chanda." A fat black hand motioned toward the paring +knife.</p> + +<p>Just within the kitchen door stood a wide, a very wide, Negro woman. Her +neat print dress was stiff with starch from a recent washing, and round +gold hoops swung proudly from her ears. Her black hair, straightened by +main force of arm, had been set again in stiff, corrugated waves of +extreme fashion, but her broad placid face was both kind and serene.</p> + +<p>"I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis," she reached +an arm behind her, pulling forth a girl at least ten shades lighter and +thirty-five shades thinner, "is mah sistah's onliest gal-chil', +Letty-Lou. Mak' yo' mannahs, Letty. Does yo' wan' Miss 'Chanda to think +yo' is a know-nothin' outa de swamp?"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl063" id="ianrl063"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl063.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4>"<i>I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' +dis is Letty-Lou.</i>"</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p>Thus sternly admonished, Letty-Lou ducked her head shyly and murmured +something in a die-away voice.</p> + +<p>"Letty-Lou," announced her aunt, "is com' to do fo' yo'all, Miss +'Chanda. I'se larn'd her good how to do fo' ladies. She is good at +scrubbin' an' cleanin' an sich. Ah done train'd her mahse'f."</p> + +<p>Letty-Lou looked at the floor and twisted her thin hands behind her +back.</p> + +<p>"But," protested Ricky, "we're not planning to have anyone do for us, +Lucy."</p> + +<p>"Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda. Yo'all's not gittin' a know-nothin'. +Letty-Lou, she knows her work. She kin cook right good."</p> + +<p>"We can't take her," Val backed up Ricky. "You must understand, Lucy, +that we don't have much money and we can't pay for—"</p> + +<p>"Pay fo'!" Lucy's indignant sniff reduced him to his extremely +unimportant place. "We's not talkin' 'bout pay workin', Mistuh +Ralestone. Letty-Lou don' git no pay but her eatments. 'Co'se, effen +Miss 'Chanda wanna give her some ole clo's now an' den, she kin tak' +dem. Letty-Lou, she don' hav' to git her a pay-work job, her pappy mak's +him a good livin'. But Miss 'Chanda ain' a-goin' to tak' keer dis big +hous' all by herself wit' her lil' han's dere. We's Ralestone folks. +Letty-Lou, yo' gits on youah ap'on an' gits to work."</p> + +<p>"But we can't let her," Ricky raised her last protest.</p> + +<p>"Miss 'Chanda, we's Ralestone folks. Mah gran' pappy Bob was own man to +Massa Miles Ralestone. He fit in de wah longside o' Massa Miles. An' wen +de wah was done finish'd, dem two com' home to-gethah. Den Massa Miles, +he call mah gran'pappy in an' say, 'Bob, yo'all is free an' I'se a +ruinated man. Heah is fiv' dollahs gol' money an' yo' kin hav' youah +hoss.' An' Bob, he say, 'Cap'n Miles, dese heah Yankees done said I'se +free but dey ain't done said dat I ain't a Ralestone man. W'at time does +yo'all wan' breakfas' in de mornin'?' An' wen Massa Miles wen' no'th to +mak' his fo'tune, he told Bob, 'Bob, I'se leavin' dis heah hous' in +youah keer.' An', Miss 'Chanda, we done look aftah Pirate's Haven evah +since, mah gran'pappy, mah pappy, Sam an' me."</p> + +<p>Ricky held out her hand. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You see, we don't understand +very well, we've been away so long."</p> + +<p>Lucy touched Ricky's hand and then, for all her weight, bobbed a curtsy. +"Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda, yo' is ouah folks."</p> + +<p>Letty-Lou stayed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>PISTOLS FOR TWO—COFFEE FOR ONE</h3> + + +<p>Val braced himself against the back of the roadster's seat and struggled +to hold the car to a road which was hardly more than a cart track. Twice +since Ricky and he had left Pirate's Haven they had narrowly escaped +being bogged in the mud which had worked up through the thin crust of +gravel on the surface.</p> + +<p>To the south lay the old cypress swamps, dark glens of rotting wood and +sprawling vines. A spur of this unsavory no-man's land ran close along +the road, and looking into it one could almost believe, fancied Val, in +the legends told by the early French explorers concerning the giant +monsters who were supposed to haunt the swamps and wild lands at the +mouth of the Mississippi. He would not have been surprised to see a +brontosaurus peeking coyly down at him from twenty feet or so of neck. +It was just the sort of place any self-respecting brontosaurus would +have wallowed in.</p> + +<p>But at last they won free from that place of cold and dank odors. +Passing through Chalmette, they struck the main highway. From then on it +was simple enough. St. Bernard Highway led into St. Claude Avenue and +that melted into North Rampart street, one of the boundaries of the old +French city.</p> + +<p>"Can't we go slower?" complained Ricky. "I'd like to see some of the +city without getting a crick in my neck from looking over my shoulder. +Watch out for St. Anne Street. That's one corner of Beauregarde Square, +the old Congo Square—"</p> + +<p>"Where the slaves used to dance on Sundays before the war. I know; I've +read just as many guide-books as you have. But there is such a thing as +obstructing traffic. Also we have about a million and one things to do +this afternoon. We can explore later. Here we are; Bienville Avenue. No, +I will <i>not</i> stop so that you can see that antique store. Six blocks to +the right," Val reminded himself.</p> + +<p>"Val, that was the Absinthe House we just passed!"</p> + +<p>"Yes? Well, it would have been better for a certain ancestor of ours if +he had passed it, too. That was Jean Lafitte's headquarters at one time. +Exchange Street—the next is ours."</p> + +<p>They turned into Chartres Street and pulled up in the next block at the +corner of Iberville. A four-story house coated with grayish plaster, its +windows framed with faded green shutters and its door painted the same +misty color, confronted them. There was a tiny shop on the first floor.</p> + +<p>A weathered sign over the door announced that Bonfils et Cie. did +business within, behind the streaked and bluish glass of the small +curved window-panes. But what business Bonfils and Company conducted was +left entirely to the imagination of the passer-by. Val locked the +roadster and took from Ricky the long legal-looking envelope which +Rupert had given them to deliver to Mr. LeFleur.</p> + +<p>Ricky was staring in a puzzled manner at the shop when her brother took +her by the arm. "Are you sure that you have the right place? This +doesn't look like an office to me."</p> + +<p>"We have to go around to the courtyard entrance. LeFleur occupies the +second floor."</p> + +<p>A small wooden door, reinforced with hinges of hand-wrought iron, opened +before them, making them free of a courtyard paved with flagstones. In +the center a tall tree shaded the flower bed at its foot and threw +shadows upon the first of the steps leading to the upper floors. The +Ralestones frankly stared about them. This was the first house of the +French Quarter they had seen, although their name might have admitted +them to several closely guarded Creole strongholds. LeFleur's house +followed a pattern common to the old city. The lower floor fronting on +the street was in use only as a shop or store-room. In the early days +each shopkeeper lived above his place of business and rented the third +and fourth floors to aristocrats in from their plantations for the +fashionable season.</p> + +<p>A long, narrow ell ran back from the main part of the house to form one +side of the courtyard. The ground floor of this contained the old slave +quarters and kitchens, while the second was cut into bedrooms which had +housed the young men of the family so that they could come and go at +will without disturbing the more sedate members of the household. These +small rooms were now in use as the offices of Mr. LeFleur. From the +balcony, running along the ell, onto which each room opened, one could +look down into the courtyard. It was on this balcony that the lawyer met +them with outstretched hands after they had given their names to his +dark, languid young clerk.</p> + +<p>"But this is good of you!" René LeFleur beamed on them impartially. He +was a small, plumpish, round-faced man in his early forties, who spoke +in perpetual italics. His eyebrows, arched over-generously by Nature, +gave him a look of never-ending astonishment at the world and all its +works. But his genial smile was kindness itself. Unaccustomed as Val was +to sudden enthusiasms, he found himself liking René LeFleur almost +before his hand gripped Val's.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ralestone, it is a pleasure, a very great pleasure, to see you +here! And this," he turned to Val, "this must be that brother Valerius +both you and Mr. Ralestone spoke so much of during our meeting in New +York. You have safely recovered from that most unfortunate accident, Mr. +Ralestone? But of course, your presence here is my answer. And how do +you like Louisiana, Miss Ralestone?" His eyes behind his gold-rimmed +eyeglasses sparkled as he tilted his head a fraction toward Ricky as if +to hear the clearer.</p> + +<p>"Well enough. Though we've seen very little of it yet, Mr. LeFleur."</p> + +<p>"When you have seen Pirate's Haven," he replied, "you have seen much of +Louisiana."</p> + +<p>"But we're forgetting our manners!" exclaimed the girl. "We want to +thank you for everything you've done for us. Rupert said to tell you +that while he doesn't care for beans as a rule, the beans we found in +our cupboard were very superior beans."</p> + +<p>Mr. LeFleur hooted with laughter like a small boy. "He is droll, is that +brother of yours. And has Sam been to see you?"</p> + +<p>"Sam and—Lucy," answered Ricky with emphasis. "Lucy has decided to take +us in hand. She has installed Letty-Lou over our protests."</p> + +<p>The little lawyer nodded complacently. "Yes, Lucy will take care of you. +She is a master housekeeper and cook—ah!" His eyes rolled upward. "And +Mr. Ralestone, how is he?"</p> + +<p>"All right. He's going over the farm with Sam this afternoon. We were +sent in his place to give you the papers he spoke to you about."</p> + +<p>At Ricky's answer, Val held out the envelope he had carried. To their +joint surprise, LeFleur pounced upon it and withdrew to the window of +the room into which he had conducted them. There he spread out the four +sheets of yellowed paper which the envelope had contained.</p> + +<p>"What were we carrying?" whispered Ricky. "Part of Rupert's deep, dark +secret?"</p> + +<p>"No," her brother hissed back, "those are the plans of the Patagonian +fort which were stolen from the Russian Embassy last Thursday by the +beautiful woman spy disguised with a long green beard. You know, the +proper first chapter of an international espionage thriller. You are the +dumb but beautiful newspaper reporter on the scent, and I—"</p> + +<p>"The even dumber G-man who spends most of his time running three steps +ahead of Fu Chew Chow and his gang of oriental demons. In the second +chapter—"</p> + +<p>But a glance at Mr. LeFleur's face as he turned away from the window put +an end to their nonsense. Gone was his smile, his beaming good-will +toward the world. He seemed a little tired, a trifle stooped. "Not here +then," he said slowly to himself as he slipped the papers back into the +envelope.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Valerius," he looked up at the boy very seriously, "the LeFleurs +have served the Ralestones, acting as their men of business, for over a +hundred years. We owe your family a great debt. When young Denys LeFleur +was shipped over here to New Orleans under false accusation of his +enemies, the first Richard Ralestone became his patron. He helped the +boy salvage something from the wreck of the LeFleur fortunes in France +to start anew in a decent profession under tolerable surroundings, when +others of his kind died miserably as beggars on the mud flats. Twice +before have we been forced to be the bearers of ill news, but—" he +shrugged, "that was in the past. This lies in the future."</p> + +<p>"What does?" asked Ricky.</p> + +<p>"It is such a tangle," he said, running his hand through his short, +gray-streaked hair. "A tangle such as lawyers are supposed to delight +in. But they don't, I assure you that they don't, Miss Ralestone. Not if +they have their client's interest at heart. You know, of course, of the +missing Ralestone—Roderick?"</p> + +<p>Ricky and Val both nodded. Mr. LeFleur spread out his plump hands in a +queer little gesture as if he were pushing something away. "This whole +unfortunate business begins with him. As far as we know today, he and +his brother were co-owners of Pirate's Haven. When young Roderick +disappeared, he was still part owner. Although he was presumed dead, he +was never lawfully declared so. Pirate's Haven was simply assumed to be +the property of your branch of the family."</p> + +<p>"Our branch of the family?" Val echoed him. "Do you mean that some +descendant of Roderick has appeared to put in a claim?"</p> + +<p>"That is the problem. Three days ago a man came to my office. He said +that he is the direct descendant of Roderick Ralestone and that he can +produce proof of that fact."</p> + +<p>"And he wants his share of the estate?" asked Ricky shrewdly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He can keep on wanting," Val said shortly. "We've nothing to give."</p> + +<p>"There's Pirate's Haven," pointed out Mr. LeFleur.</p> + +<p>"But he can't—" Ricky's hand closed about her brother's wrist.</p> + +<p>"Naturally he can't take it," Val assured her hotly. "Pirate's Haven is +ours. This looks to me like blackmail. He'll threaten to stir up a lot +of trouble unless we buy him off."</p> + +<p>Mr. LeFleur nodded. "That is perhaps the motive behind it all."</p> + +<p>"Well," Val forced a laugh, "then he loses. We haven't the money to buy +him off."</p> + +<p>"Neither have you the money to fight a case through the courts, Mr. +Valerius," answered the lawyer soberly.</p> + +<p>"But there is some chance, there must be!" urged Ricky.</p> + +<p>"I submitted the full case to Mr. John Stanton yesterday—Mr. Stanton is +our local authority on cases of this type. He has informed me that there +is a single ray of hope. Frankly, I find this claimant a dubious person, +but a shrewd one. He knows that he has the advantage now, but should we +gain the upper hand, we could, I believe, rid ourselves of him. Our +chance lies in the past. This was first a French and then a Spanish +colony. Under both rules the law of primogeniture sometimes held force. +That is, an estate passed to the eldest son of a family. Your estate was +such a one. In fact, we possess in this very office old charters and +papers which state that the property was entailed after the European +custom. If that were so, the courts might declare that the elder of the +twins born in 1788 was the sole owner of Pirate's Haven.</p> + +<p>"But which of the twin brothers was the elder? You will say at once, +Richard. But your rival will say Roderick. And there is no proof. For in +the spring, two months after the birth of the boys, most of the family +papers were destroyed in the great fire which almost wiped out the city +and burned the Ralestone town house. There is no birth record in +existence. I appealed to your brother to return to me these papers which +Miles Ralestone took north with him after the war. You returned them +today but there was nothing in them of any value to this case.</p> + +<p>"However, if you can find such proof, that Richard Ralestone was the +elder and thus the legal heir under the laws of Spain, then we shall +have a solid fact upon which to base our fight."</p> + +<p>"There is such a proof," began Ricky slowly.</p> + +<p>"What? Where?" demanded Mr. LeFleur.</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember, Val," she turned to him, "what Rupert said about +the Luck last night—that the names of the heirs were engraved upon its +blade? We'll have to find the Luck! We'll just have to!"</p> + +<p>"But Roderick took the Luck with him. And if it's still in existence, +this rival will have it now," her brother reminded her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course, I was forgetting—" her voice trailed off into silence +and Val stared at her with a dropped jaw. Such a quick change of manner +was totally unlike Ricky. "Yes," she repeated slowly and distinctly, "I +guess we're the losers—"</p> + +<p>"For Pete's sake—" he began hotly and then he saw her hand making +furious motions in his direction from behind the screen of her large +purse. "Well, I suppose we are in a hole." He managed to mend his tone a +fraction. "Rupert will probably be in to see you tomorrow, Mr. LeFleur."</p> + +<p>"It would be well for him to become acquainted with the whole matter as +quickly as possible," agreed the unhappy Creole. "You may tell Mr. +Ralestone that I am, of course, having this claimant thoroughly +investigated. We shall have to wait and see. Time is a big factor," he +murmured as if to himself.</p> + +<p>Ricky smiled brightly. There was a sort of eagerness about her, as if +she were wild to be off. "Then we'll say good-bye for the present, Mr. +LeFleur. And may I mention again how much we have appreciated your +thoughtfulness?"</p> + +<p>René LeFleur aroused himself. "But it was a pleasure, a very great +pleasure, Miss Ralestone. You are returning to Pirate's Haven now?"</p> + +<p>"Well—" she hesitated. Mystified at what lay behind her unexplainable +actions, Val could only stand and listen. "We did have some errands. Of +course, this news—"</p> + +<p>LeFleur gestured widely. "But it will come all right. It must. There are +papers somewhere."</p> + +<p>Firmly Ricky broke away from more protracted farewells. As the +Ralestones turned out of the courtyard into which their host had +conducted them, Val matched his step with hers.</p> + +<p>"Well? What's the matter?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"We had an eavesdropper."</p> + +<p>Val stopped short. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I was facing the door to the balcony. There was the shadow of a head on +the floor. When you spoke about Rick having the sword, it went away—the +shadow, I mean. But someone had been listening and now he knows about +the Luck and what it means to us."</p> + +<p>Aiming a kick at the nearest tire of the roadster, Val regarded the +mud-stained rubber moodily. "Fine mess!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't it? And there seems to be no loose end to the thing," Ricky +protested. "It's like holding a big tangle of wool and being told to +have it all straightened out before night—the plot of a fairy-tale. We +have so many odd sections but no ends. There's that boy in the garden +this morning who said that he has as much right at Pirate's Haven as we +have, and then there's that handkerchief, and now this man who claims +half the estate—"</p> + +<p>"And our mysterious listener," finished her brother. "What shall we do +now? Go home?"</p> + +<p>"No. We might as well do the errands." She seated herself in the car. +"Val—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I know one thing." She leaned toward him and her eyes shone green as +they did when she was excited or greatly troubled. "We aren't going to +let go of our tangle until we do find an end. We <i>are</i> the Ralestones of +Pirate's Haven and we are going to continue to be the Ralestones of +Pirate's Haven."</p> + +<p>"In spite of the enemy? I agree." Val stepped on the starter. "You know, +a hundred years ago there would have been a very simple remedy for this +rival-claimant business."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Pistols for two—coffee for one. Rupert or I would have met him out at +the dueling oaks and that would have been the end of him."</p> + +<p>"Or you. But dueling—here!"</p> + +<p>"Very common. The finest fencing masters on the North American continent +plied their trade here. Why, one, Pepe Llula, the most famous duelist of +his time, became the guardian of a cemetery just so, as gossip rumored, +he could have some place to bury his opponents.</p> + +<p>"Then on the other hand, if dueling were too risky, we might have had +him voodooed, had we lived back in the good old days. Paid that voodoo +queen—what was her name? Marie something or other—to put a curse on +him so he'd just wither away."</p> + +<p>"And serve him right, too." Ricky stared straight before her. "I don't +know how you feel about it, but I'm not going to give up Pirate's Haven +without a fight. It's—it's the first real home we've ever had. Rupert's +older; he's spent his time traveling and seeing the world; it may not +mean so much to him. But you and I, Val—You know what it's been like! +Schools, and spending the holidays with aunts or in those frightful +camps, never getting a chance to be together. We can't—we just can't +have this only to lose it again. We can't!" her voice broke.</p> + +<p>"So we won't."</p> + +<p>"Val, when you say things like that, I can almost believe them. If—if +we do lose, let's stick together this time. Promise?" her voice lifted +in an effort toward lightness.</p> + +<p>"I promise. After this it will be the two of us together. Do you know, +I've never really had a chance to get acquainted with my very +good-looking sister."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I can't very well curtsy while sitting down in here, but +'thank yuh for them purty words, stranger.' And now for the express +station. Then you are to stop at the Southeastern News Association +headquarters for something of Rupert's and—"</p> + +<p>The afternoon went quickly enough. They despatched the rest of their +possessions from the express station to Pirate's Haven, went on a round +of miscellaneous shopping, picked up a weighty box at the News +Association, and ended up at five o'clock by visiting that institution +of New Orleans, a coffee-house. Ricky was earnestly peeking into one of +her ten or so small bags. They had parked the car and Val complained +that he had become a sort of packhorse, and anything but patient one.</p> + +<p>"What if your feet do hurt," his sister said wearily as she closed the +bag and reached for another. "So do mine. These sidewalks feel like +red-hot iron. I'll bet I could do one of those fakir tricks where you're +supposed to walk over red-hot plowshares."</p> + +<p>"Not only my feet but also my backbone is protesting. Whether you have +reached the end of that <i>Anthony Adverse</i> of a shopping list or not, +we're going home! And what <i>are</i> you looking for? You've opened all +those bags at least twice and dropped no less than three on the floor +each time," he snapped irritably.</p> + +<p>"My pralines. I'm sure I gave them to you to carry. I've heard of New +Orleans pralines all my life, so I got some today and now they've +disappeared."</p> + +<p>"They were probably included in that last arm-load of parcels I stowed +in the car. Are you through?"</p> + +<p>Ricky looked into her coffee-cup. "It's empty, so I guess I am. Where is +the car? I'm so lost I don't know where we are now."</p> + +<p>"We left it about three blocks away on the sunny side of the street," +Val informed her with the relish of one who is thoroughly tired of his +present existence. "If this is your usual behavior on a shopping trip, +Rupert may bring you in the next time. Half an hour to choose a +toothbrush-mug in the ten-cent store!"</p> + +<p>"For a person who spends a good fifteen minutes matching a tie and a +handkerchief," sniffed Ricky as she rose, "you're in a hurry to +criticize others."</p> + +<p>"Come <i>on</i>!" her brother almost howled as he scooped up the packages.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, we won't have to get supper or wash the dishes or anything." +She pulled off her hat as she settled herself in the car. "It's so +beastly hot, but it'll be cooler at home. Do you suppose we could go +swimming in the bayou?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not." Val guided the roadster into a side street. +"Where's that map of the city? We've got to see how to get back on to +North Rampart from here."</p> + +<p>"I'll look." Ricky bent her head and so she did not see the two figures +walking close together and so rapt in conversation that the one on the +curb side brushed against a lamp-post.</p> + +<p>Now just what, considered Val, was the slim young clerk from Mr. +LeFleur's office telling that red-faced man in the too-snug suit? He +would have liked to have overheard a word or two. Perhaps he had become +unduly suspicious but—he had his doubts.</p> + +<p>"We turn left at the next corner," said Ricky.</p> + +<p>Val changed gears and drove on.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES</h3> + + +<p>Val stood on the small ornamental bridge pitching twigs down into the +tiny garden brook. A moody frown creased his forehead. Under his feet +lay a pair of pruning-shears he had borrowed from Sam with the intention +of doing something about the jungle which surrounded Pirate's Haven on +three sides. That is, he had intended doing something, but now—</p> + +<p>"Penny for your thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Lady," he answered dismally without turning around, "you can have a +bushel of them for less than that."</p> + +<p>"There is a neat expression which describes you beautifully at this +moment," commented Ricky as she came up beside her brother. "Have you +ever heard of a 'sour puss?"</p> + +<p>"Several times. Oh, what's the use!" Val kicked at a long twig. A warm +wind brought in its hold the heavy scent of flowering bushes and trees. +His shirt clung to his shoulders damply. It was hot even in the shade of +the oaks. Rupert had gone to town to see LeFleur and hear the worst, so +that Pirate's Haven, save for themselves and Letty-Lou, was deserted.</p> + +<p>"Come on," Ricky's arm slid through his, "let's explore. Think of +it—we've been here two whole days and we don't know yet what our back +yard looks like. Rupert says that our land runs clear down into the +swamp. Let's go see."</p> + +<p>"But I was going to—" He made a feeble beginning toward stooping for +the pruning-shears.</p> + +<p>"Val Ralestone, nobody can work outdoors in this heat, and you know it. +Now come on. Bring those with you and we'll leave them in the carriage +house as we pass it. You know," she continued as they went along the +path, "the trouble with us is that we haven't enough to do. What we need +is a good old-fashioned job."</p> + +<p>"I thought we were going to be treasure hunters," he protested +laughingly.</p> + +<p>"That's merely a side-line. I'm talking about the real thing, something +which will pay us cash money on Saturday nights or thereabout."</p> + +<p>"Well, we can both use a typewriter fairly satisfactorily," Val offered. +"But as you are the world's worst speller and I am apt to become +entangled in my commas, I can't see us the shining lights of any +efficient office. And while we've had expensive educations, we haven't +had practical ones. So what do we do now?"</p> + +<p>"We sit down and think of one thing we're really good at doing and +then—Val, what is that?" She pointed dramatically at a mound of brick +overgrown with vines. To their right and left stretched a row of +tumble-down cabins, some with the roofs totally gone and the doors +fallen from the hinges.</p> + +<p>"The old plantation bake oven, I should say. This must be what's left of +the slave quarters. But where's the carriage house?"</p> + +<p>"It must be around the other side of the big house. Let's try that +direction anyway. But I think you'd better go first and do some +chopping. This dress may be a poor thing but it's my own and likely to +be for some time to come. And short of doing a sort of snake act, I +don't see how we're going to get through there."</p> + +<p>Val applied the shears ruthlessly to vine and bush alike, glad to find +something to attack. The weight of his depression was still upon him. It +was all very well for Ricky to talk so lightly of getting a job, but +talk would never put butter on their bread—if they could afford bread.</p> + +<p>"You certainly have done a fine job of ruining that!"</p> + +<p>Val surpassed Ricky's jump by a good inch. By the old bake oven stood a +woman. A disreputable straw hat with a raveled brim was pulled down over +her untidy honey-colored hair and she was rolling up the sleeves of a +stained smock to bare round brown arms.</p> + +<p>"It's very plain to the eye that you're no gardener," she continued +pleasantly. "And may I ask who you are and what you are doing here? This +place is not open to trespassers, you know."</p> + +<p>"We did think we would explore," answered Ricky meekly. "You see, this +all belongs to my brother." She swept her hand about in a wide circle.</p> + +<p>"And just who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Rupert Ralestone of Pirate's Haven."</p> + +<p>"Good—!" Their questioner's hand flew to cover her mouth, and at the +comic look of dismay which appeared on her face, Ricky's laugh sounded. +A moment later the stranger joined in her mirth.</p> + +<p>"And here I thought that I was being oh so helpful to an absent +landlord," she chuckled. "And this brother of yours is <i>my</i> landlord!"</p> + +<p>"How—? Why, we didn't know that."</p> + +<p>"I've rented your old overseer's house and am using it for my studio. By +the way, introductions are in order, I believe. I am Charity Biglow, +from Boston as you might guess. Only beans and the Bunker Hill Monument +are more Boston than the Biglows."</p> + +<p>"I'm Richanda Ralestone and this is my brother Valerius."</p> + +<p>Miss Biglow grinned cheerfully at Val. "That won't do, you know; too +romantic by far. I once read a sword-and-cloak romance in which the hero +answered to the name of Valerius."</p> + +<p>"I haven't a cloak nor a sword and my friends generally call me Val, so +I hope I'm acceptable," he grinned back at her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed you are—both of you. And what are you doing now?"</p> + +<p>"Trying to find a building known as the carriage house. I'm beginning to +believe that its existence is wholly mythical," Val replied.</p> + +<p>"It's over there, simply yards from the direction in which you're +heading. But suppose you come and visit me instead. Really, as part +landlords, you should be looking into the condition of your rentable +property."</p> + +<p>She turned briskly to the left down the lane on which were located the +slave cabins and guided the Ralestones along a brick-paved path into a +clearing where stood a small house of typical plantation style. The +lower story was of stone with steep steps leading to a balcony which ran +completely around the second floor of the house.</p> + +<p>As they reached the balcony she pulled off her hat and threw it in the +general direction of a cane settee. Without that wreck of a hat, with +the curls of her long bob flowing free, she looked years younger.</p> + +<p>"Make yourselves thoroughly at home. After all, this is your house, you +know."</p> + +<p>"But we didn't," protested Ricky. "Mr. LeFleur didn't tell us a thing +about you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he didn't know." Charity Biglow was pinning back her curls. "I +rented from Harrison."</p> + +<p>"Like the bathroom," Val murmured and looked up to find them staring at +him. "Oh, I just meant that you were another improvement that he had +installed," he stammered. Miss Biglow nodded in a satisfied sort of way. +"Spoken like a true southern gentleman, though I don't think in the old +days that bathrooms would have crept into a compliment paid to a lady. +Now I did have some lemonade—if you will excuse me," and she was gone +into the house.</p> + +<p>Ricky smiled. "I like our tenant," she said softly.</p> + +<p>"You don't expect me to disagree with that, do you?" her brother had +just time enough to ask before their hostess appeared again complete +with tray, glasses, and a filled pitcher which gave forth the refreshing +sound of clinking ice. And after her paraded an old friend of theirs, +tail proudly erect. "There's our cat!" cried Ricky.</p> + +<p>Val snapped his fingers. "Here, Satan."</p> + +<p>After staring round-eyed at both of them, the cat crossed casually to +the settee and proceeded to sharpen his claws.</p> + +<p>"Well, I like that! After I shared my bed with the brute, even though I +didn't know it until the next morning," Val exploded.</p> + +<p>"Why, where did you meet Cinders?" asked Miss Biglow as she put down the +tray.</p> + +<p>"He came to us the first night we were at Pirate's Haven," explained +Ricky. "I thought he was a ghost or something when he scratched at the +back door."</p> + +<p>"So that's where he was. He used to go over to the Harrisons' for meals +a lot. When I'm working I don't keep very regular hours and he doesn't +like to be neglected. Come here, Cinders, and make your manners."</p> + +<p>Replying to her invitation with an insolent flirt of his tail, Cinders, +whom Val continued obstinately to regard as "Satan," disappeared around +the corner of the balcony. Charity Biglow looked at them solemnly. "So +obedient," she observed; "just like a child."</p> + +<p>"Are you an artist, too?" Ricky asked as she put down her glass.</p> + +<p>Miss Biglow's face wrinkled into a grimace. "My critics say not. I +manage to provide daily bread and sometimes a slice of cake by doing +illustrations for action stories. And then once in a while I labor for +the good of my soul and try to produce something my more charitable +friends advise me to send to a show."</p> + +<p>"May—may we see some of them—the pictures, I mean?" inquired Ricky +timidly.</p> + +<p>"If you can bear it. I use the side balcony for a workshop in this kind +of weather. I'm working on a picture now, something more ambitious than +I usually attempt in heat of this sort. But my model didn't show up this +morning so I'm at a loose end."</p> + +<p>She led them around the corner where Satan had disappeared and pointed +to a table with a sketching board at one end, several canvases leaning +face against the house, and an easel covered with a clean strip of +linen. "My workshop. A trifle untidy, but then I am an untidy person. +I'm expecting an order so I'm just whiling away my time working on an +idea of my own until it comes."</p> + +<p>Ricky touched the strip of covering across the canvas on the easel. "May +I?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It might be a help, getting some other person's reaction to the +thing. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do when I started but I +don't think it's turning out to be what I planned."</p> + +<p>Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl091" id="ianrl091"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl091.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4><i>Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"But that is he!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Charity Biglow turned to the boy. "And what do you mean—"</p> + +<p>"That's the boy I found in the garden, Ricky!"</p> + +<p>"Is it?" She stared, fascinated, at the lean brown face, the untidy +black hair, the bitter mouth, which their hostess had so skilfully +caught in her unfinished drawing.</p> + +<p>"So you've met Jeems." Miss Biglow looked at Val thoughtfully. "And what +did you think of him?"</p> + +<p>"It's rather—what did he think of me. He seemed to hate me. I don't +know why. All I ever said to him was 'Hello.'"</p> + +<p>"Jeems is a queer person—"</p> + +<p>"Sam says that he is none too honest," observed Ricky, her attention +still held by the picture.</p> + +<p>Miss Biglow shook her head. "There is a sort of feud between the swamp +people and the farmers around here. And neither side is wholly to be +believed in their estimation of the other. Jeems isn't dishonest, and +neither are a great many of the muskrat hunters. In the early days all +kinds of outlaws and wanted men fled into the swamps and lived there +with the hunters. One or two desperate men gave the whole of the swamp +people a bad name and it has stuck. They are a strange folk back there +in the fur country.</p> + +<p>"Some are Cajuns, descendants of exiles from Evangeline's country; some +are Creoles who took to that way of life after the Civil War ruined +them. There's many a barefooted boy or girl of the swamps who bears a +name that was once honored at the Court of France or Spain. And there +are Americans of the old frontier stock who came down river with Andrew +Jackson's army from the wilds of Tennessee and the Indian country. It's +a strange mixture, and once in a while you find a person like Jeems. He +speaks the uneducated jargon of his people but he reads and writes +French and English perfectly. He has studied under Père Armand until he +has a classical education such as was popular for Creole boys of good +family some fifty years ago. Père Armand is an old man now, but he is as +good an instructor as he is a priest.</p> + +<p>"Jeems wants to make something of himself. He argues logically that the +swamp has undeveloped resources which might save its inhabitants from +the grinding poverty which is slowly destroying them. And it is Jeems' +hope that he can discover some of the swamp secrets when he is fitted by +training to do so."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" Val asked. "Is Jeems his first or last name?"</p> + +<p>"His last. I have never heard his given name. He is very reticent about +his past, though I do know that he is an orphan. But he is of Creole +descent and he does have breeding as well as ambition. Unfortunately he +had quite an unpleasant experience with a boy who was visiting the +Harrisons last summer. The visitor accused Jeems of taking a fine rifle +which was later discovered right where the boy had left it in his own +canoe. Jeems has a certain pride and he was turned against all the +plantation people. His attitude is unfortunate because he longs so for a +different sort of life and yet has no contact with young people except +those of the swamp. I think he is beginning to trust me, for he will +come in the mornings to pose for my picture of the swamp hunter. Do you +know," she hesitated, "I think that you would find a real friend in +Jeems if you could overcome his hatred of plantation people. You would +gain as much as he from such an association. He can tell you things +about the swamp—stories which go back to the old pirate days. +Perhaps—"</p> + +<p>Ricky looked up from the uncompleted picture. "I think he'd be nice to +know. But why does he look so—so sort of starved?"</p> + +<p>"Probably because the bill of fare in a swamp cabin is not as varied as +it might be," answered Charity Biglow. "But you can't offer him +anything, of course. I don't even know where he lives. And now, tell me +about yourselves. Are you planning to live here?"</p> + +<p>Her frank interest seemed perfectly natural. One simply couldn't resent +Charity Biglow.</p> + +<p>"Well," Ricky laughed ruefully, "we can't very well live anywhere else. +I think Rupert still has ten dollars—"</p> + +<p>"After his expedition this morning, I would have my doubts of that," Val +cut in. "You see, Miss Biglow, we are back to the soil now."</p> + +<p>"Charity is the name," she corrected him. "So you're down—"</p> + +<p>"But not out!" Ricky hastened to assure her. "But we might be that." And +then and there she told their tenant of the rival claimant.</p> + +<p>Charity listened closely, absent-mindedly sucking the wooden shaft of +one of her brushes. When Ricky had done, she nodded.</p> + +<p>"Nice mess you've dropped into. But I think that your lawyer has the +right idea. This is a neat piece of blackmail and your claimant will +disappear into thin air if you have a few concrete facts to face him +down with. Are you sure you've looked through all the family papers? No +hiding-places or safes—"</p> + +<p>"One," said Ricky calmly, "but we don't know where that is. In the Civil +War days, after General Butler took over New Orleans, some family +possessions were hidden somewhere in the Long Hall, but we don't know +where. The secret was lost when Richard Ralestone was shot by Yankee +raiders."</p> + +<p>"Is he the ghost?" asked Charity.</p> + +<p>"No. You ask that as if you know something," Val observed.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but talk. There have been lights seen, white ones. And a while +back my maid Rose left because she saw something in the garden one +night."</p> + +<p>"Jeems, probably," the boy commented. "He seems to like the place."</p> + +<p>"No, not Jeems. He was sitting right on that railing when we both heard +Rose scream."</p> + +<p>"Val, the handkerchief!" Ricky's hand arose to her buttoned pocket. +"Then there <i>was</i> someone inside the house that night. But why—unless +they were after the treasure!"</p> + +<p>"The quickest way to find out," her brother got up from the edge of the +table where he had perched, "is to go and do a little probing of our +own. We have a good two hours until lunch. Will you join us?" he asked +Charity.</p> + +<p>"You tempt me, but I've got to get in as much work on this as I can," +she indicated her canvas. "And Jeems may show up even if it is late. So +my conscience says 'No.' Unfortunately I do possess a regular +rock-ribbed New England conscience."</p> + +<p>"Rupert will be back by four," said Ricky. "Will your conscience let you +come over for coffee with us then? You see how quickly we have adopted +the native customs—coffee at four."</p> + +<p>"Ricky," her brother explained, "desires to become that figure of +Romance—the southern belle."</p> + +<p>"Then we must do what we can to help her create the proper atmosphere," +urged Charity solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Even to the victoria and the coach-hound?" Val demanded in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps not that far," she laughed. "Anyway, I accept your kind +invitation with pleasure. I shall be there at four—if I can find a +presentable dress. Now clear out, you two, and see what secrets of the +past you can uncover before lunch time."</p> + +<p>But their explorations resulted in nothing except slightly frayed +tempers. Val had sounded what paneling there was, but as he had no idea +what a hollow panel should sound like if rapped, he inwardly decided +that he was not exactly fitted for such investigations.</p> + +<p>Ricky broke two fingernails pressing the carving about the fireplace and +sat down on the couch to state in no uncertain terms what she thought of +the house, and of their ancestor who had been so misguided as to get +himself shot after hiding the stuff. She ended with a brilliant but +short description of Val's present habits and vices—which she added +because he happened to have said meekly enough that if she would only +trim her nails to a reasonable length, such accidents could be avoided.</p> + +<p>When she had done, her brother sat back on the lowest step of the stairs +and wiped his hands on his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Seeing that I have been crawling about on my hands and knees inspecting +cracks in the floor, I think I have as much right to lose my temper as +you have. Short of tearing the house down, I don't see how we are going +to find anything without directions. And I am <i>not</i> in favor of taking +such a drastic step as yet."</p> + +<p>"It's around here somewhere, I know it!" She kicked petulantly at the +hearth-stone.</p> + +<p>"That statement is certainly a big help," Val commented. "Several yards +across and I don't know how many up and down—and you just know it's +there somewhere. Well, you can keep on pressing until you wear your +fingers out, but I'm calling it a day right now."</p> + +<p>She did not answer, and he got stiffly to his feet. He was hot and more +tired than he had been since he had left the hospital. Because he was +just as sure as Ricky that the key to their riddle must be directly +before them at that moment, he was thoroughly disgusted.</p> + +<p>A strange sound from his sister brought him around. Ricky was not pretty +when she cried. No pearly drops slipped down white cheeks. Her nose +shone red and she sniffed. But Ricky did not cry often. Only when she +was discouraged, or when she was really hurt.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ricky—" Val began uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"Go 'way," she hiccupped. "You don't care—you don't care 'bout +anything. If we have to lose this—"</p> + +<p>"We won't! We'll find a way!" he assured her hurriedly. "I'm sorry I +snapped at you. I'm just tired and hot, and so are you. Let's go +upstairs and freshen up. Lunch will be ready—"</p> + +<p>"I kno-o-ow—" her sob deepened into a wail. "Then Rupert will laugh at +us and—"</p> + +<p>"Ricky! For goodness sake, pull yourself together!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, round-mouthed in surprise at his sharpness. And +then to his amazement she began to giggle, her giggles mixed with her +sobs. "You do look so funny," she gasped, "like the stern father of a +family. Why don't you fight back always when I get mean, Val?"</p> + +<p>He grinned back at her. "I don't know. Shall I, next time?"</p> + +<p>She rubbed her face with a businesslike air and tucked her handkerchief +away. "There isn't going to be any next time," she announced briskly. +"If there is—well—"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Val prompted.</p> + +<p>"Then you can just spank me or something drastic. Come on, I must look a +sight. And goodness knows, you're no beauty with that black mark across +your chin and your slacks all grimy at the knees. We've got to clean up +before lunch or Letty-Lou will think we're some sort of heathen."</p> + +<p>With that she turned and led the way upstairs, totally recovered and +herself again in spite of a red nose and suspiciously moist eyelashes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS</h3> + + +<p>"Val, did that cat go upstairs?" Ricky stood at the foot of the hall +staircase frowning crossly. "If he did, you'll just have to go up and +get him. I will not have him walking on the beds with muddy feet. +There's enough to do here without cleaning up after a lazy cat. Where's +Rupert?"</p> + +<p>Her brother put aside his note-book and got up from the couch with a +lazy stretch. Ricky's early-morning energy was apt to be a little +irksome and Val had not had a good night. When one lies and stares up at +a ceiling, one sometimes hears strange noises which cannot be accounted +for by wind or creaking boards.</p> + +<p>"He retired into Bluebeard's den right after breakfast and he hasn't +appeared since."</p> + +<p>"I should think that after what he heard yesterday he'd be doing +something," she protested.</p> + +<p>"And what is there for him to do? You know just how far we got with our +investigations yesterday. Go rap on his door if you like and stir him +up. But I don't think his welcome will be a cordial one."</p> + +<p>Ricky sat down on the bottom step and pushed the hair back from her +forehead. Suddenly she looked very small and faintly forlorn with all +that expanse of age-blackened wood behind her.</p> + +<p>"I can't understand you two at all. One would think you would be just as +well pleased if that Beezel the rival walked off with this place. You +aren't even trying to fight!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Ricky, how can we fight when we have nothing solid to fight +with? LeFleur is doing all he can, we have explored every possibility +here—"</p> + +<p>"Val, don't you <i>want</i> to stay here?" she interrupted him.</p> + +<p>He looked around at stone and wood. Did he really want to? His instant +hot anger at the thought of another owner there was his answer. Why, +this house was a part of them, as much as if they had laid its +foundation stones with their own hands. They had been brought up on its +blood-stained legends, and on the one or two happier tales which had +been lived within its walls. If they had to leave, they would regret it +all their lives. And yet—Rupert seemed to take no interest in the +claims of the rival, and only Ricky wanted to fight.</p> + +<p>Ricky got up from the stairs.</p> + +<p>"We might as well go up and catch that cat," she said.</p> + +<p>At the top of the stairs Satan sat, his eyes upon the landing windows. +Val reached out his hands for him, but in that single instant Satan was +gone. A black tail disappeared around the door of the Jackson room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, I hope he isn't going to get on that bed." Ricky opened the +door wider. "No, there he goes under instead of on it. Can you see him, +Val?"</p> + +<p>Her brother crouched and lifted the edge of the brocaded cover which +swept to the floor. To Val's surprise a thin line of light showed along +the wall at the head of the bed.</p> + +<p>"Ricky, look behind the head of the bed! Is it fast against the wall?"</p> + +<p>She started to the tall canopied head and pulled the faded fabrics away +from the paneling. "No, there's about two feet here at the bottom. It +doesn't show because the canopy covers it. And, Val, there's an opening +here! Satan's trying to get through!"</p> + +<p>"We need a flashlight."</p> + +<p>"I'll get Rupert's. Val, promise not to go in—if it <i>is</i> a door—until +I come back!"</p> + +<p>"Of course; but hurry."</p> + +<p>The flashlight revealed a wide panel which slid upward. Time and damp +had warped the wood so that it no longer fitted snugly to the floor as +the builder had intended. But the same warping made the door defy their +efforts to raise it any higher. At last, by prying and pounding, they +got it up perhaps a yard from the floor. Satan slipped through and they +followed on hands and knees.</p> + +<p>They crawled into a small room lighted by two round windows set like +eyes in the side wall. More than three-quarters of the space was filled +with furniture and boxes wrapped in tarred canvas. The choking dust and +general mustiness of the long-closed apartment drove Val to investigate +the window fastenings and throw them open to the morning air.</p> + +<p>"There must be another door somewhere," he said, calling Ricky away from +a box where she was picking at the knotted rope which bound it. "All +these things couldn't have been brought through that hole behind the +bed."</p> + +<p>"Here it is," she said a moment later, pointing to an oblong set flush +with the wall. "It's bolted on this side."</p> + +<p>"Let me open it and see where we are." Val fumbled at the rusty latch, +but he had to use an iron poker from a discarded fire stand in the +corner before he could hammer it back. Again the door resisted their +efforts to push it open until Val flung his full weight against it. With +a snapping report it swung open and he sprawled forward into the short +hall which had once led into the garden wing, an ell of the house +destroyed by roving British raiders during the days of 1815. The only +wholly wooden portion of the house, it had been burnt and never rebuilt.</p> + +<p>"Come on," Ricky pulled at Val's sleeve, "let's explore."</p> + +<p>He looked at his black hands. "I would suggest some soap and water, +several brooms, and some dusting cloths if we're going to do it right. +Better make a regular house-cleaning party of it."</p> + +<p>"Goodness, what have I strayed into?" Charity Biglow stood in the lower +hall staring at the younger Ralestones as they came through from the +kitchen. They had both changed into their oldest and least respectable +clothes. Ricky, in fact, was wearing a pair of Val's slacks and one of +Rupert's shirts, and they were burdened with a broom which was long past +its youth, several smaller brushes, and a great bundle of floor-cloths.</p> + +<p>"We've found a secret room—" began Ricky.</p> + +<p>"As one door has been in plain sight since the building of this house, +it could hardly be called a secret room," Val objected.</p> + +<p>"Well, we didn't know it was there until Satan found the back entrance +for us. And now we're going to clean it out. It's full of furniture and +boxes and things."</p> + +<p>"Don't!" Charity held up a paint-streaked hand. "You will have me +drooling in a moment. I don't suppose you could use another assistant? +After all, it was my cat who found it for you. If you can provide me +with a set of those weird coverings which seem to be your house-cleaning +uniforms, I would just love to wield a broom in your company."</p> + +<p>"The more the merrier," laughed Ricky. "I think Val has another pair of +slacks—"</p> + +<p>"That's right, dispose of my wardrobe before my face," he commented, +balancing his load more carefully in preparation for climbing the +stairs. "Only spare my white flannels, please. I'm saving those for the +occasion when I can play the country gentleman in style."</p> + +<p>Upstairs he braced open the hall door of the storage-room. The open +windows had cleared the air within but they were too high and too small +to admit enough light to reach the far corners. It would be best, they +decided, to carry each box and piece of furniture to the hall for +examination. With the zeal of treasure hunters they set to work.</p> + +<p>Some time later, when Val was coaxing the second box through the door, +they were interrupted.</p> + +<p>"And just what is going on here?" Rupert stood at the end of the hall.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Ricky smiled sweetly, "did we really disturb you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did think that there was a troop of elephants doing tap dancing +up here. But that isn't the point—just <i>what</i> are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Cleaning house." Ricky flicked a gray rag in his direction freeing a +cloud of dust. "Don't you think it needs it?"</p> + +<p>Rupert sneezed. "It seems so. But why—? Miss Biglow!"</p> + +<p>Charity, extremely dirty—she had apparently run dusty hands across her +forehead several times—had come to the door of the storage-room. At the +sight of Rupert she flushed and made a hurried attempt at smoothing her +hair.</p> + +<p>"I—" she began, when Ricky interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Charity is helping us, which is more than we can say of you. Go back to +your old den and hibernate. And then you can't look down that long nose +of yours when we turn up the papers that'll save us from the poorhouse."</p> + +<p>"That's telling him," Val murmured approvingly as he fanned himself with +one of the cleaner cloths. "But perhaps we had better explain. You see, +Satan went hunting and found work for idle hands," and he told the tale +of the sliding panel behind the bed.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, Rupert laughed. "So you are still determined on +treasure hunting, are you? Well, if it will keep you out of mischief, go +to it."</p> + +<p>"Rupert," Ricky faced him squarely, "don't be utterly insufferable. +If you had one drop of hot blood in you, you'd be just as thrilled +as we are. Just because you've been around and around the world until +you got dizzy or something, you needn't stand there with that +'See-the-little-children-play' smirk on your face. You don't really care +whether we lose Pirate's Haven or not, do you?"</p> + +<p>Rupert straightened and the color crept up across his high cheek-bones. +His mouth opened and then he closed it again without speaking the words +he had intended, closed with a firmness which tightened his lips into a +straight line.</p> + +<p>"Don't stand there and glower at me," Ricky went on. "Why don't you say +what you were going to? I'm just about tired of this world-weary +attitude—"</p> + +<p>"Ricky!" Val clapped his black hand over her mouth and turned to +Charity. "Please excuse the fireworks. They are not usual, I assure +you."</p> + +<p>"Let me go!" Ricky twisted out of his grip. "I don't care if Charity +does hear. She ought to know what we're really like!"</p> + +<p>"Speak for yourself, my pet." The red had faded from Rupert's face. "You +do have a nice little habit of speaking your mind, don't you? But on +this occasion I believe you're at least eight-tenths right. I have been +neglecting my opportunities. Suppose you let me get at that box, Val. +And look here, if you are going to unpack these, why not move them down +to the end of the hall and turn them out on a sheet?"</p> + +<p>Charity and Ricky suddenly disappeared back into the room and were very +busy whenever Rupert crossed their line of vision, but Val was heartily +glad of his brother's help in lifting and pulling.</p> + +<p>"Better not try to take this bedstead and stuff out," Rupert advised +when they had the three boxes out in the hall. "We have no need for it +now, anyway."</p> + +<p>"I believe—yes, it is! A real Sergnoret piece!" Charity was +industriously rubbing away at the head of the bed. Rupert knelt down +beside her.</p> + +<p>"And just what is a Sergnoret piece?"</p> + +<p>"A collector's item nowadays. François Sergnoret was one of the greatest +cabinet-makers of New Orleans. See that 'S'—that's the way he always +signed his work."</p> + +<p>"Treasure trove!" cried Ricky. "I wonder how much it's worth?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly nothing to us." Rupert was running his hands across the +mahogany. "We couldn't sell anything from this house until the title is +cleared."</p> + +<p>As Val moved around to the opposite side to see better, his foot struck +against something on the floor. He stooped and picked up a box with a +slanting cover, the whole black and smooth with age and the rubbing of +countless hands.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" He had crossed to the door and was examining his find in +the light.</p> + +<p>Rupert's hand fell upon his shoulder. "Val, be careful of that. Charity, +he's got something here!" He pulled her up beside him, not noting in his +excitement that he had broken out of the formal shell which seemed to +wall him in whenever she was around.</p> + +<p>"A Bible box! And an authentic one, too!" She drew her fingers down the +slope of the lid.</p> + +<p>"And just what is it?" Val asked for the second time.</p> + +<p>"These boxes were used in the seventeenth century for writing-desks and +later to keep the large family Bibles in. But this is the first one I've +ever seen outside of a museum. What's this on the lid?" She traced a +worn outline. Val studied the design.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Joe! You know, that grinning skull we have stuck up all over +the place to bolster up our superiority complex. That proves that this +is ours, all right."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—" Ricky's eyes were round with excitement, "perhaps it +belonged to Pirate Dick himself!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it did," her younger brother agreed.</p> + +<p>"Lift the lid." She was almost hopping on one foot in her impatience. +"Let's see what's inside."</p> + +<p>"No gold or jewels, I'll wager. How do you get the thing undone?"</p> + +<p>"Here, let me try." Rupert took it from Val's hands and put it down on +one of the chests, squatting on the floor before it. With the smallest +blade of his penknife he delicately probed the fastening sunken in the +wood.</p> + +<p>"I could do a faster job," he remarked, "if you didn't all breathe down +the back of my neck." They retreated two inches or so and waited +impatiently. With a satisfied grunt he dropped his knife and pulled the +lid up.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's nothing in it!" Ricky's cry of disappointment was almost a +wail.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but that old torn lining." Val was as disgusted as she.</p> + +<p>Rupert closed it again. "I'll rub this up some and put in another +lining. This is too good a piece to hide away up here," and he put it +carefully aside at the end of the hall.</p> + +<p>Their investigations yielded nothing more except great quantities of +dust, a mummified rat which even Satan refused to sniff at, and a large +collection of spider webs. Having swept out the room, they went to wash +their hands before unpacking the well-wrapped boxes.</p> + +<p>When their swathing canvas and sacking was thrown aside, the boxes stood +revealed as stout chests banded with iron. Charity paused before one. +"This is a marriage chest, late seventeenth century, I would judge. Look +there, under that carved leaf—isn't that a date?"</p> + +<p>"Sixteen hundred ninety-three," Rupert deciphered. "That crest above it +looks familiar. I know, it belonged to that French lady who married our +pirate ancestor."</p> + + +<p>"The first Lady Richanda!" Ricky touched the chest lovingly. "Then this +is mine, Rupert. Can't it be mine?" she coaxed.</p> + +<p>"Of course. But it's locked, and as we don't have any keys which would +fit the lock, you'll have to wait until we can get a locksmith out to +work on it before you will know what's inside."</p> + +<p>"I don't care. No," she corrected herself, "that's wrong; I do care. But +anyway its mine!" She caressed the stiff carving with her fingers.</p> + +<p>"What's this one?" Val turned to the second box. It, too, was fashioned +of wood, but it was plain where the other was carved, and the iron bands +across it were pitted with rust.</p> + +<p>"A sea chest, I would say." Rupert touched the top gingerly. "By the +feel, it's locked too. And I don't care to play around with it. The men +who made things like these were too fond of having little poisoned fangs +run into your hand when you tried to force the chest without knowing the +trick. We'll have to leave this for an expert, too."</p> + +<p>"What about the third?"</p> + +<p>Charity laughed. "After your two treasures I'm afraid that this will be +a disappointment." She indicated a small humpbacked trunk covered with +moth-eaten horsehair. "No romance here. But the key is tied to the clasp +beside the lock."</p> + +<p>"Then open it before I expire of pure unsatisfied curiosity," Ricky +begged. "Go on, Rupert. Hurry."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said a moment later, "it's full of nothing but a lot of +books."</p> + +<p>"What did you expect," Val asked her, "a skeleton? Do you know, I think +that Rick's ghost, or whatever influence presides over this house, has a +sense of humor. You find a room, or a trunk, or something which makes +you feel that you are on the verge of getting what you want, and then it +all fades into just nothing again. Now, by rights, that writing-desk +should have contained the secret message which would have told us where +to find a hidden passage or something. But what is in it? A couple of +pieces of lining almost completely torn from the bottom. I'll wager that +when you open those chests you'll find nothing but a brick or 'April +Fool' scrawled across the inside. This isn't true to any fiction I ever +read," he ended plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens!" Charity was staring down at what lay within a portfolio +she had opened.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me you have really found something!" Val exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"It can't be true!" She still stared at what she held.</p> + +<p>Ricky looked over her shoulder. "Why, it's nothing but a picture of a +bird," she observed.</p> + +<p>"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity corrected her.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl117" id="ianrl117"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl117.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4><i>"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity said.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"What!" With little regard for manners, Rupert snatched the portfolio +from her hands. "Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But you must take it in to the museum and get an expert opinion. +It's wonderful!"</p> + +<p>"Here's another." Reverently Rupert raised the first sketch and then the +second. "Three, four, five, six," he counted.</p> + +<p>"Was Audubon ever here?" Charity looked about the hall, a sort of awe +coloring her voice.</p> + +<p>"He might easily have been when he lived in New Orleans. Though we have +no record of it," answered Rupert. "But these," he closed the portfolio +carefully and knotted its strings, "speak for themselves. I'll take them +to LeFleur tomorrow. We can't allow them to lie about here."</p> + +<p>"I should hope not!" Charity eyed the portfolio wistfully. "Imagine +actually owning six of those—"</p> + +<p>"They won't pay our bills," said Ricky, practical for once in her life. +Treasure to Ricky was not half a dozen sketches on yellowed paper but +good old-fashioned gold with a few jewels thrown in for her own private +satisfaction. The portfolio and its contents left her unmoved. Val +admitted to himself that he, too, was disappointed. After all—well, +treasure should be treasure.</p> + +<p>Rupert carried the portfolio into his bedroom and locked it in one of +his mysterious brief-cases which had somehow found its way upstairs.</p> + +<p>The two chests they moved out farther into the hall and the trunk was +placed back against the wall, ready for further investigation.</p> + +<p>"Mistuh Ralestone, suh," Letty-Lou, standing half-way up the back +stairs, addressed Rupert, "lunch am on de table. Effen yo'all doan come +now, de eatments will be spiled."</p> + +<p>"All right," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Letty-Lou," called Ricky, "put on another plate. Miss Charity is +staying to lunch."</p> + +<p>"Dat's all ri', Miss 'Chanda. I'se done done dat. Yo'all comin' now?"</p> + +<p>"You see how we are bullied," Ricky appealed to Charity. "Of course +you're going to stay," she swept aside the other's protests. "What's +food for, if not to feed your friends? Val, go wash up; your hands are +frightful. I don't care if you did wash once; go and—"</p> + +<p>"This is her little-mother-of-the-family mood," her younger brother +explained to Charity. "It wears off after a while if you just don't +notice it. But I will wash though," he looked at his hands, "I seem to +need it."</p> + +<p>"And don't use the guest towels," Ricky called after him. "You know that +they're only to look at."</p> + +<p>When Val emerged from the bathroom he found the hall deserted. Sounds +from below suggested that his family had basely left him for food. He +started along the passage. Not far from the stairs was the writing-desk +where Rupert had left it. Val picked it up, thinking that he might as +well take it along down with him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>BY OUR LUCK!</h3> + + +<p>Depositing the desk on the seat of one of the hall chairs, Val started +toward the dining-room, a grim hole which Lucy had calmly forced the +family to use but which they all cordially disliked. Its paneled walls, +crystal-hung chandelier, marble-fronted fireplace, and inlaid floor gave +it the appearance of one of the less cozy rooms in a small palace. There +were also two tasteful portraits of dead ducks which had been added as a +finishing touch by some tenant during the eighties and which still +remained upon the walls to Ricky's unholy joy.</p> + +<p>But the long table, the high-backed chairs, the side serving-table, and +the two tall cabinets of china were fine enough pieces if one cared for +the massive. Ricky's table-cloth of violent-hued peasant linen was not +in keeping with the china and glassware Letty-Lou had set out upon it. +Charity was commenting upon this ensemble as Val entered.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't this red and green plaid seem a bit—well, bright?" The corners +of her mouth twitched betrayingly.</p> + +<p>"No," Ricky returned firmly. "This cloth matches the ducks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, the ducks," Charity eyed them. "So you consider that the ducks +are the note you wish to emphasize?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly." Ricky surveyed the picture hanging opposite her. "I +consider them unique. Not everyone can have ducks in the dining-room +nowadays."</p> + +<p>"For which they should be eternally thankful," observed Rupert. "They +are rather gaudy, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I like the expression in this one's glassy eye," Ricky pointed +out. "You might call this study 'Gone But Not Forgotten.'"</p> + +<p>"Corn-bread, please," Val asked, thus attempting to put an end to the +art-appreciation class.</p> + +<p>"I think," continued Ricky, undisturbed as she passed him the plate +heaped with golden squares, "that they are slightly surrealist. They +distinctly resemble the sort of things one is often pursued by in one's +brighter nightmares."</p> + +<p>"Do you have any really good pictures?" asked Charity, resolutely +averting her gaze from the ducks.</p> + +<p>"Three, but they've been loaned to the museum," answered Rupert. "Not by +well-known painters, but they're historically interesting. There's one +of the first Lady Richanda, and one of the missing Rick. That's the best +of the lot, according to LeFleur. I saw a photograph of it once. Come to +think about it, Val looks a lot like the boy in the picture. He might +have sat for it."</p> + +<p>They all turned to eye Val. He arose and bowed. "I find these +compliments too overwhelming," he murmured.</p> + +<p>Rupert grinned. "And how do you know that that remark was intended as a +compliment?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally I assumed so," his brother retorted with a dignity which +disappeared as the piece of corn-bread in his hand broke in two, the +larger and more liberally buttered portion falling butter side down on +the table. Ricky smiled in a pained sort of way as she attempted to +judge from her side of the table just how much damage Val's awkwardness +had done.</p> + +<p>"If you were the graceful hostess," he informed her severely, "you would +now throw your piece in the middle to show that anyone could suffer a +like mishap."</p> + +<p>Ricky changed the subject hurriedly by passing beans to Charity.</p> + +<p>"So Val looks like the ghost," Charity said a moment later. "Now I will +have to go to town and see that portrait. Just where is it?"</p> + +<p>Rupert shook his head. "I don't know. But it's listed in the catalogue +as 'Portrait of Roderick Ralestone, Aged Eighteen.'"</p> + +<p>"Just Val's age, then." Ricky spooned some watermelon pickles onto her +plate. "But he was older than that when he left here."</p> + +<p>"Let's see. He was born in February, 1788, which would make him fourteen +when his parents died in 1802. Then he disappeared in 1814, twelve years +later. Just twenty-six when he went," computed Rupert.</p> + +<p>"A year younger than you are now," observed Ricky.</p> + +<p>"And nine years older than yourself at this present date," Val added +pleasantly. "Why this sudden interest in mathematics?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. Only somehow I always thought Rick was younger when +he went away. I've always felt sorry for him. Wonder what happened to +him afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"According to our rival," Rupert pulled his coffee-cup before him as +Letty-Lou took away their plates, "he just went quietly away, married, +lived soberly, and brought up a son, who in turn fathered a son, and so +on to the present day. A tame enough ending for our wild privateersman."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet it isn't true. Rick wouldn't end like that. He probably went +off down south and got mixed up in some of the revolutions they were +having at the time," suggested Ricky. "He couldn't just settle down and +die in bed. I could imagine him scuttling a ship but not being a quiet +business man."</p> + +<p>"He was one of Lafitte's men, wasn't he?" asked Charity. At their +answering nods, she went on: "Lafitte was a business man, you know. Oh, +I don't mean that forge he ran in town, but his establishment at Grande +Terre. He was more smuggler than pirate, that's why he lasted so long. +Even the most respected tradesmen had dealings with him. Why, he used to +post notices right in town when he held auctions at Barataria, listing +what he had to sell, mostly smuggled Negroes and a few cargoes of +luxuries from Europe. He was a privateer under the rules of war, but he +was never a real pirate. At least, that's the belief held nowadays."</p> + +<p>"We can't turn up our noses at pirates," laughed Ricky. "This house was +built by pirate gold. We only wish—"</p> + +<p>From the hall came a dull thump. Ricky's napkin dropped from her hand +into her coffee-cup. Rupert laid down his spoon deliberately enough, but +there was a certain tension in his movements. Val felt a sudden chill. +For Letty-Lou was in the kitchen, the family were in the dining-room. +There should be no one in the hall.</p> + +<p>Rupert pushed back his chair. But Val was already half-way to the door +when his brother joined him. And Ricky, suddenly sober, was at their +heels.</p> + +<p><i>Zzzzzrupp!</i> The slitting sound was clear as they burst into the hall. +On the fur rug by the couch lay the writing-desk. Its lid was thrown +back and by it crouched Satan industriously ripping the remnants of +lining from its interior. As Rupert came up, the cat drew back, his ears +flattened and his lips a-snarl.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl127" id="ianrl127"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl127.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4>Zzzzzrupp! <i>Satan was industriously ripping the remnants +of lining from its interior.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"Cinders! What has he done?" demanded Charity, swooping down upon her +pet. At her coming, he fled under the couch out of reach.</p> + +<p>Rupert picked up the desk. "Nothing much," he laughed. "Just torn all +that lining loose, as I had planned to do."</p> + +<p>"What is this?" Ricky disentangled a small slip of white from the torn +and musty velvet. "Why, it's a piece of paper," she answered her own +question. "It must have been under the lining and Satan pulled it out +with the cloth."</p> + +<p>"Here," Rupert took it from her, "let me see it."</p> + +<p>He scanned the faded lines of writing. "Val! Ricky!" He looked up, his +face flushed with excitement. "Listen!"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Gatty has returned from the city. The raiders calling themselves +the 'Buck Boys' are headed this way. Gatty tells me that Alexander +is with them, having deserted the plantation a week ago. Since his +malice towards us is well known, it is easy to believe that he +means us open harm. I am making my preparations accordingly. The +valuables now under this roof, together with the proceeds from the +last voyage of the blockade runner, <i>Red Bird</i>, I am putting in +that safe place discovered by me in childhood, of which I have +sometimes spoken. Remember the hint I once gave you—By Our Luck. +Having written this in haste, I shall intrust it to Gatty—"</p></div> + +<p>"That's the end; the rest is gone." Rupert stared down at the scrap of +paper in his hand as if he simply could not believe in its reality.</p> + +<p>"Richard wrote that." Ricky touched the note in awe. "But why didn't +Gatty give it to Miles when he came?"</p> + +<p>"Gatty was probably a slave who ran when the raiders appeared," +suggested Rupert. "He or she must have hidden this in here before +leaving. We'll never know."</p> + +<p>"But we've got our clue!" cried Ricky. "We knew that the hiding-place +was in this hall, and now we have the clue."</p> + +<p>"'By our Luck.'" Rupert looked about him thoughtfully. "That's not the +most helpful—"</p> + +<p>"Rupert!" Ricky seized him by the arm. "There's only one thing in this +room that will answer that. Can't you see? The niche of the Luck!"</p> + +<p>Their gaze followed her pointing finger to the mantel above their heads.</p> + +<p>"I believe she's right! Wait until I get the step-ladder from the +kitchen." Rupert was gone almost before he had finished speaking.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it's only true!" Ricky stared up like one hypnotized. "Then +we'll be rich and—"</p> + +<p>"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," Val reminded her, +but he didn't think that she heard him.</p> + +<p>Then Rupert was back with the ladder. He climbed up, leaving the three +of them clustered about its foot.</p> + +<p>"Nothing here but two stone studs to hold the Luck in place," he said a +moment later.</p> + +<p>"Why not try pressing those?" suggested Charity.</p> + +<p>"All right, here goes." He placed his thumbs in the corners of the niche +and threw his weight upon them.</p> + +<p>"Nothing happened." Ricky's voice was deep with disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Look!" Val pointed over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>To the left of the fireplace were five panels of oak, to balance those +on the other side about the door of the unused drawing-room. The center +one of these now gaped open, showing a dark cavity.</p> + +<p>"It worked!" Ricky was already heading for the opening.</p> + +<p>There behind the paneling was a shallow closet which ran the full length +of the five panels. It was filled with a collection of bags and small +chests, a collection which appeared much larger when it lay in the gloom +within than when they dragged it out. Then, when they had time to +examine it carefully, they discovered that their booty consisted of two +small wooden boxes or chests, one fancifully carved and evidently +intended for jewels, the other plain but locked; a felt bag and another +of canvas, and a package hurriedly done up in cloth. Rupert spread it +all out on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Well," he hesitated, "where shall we begin?"</p> + +<p>"Charity thought about how to open it, and it was her cat that found us +the clue—let her choose," Val suggested.</p> + +<p>"Good," agreed Rupert. "And what's your choice, m'lady?"</p> + +<p>"What woman could resist this?" She laid her hand upon the jewel box.</p> + +<p>"Then that it is." He reached for it.</p> + +<p>It opened readily enough to show a shallow tray divided into +compartments, all of them empty.</p> + +<p>"Sold again," Val commented dryly.</p> + +<p>Carefully Rupert lifted out the top tray to disclose another on which +rested three small leather bags. He loosened the draw-string of the +nearest and shook out into his palm a pair of earrings of a quaint +pattern in twisted gold set with dull red stones. Charity pronounced +them garnets. Though they were not of great value, they were precious in +Ricky's eyes, and even Charity exclaimed over them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/ianrl009.jpg"><img src="images/ianrl009.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + +<p>The second bag yielded a carnelian seal on a wide chain of gold mesh, +the sort of ornament a dandy wore dangling from his watch pocket in the +days of the Regency. And the third bag contained a cross of silver, +blackened by time, set with amethysts. This was accompanied by a chain +of the same dull metal.</p> + +<p>Putting these into the girls' hands, Rupert lifted the second tray to +lay bare the bottom of the chest. Here again were several small bags. +There was another cross, this time of jet inlaid with gold and attached +to a short necklace of jet beads; a wide bracelet of coral and turquoise +which was crudely made and might have been native work of some sort. +Then there was a tiny jewel-set bottle, about which, Ricky declared, +there still lingered some faint trace of the fragrance it had once held. +And most interesting to Charity was a fan, the sticks carved of ivory so +intricately that they resembled lacework stiffened into slender ribs. +The covering between them was fashioned of layers of silk painted with a +scene of the bayou country, with the moss-grown oaks and encroaching +swamp all carefully depicted.</p> + +<p>Charity declared that she had never seen its equal and that some great +artist must have decorated the dainty trifle. She closed it carefully +and slipped it back into its covering, and Rupert took out the last of +the bags. From its depths rolled a ring.</p> + +<p>It was plain enough, a simple band of gold so deep in shade as to be +almost red. Nearly an inch in width, there was no ornamentation of any +sort on its broad, smooth surface.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what this is?" Rupert turned the circlet around in his +fingers.</p> + +<p>"No." Ricky was still dangling the earrings before her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is the wedding-ring of the Bride of the Luck."</p> + +<p>"What!" Val leaned forward to look down at the plain circle of gold.</p> + +<p>Even Ricky gave her brother her full attention now. Rupert turned to +Charity.</p> + +<p>"You probably know the story of our Luck?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"When the Luck was brought from Palestine, it was decided that it must +be given into the hands of a guardian who would be responsible for it +with his or her life. Because the men of the house were always at war +during those troublesome times, the guardianship went to the eldest +daughter if she were a maiden. By high and solemn ceremony she was +married to the Luck in the chapel of Lorne. And she was the Bride of the +Luck until death or a unanimous consent from the family released her. +Nor could she marry a mortal husband during the time she wore this." He +touched the ring he held.</p> + +<p>"This must be very old. It's the red gold which came into Ireland and +England before the Romans conquered the land. Perhaps this was found in +some old barrow on Lorne lands. But it no longer means anything without +the Luck."</p> + +<p>He held it out to Ricky. "By tradition this is yours."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I don't think I want that, Rupert. It's too +old—too strange. Now these," she held up the earrings, "you can +understand. The girls who wore them were like me, and they wore them +because they were pretty. But that—" she looked at the Bride's ring +with distaste—"that must have been a burden to its wearer. Didn't you +tell us once of the Lady Iseult, who killed herself when they would not +release her from her vows to the Luck? I don't want to wear that, ever."</p> + +<p>"Very well." He dropped it back into its bag. "We'll send it to LeFleur +for safe-keeping. Any scruples about the rest of this stuff?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not! And none of it is worth much. May I keep it?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish. Now let's see what is in here." He drew the second box +toward him and forced it open.</p> + +<p>"Money!" Charity was staring at it with wide eyes.</p> + +<p>Within, in neat bundles, lay packages of paper notes. Even Rupert was +shaken from his calm as he reached for one. Outside of a bank none of +them had ever seen such a display of wealth. But after he studied the +top note, the master of Pirate's Haven laughed thinly.</p> + +<p>"This may be worth ten cents to some collector if we're lucky—"</p> + +<p>"Rupert! That's real money," began Ricky.</p> + +<p>But Val, too, had seen the print. "Confederate money, child. As useless +now as our pretty oil stock. I told you that things always turn out +wrong in this house. If we do find treasure, it's worthless. How much is +there, anyway?"</p> + +<p>Rupert picked up a slip of paper tucked under the tape fastening the +first bundle. "This says thirty-five thousand—profit from a blockade +runner's trip."</p> + +<p>"Thirty-five thousand! Well, I think that that is just too much," Ricky +said defiantly. "Why didn't they get paid in real money?"</p> + +<p>"Being loyal to the South, the Ralestones probably would not take what +you call 'real money,'" replied Charity.</p> + +<p>"It's nice to know how wealthy we once were," Val observed. "What are +you going to do with that wall-paper, Rupert?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, chuck it in my desk. I'll get someone to look it over; there might +be a collector's item among these bills. Now let's have the joker out of +<i>this</i> bundle." He plucked at the fastenings of the felt bag.</p> + +<p>When he had pulled off its wrappings, a silver tray with coffee- and +chocolate-pot, cream pitcher and sugar bowl stood, tarnished and dingy, +on the floor.</p> + +<p>"That's more like it." Ricky picked up the chocolate-pot. "Do you +suppose it will ever be possible to get these clean again?"</p> + +<p>"With a lot of will power and some good hard rubbing it can be done," +Val assured her.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll supply the will power and you may do the rubbing," she +announced pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Rupert had opened the remaining packages to display a set of twelve +silver goblets, one with a dented edge, and a queerly shaped vessel not +unlike an old-fashioned gravy-boat. Charity picked this up and examined +it gravely.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that this is pirate loot." She tapped the lip of the piece +she held. The metal gave off a clear ringing sound. "If I'm not +mistaken, this was stolen from a church. Yes, I'm right; see this cross +under the leaves?" She pointed out the bit of engraving.</p> + +<p>"Black Dick's work," agreed Ricky complacently. "But after almost three +hundred years I'm afraid we can't return it. Especially since we don't +know where it came from in the first place."</p> + +<p>Val looked about at what they had uncovered. "If you are going to take +all of this in to LeFleur, you'll have to get a truck. D'you know, I +think this place might turn out to be a gold-mine if one knew just where +to dig."</p> + +<p>"We haven't found the Luck yet," reminded Ricky.</p> + +<p>Val got clumsily to his feet and then gave Charity a hand up, beating +Rupert to it by about three seconds. "As we don't even know whether it +is still in existence, there's no use in hunting for it," Val retorted.</p> + +<p>Ricky smiled, that set little smile which usually meant that she neither +agreed with nor approved of the speaker. She got up from the floor and +shook out her skirt purposefully.</p> + +<p>"I'll remind you of that some day," she promised.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," Rupert glanced at the silver, "this ought to be taken to +town as soon as possible. This house is too isolated to harbor both us +and the silverware at the same time. What do you think?" Ignoring both +Ricky and Val, he turned to Charity.</p> + +<p>"You are right. But it seems a pity to send it all away before we have a +chance to rub it up and see what it really looks like!"</p> + +<p>"By all means, take it at once!" Val urged promptly. "We can always +clean it later."</p> + +<p>Rupert grinned. "Now that might be a protest against the suggestion +Ricky made a few minutes ago. But I'll save you some honest labor this +time, Val; I'll take it to town this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Ricky laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"And why the merriment?" her younger brother inquired suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I was just thinking what a surprise the visitor who dropped his +handkerchief here is going to get when he finds the cupboard bare," she +explained.</p> + +<p>Rupert rubbed his palm across his chin. "Of course. I had almost +forgotten that."</p> + +<p>"Well, I haven't! And I wonder if we have found what he—or they—were +hunting," Val mused as he helped Rupert wrap up the spoil again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL</h3> + + +<p>Sam had produced a horse complete with saddle and a reputed +skittishness. That horse was the pride of Sam's big heart. It had once +won a small purse at some country fair or something of the sort, and +since then it had been kept only to wear the saddle at rare intervals. +Not that Sam ever rode. He drove a spring-board behind a thin, sorrowful +mule called "Suggah." But the saddle horse was rented at times to white +folk of whom Sam approved.</p> + +<p>Soon after the arrival of the Ralestones at Pirate's Haven, Sam had +brought this four-footed prodigy to their attention. But claiming that +the family were his "folks," he indignantly refused to accept hire and +was hurt if one of them did not ride at least once a day. Ricky had +developed an interest in the garden and had accepted the loan of Sam's +eldest son, an earth-brown child about as tall as the spade, to help her +mess about. Rupert spent the largest part of his days shut up in +Bluebeard's chamber. Which of course left the horse to Val.</p> + +<p>And Val was becoming slightly bored with Louisiana, at least with that +portion of it which immediately surrounded them. Charity was hard at +work on her picture of the swamp hunter, for Jeems had come back without +warning from his mysterious concerns in the swamp. There was no one to +talk to and nowhere to go.</p> + +<p>LeFleur had notified them that he believed he was on the track of some +discreditable incident in the past of their rival which would banish him +from their path. And no more handkerchiefs had been found, ownerless, in +their hall. It was a serene morning.</p> + +<p>But, Val thought long afterwards, he should have been warned by that +very serenity and remembered the old saying, that it was always calmest +before a storm. On the contrary, he was riding Sam's horse along the +edge of that swamp, wondering what lay hidden back in that dark jungle. +Some day, he determined, he would do a little exploring in that +direction.</p> + +<p>A heron arose from the bayou and streaked across the metallic blue of +the sky. Another was wading along, intent upon its fishing. Sam's yellow +dog, which had followed horse and rider, set up a barking, annoyed at +the haughty carriage of the bird. He scrambled down the steep bank, +drove it into flight after its fellow.</p> + +<p>Val pulled his shirt away from his sticky skin and wondered if he would +ever feel really cool again. There was something about this damp heat +which seemed to remove all ambition. He marveled how Ricky could even +think of trimming roses that morning.</p> + +<p>Sam's dog began to bark deafeningly again, and Val looked around for the +heron which must have aroused his displeasure. There was none. But +across the swamp crawled an ungainly monster.</p> + +<p>Four great rubber-tired wheels, ten feet high, as he later learned, +supported a metal framework upon which squatted two men and the driver +of the monstrosity. With the ponderous solemnity of a tank it came on to +the bayou.</p> + +<p>Val's mount snorted and his ears pricked back. He began to have very +definite ideas about what he saw. The thing slipped down the marshy bank +and took to the water with ease, turning its square nose downstream and +sending waves shoreward.</p> + +<p>"Ride 'em, cowboy!" yelled one of the men derisively as Sam's horse +decided to stand on his hind legs and wave at the strange apparition as +it went by. Val brought him down upon four feet again, and he stood +sweating, his ears still back.</p> + +<p>"What do you call that?" the boy shouted back.</p> + +<p>"Prospecting engine for swamp use," answered the driver. "Don't you +swampers ever get the news?"</p> + +<p>The car, or whatever it was, moved on downstream and so out of sight.</p> + +<p>"Now I wonder what that was," Val said aloud as his mount sidled toward +the center of the road. The hound-dog came up and sat down to kick a +patch of flea-invaded territory which lay behind his left ear. Again the +morning was quiet.</p> + +<p>But not for long. A mud-spattered car came around the bend in the road +and headed at Val, going a good pace for the dirt surfacing. Before it +quite reached him it stopped and the driver stuck his head out of the +window.</p> + +<p>"Hey, you, move over! Whatya tryin' to do—break somebody's neck?"</p> + +<p>Val surveyed him with interest. The man was, perhaps, Rupert's age, a +small, thin fellow with thick black hair and the white seam of an old +scar beneath his left eye.</p> + +<p>"This is," the boy replied, "a private road."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," he snarled, "I know. And I'm the owner. So get your hobby-horse +going and beat it, kid."</p> + +<p>Val shifted in the saddle and stared down at him.</p> + +<p>"And what might your name be?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>"What d'yuh think it is? Hitler? I'm Ralestone, the owner of this place. +On your way, kid, on your way."</p> + +<p>"So? Well, good morning, cousin." Val tightened rein.</p> + +<p>The invader eyed him cautiously. "What d'yuh mean—cousin?"</p> + +<p>"I happen to be a Ralestone also," the boy answered grimly.</p> + +<p>"Huh? You the guy who thinks he owns this?" he asked aggressively.</p> + +<p>"My brother is the present master of Pirate's Haven—"</p> + +<p>"That's what <i>he</i> thinks," replied the rival with a relish. "Well, he +isn't. That is, not until he pays me for my half. And if he wants to get +tough, I'll take it all," he ended, and withdrew into the car like a +lizard into its rock den.</p> + +<p>Val sat by the side of the road and watched the car slide along toward +the plantation. As it passed him he caught a glimpse of a second +passenger in the back seat. It was the red-faced man he had seen with +LeFleur's clerk on the street in New Orleans. Resolutely Val turned back +and started for the house in the wake of the rival.</p> + +<p>By making use of a short-cut, he reached the front of the house almost +as soon as the car. Ricky had been working with the morning-glory vines +about the terrace steps, young Sam standing attendance with a rusty +trowel and one of the kitchen forks.</p> + +<p>At the sound of the car she stood up and tried to brush a smear of +sticky earth from the front of her checked-gingham dress. When the rival +got out she smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, sister," he smirked.</p> + +<p>She stood still for a moment and her smile faded. When she answered, her +voice was chill. "You wished to see Mr. Ralestone?" she asked distantly.</p> + +<p>"Sure. But not just yet, sister. You better be pleasant, you know. I'm +the new owner here—"</p> + +<p>Val rode out of the bushes and swung out of the saddle, coming up behind +him. Although the boy was one of the smaller "Black" Ralestones, he +topped the invader by a good two inches, and he noted this with delight +as he came up to him.</p> + +<p>"Ricky," he said briefly, "go in. And send Sam for Rupert."</p> + +<p>She nodded and was gone. The man turned to face Val. "You again, huh?" +he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And Ralestone or no Ralestone, I would advise you to keep a civil +tongue in your head," he began hotly, when Rupert appeared at the door.</p> + +<p>"Well, Val," he asked, a frown creasing his forehead, "what is it?"</p> + +<p>The rival advanced a short step and looked up. "So this is the guy who's +trying to do me out of my rights?"</p> + +<p>Rupert reached behind him and closed the screen before coming to the +head of the terrace steps. "I presume that you are Mr. Ralestone?" he +asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"'Course I'm Ralestone," asserted the other. "And I'm part owner of this +place."</p> + +<p>"That has not yet been decided," answered Rupert calmly. "But suppose +you tell me to what we owe the honor of this visit?"</p> + +<p>Now, however, the passenger took a hand in the game. He crawled out of +the car, taking off his soiled panama to wipe his bald head with a gaudy +silk handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Here, here, Mr. Ralestone," he addressed his companion, "let us have no +unpleasantness. We have merely come here today, sir," he explained to +Rupert, "to see if matters could not be settled amicably without having +to take recourse to a court of law. Your Mr. LeFleur will give us very +little satisfaction, you see. I am a plain and honest man, sir, and I +believe an affair of this kind may be best agreed upon between +principals. My client, Mr. Ralestone, is a reasonable man; he will be +moderate in his demands. It will be to your advantage to listen to our +proposal. After all, you cannot contest his rights—"</p> + +<p>"But that is just what I am going to do." Rupert smiled down at them, if +a slight twist of the lips may be called a smile. "Have you ever heard +that old saying that 'possession is nine points of the law'? I am the +Ralestone in residence, and I shall continue to be the Ralestone in +residence until after this case is heard. Now, as I am a busy man and +this is the middle of the morning, I shall have to say good-bye—"</p> + +<p>"So that's the way you're going to take it?" The visiting Ralestone +glared at Rupert. "All right. Play it that way and you won't be here a +month from now. Nor," he turned on Val, "this kid brother of yours, +either. You can't pull this lord-of-the-land stuff on me and get away +with it. I'll—" But he did not finish his threat. Instead, his jaws +clamped shut on mid-word. In silence he turned and got into the car to +which his counselor had already withdrawn.</p> + +<p>The car leaped forward into a rose bush. With a savage twist of the +wheel the driver brought it back to the drive, leaving deep prints in +the front lawn. Then it was gone, down the drive, as they stood staring +after it.</p> + +<p>"So that's that," Val commented. "Well, all I've got to say is that +Rick's branch of the family has sadly gone to seed—"</p> + +<p>"Being a southern gentleman has made you slightly snobbish." Ricky came +out from her lurking place behind the door.</p> + +<p>"Snobbish!" her brother choked at the injustice. "I suppose that that is +your idea of a perfect gentleman, a diamond in the rough—"</p> + +<p>He pointed down the drive.</p> + +<p>Ricky laughed. "It's so easy to tease you, Val. Of course he is a—a +wart of the first class. But Rupert will fix him—won't you?"</p> + +<p>Her older brother grinned. "After that example of your trust in me, I'll +have to. I agree, he is not the sort you would care to introduce to your +more particular friends. But this visit seems to suggest something—"</p> + +<p>"That he has the wind up?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>"There are indications of that, I think. Something LeFleur has done has +stirred our friends into direct action. We shall probably have more of +it within the immediate future. So I want you, Ricky, to go to town. +Madame LeFleur has very kindly offered to put you up—"</p> + +<p>Each tiny curl on Ricky's head seemed to bristle with indignation. "Oh, +no you don't, Rupert Ralestone! You don't get me away from here when +there are exciting things going on. I hardly think that our friend with +the slimy manner will use machine-guns to blast us out. And if he +does—well, it wouldn't be the first time that this house was used as a +fortress. I'm not going one step out of here unless you two come with +me."</p> + +<p>Rupert shrugged. "As I can't very well hog-tie you to get you to town, I +suppose you will have to stay. But I <i>am</i> going to send for Lucy." With +that parting shot he turned and went in.</p> + +<p>Lucy arrived shortly before noon. She was accompanied by a portion of +her large family—four, Val counted, including that Sam who had become +Ricky's faithful shadow.</p> + +<p>"What's all dis Ah heah 'bout some mans sayin' he am de Ralestone?" she +demanded of Ricky. "De policemans oughta lock him up. Effen he comes +botherin' 'roun' heah agin I'll ten' to him!"</p> + +<p>With that she marched majestically into the kitchen, elbowed Letty-Lou +out of her way, and proceeded to stir up a batch of brown molasses +cookies. "'Cause dey is fillin' fo' boys. An' Mistuh Val, heah, he needs +some moah fat 'crost dose skinny ribs. Letty-Lou, yo'all ain't feedin' +dese men-folks ri'. Now yo' chillens," she swooped down upon her own +family, "yo'all gits outa heah an' don't fuss me."</p> + +<p>"They can come with me," offered Ricky. "I'm trying to find that maze +which is marked on the garden plans."</p> + +<p>"Miss 'Chanda, yo'all ain't a'goin' 'way 'afo' yoah brothah gits through +his wo'k. He done tol' me to keep an eye on yo'all. Why don't yo'all go +visit wi' Miss Charity?"</p> + +<p>Ricky looked at her watch. "All right. She'll be through her morning +work by now. I'll take the children, Lucy."</p> + +<p>To Val's open surprise, she obeyed Lucy, meekly moving off without a +single protest. One of the boys remained behind and offered shyly to +take the horse back to Sam's place. When Lucy agreed that it would be +all right, Val boosted him into the saddle where he clung like a jockey.</p> + +<p>"An' wheah is yo'all goin', Mistuh Val?" asked Lucy, cutting out round +cookies with a downward stroke of the drinking glass she had pressed +into service. The regular cutter was, in her opinion, too small.</p> + +<p>"Down toward the bayou. I'll be back before lunch," he said, and hurried +out before she could as definitely dispose of him as she had of Ricky.</p> + +<p>Val struck off into the bushes until he came to one of the paths that +crossed the wilderness. As it ran in the direction of the bayou, he +turned into it. Then for the second time he came into the glen of the +pool and passed along the path Jeems had known. So somehow Val was not +surprised, when he came out upon the edge of the bayou levee, to see +Jeems sitting there.</p> + +<p>"Hello!"</p> + +<p>The swamper looked up at Val's hail but this time he did not leave.</p> + +<p>"Hullo," he answered sullenly.</p> + +<p>Val stood there, ill at ease, while the swamper eyed him composedly. +What could he say now? Val's embarrassment must have been very apparent, +for after a long moment Jeems smiled derisively.</p> + +<p>"Yo' goin' ridin' in them funny pants?" he asked, pointing to the +other's breeches.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's what they are intended for," Val replied.</p> + +<p>"Wheah's youah hoss?"</p> + +<p>"I sent him back to Sam's." Val was beginning to feel slightly warm. He +decided that Jeems' manners were not all that they might be.</p> + +<p>"Sam!" the swamp boy spat into the water. "He's a—"</p> + +<p>But what Sam was, in the opinion of the swamper, Val never learned, for +at that moment Ricky burst from between two bushes.</p> + +<p>"Well, at last," she panted, "I've gotten rid of my army. Val, do you +think that Lucy is going to be like this all the time—order us about, I +mean?"</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" Jeems was on his feet looking at Ricky.</p> + +<p>"Ricky," her brother said, "this is Jeems. My sister Richanda."</p> + +<p>"Yo' one of the folks up at the big house?" he asked her directly.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," she answered simply.</p> + +<p>"Yo' don' act like yo' was." He stabbed his finger at both of them. "Yo' +don't walk with youah noses in the air looking down at us—"</p> + +<p>"Of course we don't!" interrupted Ricky. "Why should we, when you know +more about this place than we do?"</p> + +<p>"What do yo' mean by that?" he flashed out at her, his sullen face +suddenly dark.</p> + +<p>"Why—why—" Ricky faltered, "Charity Biglow said that you knew all +about the swamp—"</p> + +<p>His tense position relaxed a fraction. "Oh, yo' know Miss Charity?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She showed us the picture she is painting, the one you are posing +for," Ricky went on.</p> + +<p>"Miss Charity is a fine lady," he returned with conviction. He shifted +from one bare foot to the other. "Ah'll be goin' now." With no other +farewell he slipped over the side of the levee into his canoe and headed +out into midstream. Nor did he look back.</p> + +<p>Lucy departed after dinner that evening to bed down her family before +returning with Letty-Lou to occupy one of the servant's rooms over the +side wing. Rupert had gone with her to interview Sam. Val gathered that +Sam had some notion of trying to reintroduce the growing of indigo, a +crop which had been forsaken for sugar-cane at the beginning of the +nineteenth century when a pest had destroyed the entire indigo crop of +that year all over Louisiana.</p> + +<p>"Let's go out in the garden," suggested Ricky.</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked her brother. "To provide a free banquet for +mosquitoes? No, thank you, let's stay here."</p> + +<p>"You're lazy," she countered.</p> + +<p>"You may call it laziness; I call it prudence," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going anyway," she made a decision which brought Val +reluctantly to his feet. For mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he was not +going to allow Ricky to be outside alone.</p> + +<p>They followed the path which led around the side of the house until it +neared the kitchen door. When they reached that point Ricky halted.</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>A plaintive miaow sounded from the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother! Satan's been left inside. Go and let him out."</p> + +<p>"Will you stay right here?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Though I don't see why you and Rupert have taken to acting +as if Fu Manchu were loose in our yard. Now hurry up before he claws the +screen to pieces. Satan, I mean, not the worthy Chinese gentleman."</p> + +<p>But Satan did not meet Val at the door. Apparently, having received no +immediate answer to his plea, he had withdrawn into the bulk of the +house. Speaking unkind things about him under his breath, Val started +across the dark kitchen.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped. He felt the solid edge of the table against his +thigh. When he put out his hand he touched the reassuring everyday form +of Lucy's stone cooky jar. He was in their own pleasant everyday +kitchen.</p> + +<p>But—</p> + +<p>He was not alone in that house!</p> + +<p>There had been the faintest of sounds from the forepart of the main +section, a sound such as Satan might have caused. But Val knew—knew +positively—that Satan was guiltless. Someone or something was in the +Long Hall.</p> + +<p>He crept by the table, hoping that he could find his way without running +into anything. His hand closed upon the knob of the door opening upon +the back stairs used by Letty-Lou. If he could get up them and across +the upper hall, he could come down the front stairs and catch the +intruder.</p> + +<p>It took Val perhaps two minutes to reach the head of the front stairs, +and each minute seemed a half-hour in length. From below he could hear a +regular <i>pad, pad</i>, as if from stocking feet on the stone floor. He drew +a deep breath and started down.</p> + +<p>When he reached the landing he looked over the rail. Upright before the +fireplace was a dim white blur. As he watched, it moved forward. There +was something uncanny about that almost noiseless movement.</p> + +<p>The blur became a thin figure clad in baggy white breeches and loose +shirt. Below the knees the legs seemed to fade into the darkness of the +hall and there was something strange about the outlines of the head.</p> + +<p>Again the thing resumed its padding and Val saw now that it was pacing +the hall in a regular pattern. Which suggested that it was human and was +there with a very definite purpose.</p> + +<p>He edged farther down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"And just what are you doing?"</p> + +<p>If his voice quavered upon the last word, it was hardly his fault. For +when the thing turned, Val saw—</p> + +<p>It had no face!</p> + +<p>With a startled cry he lunged forward, clutching at the banister to +steady his blundering descent. The thing backed away; already it was +fading into the darkness beside the stairs. As Val's feet touched the +floor of the hall he caught his last glimpse of it, a thin white patch +against the solid paneling of the stairway's broad side. Then it was +gone. When Rupert and Ricky came in a few minutes later and turned on +the lights, Val was still staring at that blank wall, with Satan rubbing +against his ankles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN</h3> + + +<p>Rupert had dismissed Val's story of what he had seen in the hall in a +very lofty manner. When his brother had persisted in it, Rupert +suggested that Val had better keep out of the sun in the morning. For no +trace of the thing which had troubled the house remained.</p> + +<p>Ricky hesitated between believing wholly in Val's tale or just in his +powers of imagination. And between them his family drove him sulky to +bed. He was still frowning, or maybe it was a new frown, when he looked +into the bathroom mirror the next morning as he dressed. For Val knew +that he <i>had</i> seen something in the hall, something monstrous which had +no right to be there.</p> + +<p>What had their rival said before he left? "Play it that way and you +won't be here a month from now." It was just possible—Val paused, half +in, half out of, his shirt. Could last night's adventure have had +anything to do with that threat? Two or three episodes of that sort +might unsettle the strongest nerves and drive the occupants from a house +where such a shadow walked.</p> + +<p>Something else nagged at the boy's memory. Slowly he traced back over +the events of the day before, from the moment when he had watched that +queer swamp car crawl downstream. After the visit of the rival, Lucy had +come to stay. And then Ricky had started for Charity's while he had gone +down to the bayou where he met Jeems. That was it. Jeems!</p> + +<p>When Ricky had hinted that he knew more of the swamp than the Ralestones +did, why had he been so quick to resent that remark? Could it be because +he understood her to mean that he knew more of Pirate's Haven than they +did?</p> + +<p>And the thing in the Long Hall last night had known of some exit in the +wall that the Ralestones did not know of. It had faded into the base of +the staircase. And yet, when Val had gone over the paneling there inch +by inch, he had gained nothing but sore finger tips.</p> + +<p>He tucked his shirt under his belt and looked down to see if Sam Junior +had polished his boots as Lucy had ordered her son to do. Save for a +trace of mud by the right heel, they had the proper mirror-like surface.</p> + +<p>"Mistuh Val," Lucy's penetrating voice made him start guiltily, "is yo' +or is yo' not comin' to brekfas'?"</p> + +<p>"I am," he answered and started downstairs at his swiftest pace.</p> + +<p>The new ruler of their household was standing at the foot of the stairs, +her knuckles resting on her broad hips. She eyed the boy sternly. Lucy +eyed one, Val thought, much as a Scotch nurse Ricky and he had once had. +They had never dared question any of Annie's decrees, and one look from +her had been enough to reduce them to instant order. Lucy's eye had the +same power. And now as she herded Val into the dining-room he felt like +a six-year-old with an uneasy conscience.</p> + +<p>Rupert and Ricky were already seated and eating. That is, Ricky was +eating, but Rupert was reading his morning mail.</p> + +<p>"Yo'all sits down," said Lucy firmly, "an' yo'all eats what's on youah +plate. Yo'all ain' much fattah nor a jay-bird."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why she keeps comparing me to a living skeleton all the +time," Val complained as she departed kitchenward.</p> + +<p>"She told Letty-Lou yesterday," supplied Ricky through a mouthful of +popover, "that you are 'peaked lookin'."</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't she start in on Rupert? He needs another ten pounds or so." +Val reached for the butter. "And he hasn't got a very good color, +either." Val surveyed his brother professionally. "Doesn't get outdoors +enough."</p> + +<p>"No," Ricky's voice sounded aggrieved, "he's too busy having secrets—"</p> + +<p>"Hmm," Rupert murmured, more interested in his letter than in the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"The trouble is that we are not Chinese bandits, Malay pirates, or Arab +freebooters. We don't possess color, life, enough—enough—"</p> + +<p>"Sugar," Rupert interrupted Val, pushing his coffee-cup in the general +direction of Ricky without raising his eyes from the page in his hand. +She giggled.</p> + +<p>"So that's what we lack. Well, now we know. How much sugar should we +have, Rupert? Rupert—Mr. Rupert Ralestone—Mr. Rupert Ralestone of +Pirate's Haven!" Her voice grew louder and shriller until he did lay +down his reading matter and really looked at them for the first time.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"A little attention," answered Ricky sweetly. "We aren't Chinese, Arabs, +or Malays, but we are kind of nice to know, aren't we, Val? If you'd +only come out of your subconscious, or wherever you are most of the +time, you'd find that out without being told."</p> + +<p>Rupert laughed and pushed away his letters. "Sorry. I picked up the bad +habit of reading at breakfast when I didn't have my table brightened by +your presence. I know," he became serious, "that I haven't been much of +a family man. But there are reasons—"</p> + +<p>"Which, of course, you can not tell <i>us</i>," flashed Ricky.</p> + +<p>His face lengthened ruefully. He pulled at his tie with an embarrassed +frown. "Not yet, anyway. I—" He fumbled with his napkin. "Oh, well, let +me see how it comes out first."</p> + +<p>Ricky opened her eyes to their widest extent and leaned forward, every +inch of her expressing awe. "Rupert, don't tell me that you are an +<i>inventor</i>!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Now I know that we'll end in the poorhouse," Val observed.</p> + +<p>Rupert had recovered his composure. "'I yam what I yam,'" he quoted.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Keep it to yourself then," pouted Ricky. "We can have +secrets too."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it." He glanced at Val. "Unfortunately you always tell +them. See any more bogies last night, Val? Did a big, black, formless +something reach out from under the bed and clutch at you?"</p> + +<p>But his brother refused to be drawn. "No, but when it does I'll sic it +onto you. A big, black, formless something is just what you need. And +I'll—"</p> + +<p>"Am I interrupting?" Charity stood in the door. "Goodness! Haven't you +finished breakfast yet? Do you people know that it is almost ten?"</p> + +<p>"Madam, we have banished time." Rupert drew out the chair at his left. +"Will you favor us with your company?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to be busy today," said Ricky as she rang for +Letty-Lou and a fresh cup of coffee for their guest.</p> + +<p>"So did I," sighed Charity. "And I should be. I've got this order, you +know, and now I can't get any models. Why there should be a sudden +dearth of them right now, I can't imagine. I thought I could use Jeems +again, but somehow he isn't the type." She raised her cup to her lips.</p> + +<p>"Are you doing story illustrations?" asked Rupert, more alive now than +he had been all morning.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A historical thriller for a magazine. They want a full-page cut +for the first chapter and a half-page to illustrate the most exciting +scene. Then there're innumerable smaller ones. But the two large ones +are what I'm worrying about. I like to get the important stuff finished +first, and now I simply can't get models who are the right types."</p> + +<p>"What's the story about?" demanded Ricky.</p> + +<p>"It's laid in Haiti during the French invasion led by Napoleon's +brother-in-law, the one who married Pauline. All voodoo and aristocratic +young hero and beautiful maiden pursued by an officer of the black +rebels. And," she almost wailed, "here I am with the clothes spread all +over my bed—the right costumes, you know—with no one to wear them. I +went over to the Corners this morning and called Johnson—he runs a +registration office for models—but he couldn't promise me anyone." She +bit absent-mindedly into a round spiced roll Ricky had placed before +her.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" She laid down the roll in a preoccupied fashion and stared +across the table. "Val, stand up."</p> + +<p>Wondering, he pushed back his chair and arose obediently.</p> + +<p>"Turn your head a little more to the right," Charity ordered. "There, +that's it! Now try to look as if there were something all ready to +spring at you from that corner over there."</p> + +<p>For one angry moment he thought that she had been told of what had +happened the night before and was baiting him, as the others had done. +But a sidewise glance showed him that her interest lay elsewhere. So he +screwed up his features into what he fondly hoped was a grim and deadly +smile.</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake, don't look as if you had eaten green apples," Ricky +shot at him. "Just put on that face you wear when I show you a new hat. +No, not that sneering one; the other."</p> + +<p>Rupert threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Better let him alone, +Ricky. After all, it's <i>his</i> face."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad that someone has pointed out that fact," Val said stiffly, +"because—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, be quiet!" Charity leaned forward across the table. "Yes," she +nodded, "you'll do."</p> + +<p>"For what?" Val asked, slightly apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"For my hero. Of course your hair is too short and you are rather too +youthful, but I can disguise those points. And," she turned upon Ricky, +"you can be the lady in distress. Which gives me another idea. Do you +suppose that I might use your terrace for a background and have that big +chair, the one with the high back?" she asked Rupert.</p> + +<p>"You may have anything you want within these walls," he answered lightly +enough, but it was clear that he really meant it.</p> + +<p>"What am I supposed to do?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>Charity considered. "I think I'll try the action one first," she said +half to herself. "That's going to be the most difficult. Ricky, will you +send one of Lucy's children over with me to help carry back the costumes +and my material—" She was already at the door.</p> + +<p>"Val and I will go instead," Ricky replied.</p> + +<p>Some twenty minutes later Val was handed a suitcase and told to use the +contents to cover his back. Having doubts of the wisdom of the whole +affair, he went reluctantly upstairs to obey. But the result was not so +bad. The broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted coat did not fit him ill, +though the shiny boots were at least a size too large. Timidly he went +down. Ricky was the first to see him.</p> + +<p>"Val! You look like something out of <i>Lloyds of London</i>. Rupert, look at +Val. Doesn't he look wonderful?"</p> + +<p>Having thus made public his embarrassment, she ran to the mirror to +finish her own prinking. The high-waisted Empire gown of soft green +voile made her appear taller than usual. But she walked with a little +shuffle which suggested that her ribbon-strapped slippers fitted her no +better than Val's boots did him. Charity was coaxing Ricky's tight +fashionable curls into a looser arrangement and tying a green ribbon +about them. This done, she turned to survey Val.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," she said with satisfaction. "You are just what I want. +But," the tiny lines about her eyes crinkled in amusement, "at present +you are just a little too perfect. Do you realize that you have just +fought off an attack, led by a witch doctor, in which you were wounded; +that you have struggled through a jungle for seven hours in order to +reach your betrothed; and that you are now facing death by torture? I +hardly think that you should look as if you had just stepped out of the +tailor's—"</p> + +<p>"I've done all that?" Val demanded, somewhat staggered.</p> + +<p>"Well, the author says you have, so you've got to look it. We'd better +muss you up a bit. Let's see." She tapped her fingernail against her +teeth as she looked him up and down. "Off with that coat first."</p> + +<p>He wriggled out of the coat and stood with the glories of his ruffled +shirt fully displayed. "Now what?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"This," she reached forward and ripped his left sleeve to the shoulder. +"Untie that cravat and take it off. Roll up your other sleeve above the +elbow. That's right. Ricky, you muss up his hair. Let a lock of it fall +across his forehead. No, not there—there. Good. Now he's ready for the +final touches." She went to the table where her paints had been left. +"Let's see—carmine, that ought to be right. This is water-color, Val, +it'll all wash off in a minute."</p> + +<p>Across his smooth tanned cheek she dribbled a jagged line of scarlet. +Then instructing Ricky to bind the torn edge of his sleeve above his +elbow, she also stained the bandage. "Well?" she turned to Rupert.</p> + +<p>"He looks as though he had been through the wars all right," he agreed. +"But what about the costume?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we needn't worry about that. They knew I'd have to do this, so they +duplicated everything. Now for you, Ricky. Pull your sleeve down off +your shoulder and see if you can tear the skirt up from the hem on that +side—about as far as your knee. Yes, that's fine. You're ready now."</p> + +<p>Rupert picked up from the table a sword and a long-barrelled dueling +pistol and led the way out onto the terrace. Charity pointed to the big +chair in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"This will probably be hard for you two," she warned them frankly. "If +you get tired, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll give you a rest every ten +minutes. Val, you sit down in the chair. Slump over toward that arm as +if you were about finished. No, more limp than that. Now look straight +ahead. You are on the terrace of Beauvallet. Beside you is the girl you +love. You are all that stands between her and the black rebels. Now take +this sword in your right hand and the pistol in your left. Lean forward +a little. There! Now don't move; you've got just the pose I want. Ricky, +crouch down by the side of his chair with your arm up so that you can +touch his hand. You're terrified. There's death, horrible death, before +you!"</p> + +<p>Val could feel Ricky's hand quiver against his. Charity had made them +both see and feel what she wanted them to. They weren't in the peaceful +sunlight on the terrace of Pirate's Haven; they were miles farther south +in the dark land of Haiti, the Haiti of more than a hundred years ago. +Before them was a semitropical forest from which at any moment might +crawl—death. Val's hand tightened on the sword hilt; the pistol butt +was clammy in his grip.</p> + +<p>Rupert had put up the easel and laid out the paints. And now, taking up +her charcoal, Charity began to sketch with clear, clean strokes.</p> + +<p>Her models' unaccustomed muscles cramped so that when they shifted +during their rest periods they grimaced with pain. Ricky whispered that +she did not wonder models were hard to get. After a while Rupert went +away without Charity noticing his leaving. The sun burned Val's cheek +where the paint had dried and he felt a trickle of moisture edge down +his spine. But Charity worked on, thoroughly intent upon what was +growing under her brushes.</p> + +<p>It must have been close to noon when she was at last interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Hello there, Miss Biglow!"</p> + +<p>Two men stood below the terrace on a garden path. One of them waved his +hat as Charity looked around. And behind them stood Jeems.</p> + +<p>"Go away," said the worker, "go away, Judson Holmes. I haven't any time +for you today."</p> + +<p>"Not after I've come all the way from New York to see you?" he asked +reproachfully. "Why, Charity!" He had the reddest hair Val had ever +seen—and the homeliest face—but his small-boy grin was friendliness +itself.</p> + +<p>"Go away," she repeated stubbornly.</p> + +<p>"Nope!" He shook his head firmly. "I'm staying right here until you +forget that for at least a minute." He motioned toward the picture.</p> + +<p>With a sigh she put down her brush. "I suppose I'll have to humor you."</p> + +<p>"Miss Charity," Jeems had not taken his eyes from the two models since +he had arrived and he did not move them now, "what're they all fixed up +like that fur?"</p> + +<p>"It's a picture for a story," she explained. "A story about Haiti in the +old days—"</p> + +<p>"Ah reckon Ah know," he nodded eagerly, his face suddenly alight. +"That's wheah th' blacks kilt th' French back in history times. Ah got +me a book 'bout it. A book in handwritin', not printin'. Père Armand +larned me to read it."</p> + +<p>Judson Holmes' companion moved forward. "A book in handwriting," he said +slowly. "Could that possibly mean a diary?"</p> + +<p>Charity was wiping her hands on a paint rag. "It might. New Orleans was +a port of refuge for a great many of the French who fled the island +during the slave uprising. It is not impossible."</p> + +<p>"I've got to see it! Here, boy, what's your name?" He pounced upon +Jeems. "Can you get that book here this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Jeems drew back. "Ah ain't gonna bring no book heah. That's mine an' you +ain't gonna set eye on it!" With that parting shot he was gone.</p> + +<p>"But—but—" protested the other, "I've got to see it. Why, such a find +might be priceless."</p> + +<p>Mr. Holmes laughed. "Curb your hunting instincts for once, Creighton. +You can't handle a swamper that way. Let's go and see Charity's +masterpiece instead."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember having asked you to," she observed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, see here now, wasn't I the one who got you this commission? And +Creighton here is that strange animal known as a publisher's scout. And +publishers sometimes desire the services of illustrators, so you had +better impress Creighton as soon as possible. Well," he looked at the +picture, "you have done it!"</p> + +<p>Even Creighton, who had been inclined to stare back over his shoulder at +the point where Jeems disappeared, now gave it more than half his +attention.</p> + +<p>"Is that for <i>Drums of Doom</i>?" he asked becoming suddenly crisp and +professional.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Might do for the jacket of the book. Have Mr. Richards see this. +Marvelous types, where did you get them?" he continued, looking from the +canvas to Ricky and Val.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am sorry. Miss Ralestone, may I present Mr. Creighton, and Mr. +Holmes, both of New York. And this," she smiled at Val, "is Mr. Valerius +Ralestone, the brother of the owner of this plantation. The family, I +believe, has lived here for about two hundred and fifty years."</p> + +<p>Creighton's manner became a shade less brusque as he took the hand Ricky +held out to him. "I might have known that no professional could get that +look," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then this isn't your place?" Mr. Holmes said to Charity after he had +greeted the Ralestones.</p> + +<p>"Mine? Goodness no! I rent the old overseer's house. Pirate's Haven is +Ralestone property."</p> + +<p>"Pirate's Haven." Judson Holmes' infectious grin reappeared. "A rather +suggestive name."</p> + +<p>"The builder intended to name it 'King's Acres' because it was a royal +grant," Val informed him. "But he was a pirate, so the other name was +given it by the country folk and he adopted it. And he was right in +doing so because there were other freebooters in the family after his +time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we are even equipped with a pirate ghost," contributed Ricky with +a mischievous glance in her brother's direction.</p> + +<p>Holmes fanned himself with his hat. "So romance isn't dead after all. +Well, Charity, shall we stay—in town I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" a thin line appeared between her eyes as if she had little liking +for such a plan.</p> + +<p>"Well, Creighton is here on the track of a mysterious new writer who is +threatening to produce a second <i>Gone with the Wind</i>. And I—well, I +like the climate."</p> + +<p>"We'll see," muttered Charity.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>INTO THE SWAMP</h3> + + +<p>In spite of the fact that they received but lukewarm encouragement from +Charity, both Holmes and Creighton lingered on in New Orleans. Mr. +Creighton made several attempts to get in touch with Jeems, whom he +seemed to suspect of concealing vast literary treasures. And he spent +one hot morning going through the trunk of papers which the Ralestones +had found in the storage-room. Ricky commented upon the fact that being +a publisher's scout was almost like being an antique buyer.</p> + +<p>Holmes was a perfect foil for his laboring friend. He lounged away his +days draped across the settee on Charity's gallery or sitting down on +the bayou levee—after she had chased him away—pitching pebbles into +the water. He told all of them that it was his vacation, the first one +he had had in five years, and that he was going to make the most of it. +Companioned by Creighton, he usually enlarged the family circle in the +evenings. And the tales he could tell about the far corners of the earth +were as wildly romantic as Rupert's—though he did assure his listeners +that even Tibet was very tame and well behaved nowadays.</p> + +<p>Charity had finished the first illustration and had started another. +This time Ricky and Val appeared polished and combed as if they had just +stepped out of a ball-room of a governor's palace—which they had, +according to the story. It was during her second morning's work upon +this that she threw down her brush with a snort of disgust.</p> + +<p>"It's no use," she told her models, "I simply can't work on this now. +All I can see is that scene where the hero's mulatto half-brother +watches the ball from the underbrush. I've got to do that one first."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you then?" Ricky stretched to relieve cramped muscles.</p> + +<p>"I would if I could get Jeems. He's my model for the brother. He's +enough like you, Val, for the resemblance, and his darker tan is just +right for color. But he won't come back while Creighton's here. I could +wring that man's neck!"</p> + +<p>"But Creighton left for Milneburg this morning," Val reminded her. +"Rupert told him about the old voodoo rites which used to be celebrated +there on June 24th, St. John's Eve, and he wanted to see if there were +any records—"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But Jeems doesn't know he's gone. If we could only get in touch +with him—Jeems, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Miss 'Chanda!"</p> + +<p>Sam Two, as they had come to call Sam's eldest son and heir, was +standing on the lowest step of the terrace, holding a small covered +basket in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Letty-Lou done say dis am fo' yo'all, Miss 'Chanda."</p> + +<p>"For me?" Ricky looked at the offering in surprise. "But what in the +world—Bring it here, Sam."</p> + +<p>"Yas'm."</p> + +<p>He laid the basket in Ricky's outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>"I've never seen anything like this before." She turned it around. "It +seems to be woven of some awfully fine grass—"</p> + +<p>"That's swamp work." Charity was peering over Ricky's shoulder. "Open +it."</p> + +<p>Inside on a nest of raw wild cotton lay a bracelet of polished wood +carved with an odd design of curling lines which reminded Val of Spanish +moss. And with the circlet was a small purse of scaled hide.</p> + +<p>"Swamp oak and baby alligator," burst out Charity. "Aren't they +beauties?"</p> + +<p>"But who—" began Ricky.</p> + +<p>Val picked up a scrap of paper which had fluttered to the floor. It was +cheap stuff, ruled with faint blue lines, but the writing was bold and +clear: "Miss Richanda Ralestone."</p> + +<p>"It's yours all right." He handed her the paper.</p> + +<p>"I know." She tucked the note away with the gifts. "It was Jeems."</p> + +<p>"Jeems? But why?" her brother protested.</p> + +<p>"Well, yesterday when I was down by the levee he was coming in and I +knew that Mr. Creighton was here and I told him. So," she colored +faintly, "then he took me across the bayou and I got some of those big +swamp lilies that I've always wanted. And we had a long talk. Val, Jeems +knows the most wonderful things about the swamps. Do you know that they +still have voodoo meetings sometimes—way back in there," she swept her +hand southward. "And the fur trappers live on house-boats, renting their +hunting rights. But Jeems owns his own land. Now some northerners are +prospecting for oil. They have a queer sort of car which can travel +either on land or water. And Père Armand has church records that date +back to the middle of the eighteenth century. And—"</p> + +<p>"So that's where you were from four until almost six," Val laughed. "I +don't know that I approve of this riotous living. Will Jeems take me to +pick the lilies too?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe. He wanted to know why you always moved so carefully. And I told +him about the accident. Then he said the oddest thing—" She was staring +past Val at the oaks. "He said that to fly was worth being smashed up +for and that he envied you."</p> + +<p>"Then he's a fool!" her brother said promptly. "Nothing is worth—" Val +stopped abruptly. Five months before he had made a bargain with himself; +he was not going to break it now.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," Ricky said to Charity, "if you really need Jeems this +morning, I think I can get him for you. He told me yesterday how to find +his cabin."</p> + +<p>"But why—" The objection came almost at once from Charity. Val thought +she was more than a little surprised that Jeems, who had steadfastly +refused to give her the same information, had supplied it so readily to +Ricky whom he hardly knew at all.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Ricky frankly. "He was rather queer about it. +Kept saying that the time might come when I would need help, and things +like that."</p> + +<p>"Charity," Val was putting her brushes straight, "I learned long ago +that nothing can be kept from Ricky. Sooner or later one spills out his +secrets."</p> + +<p>"Except Rupert!" Ricky aired her old grievance.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Rupert," her brother agreed.</p> + +<p>"Anyway, I do know where Jeems lives. Do you want me to get him for you, +Charity?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, child! Do you think that I'd let you go into the swamp? +Why, even men who know something of woodcraft think twice before +attempting such a trip without a guide. Of course you're not going! I +think," she put her paint-stained hand to her head, "that I'm going to +have one of my sick headaches. I'll have to go home and lie down for an +hour or two."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry." Ricky's sympathy was quick and warm. "Is there anything I +can do?"</p> + +<p>Charity shook her head with a rueful smile. "Time is the only medicine +for one of these. I'll see you later."</p> + +<p>"Just the same," Ricky stood looking after her, "I'd like to know just +what is going on in the swamp right now."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Val asked lightly.</p> + +<p>"Because—well, just because," was her provoking answer. "Jeems was so +odd yesterday. He talked as if—as if there were some threat to us or +him. I wonder if there is something wrong." She frowned.</p> + +<p>"Of course not!" her brother made prompt answer. "He's merely gone off +on one of those mysterious trips of his."</p> + +<p>"Just the same, what if there were something wrong? We might go and +see."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" Val snapped. "You heard what Charity said about going into +the swamp alone. And there is nothing to worry about anyway. Come on, +let's change. And then I have something to show you."</p> + +<p>"What?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see." His ruse had succeeded. She was no longer looking +swampward with that gleam of purpose in her eye.</p> + +<p>"Come on then," she said, prodding him into action.</p> + +<p>Val changed slowly. If one didn't care about mucking around in the +garden, as Ricky seemed to delight in doing, there was so little in the +way of occupation. He thought of the days as they spread before him. A +little riding, a great amount of casual reading and—what else? Was the +South "getting" him as the tropics are supposed to "get" the +Northerners?</p> + +<p>That unlucky meeting with a mountaintop had effectively despoiled him of +his one ambition. Soldiers with game legs are not wanted. He couldn't +paint like Charity, he couldn't spin yarns like Rupert, he possessed a +mind too inaccurate to cope with the intricacies of any science. And as +a business man he would probably be a good street cleaner.</p> + +<p>What was left? Well, the surprise he had promised Ricky might cover the +problem. As he reached for a certain black note-book, someone knocked on +his door.</p> + +<p>"Mistuh Val, wheah's Miss 'Chanda? She ain't up heah an' Ah wan's to—"</p> + +<p>Lucy stood in the hall. The light from the round window was reflected +from every corrugated wave of her painfully marcelled hair. Her vast +flowered dress had been thriftily covered with a dull-green bib-apron +and she had changed her smart slippers for the shapeless gray relics she +wore indoors. Just now she looked warm and tired. After all, running two +households was something of a task even for Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Why, she should be in her room. We came up to change. Miss Charity's +gone home with a headache. What was it you wanted her for?"</p> + +<p>"Dese heah cu'ta'ns, Mistuh Val"—she thrust a mound of snowy and +beruffled white stuff at him—"dey has got to be hung. An' does Miss +'Chanda wan' dem in her room or does she not?"</p> + +<p>"Better put them up. I'll tell her about it. Here wait, let me open that +door."</p> + +<p>Val looked into Ricky's room. As usual, it appeared as though a +whirlwind, a small whirlwind but a thorough one, had passed through it. +Her discarded costume lay tumbled across the bed and her slippers lay on +the floor, one upside down. He stooped to set them straight.</p> + +<p>"It do beat all," Lucy said frankly as she put her burden down on a +chair, "how dat chile do mak' a mess. Now yo', Mistuh Val, jest put +eberythin' jest so. But Miss 'Chanda leave eberythin' which way afore +Sunday! Looka dat now." She pointed to the half-open door of the closet. +A slip lay on the floor. Ricky must have been in a hurry; that was a +little too untidy even for her.</p> + +<p>A sudden suspicion sent Val into the closet to investigate. Ricky's +wardrobe was not so extensive that he did not know every dress and +article in it very well. It did not take him more than a moment to see +what was missing.</p> + +<p>"Did Ricky go riding?" Val asked. "Her habit is gone."</p> + +<p>"She ain' gone 'cross de bayo' fo' de hoss," answered Lucy, reaching for +the curtain rod. "An' anyway, Sam done took dat critter down de road fo' +to be shoed."</p> + +<p>"Then where—" But Val knew his Ricky only too well.</p> + +<p>She had a certain stubborn will of her own. Sometimes opposition merely +drove her into doing the forbidden thing. And the swamp had been +forbidden. But could even Ricky be such a fool? Certain memories of the +past testified that she could. But how? Unless she had taken Sam's +boat—</p> + +<p>Without a word of explanation to Lucy, he dashed out of the room and +downstairs at his best pace. As he left the house Val broke into a +stumbling run. There was just a chance that she had not yet left the +plantation.</p> + +<p>But the bayou levee was deserted. And the post where Sam's boat was +usually moored was bare of rope; the boat was gone. Of course Sam Two +might have taken it across the stream to the farm.</p> + +<p>That hope was extinguished as the small brown boy came out of the bushes +along the stream side.</p> + +<p>"Sam, have you seen Miss 'Chanda?" Val demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yessuh."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Carrying on a conversation with Sam Two was like prying +diamonds out of a rock. He possessed a rooted distaste for talking.</p> + +<p>"Heah, suh."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Jest a li'l bitty 'go."</p> + +<p>"Where did she go?"</p> + +<p>Sam pointed downstream.</p> + +<p>"Did she take the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Yessuh." And then for the first time since Val had known him Sam +volunteered a piece of information. "She done say she a-goin' in de +swamp."</p> + +<p>Val leaned back against the hole of one of the willows. Then she had +done it! And what could he do? If he had any idea of her path, he could +follow her while Sam aroused Rupert and the house.</p> + +<p>"If I only knew where—" he mused aloud.</p> + +<p>"She a-goin' to see dat swamper Jeems," Sam continued. "Heh, heh," a +sudden cackle of laughter rippled across his lips. "Dat ole swamper +think he so sma't. Think no one fin' he house—"</p> + +<p>"Sam!" Val rounded upon him. "Do you know where Jeems lives?"</p> + +<p>"Yessuh." He twisted the one shoulder-strap of his overalls and Val +guessed that his knowledge was something he was either ashamed of or +afraid to tell.</p> + +<p>"Can you take me there?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere, Ah ain'!"</p> + +<p>"But, Sam, you've got to! Miss 'Chanda is in there. She may be lost. +We've got to find her!" Val insisted.</p> + +<p>Sam's thin shoulders shook and he slid backward as if to avoid the white +boy's reach. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere," he repeated stubbornly. "Effen +yo'all wants to go in dere—Looky, Mistuh Val, Ah tells yo'all de way +an' yo'all goes." He brightened at this solution. "Yo'all kin take +pappy's othah boat; it am downstream dere, behin' dem willows. Den +yo'all goes down to de secon' big pile o' willows. Behin' dem is a li'l +bitty bayo' goin' back. Yo'all goes up dat 'til yo'all comes to a fur +rack. Den dat Jeems got de way marked on de trees."</p> + +<p>With that he turned and ran as if all the terrors of the night were on +his trail. There was nothing for Val to do but to follow his directions. +And the longer he lingered before setting out the bigger lead Ricky was +getting.</p> + +<p>He found the canoe behind the willows as Sam had said. Awkwardly he +pushed off, hoping that Lucy would pry the whole story out of her son +and put Rupert on their track as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>The second clump of willows was something of a landmark, a huge matted +mass of sucker and branch, the lower tips of the long, frond-like twigs +sweeping the murky water. A snake swimming with its head just above the +surface wriggled to the bank as Val cut into the small hidden stream Sam +had told him of.</p> + +<p>Vines and water plants had almost choked this, but there was a passage +through the center. And one tough spike of vegetation which snapped back +into his face bore a deep cut from which the sap was still oozing. The +small stinging flies and mosquitoes followed and hung over him like a +fog of discomfort. His skin was swollen and rough, irritated and +itching. And in this green-covered way the heat seemed almost solid. +Drops of moisture dripped from forehead and chin, and his hair was +plastered tight to his skull.</p> + +<p>Frogs leaped from the bank into the water at the sound of his coming. In +the shallows near the bank, crawfish scuttled under water-logged leaves +and stones at this disturbance of their world. Twice the bayou widened +out into a sort of pool where the trees grew out of the muddy water and +all sorts of lilies and bulb plants blossomed in riotous confusion.</p> + +<p>Once a muskrat waddled into the protection of the bushes. And Val saw +something like a small cat drinking at a pool. But that faint shadow +disappeared noiselessly almost before the water trickled from his +upraised paddle.</p> + +<p>Clumps of wild rice were the meeting grounds for flocks of screaming +birds. A snow-white egret waded solemnly across a mud-rimmed pocket. And +once a snake, more dangerous than the swimmer Val had first encountered, +betrayed its presence by the flicker of its tongue.</p> + +<p>The smell of the steaming mud, the decaying vegetation, and the nameless +evils hidden deeper in this water-rotted land was an added torment. The +boy shook a large red ant from its grip in the flesh of his hand and +wiped the streaming perspiration from his face.</p> + +<p>It was then that the canoe floated almost of its own volition into a +dead and distorted strip of country. Black water which gave off an evil +odor covered almost half an acre of ground. From this arose the twisted, +gaunt gray skeletons of dead oaks. To complete the drear picture a row +of rusty-black vultures sat along the broad naked limb of the nearest of +these hulks, their red-raw heads upraised as they croaked and sidled up +and down.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl183" id="ianrl183"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl183.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4><i>The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead +and distorted strip of country.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>But the bayou Val was following merely skirted this region, and in a few +moments he was again within the shelter of flower-grown banks. Then he +came upon a structure which must have been the fur rack Sam Two had +alluded to, for here was their other boat moored to a convenient willow.</p> + +<p>Val fastened the canoe beside it. The turf seemed springy, though here +and there it gave way to patches of dark mud. It was on one of these +that Ricky had left her mark in the clean-cut outline of the sole of her +riding-boot.</p> + +<p>With a last desperate slap at a mosquito Val headed inland, following +with ease that trail of footprints. Ricky was suffering, too, for her +rashness he noted with satisfaction when he discovered a long curly hair +fast in the grip of a thorny branch he scraped under.</p> + +<p>But the path was not a bad one. And the farther he went the more solid +and the dryer it became. Once he passed through a small clearing, +man-made, where three or four cotton bushes huddled together forlornly +in company with a luxuriant melon patch.</p> + +<p>And the melon patch was separated by only a few feet of underbrush from +Jeems' domain. In the middle of a clearing was a sturdy platform, +reinforced with upright posts and standing about four feet from the +surface of the ground. On this was a small cabin constructed of slabs of +bark-covered wood. As a dwelling it might be crude, but it had an air of +scrupulous neatness. A short distance to one side of the platform was a +well-built chicken-run, now inhabited by five hens and a ragged-tailed +cock.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/ianrl008.jpg"><img src="images/ianrl008.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> + +<p>The door of the cabin was shut and there were no signs of life save the +chickens. But as Val lowered himself painfully onto the second step of +the ladder-like stairs leading up to the cabin, he thought he heard +someone moving around. Glancing up, he saw Ricky staring down at him, +open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>"Hello," she called, for one of the few times in her life really +astounded.</p> + +<p>"Hello," Val answered shortly and shifted his weight to try to relieve +the ache in his knee. "Nice day, isn't it?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE!</h3> + + +<p>"Val! What are you doing here?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Following you. Good grief, girl," he exploded, "haven't you any better +sense than to come into the swamp this way?"</p> + +<p>Ricky's mouth lost its laughing curve and her eyes seemed to narrow. She +was, by all the signs, distinctly annoyed.</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly safe. I knew what I was doing."</p> + +<p>"Yes? Well, I will enjoy hearing Rupert's remarks on that subject when +he catches up with us," snapped her brother.</p> + +<p>"Val!" She lost something of her defiant attitude. He guessed that for +all her boasted independence his sister was slightly afraid of Mr. +Rupert Ralestone. "Val, he isn't coming, too, is he?"</p> + +<p>"He is if he got my message." Val stretched his leg cautiously. The +cramp was slowly leaving the muscles and he felt as if he could stand +the remaining ache without wincing. "I sent Sam Two back to tell Rupert +where his family had eloped to. Frankly, Ricky, this wasn't such a smart +trick. You know what Charity said about the swamps. Even the little I've +seen of them has given me ideas."</p> + +<p>"But there was nothing to it at all," she protested. "Jeems told me just +how to get here and I only followed directions."</p> + +<p>Val chose to ignore this, being hot, tired, and in no mood for one of +those long arguments such as Ricky enjoyed. "By the way, where is +Jeems?" He looked about him as if he expected the swamper to materialize +out of thin air.</p> + +<p>Ricky sat down on the edge of the platform and dangled her booted feet. +"Don't know. But he'll be here sooner or later. And I don't feel like +going back through the swamp just yet. The flies are awful. And did you +see those dreadful vultures on that dead tree? What a place! But the +flowers are wonderful and I saw a real live alligator, even if it was a +small one." She rubbed her scarf across her forehead. "Whew! It seems +hotter here than it does at home."</p> + +<p>"This outing was all your idea," Val reminded her. "And we'd better be +getting back before Rupert calls out the Marines or the State Troopers +or something to track us down."</p> + +<p>Ricky pouted. "Not going until I'm ready. And you can't drag me if I dig +my heels in."</p> + +<p>"I have no desire to be embroiled in such an undignified struggle as you +suggest," he told her loftily. "But neither do I yearn to spend the day +here. I'm hungry. I wonder if our absent host possesses a larder?"</p> + +<p>"If he does, you can't raid it," Ricky answered. "The door's locked, and +that lock," she pointed to the bright disk of brass on the solid cabin +door, "is a good one. I've already tried a hairpin on it," she added +shamelessly.</p> + +<p>They sat awhile in silence. A wandering breeze had found its way into +the clearing, and with it came the fragrance of flowers blossoming under +the sun. The chicken family were pursuing a worm with more energy than +Val decided he would have cared to expend in that heat, and a heavily +laden bee rested on the lip of a sunflower to brush its legs. Val's +eyelids drooped and he found himself thinking dreamily of a hammock +under the trees, a pillow, and long hours of lazy dozing. At the same +time a corner of his brain was sending forth nagging messages that they +should be up and off, back to their own proper world. But he simply did +not have the will power to get up and go.</p> + +<p>"Nice place," he murmured, looking about with more approbation than he +would have granted the clearing some ten minutes earlier.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Ricky. "It would be nice to live here."</p> + +<p>Val was beginning to say something about "no bathtubs" when a sound +aroused them from their lethargy. Someone was coming down the path. +Ricky's hand fell upon her brother's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Quick! Up here and behind the house," she urged him.</p> + +<p>Not knowing just why he obeyed, Val scrambled up on the tiny platform +and scuttled around behind the cabin. Why they should hide thus from +Jeems who had given Ricky directions for reaching the place and had +asked her to come, was more than he could understand. But he had a +faint, uneasy feeling of mistrust, as if they had been caught off guard +at a critical moment.</p> + +<p>"This the place, Red?" The clipped words sounded clear above the murmurs +of life from swamp and woods.</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Bum-lookin' joint, ain't it? These guys ain't got no brains; they +like to live like this." The contempt of the second speaker was only +surpassed by the stridency of his voice.</p> + +<p>"What about this boy?" asked the first.</p> + +<p>"Dumb kid. Don't know yet who his friends is." There was a satisfied +grunt as the speaker sat down on the step Val had so lately vacated. +Ricky pressed closer to her brother.</p> + +<p>"What about the cabin?"</p> + +<p>"He ain't here. And it's locked, see? Yuh'd think he kept the crown +jewels there." The tickling scent of a cigarette drifted back to the two +in hiding. "Beats me how he slipped away this morning without Pitts +catching on. For two cents I'd spring that lock of his—"</p> + +<p>"Isn't worth the trouble," replied the other decisively. "These trappers +have no money except at the end of the fur season, and then most of them +are in debt to the storekeepers."</p> + +<p>"Then why—"</p> + +<p>"I sometimes wonder," the voice was coldly cutting, "why I continue to +employ you, Red. What profit would I find in a cabin like this? I want +what he knows, not what he has."</p> + +<p>Having thus reduced his henchman to silence, the speaker went on +smoothly, as if he were thinking aloud. "With Simpson doing so well in +town, we're close to the finish. This swamper must tell us—" His voice +trailed away. Except for the creaking of wood when the sitter shifted +his position, there was no other sound.</p> + +<p>Then Red must have grown restless, for someone stamped up to the +platform and rattled the chain on the cabin door aggressively. Val +flattened back against the wall. What if the fellow took it into his +head to walk around?</p> + +<p>"Gonna wait here all day?" demanded Red.</p> + +<p>"As it is necessary for me to have a word with him, we will. This waste +of time is the product of Pitts' stupidity. I shall remember that. It is +entirely needless to use force except as a last resource. Now that this +swamper's suspicions are aroused, we may have trouble."</p> + +<p>"Yeah? Well, we can handle that. But how do yuh know that this guy has +the stuff?"</p> + +<p>"I can at least believe the evidence of my own eyes," the other replied +with bored contempt. "I came down river alone the night of the storm and +saw him on the levee. He has a way of getting into the house all right. +I saw him in there. And he doesn't go through any of the doors, either. +I must know how he does it."</p> + +<p>"All right, Boss. And what if you do get in? What are we supposed to be +lookin' for?"</p> + +<p>"What those bright boys up there found a few days ago. That clerk told +us that they'd discovered whatever the girl was talking about in the +office that day. And we've got to get that before Simpson comes into +court with his suit. I'm not going to lose fifty grand." The last +sentence ended abruptly as if the speaker had snapped his teeth shut +upon a word like a dog upon its quarry.</p> + +<p>"What does this guy Jeems go to the house for?" asked Red.</p> + +<p>"Who knows? He seems to be hunting something too. But that's not our +worry. If it's necessary, we can play ghost also. I've got to get into +that house. If I can do it the way this Jeems does, without having to +break in—so much the better. We don't want the police ambling around +here just now."</p> + +<p>Val stiffened. It didn't require a Sherlock Holmes to get the kernel of +truth out of the conversation he had overheard. "Night of the storm," +"play ghost," were enough. So Jeems had been the ghost. And the swamper +knew a secret way into the house!</p> + +<p>"Wait," Ricky's lips formed the words by his ear as Val stirred +restlessly. "Someone else is coming."</p> + +<p>"I don't like the set-up in town," Red was saying peevishly. "That +smooth mouthpiece is asking too darn many questions. He's always asking +Simpson about things in the past. If you hadn't got Sim that family +history to study, he'd been behind bars a dozen times by now."</p> + +<p>"And he had better study it," commented the other dryly, "because he is +going to be word perfect before the case comes to court, if it ever +does. There are not going to be any slip-ups in this deal."</p> + +<p>"'Nother thing I don't like," broke in the other, "is this Waverly guy. +I don't like his face."</p> + +<p>"No? Well, doubtless he would change it if you asked him to. And I do +not think it is wise of you to be too critical of plans which were made +by deeper thinkers than yourself. Sometimes, Red, you weary me."</p> + +<p>There was no reply to that harsh judgment. And now Val could hear what +Ricky had heard earlier—a faint swish as of a paddle through water. +Again Ricky's lips shaped words he could barely hear.</p> + +<p>"Spur of bayou runs along here in back. Someone coming up from there."</p> + +<p>"Jeems?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe."</p> + +<p>"We'd better—" Val motioned toward the front of the cabin. Ricky shook +her head. Jeems was to be allowed to meet the intruders unwarned.</p> + +<p>"This swamper may be tough," ventured Red.</p> + +<p>"We've met hard cases before," answered the other significantly.</p> + +<p>Red moved again, as if flexing his muscles.</p> + +<p>"One boy, and a small one at that, shouldn't force you to undergo all +that preparation," goaded the Boss.</p> + +<p>Ricky must get away at once, her brother decided. Stubbornness or no +stubbornness, she must go this time. Why he didn't think of going +himself Val never afterwards knew. Perhaps he possessed a spark of the +family love of danger, after all, but mostly he clung to his perch +because of that last threat. Whoever Jeems was or whatever he had done, +he was one and alone. And he might relish another player on his side. +But Ricky must go.</p> + +<p>He said as much in a fierce whisper, only to have her grin recklessly +back at him. In pantomime she gestured that he might try to make her. +Val decided that he should have known the result of his efforts. Ricky +was a Ralestone, too. And short of throwing her off the platform and so +unmasking themselves completely, he could not move her against her will.</p> + +<p>"No," she whispered. "They're planning trouble for Jeems. He'll probably +need us."</p> + +<p>"Well," Val cautioned her, "if it gets too rough, you've got to promise +to cut downstream for help. We'll be able to use it."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "It's a promise. But we've got to stand by Jeems if he needs +us."</p> + +<p>"If he does—" Val was still suspicious. "He may fall in with their +suggestions."</p> + +<p>Ricky shook her head. "He isn't that kind. I don't care if he <i>has</i> been +playing ghost."</p> + +<p>Someone was walking along the path among the bushes bordering the back +of the clearing. Although they could hear no sound, they could mark the +passing of a body by the swish of the foliage. Val lay, face down, on +the platform and reached for a stick of wood lying on the ground below. +Somehow he did not like to think of being caught empty-handed when the +excitement began.</p> + +<p>"Hello." It was Red, suddenly genial. The Ralestones could almost feel +the radiance of the smile which must have split his face.</p> + +<p>"Whatta yo' doin' heah?" That was Jeems, and his demand was sharply +hostile.</p> + +<p>"Now, bub, don't get us wrong." That was Red, still genial. "I know my +pal sorta flew off his base this mornin'. But it was all in fun, see? So +we kinda wanted yuh to stick around till he came and not do the run-out +on us. And now the Boss has come down here so we can talk business all +friendly like."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Red!" Having so bottled his companion's flow of words, the +other spoke directly to Jeems. "My men made a mistake. All right. That's +over and done with; they'll get theirs. Now let's get down to business. +What do you know about that big plantation up river, the one called +'Pirate's Haven'?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin'." Jeems' answer was clear. The hostility was gone from his +voice; nothing remained but an even tonelessness.</p> + +<p>"Come now, I know you have reason to be hot. But this is business. I'll +make it worth your while—"</p> + +<p>"Nothin'," answered Jeems as concisely as before.</p> + +<p>"You can't expect us to believe that. I followed you one night."</p> + +<p>"Yo' did?" The challenge was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>"I did. So you see I know something of you. Something which even the +present owner does not. Say the ghost in the hall, for example."</p> + +<p>There was the sound of a deeply drawn breath.</p> + +<p>"So you see it is to your advantage to listen to us," continued the Boss +smoothly.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p>Val knew disappointment at that question. Would Jeems surrender as +easily as that?</p> + +<p>"Just an explanation of how you get into the house unseen."</p> + +<p>"Yo'll nevah know!" The swamper's reply came swift and clear.</p> + +<p>"No? Well, I'd think twice before I held to that answer if I were you," +purred the other softly. "A word to the Ralestones about those nightly +walks of yours—"</p> + +<p>"Won't give yo' what yo' want," replied Jeems shrewdly.</p> + +<p>"I see. Perhaps I have been using the wrong approach," observed the Boss +composedly. "You work for a living, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then you know the value of money. What is your price? Come on, we won't +haggle."</p> + +<p>The Boss' impatience colored his tone. "How much do you want for this +information?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin'!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Ah ain't said nothin' an' Ah ain't a-goin' to say nothin'. An' yo' +bettah be a-gittin' offen this heah land of mine afo'—"</p> + +<p>"Before what, swamper?" Red was taking a hand in the game.</p> + +<p>"Yo' can't fright'n me with that gun," came calmly enough from Jeems. +"Yo' ain't a-goin' to risk shootin'—"</p> + +<p>"There ain't no witnesses here, kid. And there ain't no law back in +these swamps. Yuh're gonna tell the Boss what he wants to know an' +yuh're gonna spill it quick, see? I know some ways of making guys +squeal—"</p> + +<p>At that suggestion Val's fingers tightened on his club and Ricky choked +back a cry as her brother crept toward the corner of the cabin. Their +melodrama was fast taking on the color of tragedy.</p> + +<p>"So yuh better speak up." Red was still encouraging Jeems.</p> + +<p>There was no immediate answer from the swamper, but Ricky touched Val's +arm and nodded toward the bushes. She had decided that it was time for +her to leave. He agreed eagerly. She dropped lightly to the ground and +he watched her crawl away unnoticed by those in front who were so intent +upon the baiting of their quarry.</p> + +<p>"Three minutes, swamper!"</p> + +<p>Ricky was gone, free from whatever might develop. Val edged forward and +for the first time peered around the corner of the cabin. The two +assailants were still only voices, but he could see Jeems. The swamper's +face was bruised and there was a smear of dried blood across one cheek +as if he had already been roughly handled. But he stood at ease, facing +the cabin. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides and he was +seemingly unconcerned by what confronted him. Suddenly his eyes +flickered to the bushes at one side. Had Ricky betrayed herself, Val +wondered breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Clear now of the cabin, Val wriggled his way around the platform. In a +minute he would be able to see the Boss and Red. He gripped the club.</p> + +<p>Then Jeems stared straight into his face. But the swamper gave no sign +of seeing Val. And that, to the boy's mind, was the greatest feat of all +that afternoon. For Val knew that if he had been in Jeems' place he +would have betrayed them both in his surprise.</p> + +<p>The others were at last visible, their backs to Val. Nervously he sized +them up. The Boss was tall and thin, but his movements suggested +possession of wiry strength. Red, his brick-colored hair making him easy +to identify, was shorter and thick across the shoulders, but his +waistline was also thick and the boy thought that his wind was bad. Of +the two, the Boss was the more dangerous. Red might lose his head in a +sudden attack, but not the Boss. Val decided to tackle the latter.</p> + +<p>Slowly he got from his knees to his feet. After the first quick glance, +Jeems hadn't looked at him, but Val knew that the swamper was ready and +waiting to take advantage of any diversion he might make.</p> + +<p>"Three minutes are up, swamper. So yuh've decided to be tough, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Whatta yo' wanna know?" Jeems' question was silly but it held their +attention.</p> + +<p>"We have told you several times," answered the Boss, his temper +beginning to fray visibly. "What is the trick of getting into that +house?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Jeems raised his hand to rub his ear, "yo' turn to the left—"</p> + +<p>So he agreed with the listener. Val was to take the Boss on his left. He +gathered his feet under him for the leap which he hoped would land him +full upon the invader.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" prompted the man impatiently as Jeems hesitated. At that moment +Val sprang.</p> + +<p>But his game leg betrayed him again. Instead of landing cleanly upon the +other, he came down draggingly across the Boss' shoulders. The gun +roared and then the attacked man lashed back a vicious blow which split +the skin over Val's cheek-bone.</p> + +<p>For the next three minutes Val was more than occupied. His opponent was +a dirty fighter, and when he had recovered from his surprise he was more +than the boy could handle. Val's club was twisted out of his hands, and +he found himself fighting wildly to keep the man's clawing fingers from +his eyes. They were both rolling on the ground, flailing out at each +other. Twice Val tasted his own blood when one of the enemy's vicious +jabs glanced along his face. Either blow would have finished Val had it +landed clean.</p> + +<p>Then in a sudden turn the Boss caught him in a deadly body-lock which +left him half-stunned and panting, at his mercy. And there was no mercy +in the man. When Val looked up into that flushed, snarling face, he knew +that he was as hopeless as a trapped animal. The man could—and +would—finish him at his leisure.</p> + +<p>"This way, Rupert! Sam!" the cry reached even Val's dulled ears.</p> + +<p>The man above him stirred. The boy saw the blood-lust fade from his eyes +and apprehension take its place. He got to his feet, launching a last +bruising kick at Val's ribs before he limped across the clearing. On his +way he hauled Red to his feet. They were going, not toward the path from +the bayou, but around the house on the trail that Jeems had followed. +Val struggled up and looked around. The turf was torn and gouged. In the +dust lay his club and Red's revolver.</p> + +<p>And by the steps lay something else, a slight brown figure. Painfully +the boy got to his feet and lurched across to Jeems.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST</h3> + + +<p>The swamper was lying on his back, his eyes closed. From a great purple +welt across his forehead the blood oozed sluggishly. When Val touched +him he moaned faintly.</p> + +<p>"Val! Are you hurt? What's the matter?" Ricky was upon them like a +whirlwind out of the bush.</p> + +<p>"Jeems stopped a nasty one," her brother panted.</p> + +<p>"Is he—" She dropped down in the dust beside them.</p> + +<p>"He's knocked out, and he'll have a bad headache for some time, but I +don't think it's any worse than that."</p> + +<p>Ricky had pulled out a microscopic bit of handkerchief and was dabbing +at the blood in an amateurish way. Jeems moaned and turned his head as +if to get away from her ministrations.</p> + +<p>"Where's Rupert—and Sam?" Val looked toward the path. "They were with +you, weren't they?"</p> + +<p>Ricky shook her head. "No. That was just what you call creating a +diversion. For all I know, they're busy at home."</p> + +<p>Her brother straightened. "Then we've got to get out of here—fast. +Those two left because they were rattled, but when they have had a +chance to cool off they'll be back."</p> + +<p>"What about Jeems?"</p> + +<p>"Take him with us, of course. We won't be able to manage the canoe. But +you brought the outboard, so we'll go in that and tow the canoe. We +ought to have something to cover his head." Val regarded the bleeding +wound doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Without answering, Ricky leaned forward and began systematically going +through Jeems' pockets. In the second she found a key. Val took it from +her and hobbled up the cabin steps. For a wonder, he thought thankfully, +the key was the right one. The lock clicked and he went in.</p> + +<p>Like the clearing, the interior of the one-room shack was neat, a place +for everything and everything in its place. Under the window in the far +wall was a small chest of some dark polished wood. Save for its size, it +was not unlike the chests the Ralestones had found in their store-room. +Opposite it was a wooden cot, the covers smoothly spread. A stool, a +blackened cook stove, and a solid table with an oil lamp were the extent +of the furnishings. Lines of traps hung on the walls, along with the +wooden boards for the stretching of drying skins, and there was a +half-finished grass basket lying on top of the chest.</p> + +<p>Val hefted a stoneware jug. They had no time to hunt for a spring. And +if this contained water, they would need it. At the resulting gurgle +from within, he set it by the door and returned to rob the cot of pillow +and the single coarse but clean sheet.</p> + +<p>Ricky tore the sheet and made a creditable job of washing and bandaging +the ugly bruise. Jeems drank greedily when they offered him water but he +did not seem to recognize them. In answer to Ricky's question of how he +felt, he muttered something in the swamp French of the Cajuns. But he +was uneasy until Val locked the cabin door and put the key in his hand.</p> + +<p>"How are we going to get him to the boat?" asked Ricky suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Carry him."</p> + +<p>"But, Val—" for the first time she looked at her brother as if she +really saw him—"Val, you're hurt!"</p> + +<p>"Just a little stiff," he hastened to assure her. "Our late visitors +play rather rough. We'll manage all right. I'll take his shoulders and +you his feet."</p> + +<p>They wavered drunkenly along the path. Twice Val stumbled and regained +his balance just in time. Ricky had laid the pillow across their +burden's feet, declaring that she would need it when they got to the +boat. Val passed the point of aching misery—when he thought that he +could not shuffle forward another step—and now he came into what he had +heard called "second wind." By fixing his eyes on a tree or a bush a +step or two ahead and concentrating only upon passing that one, and then +that, and that, he got through without disgracing himself.</p> + +<p>At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat. Val +had no doubt that a woodsman might have done the whole job better in +much less time and without a tenth of the effort they had expended. But +all he ever wondered afterward was how they ever did it at all.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl207" id="ianrl207"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl207.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4><i>At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into +the boat.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It was when Ricky had made their passenger as comfortable as she could +in the bottom of the boat, steadying his head across her knees, that her +brother partially relaxed.</p> + +<p>"Val, you run the engine," she said without looking up.</p> + +<p>He dragged himself toward the stern of the boat, remembering too late, +when he had cast off, that he had not taken the canoe in tow. The engine +coughed, sputtered, and then settled down to a steady <i>putt-putt</i>. They +were off.</p> + +<p>"Val, do you—do you think he is badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>He dared not look down; it required all his powers of concentration on +what lay before them to keep his hand steady.</p> + +<p>"No. We'll get a doctor when we get back. He'll come around again in no +time—Jeems, I mean."</p> + +<p>But would he? Head injuries were sometimes more serious than they +seemed, Val remembered dismally.</p> + +<p>It was not until they came out into the main bayou that Jeems roused +again. He looked up at Ricky in a sort of dull surprise, and then his +gaze shifted to Val.</p> + +<p>"What—"</p> + +<p>"We won the war," Val tried to grin, an operation which tore his mask of +dried blood, "thanks to Ricky. And now we're going home."</p> + +<p>At that, Jeems made a violent effort to sit up.</p> + +<p>"<i>Non</i>!" his English deserted him and he broke into impassioned French.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Val replied firmly as Ricky pushed the swamper down. "Of course +you're coming with us. You've had a nasty knock on the head that needs +attention."</p> + +<p>"Ah'm not a-goin' to no hospital!" His eyes burned into Val's.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" cried Ricky. "You're bound for our guest-room. Now keep +quiet. We'll be there soon."</p> + +<p>"Ah ain't a-goin'," he declared mutinously.</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly," Ricky scolded him; "we're taking you. Does Val have to +come and hold you down?"</p> + +<p>"Ah can't!" His eyes flickered from Val's face to hers. There was +something more than independence behind that firm refusal. "Ah ain't +a-goin' theah."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>He seemed to shrink from her. "It ain't fitten," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"How perfectly silly," laughed Ricky. But Val thought that he +understood.</p> + +<p>"Because of the secret you know?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>The pallor beneath Jeems' heavy tan vanished in a flush of slow-burning +red. "Ah reckon so," he muttered, but he met Val's eyes squarely.</p> + +<p>"Let's leave all explanations until later," Val suggested.</p> + +<p>"Ah played haunt!" the confession came out of the swamper in a rush.</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>were</i> my faceless ghost?"</p> + +<p>Jeems tried to nod and the action printed a frown of pain between his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why? Didn't you want us to live there?" asked Ricky gently.</p> + +<p>"Ah was huntin'—"</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>The frown became one of puzzlement. "Ah don't know—" His voice trailed +off into a thin whisper as his eyes closed wearily. Val signaled Ricky +to keep quiet.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy there!" Along the bank toward them came Rupert and after him Sam. +Beyond them lay the Ralestone landing. Val headed inshore.</p> + +<p>"Just what does this mean—Val! Has there been an accident?" The +irritation in Rupert's voice became hot concern.</p> + +<p>"An intended one," his brother replied. "We've got the real victim here +with us."</p> + +<p>They tied up to the landing and Sam came down to hand out Jeems who +apparently had lapsed into unconsciousness again.</p> + +<p>"You'd better call a doctor," Val told Rupert. "Jeems has a head wound."</p> + +<p>But Rupert had already taken charge of affairs with an efficiency which +left Val humbly grateful. The boy didn't even move to leave the boat. It +was better just to sit and watch other people scurry about. Sam had +started for the house, carrying Jeems as if the long-legged swamper was +the same age and size as his own small son. Ricky dashed on ahead to +warn Lucy. Rupert had Sam Two by the collar and was giving him +instructions for catching Dr. LeFrode, who was probably making his +morning rounds and might be found at the sugar-mill where one of the +feeders had injured his hand. Sam Two's sister had seen the doctor on +his way there a scant ten minutes earlier.</p> + +<p>Val watched all this activity dreamily. Everything would be all right +now that Rupert was in charge. He could relax—</p> + +<p>"Now," his brother turned upon Val, "just what did—What's the matter +with you?"</p> + +<p>"Tired, I guess," Val said ruefully. But Rupert was already in the boat, +getting the younger boy to his unsteady feet.</p> + +<p>"Can you make it to the house?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Sure. Just give me an arm till I get on the landing."</p> + +<p>But when Val had crawled up on the levee he did not feel at all like +walking to the house. Then Rupert's arm was about his thin shoulders and +he thought that he could make it if he really tried.</p> + +<p>The garden path seemed miles long, and it was not until Val had the soft +cushions of the hall couch under him that he felt able to tell his +story. But at that moment the short, stout doctor came through the door +in a rush. Sam Two had led him to believe that half the household had +been murdered. At first Dr. LeFrode started toward Val, until in alarm +the boy swung his feet to the floor and sat up, waving the man to the +stairway where Ricky hovered to act as guide.</p> + +<p>Then Val was alone, even Sam Two having edged upstairs to share in the +excitement. The boy sank back on his pillows and wondered where their +late assailants were now, and why they had been so determined to learn +Jeems' secret. As Ricky had said once before, the Ralestones seemed to +have been handed a gigantic tangle without ends, only middle sections, +and had been told to unravel it.</p> + +<p>Boot heels clicked on the stone flooring. Val turned his head cautiously +and tried not to wince. Rupert was coming in with a bowl of water, from +which steam still arose. Across his arm lay a towel and in his other +hand was their small first-aid kit.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we do a little patching," he suggested. "Your face at present +is not all it might be. What did you and your swamp friend do—run into +a mowing machine?" He swabbed delicately at the cut the Boss had opened +across Val's cheek-bone, and at another by his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I thought it might be that for a moment—a mowing machine, I mean. No, +we just met a couple of gentlemen—enterprising fellows who wanted to +see more of this commodious mansion of ours—" Val's words faded into a +sharp hiss as Rupert applied iodine with a liberal hand. "They seemed to +think that Jeems knew a lot about Pirate's Haven and they were going to +persuade him to tell all. Only it didn't turn out the way they had +planned."</p> + +<p>"Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face was +swollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this sudden +talkativeness.</p> + +<p>"Due partly to me, but mostly to Ricky. She—ah—created the necessary +diversion. I had sort of lost interest at the time. I know so little +about gouging and biting in clinches."</p> + +<p>"Dirty fighters?"</p> + +<p>"Well, soiled anyway. But if the Boss isn't nursing a cracked wrist, it +isn't my fault. I don't know what Jeems did to Red, but he, too, +departed in a damaged condition. Do you have to do that?" Val demanded +testily, squirming as Rupert ran his hands lightly over the boy's +shoulders and down his ribs, touching every bruise to tingling life.</p> + +<p>"Just seeing the extent of the damage," he explained.</p> + +<p>"You don't have to see, I can feel!" Val snapped pettishly.</p> + +<p>Rupert got to his feet. "Come on."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a hot bath and then bed. You'll be taking an interest in life again +about this time tomorrow. I think LeFrode had better see you too."</p> + +<p>"No," Val objected. "I'm not a child."</p> + +<p>Rupert grinned. "If you'd rather I carried you—"</p> + +<p>There was no opposing Rupert when he was in that mood, as his brother +well knew. Val got up slowly.</p> + +<p>The program that Rupert had outlined was faithfully carried out. Half an +hour later Val found himself between sheets, blinking at the ceiling +drowsily. When two cracks overhead wavered together of their own accord, +his eyes closed.</p> + +<p>"—still sleeping?" whispered someone at his side much later.</p> + +<p>"Yes, best thing for him."</p> + +<p>"Was he badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No, just banged around more than was good for him."</p> + +<p>Val opened his eyes. It must have been close to dusk, for the sunlight +was red across the bedclothes. Rupert stood by the window and Ricky was +in the doorway, a tray of covered dishes in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" Val sat up, grimacing at the twinge of pain across his back. +"What day is this?"</p> + +<p>Rupert laughed. "Still Tuesday."</p> + +<p>"How's Jeems?"</p> + +<p>"Doing very well. I've had to have Rupert in to frighten him into +staying in bed," Ricky said. "The doctor thinks he ought to be there a +couple of days at least. But Jeems doesn't agree with him. Between +keeping Jeems in bed and keeping Rupert out of the swamp I've had a full +day."</p> + +<p>Rupert sat down on the foot of the bed. "You'd know this Boss and Red +again, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll probably have a chance to identify them." There was a grim +look about Rupert's jaw. "Ricky's told me all that you overheard. I +don't know what it means but I've heard enough for me to get in touch +with LeFleur. He'll be out tomorrow morning. And once we get something +to work on—"</p> + +<p>"I'm beginning to feel sorry for our swamp visitors," Val interrupted.</p> + +<p>"They'll be sorry," hinted Rupert darkly. "How about you, Val, beginning +to feel hungry?"</p> + +<p>"Now that you mention it, I <i>am</i> discovering a rather hollow ache in my +center section. Supper ready?"</p> + +<p>"Half an hour. I'll bring you up a tray—" began Ricky.</p> + +<p>But Val had thrown back the sheet and was sitting on the side of the +bed. "Oh, no, you don't! I'm not an invalid yet."</p> + +<p>Ricky glanced at Rupert and then left. Val reached for his shirt +defiantly. But his brother raised no objection. The painful stiffness +Val had felt at first wore off and he was able to move without feeling +as if each muscle were tied in cramping knots.</p> + +<p>"May I pay Jeems a visit?" he asked as they went out into the hall. +Rupert nodded toward a door across the corridor.</p> + +<p>"In there. He's a stubborn piece of goods. Reminds me of you at times. +If he'd ever get rid of that scowl of his, he'd be even more like you. +He warms to Ricky, but you'd think I was a Chinese torturer the way he +acts when I go in." There was a shade of irritation in Rupert's voice.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's afraid of you."</p> + +<p>"But what for?" Rupert stared at the boy in open surprise.</p> + +<p>"Well, you do have rather a commanding air at times," Val countered. If +Ricky had told Rupert nothing of Jeems' confession, he wasn't going to.</p> + +<p>"So that's what you really think of me!" observed Rupert. "Go reason +with that wildcat of yours if you want to. I'm beginning to believe that +you are two of a kind." He turned abruptly down the hall.</p> + +<p>Val opened the door of the bedroom. The sunlight was fading fast and +already the corners of the large room were filled with the gray of dusk. +But light from the windows swept full across the bed and its occupant. +Val hobbled stiffly toward it.</p> + +<p>"Hello." The brown face on the pillow did not change expression as Val +greeted the swamper. "How do you feel now?"</p> + +<p>"Bettah," Jeems answered shortly. "Ah'm good but they won't le' me up."</p> + +<p>"The Doc says you're in for a couple of days," Val told him.</p> + +<p>Somehow Jeems looked smaller, shrunken, as he lay in that oversized bed. +And he had lost that air of indolent arrogance which had made him seem +so independent in their swamp and garden meetings. It was as if Val were +looking down upon a younger and less confident edition of the swamper he +had known.</p> + +<p>"What does he think?" There was urgency in that question.</p> + +<p>"Who's he?"</p> + +<p>"Yo' brothah."</p> + +<p>"Rupert? Why, he's glad to have you here," Val answered.</p> + +<p>"Does he know 'bout—"</p> + +<p>Val shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Tell him!" ordered the swamper. "Ah ain't a-goin' to stay undah his +ruff lessen he knows. 'Tain't fitten."</p> + +<p>At this clean-cut statement of the laws of hospitality, Val nodded. "All +right. I'll tell him. But what were you after here, Jeems? I'll have to +tell him that, too, you know. Was it the Civil War treasure?"</p> + +<p>Jeems turned his head slowly. "No." Again the puzzled frown twisted his +straight, finely marked brows. "What do Ah want wi' treasure? Ah don't +know what Ah was lookin' fo'. Mah grandpappy—"</p> + +<p>"Val, supper's ready," came Rupert's voice from the hall.</p> + +<p>Val half turned to go. "I've got to go now. But I'll be back later," he +promised.</p> + +<p>"Yo'll tell him?" Jeems stabbed a finger at the door.</p> + +<p>"Yes; after supper. I promise."</p> + +<p>With a little sigh Jeems relaxed and burrowed down into the softness of +the pillow. "Ah'll be awaitin'," he said.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS—</h3> + + +<p>It had been on of those dull, weepy days when a sullen drizzle clouded +sky and earth. In consequence, the walls and floors of Pirate's Haven +seemed to exude chill. Rupert built a fire in the hall fireplace, but +none of the family could say that it was a successful one. It made a +nice show of leaping flame accompanied by fancy lighting effects but +gave forth absolutely no heat.</p> + +<p>"Val?"</p> + +<p>The boy started guiltily and thrust his note-book under the couch +cushion as Charity came in. Tiny drops of rain were strung along the +hairs which had blown free of her rain-cape hood like steel beads along +a golden wire.</p> + +<p>"Yes? Don't come here expecting to get warm," he warned her bitterly. +"We are very willing but the fire is weak. Looks pretty, doesn't it?" He +kicked at a charred end on the hearth. "Well, that's all it's good for!"</p> + +<p>"Val, what sort of a mess have you and Jeems jumped into?" she asked as +she handed him her dripping cape.</p> + +<p>"Oh, just a general sort of mess," he answered lightly. "Jeems had +callers who forgot their manners. So Ricky and I breezed in and brought +the party to a sudden end—"</p> + +<p>"As I can see by your black eye," she commented. "But what has Jeems +been up to?"</p> + +<p>Val was suddenly very busy holding her cape before that mockery of a +blaze.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask him that?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm asking you. Rupert came over last night and sat on my +gallery making very roundabout inquiries concerning Jeems. I pried out +of him the details of your swamp battle. But I want to know now just +what Jeems has been doing. Your brother is so vague—"</p> + +<p>"Rupert has the gift of being exasperatingly uncommunicative," his +brother told her. "The story, so far as I know, is short and simple. +Jeems knows a secret way into this house. In addition, his grandfather +told him that the fortune of the house of Jeems is concealed +here—having been very hazy in his description of the nature of said +fortune. Consequently, grandson has been playing haunt up and down our +halls trying to find it.</p> + +<p>"His story is as full of holes as a sieve but somehow one can't help +believing it. He has explained that he has the secret of the outside +entrance only, and not the one opening from the inside. In the meantime +he is in bed—guarded from intrusion by Ricky and Lucy with the same +care as if he were the crown jewels. So matters rest at present."</p> + +<p>"Neatly put." She dropped down on the couch. "By the way, do you realize +that you have ruined your face for my uses?"</p> + +<p>Val fingered the crisscrossing tape on his cheek. "This is only +temporary."</p> + +<p>"I certainly hope so. That must have been some battle."</p> + +<p>"One of our better efforts." He coughed in mock modesty. "Ricky saved +the day with alarms and excursions without. Rupert probably told you +that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he can be persuaded to talk at times. Is he always so silent?"</p> + +<p>"Nowadays, yes," he answered slowly. "But when we were younger—You +know," Val turned toward her suddenly, his brown face serious to a +degree, "it isn't fair to separate the members of a family. To put one +here and one there and the third somewhere else. I was twelve when +Father died, and Ricky was eleven. They sent her off to Great-aunt +Rogers because Uncle Fleming, who took me, didn't care for a girl—"</p> + +<p>"And Rupert?"</p> + +<p>"Rupert—well, he was grown, he could arrange his own life; so he just +went away. We got a letter now and then, or a post-card. There was money +enough to send us to expensive schools and dress us well. It was two +years before I really saw Ricky again. You can't call short visits on +Sunday afternoons seeing anyone.</p> + +<p>"Then Uncle Fleming died and I was simply parked at Great-aunt +Rogers'. She"—Val was remembering things, a bitter look about +his mouth—"didn't care for boys. In September I was sent to a military +academy. I needed discipline, it seemed. And Ricky was sent to Miss +Somebody's-on-the-Hudson. Rupert was in China then. I got a letter from +him that fall. He was about to join some expedition heading into the +Gobi.</p> + +<p>"Ricky came down to the Christmas hop at the academy, then Aunt Rogers +took her abroad. She went to school in Switzerland a year. I passed from +school to summer camp and then back to school. Ricky sent me some +carvings for Christmas—they arrived three days late."</p> + +<p>He stared up at the stone mantel. "Kids feel things a lot more than +they're given credit for. Ricky sent me a letter with some tear stains +between the lines when Aunt Rogers decided to stay another year. And +that was the year I earned the reputation of being a 'hard case.'</p> + +<p>"Then Ricky cabled me that she was coming home. I walked out of school +the same morning. I didn't even tell anyone where I was going. Because I +had money enough, I thought I would fly. And that, dear lady, is the end +of this very sad tale." He grinned one-sidedly down at her.</p> + +<p>"It was then that—that—"</p> + +<p>"I was smashed up? Yes. And Rupert came home without warning to find +things very messy. I was in the hospital when I should have been in some +corrective institution, as Aunt Rogers so often told me during those +days. Ricky was also in disgrace for speaking her mind, as she does now +and then. To make it even more interesting, our guardian had been +amusing himself by buying oil stock with our capital. Unfortunately, oil +did not exist in the wells we owned. Yes, Rupert had every right to be +anything but pleased with the affairs of the Ralestones.</p> + +<p>"He swept us off here where we are still under observation, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't like it here?"</p> + +<p>"Like it? Madam, 'like' is a very pallid word. What if you were offered +everything you ever wished for, all tied up in pink ribbons and laid on +your door-step? What would your reaction be?"</p> + +<p>"So," she was staring into the fire, "that's the way of it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Or it would be if—" He stooped to reach for another piece of +wood. The fire was threatening to die again.</p> + +<p>"What is the flaw in the masterpiece?" she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Rupert. He's changed. In the old days he was one of us; now he's a +stranger. We're amusing to have around, someone to look after, but I +have a feeling that to him we don't really exist. We aren't real—" Val +floundered trying to express that strange, walled-off emotion which so +often held him in this grown-up brother's presence. "Things like this +'Bluebeard's Chamber' of his—that isn't like the Rupert we knew."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever think that he might be shy, too?" she asked. "He left two +children and came home to find two distrustful adults. Give him his +chance—"</p> + +<p>"Charity!" Ricky ran lightly downstairs. "Why didn't Val tell me you had +come?"</p> + +<p>"I just dropped in to inquire concerning your patient."</p> + +<p>"He's better-tempered than Val," declared Ricky shamelessly. "You'll +stay to dinner of course. We're having some sort of crab dish that Lucy +seems to think her best effort. Rupert will be back by then, I'm sure; +he's out somewhere with Sam. There's been some trouble about trespassers +on the swamp lands. Goodness, won't this rain ever stop?"</p> + +<p>As if in answer to her question, there came a great gust of wind and +rain against the door, a blast which shook the oak, thick and solid as +it was. And then came the thunder of the knocker which Letty-Lou had +polished into shining life only the day before.</p> + +<p>Val opened the door to find Mr. Creighton and Mr. Holmes huddled on the +mat. They came in with an eagerness which was only surpassed by Satan, +wet and displaying cold anger towards his mistress, whom he passed with +a disdainful flirt of his tail as he headed for that deceptive fire.</p> + +<p>"You, again," observed Charity resignedly as Sam Two was summoned and +sent away again draped with wet coats and drenched hats.</p> + +<p>"Man"—Holmes argued with Satan for the possession of the +hearth-stone—"when it rains in this country, it rains. A branch of your +creek down there is almost over the road—"</p> + +<p>"Bayou, not creek," corrected Charity acidly. Lately she had shown a +marked preference for Holmes' absence rather than his company.</p> + +<p>"I stand corrected," he laughed; "a branch of your bayou."</p> + +<p>"If you found it so unpleasant, why did you—" began Charity, and then +she flushed as if she had suddenly realized that that speech was too +rude even for her recent attitude.</p> + +<p>"Why did we come?" Holmes' crooked eyebrow slid upward as his face +registered mock reproof. "My, my, what a warm welcome, my dear." He +shook his head and Charity laughed in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind my bearishness," she made half apology. "You know what +pleasant moods I fall into while working. And this rain is depressing."</p> + +<p>"But Miss Biglow is right." Creighton smiled his rare, shy smile. +Brusque and impatient as he was when on business bent, he was awkwardly +uncomfortable in ordinary company. The man, Val sometimes thought +privately, lived, ate, slept books. Save when they were the subject of +conversation, he was as out of his element as a coal-miner at the +ballet. "We should explain the reason for this—this rather abrupt +call." He fingered his brief-case, which he still clutched, nervously.</p> + +<p>"Down to business already." Holmes seated himself on the arm of Ricky's +chair. "Very well, out with it."</p> + +<p>Creighton smiled again, laid the case across his knees, and looked +straight at Ricky. For some reason he talked to her, as if she above all +others must be firmly convinced of the importance of his mission.</p> + +<p>"It is a very queer story, Miss Ralestone, a very queer—"</p> + +<p>"Said the mariner to the wedding guest." Holmes snapped his fingers at +Satan, who contemptuously ignored him. "Or am I thinking of the Whiting +who talked to the Snail?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better begin at the beginning," continued Creighton, +frowning at Holmes who refused to be so suppressed.</p> + +<p>"Why be so dramatic about it, old man? It's very simple, Miss Ricky. +Creighton has lost an author and he wants you to help find him."</p> + +<p>When Ricky's eyes involuntarily swept about the room, Val joined in the +laughter. "No, it isn't as easy as all that, I'm afraid." Creighton had +lost his nervous shyness. "But what Holmes says is true. I have lost an +author and do hope that you can help me locate the missing gentleman—or +lady. Two months ago an agent sent a manuscript to our office for +reading. It wasn't complete, but he thought it was well worth our +attention. It was.</p> + +<p>"Although there were only five chapters finished, the rest being but +synopsis and elaborated scenes, we knew that we had something—something +big. We delayed reporting upon it until Mr. Brewster—our senior +partner—returned from Europe. Mr. Brewster has the final decision on +all manuscripts; he was as well pleased with this offering as we were. +Frankly, we saw possibilities of another great success such as those two +long historical novels which have been so popular during the past few +years.</p> + +<p>"Queerly enough, the author's name was not upon the papers sent us by +the agent—that is, his proper name; there was a pen-name. And when we +applied to Mr. Lever, the agent, we received a most unpleasant shock. +The author's real name, which had been given in the covering letter +mailed with the manuscript to Mr. Lever, had most strangely disappeared, +due to some carelessness in his office.</p> + +<p>"Now we have an extremely promising book and no author—"</p> + +<p>"What I can't understand," cut in Holmes, "is the modesty of the author. +Why hasn't he written to Lever?"</p> + +<p>"That is the most unfortunate part of the whole affair." Mr. Creighton +shook his head. "Lever recalled that the chap had said in the letter +that if Lever found the manuscript unsalable he should destroy it, as +the writer was moving about and had no permanent address. The fellow +added that if he didn't hear from Lever he would assume that it was not +acceptable. Lever wrote to the address given in the letter to +acknowledge receipt, but that was all."</p> + +<p>"Mysterious," Val commented, interested in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"Just so. Lever deduced from the tone of the letter that the writer was +very uncertain of his own powers and hesitated to submit his manuscript. +And yet, what we have is a very fine piece of work, far beyond the +ability of the average beginner. The author must have written other +things.</p> + +<p>"The novel is historical, with a New Orleans setting. Its treatment is +so detailed that only one who had lived here or had close connections +with this country could have produced it. Mr. Brewster, knowing that I +was about to travel south, asked me to see if I could discover our +missing author through his material. So far I have failed; our man is +unknown to any of the writers of the city or to any of those interested +in literary matters.</p> + +<p>"Yet he knows New Orleans and its history as few do today except those +of old family who have been born and bred here. Dr. Hanly Richardson of +Tulane University has assured me that much of the material used is +authentic—historically correct to the last detail. And it was Dr. +Richardson who suggested that several of the scenes must have actually +occurred, becoming with the passing of time part of the tradition of +some aristocratic family.</p> + +<p>"The period of the story is that time of transition when Louisiana +passed from Spain to France and then under the control of the United +States. It covers the years immediately preceding the Battle of New +Orleans. Unfortunately, those were years of disturbance and change. +Events which might have been the talk of the town, and so have found +description in gossipy memoirs, were swallowed by happenings of national +importance. It is, I believe, in intimate family records only that I can +find the clue I seek."</p> + +<p>"Which scenes"—Ricky's eyes shone in the firelight—"are those Dr. +Richardson believes real?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he was very certain that the duel of the twin brothers must have +occurred—Why, Mr. Ralestone," he interrupted himself as the stick Val +was about to place on the fire fell from his hands and rolled across the +floor. "Mr. Ralestone, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Across his shoulder Ricky signaled her brother. And above her head Val +saw Holmes' eyes narrow shrewdly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I'm sorry I was so clumsy." Val stooped hurriedly to hide his +confusion.</p> + +<p>"A duel between twin brothers." Ricky twisted one of the buttons which +marched down the front of her sport dress. "That sounds exciting."</p> + +<p>"They fought at midnight"—Creighton was enthralled by the story he was +telling—"and one was left for dead. The scene is handled with restraint +and yet you'd think that the writer had been an eye-witness. Now if such +a thing ever did happen, there would have been a certain amount of talk +afterwards—"</p> + +<p>Charity nodded. "The slaves would have spread the news," she agreed, +"and the person who found the wounded twin."</p> + +<p>Val kept his eyes upon the hearth-stone. There was no stain there, but +his vivid imagination painted the gray as red as it had been that cold +night when the slave woman had come to find her master lying there, his +brother's sword across his body. Someone had used the story of the +missing Ralestone. But who today knew that story except themselves, +Charity, LeFleur, and some of the negroes?</p> + +<p>"And you think that some mention of such an event might be found in the +papers of the family concerned?" asked Ricky. She was leaning forward in +her chair, her lips parted eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Or in those of some other family covering the same period," Creighton +added. "I realize that this is an impertinence on my part, but I wonder +if such mention might not be found among the records of your own house. +From what I have seen and heard, your family was very prominent in the +city affairs of that time—"</p> + +<p>Ricky stood up. "There is no need to ask, Mr. Creighton. My brother and +I will be most willing to help you. Unfortunately, Rupert is very much +immersed in a business matter just now, but Val and I will go through +the papers we have."</p> + +<p>Val choked down the protest that was on his lips just in time to nod +agreement. For some reason Ricky wanted to keep the secret. Very well, +he would play her game. At least he would until he knew what lay behind +her desire for silence.</p> + +<p>"That is most kind." Creighton was beaming upon both of them. "I cannot +tell you how much I appreciate your coöperation in this matter—"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," answered Ricky with that deceptive softness in her voice +which masked her rising temper. "We are only too grateful to be allowed +to share a secret."</p> + +<p>And then her brother guessed that she did not mean Creighton's secret +but some other. She crossed the room and rang the bell for Letty-Lou to +bring coffee. Something triumphant in her step added to Val's suspicion. +Like the Englishman of Kipling's poem, Ricky was most to be feared when +she grew polite. He turned in time to see her wink at Charity.</p> + +<p>Rupert came in just then, wet and thoroughly out of sorts, full of the +evidences he had discovered on Ralestone lands bordering the swamp that +strangers had been camping there. Their guests all stayed to supper, +lingering long about the table to discuss Rupert's find, so that Val did +not get a chance to be alone with Ricky to demand an explanation. And +for some reason she seemed to be adroitly avoiding him. He did have her +almost cornered in the upper hall when Letty-Lou came up behind him and +plucked at his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Mistuh Val," she said, "dat Jeems boy done wan' to see yo'all."</p> + +<p>"Bother Jeems!" Val exploded, his eyes on Ricky's back. But he stepped +into the bedroom where the swamper was still imprisoned by Lucy's +orders.</p> + +<p>The boy was propped up on his pillows, looking out of the window. His +body was tense. At the sound of Val's step he turned his bandaged head.</p> + +<p>"Can't yo' git me outa heah?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"The watah's up!" His eyes were upon the water-filled darkness of the +garden.</p> + +<p>"But that's all right," the other assured him. "Sam says that it won't +reach the top of the levee. At the worst, only the lower part of the +garden will be flooded."</p> + +<p>Jeems glanced at Val over his shoulder and then without a word he edged +toward the side of the bed and tried to stand. But with a muffled gasp +he sank back again, pale and weak. Awkwardly Val forced him back against +his pillows.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," he assured him again.</p> + +<p>But in answer the swamper shook his head violently, "It ain't all right +in the swamp."</p> + +<p>In a flash Val caught his meaning. Swampers lived on house-boats for the +most part, and the boats will outride all but unusual floods. But Jeems' +cabin was built on land, land none too stable even in dry weather. The +swamp boy touched Val's hand.</p> + +<p>"It ain't safe. Two of them piles is rotted. If the watah gits that far, +they'll go."</p> + +<p>"You mean the piles holding up your cabin platform?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>He nodded. For a second Val caught a glimpse of forlorn loneliness +beneath the sullen mask Jeems habitually wore.</p> + +<p>"But there's nothing you can do now—"</p> + +<p>"It ain't the cabin. Ah gotta git the chest—"</p> + +<p>"The one in the cabin?"</p> + +<p>His black eyes were fixed upon Val's, and then they swerved and rested +upon the wall behind the young Ralestone.</p> + +<p>"Ah gotta git the chest," he repeated simply.</p> + +<p>And Val knew that he would. He would get out of bed and go into the +swamp after that treasure of his. Which left only one thing for Val to +do.</p> + +<p>"I'll get the chest, Jeems. Let me have your key to the cabin. I'll take +the outboard motor and be back before I'm missed."</p> + +<p>"Yo' don't know the swamp—"</p> + +<p>"I know how to find the cabin. Where's the key?"</p> + +<p>"In theah," he pointed to the highboy.</p> + +<p>Val's fingers closed about the bit of metal.</p> + +<p>"Mistuh," Jeems straightened, "Ah won't forgit this."</p> + +<p>Val glanced toward the downpour without.</p> + +<p>"Neither will I, in all probability," he said dryly as he went out.</p> + +<p>It had been on just such a night as this that the missing Ralestone had +gone out into the gloom. But he was coming back again, Val reminded +himself hurriedly. Of course he was. With a shake he pulled on his +trench-coat and slipped out the front door unseen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS</h3> + + +<p>The rain, fine and needle-like, stung Val's face. There were ominous +pools of water gathering in the garden depressions. Even the small +stream which bisected their land had grown from a shallow trickle into a +thick, mud-streaked roll crowned with foam.</p> + +<p>But the bayou was the worst. It had put off its everyday sleepiness with +a roar. A chicken coop wallowed by as the boy struggled with the knot of +the painter which held the outboard. And after the coop traveled a dead +tree, its topmost branches bringing up against the plantation landing +with a crack. Val waited for it to whirl on before he got on board his +craft.</p> + +<p>The adventure was more serious than he had thought. It might not be a +case of merely going downstream and into the swamp to the cabin; it +might be a case of fighting the rising water in grim battle. Why he did +not turn back to the house then and there he never knew. What would have +happened if he had? he sometimes speculated afterward. If Ricky had not +come into the garden to hunt him? If together they had not—</p> + +<p>While Val went with the current, his voyage was ease itself. But when he +strove to cut across and so reach the mouth of the hidden swamp-stream, +he narrowly escaped upsetting. As it was, he fended off some dark blot +bobbing through the water, his palm meeting it with a force that jarred +his bones.</p> + +<p>But he did make the mouth of the swamp-stream. Switching on the strong +search-light in the bow, he headed on. And because he was moving now +against the current, it seemed that he lost two feet for every one that +he advanced.</p> + +<p>The muddy water was whipped into foam where it tore around shrub and +willow. There were no longer any confining banks, only a waste of water +glittering through the dark foliage. The drear habitat of the vultures +was being swept bare by the scouring of the incoming streams, but its +moldy stench still arose stronger than ever, as if some foulness were +being stirred up from its ancient bed.</p> + +<p>It was only by chance that Val found the drying rack which marked the +boundary of Jeems' property. Here the land was higher than the flood, +which had not yet spread inland. He tied the boat to a willow and +splashed ashore. In the lower portions of the path his feet sank into +patches of wet. Something which might have been—and probably was—a +snake oozed away from the beam of his pocket torch.</p> + +<p>The clearing was much as it had been, save that the door of the +chicken-run stood ajar and its feathered population was gone. But under +the cabin Val saw the betraying sparkle of water. The bayou in the rear +must have topped flood level.</p> + +<p>Someone had been there before him. The lock was battered and there had +been an attempt to pry loose its staples, an attempt which had left +betraying gouges on the door frame. But misused as it had been, the lock +yielded to the key and Val went in. Warned by a lapping sound from +beneath, it did not take him long to get the chest, relock the door, and +head back to the boat.</p> + +<p>He was none too soon. Already, in the few moments of his absence, there +were rills cutting across the mud, rills which were growing in strength +and size. And the flood around the drying rack was up a good three +inches. Val dumped the chest into the bow with little ceremony and +climbed in after it, his wet trousers clinging damply to his legs. +Something plate-armored and possessing wicked yellow eyes swam +effortlessly through the light beam—a 'gator bound for the Gulf, +whether he would or no.</p> + +<p>The return as far as the bayou was easy enough, for again the boat was +borne on the current. But when Val faced the torn waters of the river he +experienced a certain tightness of throat and chill of blood. What might +have been the roof of a small shed was passing lumpily as he hesitated. +Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boy +piteously, its eyes green in the light. An eddy sent its ship close to +the boat; the top branches clung a moment to the bow. And to Val's +surprise, the 'coon roused itself to a mighty effort and crossed into +the egg-shell safety the boat offered. Once in the outboard, it +retreated to the bow where it crouched beside the chest and kept a wary +eye on Val's every movement.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl241" id="ianrl241"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl241.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h4><i>Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which +stared at the boy piteously, its eyes green in the light.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>But he could not rescue the wildcat which swept by spitting at the water +from a log, nor the shivering doe which awaited the coming of death, +marooned on an islet which was fast being cut away by the hungry waters. +And all the time the stinging rain fed the flood.</p> + +<p>Val gripped the rudder until the bar was printed deep across his palm. +Soon it would be too late. He must cross now, heading diagonally +downstream to escape the full fury of the current. With a deep breath he +turned out into the bayou.</p> + +<p>It was like fighting some vast animated feather-bed. His greatest +efforts were as nothing against the overpowering sweep seaward. And +there was constant danger from the floating booty of the storm. The +muddy spray lashed his body, filling the bottom of his craft as if it +were a tea-cup. And once the boat was whirled almost around.</p> + +<p>Val was beginning to wonder just how long a swimmer might last in that +black fog of rain, wind, and water when his bow eased into comparatively +quiet water. He had crossed the main current; now was the time to head +upstream. Grimly he did, to begin a struggle which was to take on all +the more horrible properties of a nightmare. For this was many times +worse than his fight against the swamp-stream.</p> + +<p>Twice the engine sputtered protestingly and Val thought of trying to +leap ashore. But stubbornly the outboard fought on. If there ever were a +sturdy ship, fit to be named with Columbus' gallant craft or Hudson's +vessel, it was that frail outboard which buffeted the rising waters of a +Louisiana bayou gone flood mad.</p> + +<p>It achieved the impossible; it crept upstream inch by inch, escaping +disaster after disaster by the thinness of a dime. Since he had +apparently not been born to drown, Val thought as he saw his headlight +touch the tip of the landing, he would doubtless depart this life by +hanging.</p> + +<p>Then his light picked out something else which lay between him and the +landing. The sleek, knife-bowed cruiser certainly did not belong to +Pirate's Haven. And what neighbor would come calling by water on such a +night? It was moored by two thick ropes to a sunken post, and already +the mooring was dragging the bow down. Val headed in toward it, running +the outboard between the stranger and the landing.</p> + +<p>Out of the blackness ashore a shadow arose and waved at him frenziedly. +Then he saw Ricky's white face above her long oil-silk cape. Her hair +was plastered tight to her skull and she was protecting her eyes from +the fury of the rain with her hands.</p> + +<p>Val sent the boat inshore until it bit into the crumbling surface of the +levee with a shock which threatened his balance. Ricky snatched at the +painter and held steady while he jumped. They made the boat fast and Val +landed the chest. The passenger did his own disembarking, making his way +into the garden without a backward look. Then Val demanded an +explanation.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" he tried to out-screech the wind.</p> + +<p>In answer she clapped her wet, muddy hand across his mouth and pulled +him back from the levee.</p> + +<p>They reached the semi-shelter of a rotting summer-house where he put +down the chest. Ricky pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. It was +impossible for them to hear each other without screaming madly.</p> + +<p>"Jeems told me—after you left—Val! How could you be so mad!"</p> + +<p>"I made it." He touched the chest with his toe. "After we had +practically kidnapped him, we couldn't let his belongings just float +away. But why are you out here? And where did that boat come from?"</p> + +<p>"I came out here after Jeems told me. I'm all right." She laughed +shakily. "I've got my oldest clothes on—and this," she touched her +cape. "I couldn't stay in there—waiting—after I knew. And I didn't +want Rupert to ask questions. So I said that I was going to bed with a +headache. Then I slipped out here to the levee. And I hadn't been here +two minutes before that boat came downstream. There were four men in it +and they got out and went into the bushes over there. And, Val, Rupert +is down at the other end of the garden where they are having trouble +with the levee. Holmes and Creighton went down to see if they could +help, too, just after you left. There's nobody but Charity up at the +house with Lucy and Letty-Lou. Val, what are we going to do?" she +appealed to him.</p> + +<p>"First I'll investigate these visitors," he said easily, though he felt +far from easy within.</p> + +<p>"Me too," she said firmly if ungrammatically, and since Val could not +wait to argue, she went along.</p> + +<p>They took the route she had watched the invaders follow, wriggling +through wet bushes and around trees.</p> + +<p>"Val, look out!" She grabbed his arm and so saved him from tumbling +headlong into a black hole in the ground. Vines and a small shrub or two +had been ruthlessly torn out to bare the opening. It was here that the +visitors must have gone to earth. And then Val had a glimmering of the +truth; the "Boss" and his friends had at last found Jeems' private door.</p> + +<p>Prudence urged that they return to the house and send Sam Two or some +other messenger down to the cross-roads store to summon the police by +phone. Prudence however had never successfully advised any Ralestone. +They had a decided taste for fighting their own battles. So, torch in +hand, Val dropped into the hole. And a moment later Ricky slid down to +join him.</p> + +<p>They stood in a rough passage. Stout timbers banked its sides and +guarded the roof. There was a damp underground smell such as Val had +noted in the cellar of the house, but the air was fresh enough. After +the first hasty survey, the boy held his fingers over the bulb of the +flashlight so that only the faintest glimmer escaped to light their +path.</p> + +<p>The passage was short, ending abruptly in a low bricked room. Save for +themselves, a tangle of rotting rope in a far corner, and two lively +black beetles, it was empty.</p> + +<p>"Val," Ricky's throaty whisper reached him, "can't you guess what this +is? The first pirate Ralestone's storage-house!"</p> + +<p>It was a likely enough explanation—though nothing could have been +stored there very long; the place was too damp. Beads of slimy moisture +from the walls dripped slowly down, shining like silver in the light.</p> + +<p>At the other side of the room was a corridor branching away. But this +they barely glanced into, little knowing how that neglect was to prove +disastrous in the end. It was the main door to their right which +interested them most, for that led, so far as Val could determine, +toward the house. And that must have been the one the mysterious +visitors had followed.</p> + +<p>Thus they came into the second of their pirate ancestor's store-rooms. +This one was long and narrow. Three wooden casks eaten with decay and +spotted with fungus stood against the wall, testifying to the use to +which this chamber had been put, though the all-pervading damp could not +have been good for the wine.</p> + +<p>Again a dark archway tempted them on, and the third room into which they +came had a more grim reminder of the scarlet past of the house. For +Ricky stumbled over something which clinked dully. And when Val used the +flash they looked down upon a telltale length of chain ending in an iron +ring, its other end soldered into the wall.</p> + +<p>"Val," Ricky's voice quavered, "did—did they keep people here?"</p> + +<p>"Slaves, perhaps," her brother answered soberly and shoved the rusting +metal aside with his foot. But there were two other chains hanging from +the wall, speaking of past horrors of which he did not care to think.</p> + +<p>And then as their light picked out these damning testimonials, Val +thought that the Ralestones, for all their pride and fine, brave airs, +had been only pirates after all, akin to those whom they were now +hunting through the dark.</p> + +<p>There was a low arched doorway of brick on the right side of the room, +and this they passed through. Beyond were three broad stone steps, worn +a little on the treads, one cracked clear across. These led to a wide +landing paved with brick. Here the walls were brick as well. Ricky +touched one involuntarily and drew back her hand with a little +exclamation of disgust. She wiped her palm vigorously on the wet surface +of her cape.</p> + +<p>Everywhere was the smell of rot and slow, vile decay. In spite of its +historical associations, decided Val, this vault should be sealed +forever from the daylight and left to the sole occupancy of those +nameless things which creep in its dark. The very air, in spite of its +freshness, seemed tainted.</p> + +<p>Another flight of stairs was before them, the treads fashioned of stone +but equipped with a rotted wooden hand-rail. And above was the faint +reflection of light and the sound of voices. Val hesitated and realized +for the first time how foolhardy their expedition was.</p> + +<p>Those above would be prepared to handle interruptions. Val was +determined to keep Ricky out of trouble, and to go on alone was the +rankest folly. But, as he hesitated, the decision was taken out of his +hands, for the light above suddenly became brighter. Grabbing at Ricky's +arm, he stumbled back into the shelter of the archway, pulling her after +him.</p> + +<p>A round circle of light shone plainly at the top of the stairs. Someone +was coming down. Ricky's breath was warm on Val's cheek and she moved +with a faint crackling of her cape which sounded as loud as a +thunderclap in his ears.</p> + +<p>"How're we gonna do it without bustin' the wall down?" demanded an +aggrieved voice from the top of the stairs. "There ain't no knob, no +handle, no nothin' to work it from this side. And these guys what stored +their stuff here in the boot-leggin' days never got into the house."</p> + +<p>"The boy got through, didn't he?" Val knew that voice, the Boss of the +swamp meeting. "Well, if he did, we can."</p> + +<p>"Lissen, Boss, it's a secret, ain't it? An' we gotta know how it works +before we can work it. An' lissen here, you swamp bum, you keep outta my +way—see? I don't care if you were one of Mike Flanigan's boys; that +don't cut no ice with me." This truculent warning must have been +addressed to an unseen companion on the same stair level. The listeners +below heard a faint sound which might have marked a collision and then +the hiss of swamp French spoken hurriedly and angrily.</p> + +<p>"What're you gonna do now, Boss?"</p> + +<p>The light half-way down the stairs paused. "There is some way of opening +that panel—"</p> + +<p>"An' we gotta find it. All right, all right. But tell me how."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether it will be necessary to open it—from this side."</p> + +<p>"What d'ya mean?"</p> + +<p>"Use that thick skull of yours, Red. Doors swing two ways, don't they? +They can be used either to go in or to go out."</p> + +<p>"Got it!" The thick voice was oily with flattering approval. "We can get +out this way—"</p> + +<p>"Smart work, Red. Did you think that out all by yourself?" asked the +other contemptuously. "Yes, we can come out this way when"—his voice +was sharp with purpose—"we are finished. Send one of these swampers +down to the levee where the men are working. As long as this flood keeps +rising we're safe. Then the other three of us will go for the house. We +may be seen that way, but there's no use spending any more time here +playing tick-tack-toe on that wood up there. We locate what we want, and +if we're cornered we can come out through here to the bayou. Slick +enough."</p> + +<p>"Great stuff, Boss—" Red began. But the rest was muffled, for Ricky and +Val drew back into the room of the chains. There was only one thing to +do now—reach Rupert and the others and prepare to meet these skulkers +in the open. But before they had quite crossed the room Ricky came to +grief. She caught her foot in one of those gruesome chains and stumbled +forward, falling on her hands and knee. The noise of her fall echoed +around the low chamber with betraying clamor.</p> + +<p>A white light beat upon them as Val stooped to aid Ricky.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" came the shout, but Val had only one thought, to dim that light. +He swung back his arm and flung his own flash straight at the other. +There was a grunt of pain and the light fell to the floor. With the +tinkle of breaking glass it went out. Val pulled Ricky to her feet and +threw her toward the door, forgetting everything but the wild panic +which urged him out of that place of foul darkness. They bruised their +hands against the brick as they felt for the opening, and then they were +out in the other chamber.</p> + +<p>"Val," Ricky clung to him, "I've got that little flash I keep under my +pillow at night. Wait a minute until I get it out of my pocket. We can't +find our way out of here without a light."</p> + +<p>Muffled sounds from behind them suggested that their pursuers were on +the trail even without light. After all, given time enough, it would be +easy for them to feel their way out of the vaults. Val hustled Ricky on, +taking his direction from one of the wine-casks he had bumped into. And +before he allowed her to hunt for her torch they stood in the first of +the chambers.</p> + +<p>The light she produced was poor and it flickered warningly. But it was +good enough for them to see the dark opening which led to the outer +world. They ducked into this just as the first of the other party came +cursing into the open. At Val's orders, Ricky switched off the light and +they crept along by the wall, one hand on its guiding surface.</p> + +<p>But the way seemed longer than it had upon their entering. Surely they +should have reached the garden entrance by now. And the surface +underfoot remained level instead of slanting upward. Suddenly Ricky gave +a little cry.</p> + +<p>"We've taken the wrong passage! There's only a blank wall in front of +us!"</p> + +<p>She was right. The torch showed a brick surface across their path, and +Val remembered too late the second passage out of the first chamber. +They must go back and hope to elude the others in the dark.</p> + +<p>"They may have all gone out, thinking we were still ahead of them," he +mused aloud.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's got to be done," Ricky observed, "so we might as well do +it."</p> + +<p>Back they went along the unknown passage. This appeared to run straight +out from the first chamber. But why it had been fashioned and then +walled up they had no way of knowing. Ricky's torch picked out the +entrance at last.</p> + +<p>"Wait," Val cautioned her, "we had better see how the land lies before +we go out in the open."</p> + +<p>They stood listening. Save for the constant drip, drip of water, there +was no sound.</p> + +<p>"I guess it's clear," he said.</p> + +<p>"Wonder where all the water is coming from?" Ricky shivered.</p> + +<p>"Down from the garden. Come on, I think it's safe to have a light now."</p> + +<p>Ricky must have been holding the torch upward when she pressed the +button, for the round circle of light appeared on the supporting timbers +above the door. They both looked up, fascinated for a moment. The old +oak had been laid in a crisscross pattern, the best support possible in +the days when the vaults had been made.</p> + +<p>"How wet—" began Ricky.</p> + +<p>Val cried out suddenly and struck at her. The blow sent her sprawling +some three or four feet back in the passage. There might be time yet to +cover her body with his own, he planned desperately, before—</p> + +<p>The sound of slipping earth was all about them as Val flung himself +toward Ricky. As he thrust blindly at her body, rolling her back farther +into the tunnel, he felt the first clod strike full upon his shoulder. +Ricky's complaining whimper was the last thing he heard clearly. For in +the dark was the crash of breaking timber.</p> + +<p>He was felled by a stroke across the upper arm, and then came a chill +darkness in which he was utterly swallowed up.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>PIECES OF EIGHT—RALESTONES' FATE!</h3> + + +<p>Through the dull roaring which filled his ears Val heard a sharp call:</p> + +<p>"Val! Val, where are you? Val!"</p> + +<p>He stared up into utter blackness.</p> + +<p>"Val!"</p> + +<p>"Here, Ricky!" But that thin thread of a whisper surely didn't belong to +him. He tried again and achieved a sort of croak. Something moved behind +him and there was an answering rattle of falling clods.</p> + +<p>"Val, I'm afraid to move," her voice wavered unsteadily. "It seems to be +falling yet. Where are you?"</p> + +<p>The boy tried to investigate, only to find himself more securely +fastened than if he had been scientifically bound. And now that the +mists had cleared from him, his spine and back felt a sharp pain to +which he was no stranger. From his breast-bone down he was held as if in +a vise.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt, Ricky?" He formed the words slowly. Every breath he drew +thrust a red-hot knife between his ribs. He turned his head toward her, +pillowing his cheek on the gritty clay.</p> + +<p>"No. But where are you, Val? Can't you come to me?"</p> + +<p>"Sorry. Un—unavoidably detained," he gasped. "Don't try any crawling or +the rest may come down on us."</p> + +<p>"Val! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Her questions cut sharply +through the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Banged up a little. No"—he heard the rustle which betrayed her +movements—"don't try to come to me—Please, Ricky!"</p> + +<p>But with infinite caution she came, until her brother felt the edge of +her cape against his face. Then her questing hand touched his throat and +slid downward to his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Val!" He knew what horror colored that cry as she came upon what +imprisoned him.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Ricky. I'm just pinned in. If I don't try to move I'm +safe." Quickly he tried to reassure her.</p> + +<p>"Val, don't lie to me now—you're hurt!"</p> + +<p>"It's not bad, really, Ricky—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" There was a single small cry and a moment of utter silence and +then a hurried rustling.</p> + +<p>"Here." Her hand groped for his head. "I've wadded up my cape. Can I +slip it under your head?"</p> + +<p>"Better not try just yet. Anything might send off the landslide again. +Just—just give me a minute or two to—to sort of catch my breath." +Catch his breath, when every sobbing gasp he drew was a stab!</p> + +<p>"Can't we—can't I lift some of the stuff off?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No. Too risky."</p> + +<p>"But—but we can't stay here—" Her voice trailed off and it was then +that she must have realized for the first time just what had happened to +them.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid we'll have to, Ricky," said her brother quietly.</p> + +<p>"But, Val—Val, what if—if—"</p> + +<p>"If we aren't found?" he put her fear into words. "But we will be. +Rupert is doubtless moving a large amount of earth right now to +accomplish that."</p> + +<p>"Rupert doesn't know where we are." She had regained control of both +voice and spirit. "We—we may never be found, Val."</p> + +<p>"I was a fool," he stated plainly a fact which he now knew to be only +too true.</p> + +<p>"I would have come even if you hadn't, Val," she answered generously and +untruthfully. It was perhaps the kindest thing she had ever said.</p> + +<p>Now that the noise of the catastrophe had died away they could hear +again the drip of water. And that sound tortured Val's dry throat. A +glass of cool water—He turned his head restlessly.</p> + +<p>"If we only had a light," came Ricky's wish.</p> + +<p>"The flash is probably buried."</p> + +<p>"Val, will—will it be fun?"</p> + +<p>"What?" he demanded, suddenly alert at her tone. Had the dark and their +trouble made her light-headed?</p> + +<p>"Being a ghost. We—we could walk the hall with Great-uncle Rick; he +wouldn't begrudge us that."</p> + +<p>"Ricky! Stop it!"</p> + +<p>Her answering laugh, though shaky, was sane enough.</p> + +<p>"I do pick the wrong times to display my sense of humor, don't I? Val, +is it so very bad?"</p> + +<p>Something within him crumbled at that question.</p> + +<p>"Not so good, Lady," he replied in spite of the resolutions he had made.</p> + +<p>She brushed back the hair glued by perspiration to his forehead. Ricky +was not gold, he thought, for gold is a rather dirty thing. But she was +all steel, as clean and shining as a blade fresh from the hands of a +master armorer. He made a great effort and found that he could move his +right arm an inch or two. Concentrating all his strength there, he +wriggled it back and forth until he could draw it free from the +wreckage. But his left shoulder and side were numb save for the pain +which came and went.</p> + +<p>"Got my arm free," Val told her exultantly and reached up to feel for +her in the dark. His fingers closed upon coarse cloth. He pulled feebly +and something rolled toward him.</p> + +<p>"What's this?"</p> + +<p>Ricky's hands slid along his arm to the thing he had found. He could +hear her exploring movements.</p> + +<p>"It's some sort of a bundle. I wonder where it came from."</p> + +<p>"Some more remains of the jolly pirate days, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Here's something else. A bag, I think. Ugh! It smells nasty! There's a +hole in it—Oh, here's a piece of money. At least it feels like money. +There's more in the bag." She pressed a disk about as large as a +half-dollar into Val's palm.</p> + +<p>"Pirate loot—" he began. Anything that would keep them from thinking of +where they were and what had happened was to be welcomed.</p> + +<p>"Val"—he could hear her move uneasily—"remember that old saying: +'Pieces of eight—Ralestones' fate?"</p> + +<p>"All good families have curses," he reminded her.</p> + +<p>"And good families can have—can have accidents, too."</p> + +<p>There could be no answer to that. Nor did Val feel like answering. The +savage pain in his legs and back had given way to a kind of numbness. A +chill not caused by the dank air crawled up his body. What—what if his +injuries were worse than he had thought? What if—if—</p> + +<p>The dripping of the water seemed louder, and it no longer fell with the +same rhythm. Ricky must be counting money from the bag. He could hear +the clink of metal against stone as she dropped a piece.</p> + +<p>"Don't lose it," he muttered foggily.</p> + +<p>"Lose what?"</p> + +<p>"Your pieces of eight."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You just dropped a piece."</p> + +<p>"I haven't touched—Val, do—do you feel worse?"</p> + +<p>But he had no thought now for his body. If Ricky had not dropped the +money, then what had caused the clink? He ground his cheek against the +clay. <i>Thud, thud, clink, thud.</i> That was not water dripping nor coin +rattling. That was the sound of digging. And digging meant—</p> + +<p>"Ricky! They're digging! I can hear them!"</p> + +<p>Her fingers closed about his free hand until the nails dug into the +flesh. "Where?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Listen!"</p> + +<p>The sound had grown in strength until now, though muffled, it sounded +through that part of the passage still remaining open.</p> + +<p>"It comes from this end. From behind that wall. But why should it come +from there?"</p> + +<p>"Does it matter? Val, do you suppose they could hear me if I pounded on +the wall at this side?"</p> + +<p>"You haven't anything heavy enough to pound with."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have. This package thing that you found. It's quite heavy. Val, +we've got to let them know we're here!"</p> + +<p>She crawled away, moving with caution lest she bring on another slide. +That reassuring <i>thud, thud</i> still sounded. Then, after long minutes, +Val heard the answering blow from their side. Three times Ricky struck +before the rhythm of the digging was broken. Then there was silence +followed by three sharp blows. They had heard!</p> + +<p>Ricky beat a perfect tattoo in joy and was quickly answered. Then the +<i>thud, thud</i> began again, but this time the pace was quickened.</p> + +<p>"They've heard! They're coming!" Ricky's voice shrilled until it became +a scream. "Val, we're found!"</p> + +<p>A clod was loosened somewhere above them and crashed upon the wreckage. +Would the efforts of their rescuers bring on another slide?</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Ricky," Val croaked a warning, "it's still moving."</p> + +<p>Then there came the sharp clink of metal against stone. "Val," called +Ricky, "they're right against the wall now!"</p> + +<p>"Come back here, away from it. We—we don't want you caught, too," he +answered her.</p> + +<p>Obediently she crawled back to him and again he felt her hand close +about his. The sound of metal grating against stubborn brick filled +their pocket of safety. But as an ominous accompaniment came the soft +hiss of earth sliding onto the wreckage. Which would win to them first, +the rescuers or the second slide?</p> + +<p>There was a vicious grinding noise from the walled end of the passage. A +moment later a blinding ray of light swung in, to focus upon them.</p> + +<p>"Ricky! Val!"</p> + +<p>Val was blinking stupidly at the light, but Ricky had presence of mind +enough to answer.</p> + +<p>"Here we are!"</p> + +<p>"Look out," Val roused enough to warn, "the walls are unsafe!"</p> + +<p>"We're coming through," rang the answer out of the dark. "Stand away!"</p> + +<p>Now that they could see, Val realized for the first time the danger of +their position. A jagged, water-rotted beam half covered with clay and +sand lay across him, and beyond that was a mass of splintered wood and +wet earth. A little sick, he looked up at Ricky. She was staring at the +wreckage. Her eyes were black in a white, mud-smeared face.</p> + +<p>"Val—Val!" His name came as the thinnest of whispers.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as bad as it looks," he said hurriedly. "Something underneath +must be supporting most of the weight or—or I wouldn't be here at all."</p> + +<p>"Val," she repeated, and then, paying no heed to his frantic injunctions +to keep away, she dug at earth and rotten wood with her hands. Using the +long bundle clumsily wrapped in stained canvas, she levered a piece of +beam out of the way so that she might get down on her knees and scoop up +the sand and clay.</p> + +<p>"Ricky! Val!" The light swung ahead as someone scrambled through the +hole in the barrier wall. Then, when the ray held firm upon them, the +headlong rush was checked for a long instant. "Val!"</p> + +<p>"Get her—away," he begged. "Another—slip—"</p> + +<p>But before he had done, a long arm gathered Ricky up as if she had been +a child. "Right," came the firm answer. "Sam, take Miss 'Chanda back. +Then—"</p> + +<p>Val was watching the reflection of the flash on the broken roof above +him. Sand slid in tiny streams down the wall, mingling with the greenish +trickles of water. There were queer blue and green arcs painted on the +brick which had something to do with the hot pain behind his eyes. The +blue turned to orange—to scarlet—</p> + +<p>"Careful! Right here in the hall, Holmes—"</p> + +<p>The broken earth above him had somehow been changed to a high ceiling, +the chill darkness to blazing light and warmth.</p> + +<p>"Ricky?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Here, Val." Her face was very close to his.</p> + +<p>"You—are—all—right?"</p> + +<p>"'Course!" But she was crying. "Don't try to talk, Val. You must be +quiet."</p> + +<p>He heard someone moving toward them but he kept his eyes on Ricky's +face. "We did it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered slowly, "we did it."</p> + +<p>"Val, don't try to talk." Rupert's face showed above Ricky's hunched +shoulder. There was an odd, strained look about his mouth, a smear of +mud across his cheek. But the harsh tone of his voice struck his brother +as dumb as if he had slapped him.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," Val shaped the words stiffly, "all my fault."</p> + +<p>"Nothing's your fault," Ricky's indignant answer cut in. "But—but just +be quiet, Val, until the doctor comes."</p> + +<p>He turned his head slowly. On the hearth-stone stood Charity talking +quietly to Holmes. Just within the circle of the firelight lay a bundle +which he had seen before. But of course, that was the thing they had +found in the passage, which Ricky had used to pound out their answer to +Rupert.</p> + +<p>"Ricky—" Val always believed that it was some instinct out of the past +which forced that whisper out of him—"Ricky, open that package."</p> + +<p>"Why—" she began, but then she got to her feet and went to the bundle, +twisting the tarred rope that fastened it in a vain attempt to undo the +intricate knots. It was Holmes who produced a knife and sawed through +the tough cord. And it was Holmes who unrolled the strips of canvas, +oil-silk, and greasy skins. But it was Ricky who took up what lay within +and held it out so that it reflected both red firelight and golden room +light.</p> + +<p>Her brother's sigh was one of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>For Ricky held aloft by its ponderous hilt a great war sword. There +could be no doubt in any of them—the Luck of Lorne had returned.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="ianrl267" id="ianrl267"></a> +<img src="images/ianrl267.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + +<h4><i>Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no +doubt in any of them—the Luck of Lorne had returned.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"We found it!" breathed Ricky.</p> + +<p>"Put it in its place," Val ordered.</p> + +<p>Without a word, Rupert drew out a chair and scrambled up. Taking from +Ricky's hands the ancient weapon, he slipped it into the niche their +pirate ancestor had made for it. In spite of the years underground, the +metal of hilt and blade was clear. Seven hundred years of history—their +Luck!</p> + +<p>"Everything will come right again," Val repeated as Ricky came back to +him. "You'll see. Everything—will—be—all—right."</p> + +<p>His eyes closed in spite of his efforts. He was back in the darkness +where he could only feel the warmth of Ricky's hands clasped about his.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER</h3> + + +<p>"I like Louisiana," drawled Holmes lazily from his perch on the +window-seat. "The most improbable things happen here. One finds secret +passages under houses and medieval war swords stuck in drains. Then +there are 'things that go boomp in the night,' too. It might be worth +settling down here—"</p> + +<p>"Not for you," cut in Charity briskly. "Too far from the bright lights +for you, my man."</p> + +<p>"Just for that," he triumphed, "I shall not return this lost property +found under a cushion of the couch in the hall."</p> + +<p>At the sight of that familiar black note-book, Val shifted uneasily on +his pillows. Rupert got up.</p> + +<p>"Tired, old man?" he asked and reached to straighten one of his +brother's feather-stuffed supports.</p> + +<p>Val shook his head. Being bandaged like a mummy was wearying, but one +had to humor two broken ribs and a fractured collar-bone.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," replied Charity, "you are just too clever, Mr. Judson +Holmes. That does not happen to be my property."</p> + +<p>"No?" He flipped it open and held it up so that she might see what lay +within. "I'll admit that it isn't your usual sort of stuff, but—"</p> + +<p>She was staring at the drawings. "No, that isn't mine. But who—"</p> + +<p>Ricky got up from the end of Val's cot and went to look. Then she +turned, her eyes shining with excitement. "You're trying them again! +But, Val, you said you never would."</p> + +<p>"Give me that book!" he ordered grimly. But Rupert had calmly collected +the trophy and was turning over the pages one by one. Val made a +horrible face at Ricky and resigned himself to the inevitable.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been doing this sort of thing?" his brother asked as +he turned the last page.</p> + +<p>"Ever so long," Ricky answered for Val brightly. "He used to draw whole +letters of them when we were at school. There were two sets, one for +good days and the other for bad."</p> + +<p>"And now," Val cut in, "suppose we just forget the whole matter. Will +you please let me have that!"</p> + +<p>"Rupert, don't let him go all modest on us now," urged the demon sister. +"One retiring violet in the family is enough."</p> + +<p>"And who is the violet? Your charming self?" inquired Holmes.</p> + +<p>"No." Ricky smiled pleasantly. "Only Mr. Creighton might be interested +in the contents of Bluebeard's Chamber. What do you think, Rupert?"</p> + +<p>At that audacious hint, Val remembered the night of the storm and +Ricky's strange attitude then.</p> + +<p>"So Rupert's the missing author," he commented lightly. "Well, well, +well."</p> + +<p>Charity's indulgent smile faded, and Holmes, suddenly alert, leaned +forward. Rupert stared at Val for a long moment, his face blank. Was he +going to retire behind his wall of reserve from which their venture +underground had routed him? Or was he going to remain the very human +person who had spent eight hours of every day at his brother's beck and +call for the past few weeks?</p> + +<p>"Regular Charlie Chan, aren't you?" he asked mildly.</p> + +<p>Val's sigh of relief was echoed by Ricky. "Thanks—so much," Val replied +humbly in the well-known manner of the famous detective Rupert had +likened him to.</p> + +<p>"Then we are right?" asked Ricky.</p> + +<p>Rupert's eyebrows slid upward. "You seemed too sure to be in doubt," he +commented.</p> + +<p>"Well, I was sure at times. But then no one can ever be really sure of +anything about you," she admitted frankly.</p> + +<p>"But why—" protested Charity.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't I spread the glad tidings that I was turning out the great +American novel?" he asked. "I don't know. Perhaps I am a violet—no?" He +looked pained at Ricky's snort of dissent. "Or perhaps I just don't like +to talk about things which may never come true. When I didn't hear from +Lever, I thought that my worst forebodings were realized and that my +scribbling was worthless. But you know," he paused to fill his pipe, +"writing is more or less like the drug habit. I've told stories all my +life, and I found myself tied to my typewriter in spite of my +disappointment. As for talking about it—well, how much has Val ever +said about these?" He ruffled the pages of the note-book provokingly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. And you would never have seen those if I could have prevented +it," his brother replied. "Those are for my private satisfaction only."</p> + +<p>"Two geniuses in one family." Ricky rolled her eyes heavenward. "This is +almost too, too much!"</p> + +<p>"Jeems," Val ordered, "you're the nearest. Can't you make her shut up?"</p> + +<p>"Just let him try," said his sister sweetly. The swamper grinned but +made no move to stir from his chair.</p> + +<p>Jeems had become as much a part of Pirate's Haven as the Luck, which Val +could see from his cot glimmering dully in its niche in the Long Hall. +The swamper's confinement in the sick-room had paled his heavy tan and +he had lost the sullen frown which had made him appear so old and +bitter. Now, dressed in a pair of Val's white slacks and a shirt from +his wardrobe, Jeems was as much at ease in his surroundings as Rupert or +Holmes.</p> + +<p>It had been Jeems who had saved Ricky and Val on that night of terror +when they had been trapped in the secret ways of their pirate ancestors. +Sam Two had trailed Ricky to the garden and had witnessed their entering +the tunnel. But his racial fear of the dark unknown had kept him from +venturing in after them. So he had lingered there long enough to see the +invaders come out and take to the river. Catching some words of theirs +about a cave-in, he had gone pelting off to Rupert with the story.</p> + +<p>The investigating party from the levee had discovered, to their horror, +the passage choked for half its length. They were making a futile and +dangerous attempt to clear it when Jeems appeared on the scene. +Letty-Lou having given him a garbled account of events, he had staggered +from his bed in an effort to reach Rupert. He alone knew the underground +ways as well as he knew the garden. And so once getting Rupert's +attention, he had set them to work in the cellar cutting through to the +one passage which paralleled the foundation walls.</p> + +<p>In the weeks which followed their emergence from the threatened tomb, +the swamper had unobtrusively slipped into a place in the household. +While Val was frightening his family by indulging in a bout of fever to +complicate his injuries, Jeems was proving himself a tower of strength +and a person to be relied upon. Even Lucy had once asked his opinion on +the importance of a fire in the hall, and with that his position was +assured.</p> + +<p>Of the invaders they had heard or seen no more, although the police had +visited Pirate's Haven on two separate occasions, interviewing each and +every member of the household. They had also made a half-hearted attempt +to search the swamp. But for all the evidence they found, Ricky and Val +might have been merely indulging in an over-vivid dream. Save that the +Luck hung again in the Long Hall.</p> + +<p>"Seriously, though," Holmes drew Val's thoughts out of the past, "these +are worth-while. Would you mind if I showed them to a friend of mine who +might be interested?"</p> + +<p>Since Rupert had already nodded and Charity had handed him the +note-book, Val decided that he could hardly raise a protest.</p> + +<p>"Rupert," Charity glanced at him, "are you going to see Creighton?"</p> + +<p>"Since all has been discovered," he misquoted, "I suppose that that is +all there is left for me to do."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better do it today; he's planning to leave for the North +tonight," she informed him.</p> + +<p>Rupert came to life. For all his pose of unconcern, he was excited. In +the long days Val had been tied to the cot hurriedly set up in a corner +of the drawing-room on the night of the rescue—it had been thought +wiser to move him no farther than necessary—he had found again the real +Rupert they had known of old. There was little he could conceal from his +younger brother now—or so Val thought.</p> + +<p>"Sam has the roadster," Rupert said. "There's something wrong with the +brakes and I told him to take it to town and have it looked over. +Goodness only knows what time he'll be back."</p> + +<p>"See here, Ralestone," Holmes looked at his wrist-watch, "I've the car I +hired here with me. Let me drive you in. Charity has to go, anyway, and +see about sending off those sketches of hers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we were going together," protested Ricky. "I have some shopping +to do."</p> + +<p>"Very simple," Val suggested. "Why don't you all go?"</p> + +<p>"But that would leave you alone." Rupert shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No. There's Jeems."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Rupert hesitated doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't require more than one person to wait on me at present," Val +said firmly. "Now all of you go. But remember, I shall expect the Greeks +to return bearing gifts."</p> + +<p>Holmes saluted. "Right you are, my hearty. Well, ladies, the chariot +awaits without."</p> + +<p>In spite of their protests, Val at last got rid of them. Since he had a +project of his own, he was only too glad to see the last of his +oversolicitous family for awhile.</p> + +<p>Val had never been able to understand why broken ribs or a fractured +collar-bone should chain one to the bed. And since he had recovered from +his wrenched back he was eager to be up and around. In private, with the +protesting assistance of Sam Two, he had made a pilgrimage across the +room and back. And now it was his full intention to be seated on the +terrace when the family came home.</p> + +<p>It was Lucy of all people who aided fortune to give him his opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Mistuh Val," she announced from the doorway as the sound of the car +pulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party, +"dem lights is out agin."</p> + +<p>"Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playing +games?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Dis heah no-'count!" She dragged out of hiding from behind her +voluminous skirts her second son, a chocolate-brown infant who rejoiced +in the name of Gustavus Adolphus and was generally called "Doff." At +that moment he was sobbing noisily and eyeing Val as if the boy were the +Grand High Executioner of Tartary. "Yo'all tell Mistuh Val whats yo' bin +a-doin'!" commanded his mother, emphasizing her order with a shake.</p> + +<p>"Ain't done nothin'," wailed Doff. "Sam, he give me de penny an' say, +'Le's hab fun.' Den Ah puts de penny in de lil' hole an' den Mammy cotch +me."</p> + +<p>"Doff seems to be the victim, Lucy," Val observed. "Where's Sam?"</p> + +<p>"Ah don' know. But I'se a-goin' to fin' out!" she stated with ominous +determination. "How's Ah a-goin' to git mah ironin' done when dere ain't +no heat fo' de iron? Ah asks yo' dat!"</p> + +<p>"There are some fuses in the pantry and Jeems will put one in for you," +Val promised.</p> + +<p>With a sniff Lucy withdrew, her fingers still hooked in the collar of +her tearful son. Jeems glanced at Val as he went by the boy's cot. And +Val didn't care for what he read into that glance. Had the swamper by +any foul chance come to suspect Val's little plan?</p> + +<p>But it all turned out just as he had hoped. Val made that most momentous +trip in four easy stages, resting on the big chair where Rupert had +spent so many hours, on the bench by the window, in the first of the +deck-chairs by the side of the French doors leading to the terrace, and +then he reached the haven of the last deck-chair and settled down just +where he had intended. And when Jeems returned there was nothing he +could do but accept the fact that Val had fled the cot.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ricky won't like this," he prophesied darkly. "Nor Mr. Rupert +neither. Yo' wouldn't've tried it if they'd been heah."</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop worrying. If you'd been tied to that cot the way I've been, +you'd be glad to get out here, too. It's great!"</p> + +<p>The sun was warm but the afternoon shadow of an oak overhung his seat so +that Val escaped the direct force of the rays. A few feet away Satan +sprawled full length, giving a fine imitation of a cat that had rid +himself of all nine lives, or at least of eight and a half.</p> + +<p>Never had the garden shown so rich a green. Ricky's care had sharpened +the lines of the flower-beds and had set shrubs in their proper places. +And the plants had repaid her with a riot of blossoms. A breeze set the +gray moss to swaying from the branches of the oak. And a green +grasshopper crossed the terrace in four great leaps, almost scraping +Satan's ear in a fashion which might easily have been fatal to the +insect. Val sighed and slipped down lower in his chair. "It's great," he +murmured again.</p> + +<p>"Sure is," Jeems echoed. He dropped down cross-legged beside Val, +disdaining the other chair.</p> + +<p>Satan stretched without opening his eyes and yawned, gaping to the +fullest extent of his jaws and curling his tongue upward so that it +seemed pointed like a snake's. Then he rolled over on his other side and +curled up with his paws under his chin. A bumblebee blundered by Val's +head on its way to visit the morning-glories. He suddenly discovered it +difficult to keep his eyes open.</p> + +<p>"Someone's comin'," observed Jeems. "Ah just heard a car turn in from +the road."</p> + +<p>"But the folks have been gone such a short time," Val protested.</p> + +<p>However, the car which came almost noiselessly down the drive was not +the one in which the family had departed. It had the shape of a sleek +gray beetle, rounded so that it was difficult to tell at first glance +the hood from the rear. It glided to a stop before the steps and after a +moment four passengers disembarked.</p> + +<p>Val simply stared, but Jeems got to his feet in one swift movement.</p> + +<p>For, coming purposefully up the terrace steps, were four men they had +seen before and had very good cause to remember for the rest of their +lives.</p> + +<p>In the lead strutted the rival, a tight smile rendering his unlovely +features yet more disagreeable. Behind him trotted the red-faced +counselor who had accompanied him on his first visit. But matching the +rival step for step was the "Boss," while "Red" brought up the rear in a +tidy fashion.</p> + +<p>"Swell place, ain't it?" demanded the rival, taking no notice of Val or +Jeems. "Make yourselves to home, boys; the place is yours."</p> + +<p>Val gripped the arm of his chair. Sam, Rupert, Holmes—they were all +beyond call. It was left to him to meet this unbelievable invasion +alone. There was a stir beside him. Val glanced up to meet the slightest +of reassuring nods from the swamper. Jeems was with him.</p> + +<p>"Whatcha gonna do with the joint, Brick?" asked Red, tossing his +cigarette down on the flagstones and grinding it to powder with his +heel.</p> + +<p>"I dunno yet." The rival strode importantly toward the front door.</p> + +<p>"You might tell us when you find out," Val suggested quietly.</p> + +<p>With an exaggerated start of surprise the rival turned toward the boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, so it's you, kid?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Val said softly, "you had better introduce your friends. +After all, I like to know the names of my guests."</p> + +<p>The Boss smiled sardonically and Red grinned. Only the red-faced lawyer +shuffled his feet uneasily and looked from one to another of his +companions with an expression of pleading. But the rival came directly +to the point.</p> + +<p>"Where's that high and mighty brother of yours?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ralestone will doubtless be very glad to see you," Val evaded, +having no desire for the visitors to discover just how slender his +resources were. "Jeems, you might go and tell him that we have visitors. +Go through the Long Hall, it's nearer that way." He dug the fingernails +of his sound hand into the soft wood of the chair arm. Could Jeems +interpret that hint? Someone must remove and hide the Luck before these +men saw it.</p> + +<p>"Right." The swamper turned on his heel and padded toward the French +windows.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't!" the rival snarled as he moved into line between Jeems +and his objective. "When we want that guy, we'll hunt him out ourselves. +When we're good and ready!"</p> + +<p>"If you don't wish to see my brother, just why did you come?" Val asked +feverishly. He must keep them talking there until he had time to think +of some way of getting that slender blade of steel into hiding.</p> + +<p>"We're movin' in," Red answered casually for them all.</p> + +<p>"How interesting. I think that the police will enjoy hearing that," Val +commented.</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly legal," bleated the lawyer. "We possess a court order to +view the place with the purpose of appraising it for sale." He drew a +stiff paper from the inside pocket of his coat and waved it toward the +boy.</p> + +<p>"Bunk! I don't know much about the law but I do know that you could have +obtained nothing of the kind without our being notified. And just which +one of you has been selected to do the appraising?"</p> + +<p>"Him," answered Red laconically and jerked his thumb at the Boss.</p> + +<p>"So," Jeems stared at him, "since yo' couldn't git what yo' want by +thievin' at night, yo're goin' to try and git it by day."</p> + +<p>"But what are you really after? I'm curious to know. You certainly don't +want a sugar plantation which hasn't been paying its way since the Civil +War. That just isn't reasonable. And you ought to know that we can't +afford to buy you off. We must be living over a gold-mine that we +haven't discovered. Come on, tell us where it is," Val prodded.</p> + +<p>"Cut the cackle," advised Red, "an' le's git down to it."</p> + +<p>"I would advise you to get back in your car and drive out." Val wondered +if his face looked as stiff as it felt. "This visit isn't going to get +you anywhere."</p> + +<p>"We ain't goin' any place, kid," remarked the rival. "You don't seem to +understand. We're stayin' right here. I got rights and the judge has +recognized them. I'm top guy here now."</p> + +<p>"Yeah. Yuh ain't so smart as yuh think yuh are," contributed Red, +scowling at Val. "We ain't gonna leave."</p> + +<p>It wasn't Red's speech, however, that straightened the boy's back and +made Jeems shift his position an inch or two. There was another car +coming up the drive. And since their enemies were all gathered before +them, they could only be receiving friends, or at the worst neutrals.</p> + +<p>But the car which came from between the live-oaks to park behind the +first contained only two passengers. LeFleur and Creighton got out, +stopped in surprise to view the party on the terrace, and then came up, +shoving by Red.</p> + +<p>"Quite a party," Val observed. "But how did you manage to arrive so +opportunely?"</p> + +<p>"We have made a discovery," panted the Creole lawyer; "a very important +discovery. What are these men doing here?"</p> + +<p>"We got a court order to view this house for sale." The rival was +truculent. "An' it's all legal. The mouthpiece says so," he indicated +his counselor.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Creighton's cool tones cut through, "you had better introduce +us." There was a decided change in his manner. Gone was his shy +nervousness, his slightly hesitant reserve. It was a keen business man +who stood there now.</p> + +<p>Val grinned. "You see before you the family skeleton. May I introduce +Mr. Ralestone, who firmly believes that he is the Ralestone of Pirate's +Haven? And three other—shall we say gentlemen—whom I myself have never +met formally. Though I did have the pleasure, I believe," he addressed +the Boss directly, "of blackening your eye."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, I'm Ralestone, and I'm gonna have my rights," stated the rival +briskly.</p> + +<p>"You are a descendant of Roderick Ralestone?" asked LeFleur.</p> + +<p>"Yuh know I am. I got proofs!"</p> + +<p>"The man is a liar," Creighton said calmly.</p> + +<p>As they stared at him, LeFleur nodded. Val saw an ugly grin begin to +curve Red's thick lips.</p> + +<p>"Yeah? An how do yuh know that, wise guy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Because there is only one Roderick Ralestone in this generation and he +is standing right there. Permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean +Ralestone!"</p> + +<p>The person he turned to was Jeems!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE</h3> + + +<p>Val ventured to break the sudden silence which resulted from Creighton's +astonishing statement.</p> + +<p>"But how—why—"</p> + +<p>"Yeah," the rival had collected a measure of his scattered wits, "whatta +yuh mean, wise guy?"</p> + +<p>"Just this—" LeFleur drew himself up and faced the invaders sternly—"I +have only this very morning deposited with the probate court certain +documents making very plain the identity of this young man. Without the +shadow of a doubt he is the only living descendant of Roderick Ralestone +and his wife, Valerie St. Jean de Roche. I have also sworn out a +complaint—"</p> + +<p>Then the Boss took a hand in the game. "The boy's a minor," he observed.</p> + +<p>"Through me," LeFleur returned, "Mr. Rupert Ralestone as nearest of kin +has applied for guardianship and there will be no difficulty in the +settlement of that matter."</p> + +<p>"Yeah!" The rival threw his gloves on the terrace and glared not at +LeFleur but at his own backing. Having stared at the lawyer of his party +until that unfortunate man lost all assurance, he attacked the Boss. +"So, wise guy, what now? We ain't got such a snap as yuh said we were +gonna have. We were gonna move right in and take over the joint, were +we? We didn't have anything to worry about. For once we was playin' with +the law. Yeah, we were. We are nothin' but a gang of mugs. Whatta we +gonna do now, huh? You oughta know. Ain't yuh been doin' our thinkin' +for us all along? We can't grab the land and run. We gotta camp right +here if we're gonna git anything. And how are we gonna—"</p> + +<p>"Simpson!" the Boss's voice was sharp. "Be quiet! You are becoming +wearisome. Gentlemen," he bowed slightly toward LeFleur and Creighton, +"one cannot fight bad luck, and this time Fate smiles upon you. It was a +good idea if it had worked," he added musingly. "Young Ralestone seems +to have gathered all the aces into his hand. Even," the drawl became a +sneer, "even the guardianship of the missing heir, which will mean a +nice sum in the bank for the happy guardian, if all reports are true."</p> + +<p>"What <i>did</i> you want here?" Val asked for the last time.</p> + +<p>The Boss smiled. "I shall leave that mystery for you to unravel, my +wounded hero. It should occupy an idle moment or two. Doubtless all will +be made clear in the fullness of time. As for you," he turned upon +LeFleur, "there is no use in your entertaining any foolish idea of +calling the police. For our invasion today we have a court order; +unhappily it is no longer of use. But we did come here in good faith, as +we are prepared to prove. And all other evidence of any lawbreaking upon +our part rests, I believe, upon the word of two boys, evidence which +might be twisted by a clever lawyer. You may prosecute Simpson for +perjury, of course. But I think that Simpson will not be in this part of +the country long. Yes," he looked about him once more at garden and +house, "it was a very good idea. A pity it did not work. Well, I must be +going before I begin to curse my luck. When a man does that, he +sometimes loses it. You must have found yours, I think."</p> + +<p>"We did," Val answered, but the Boss did not hear him, for he had turned +on his heel and was striding down the terrace. For a moment his +followers hesitated uncertainly and then they were after him. Back into +their sinister beetle-car went the invaders and then they were gone down +the drive, leaving the Ralestones in possession of the victorious field.</p> + +<p>"Now," Val said plaintively, "will somebody please tell me just what +this is all about? Who is Jeems, really?"</p> + +<p>"Just who I said," answered Creighton promptly. "Roderick St. Jean +Ralestone, the only descendant of your pirate ancestor."</p> + +<p>"Bettah tell us the story," suggested the swamper quietly. "Yo' ain't +foolin', are yo', Mistuh Creighton?"</p> + +<p>The New Yorker shook his head. "No, I'm not fooling. But you are not the +first one to question my story." He smiled reminiscently. "Judge Henry +Lane had to see every line of written proof this morning before he would +admit that the tale might be true."</p> + +<p>"But where did you find this 'proof'?" Val demanded as Jeems pulled up +chairs for the lawyer and Creighton.</p> + +<p>"In that chest of Jeems' which you brought out of the swamp on the night +of the storm," he replied promptly. "And, young man," he said to Jeems +indignantly, "if you had let me see those papers of yours a month ago, +instead of waiting until last week, we would have had this matter +cleared up then—"</p> + +<p>"But then we might never have found the Luck!" Val protested.</p> + +<p>"Humph, that piece of steel is historically interesting, no doubt," +conceded Creighton, "but hardly worth risking your life for."</p> + +<p>"No? Well, you heard what that man said just now—that we had found our +luck. It's so; we have had good luck since. But I'm sorry; do get on +with the story of Jeems' box."</p> + +<p>"Ah gave it to him Monday," said the swamper slowly. "But, Mistuh +Creighton, there weren't nothin' in that chest but some books full of +handwritin'—most in some funny foreign stuff—an' a French +prayer-book."</p> + +<p>"Plenty to establish your right to the name and a quarter interest in +the estate," snapped LeFleur. Val thought the lawyer rather resented the +fact that it was Creighton and not he who had found the way out of their +difficulties.</p> + +<p>"Two of those books were ships' logs, kept in the fashion of diaries, +partly in Latin," explained the New Yorker. "The log of the ship +<i>Annette Marie</i> for the years 1814 and 1815 gave us what we wanted. The +master was Captain Roderick Ralestone, although he concealed his name in +a sort of an anagram. After his quarrel with his brother he apparently +went to Lafitte and purchased the ship which he had once commanded for +the smuggler. Then he sailed off into the Gulf to become a free-trader, +with his headquarters first in Georgetown, British Guiana, then in Dutch +Curaçao, and finally at Port-au-Prince, Haiti. It was there that he met +and fell in love with Valerie St. Jean de Roche, the only living child +and heir of the Comte de Roche, who had survived the Terror of the +French Revolution only to fall victim to the rebel slaves on his Haitian +estates.</p> + +<p>"Horribly injured, the Comte de Roche had been saved from death by the +devotion of his daughter and her nurse, a free woman of color. These two +women not only saved his life, but managed to keep him and themselves +alive through the dark years which followed the horrors of the black +uprising and the overthrow of the French rule. The courage of that lady +of France must have been very great. But she was near to the end of her +strength when she met Roderick Ralestone.</p> + +<p>"Against the direct orders of the black despots in the land, young +Ralestone got de Roche and his daughter away on his ship. Her maid chose +to remain among her people. Ralestone hints that she was a sort of +priestess of Voodoo and that it had been her dark powers which had +protected the lives of those she loved.</p> + +<p>"Ralestone took the refugees to Curaçao, but de Roche did not survive. +He lived only long enough to see his daughter married to her rescuer and +to persuade his son-in-law to legally adopt the name of St. Jean de +Roche, that an old and honored family might not be forgotten. The +Comte's only son had been killed by the blacks.</p> + +<p>"So it was as Roderick St. Jean—he dropped the 'de Roche' in time—that +he returned here in 1830. His wife was dead, worn out while yet in her +youth by the horrors of her girlhood. But Roderick brought with him a +ten-year-old boy who had the right to both the name of Ralestone and +that of de Roche.</p> + +<p>"Roderick himself was greatly changed. Years of free-trading, both in +the Gulf and in the South Seas, had made him wholly sailor. A cutlass +cut disfigured his face and altered the line of his mouth. Anyone who +had known Roderick Ralestone would have little interest in Captain St. +Jean, the merchant adventurer. He discusses this point at some length in +his log, always concealing his real name.</p> + +<p>"For the space of a year or two he was content to live quietly. He even +opened a small shop and dealt in luxuries from the south. Then the +desire to wander, which must have been the key-note of his life, drove +him out into the world again. He placed his son in the care of a certain +priest, whom he trusted, and went south to become one of the visionary +revolutionists who were fighting their way back and across South and +Central America. In one bloody engagement he fell, as his son notes in +the old logs which he was now using to record his own daily +experiences."</p> + +<p>"Ricky said," Val mused, "that Roderick Ralestone never died in his bed. +What became of the son?"</p> + +<p>"Father Justinian wanted him to enter the Church, but in spite of his +strict training he had no vocation. The money his father had left with +the priest was enough to establish him in a small coastwise trading +venture, and later he developed a flatboat freight service running +upriver to Nashville."</p> + +<p>"But didn't he ever try to get in touch with the Ralestones?" Val asked.</p> + +<p>"No. When Roderick Ralestone sailed from New Orleans he seems to have +determined to cut himself off from the past entirely. As I said, he used +an anagram to hide his name all the way through the log, and doubtless +his son never knew that there was anything strange about his father's +past. Laurent St. Jean, the son, prospered. Just before the outbreak of +the Civil War he was reckoned one of the ten wealthiest men of his +native city.</p> + +<p>"But that wealth vanished in the war when shipping no longer went forth +from the port. I did come across one interesting fact in Laurent's notes +covering those years. In 1861 Laurent St. Jean built a blockade-runner +called the <i>Red Bird</i>. His backer in the venture was a Mr. Ralestone of +Pirate's Haven. So once Ralestone did meet Ralestone without being aware +of the fact.</p> + +<p>"Laurent St. Jean was imprisoned by 'Beast' Butler, along with other +prominent men of the city, when the Yankees captured New Orleans. And he +died in 1867 from a lingering illness contracted during his +imprisonment. His son, René St. Jean, came home from war to find himself +ruined. His father's shipping business existed on paper only. Having the +grit and determination of his grandfather, he struggled along for almost +ten years trying to get back on his feet. But those were dark years for +the whole country.</p> + +<p>"In 1876 St. Jean gave up the struggle. With his Creole wife and their +two sons he moved into the swamps. Working first as a guide and trapper +and then as a hunter of birds, he managed to make a sparse living. His +eldest son followed in his footsteps, but the younger took to the sea. +Roderick St. Jean, the eldest son, died of yellow fever in 1890. He left +one son to the guardianship of his brother who had come home from the +sea. That son came to look upon his uncle as his father and the real +relationship between them was half forgotten.</p> + +<p>"But René St. Jean the second was curious. He knew something of the +world and he was interested in the past. It was his custom to do a great +amount of reading, especially reading which concerned the history of his +own state and city. And once he was inclined to get out the old sea +chest which had been moved with the family for so many years. Then he +must have discovered his relationship to the Ralestones; perhaps he +solved the anagram or found the pasted pages in the prayer-book—</p> + +<p>"He was not ambitious for himself, but he wanted a better chance for his +foster-son and nephew than the one he had had. So he endeavored to prove +his claim to this property. Unfortunately, the lawyer he trusted was a +shyster of the worst sort. He himself had no belief in his client's +story and merely bled him for small sums each month without ever really +looking into the matter."</p> + +<p>"Gran'pappy said he was tryin' to git his rights," broke in Jeems. "He +nevah tol' mah pappy what he knowed. An' he wouldn't let anyone see into +that chest—he kep' it undah his bed. Then aftah Pappy died of the +fever—'long with mah mothah—Gran'pappy cotched it too. An' the doctah +said that was what made him so fo'getful aftahwards. He stopped goin' in +town; but he came heah—'huntin' his rights,' he said. An' he tol' me +that our fortune was hidden heah. 'Course," Jeems looked at them +apologetically, "it soun's sorta silly, but when Gran'pappy tol' yo' +things yo' kinda believed 'em. So aftah he died Ah usta come huntin' +heah too. An' then when Ah opened the chest and foun' these—" From his +breast pocket he drew a wash-leather bag and opened it.</p> + +<p>He held out to Val a chain of gold mesh ending in a carnelian carved +into a seal. "This is youah crest," he pointed to the seal. "Ah took it +in town an' a man at the museum tol' me about it. An' this heah is +Ralestone, too," he indicated a small miniature painted on a slip of +yellowed ivory. Val was looking at the face of the Ralestone rebel, as +near like the water-color copy Charity had made of the museum portrait +as one pea is to its pod-mate. Creighton took up the small painting.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m," he looked from the ivory to Jeems and then to Val, "this is the +final proof. Either one of you might have sat for this. You have the +same coloring and features. If it were not for a slight difference of +expression you might pass for twins. At any rate, there is no denying +that you are both Ralestones."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that we'll ever attempt to deny it," Val laughed. "But +you were right, Jeems—I mean Roderick," he said to his newly discovered +cousin, "you do have as much right here as we do."</p> + +<p>Jeems colored. "Ah'm sorry for sayin' that," he confessed. "Ah thought +yo' were right smart and too good for us. An' Ah'm sorry Ah played +ha'nt. But Ah didn't expec' yo' would evah see me, only the niggahs, an' +I didn't care 'bout them. Ah always came when yo' were 'way or in bed."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've explained your interest in the place," Val assented, "but +what about the rival? Why did he appear?"</p> + +<p>"It started in a blackmail plot. Your family have been wealthy, you +know," explained LeFleur. "But then the scheme became more serious when +the oil prospectors aroused interest in the swamp. Already several men +whose property bounds yours have been approached by the Central American +Oil Company with an offer for their land. It would not at all surprise +me if you were asked to dispose of your swamp wasteland for a good +price. And the rumor of oil is what made the rival, as you call him, try +to press his false claim instead of merely holding it over you as a +threat."</p> + +<p>"The Luck is certainly doing its stuff," Val observed. "Here's the lost +heir found, oil-wells bubbling at our back door—"</p> + +<p>"I would hardly say that, Mr. Valerius," remonstrated LeFleur.</p> + +<p>"They may bubble yet," the boy assured him airily. "I wouldn't put it +beyond the power of that length of Damascus steel to make wells bubble. +Oil-wells bubbling," Val continued from the point where the lawyer had +interrupted him, "Rupert turning out to be the missing author—"</p> + +<p>"What was that?" demanded Creighton sharply. He was on the point of +handing a small book to Jeems.</p> + +<p>"We just discovered that Rupert is your missing author," Val explained. +"Didn't you guess when you heard the story of the missing Ralestone? The +family went into town to tell you all about it; that's why we were alone +when the invaders arrived."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ralestone my missing author! No, I didn't guess. I was too +interested in the story—but I should have! How stupid!" He looked down +at the book he still held and then put it into the swamper's hand. +"Between the pages of the prayer-book, covering the offices for St. +Louis' Day, you'll find the birth certificate for Laurent St. Jean with +his right name," he said. "That's a very important paper to keep, young +man. Mr. Ralestone my author." He wiped his forehead with the +handkerchief from his breast-pocket. "How stupid of me not to have seen +at once. But why—"</p> + +<p>"He had some idea that his stuff was no good when he didn't hear from +that agent," Val explained, "so he just tried to forget the whole +matter."</p> + +<p>"But I have to see him, I have to see him at once." The New Yorker +looked about him as if by will-power alone he could summon Rupert to +stand before him on the terrace.</p> + +<p>"Stay to supper and you will," Val invited. "Ricky and I discovered him +for you just as we promised we would. But then you've given us Rod in +return. I am not," Val told his cousin, "going to call you Rick even +though there is a tradition for it. There are too many 'Ricks' +complicating the family history now. I think you had better be 'Rod'."</p> + +<p>"Anythin' yo' say," he grinned.</p> + +<p>For the third time that afternoon Val heard a car coming up the drive.</p> + +<p>"If this should turn out to be the Grand Chan of Tartary or the Lama of +Peru I shall not be one iota surprised," he announced. "After what I've +been through this afternoon, nothing, absolutely nothing, would surprise +me. Oh, it's only the family."</p> + +<p>With the impatience of one who has a good earth-shaking shock ready to +administer, he watched his wandering relatives disembark. Charity and +Holmes were still with them and a sort of aura of disappointment hung +over the group. Then Ricky looked up and with a cry of joy came up the +terrace steps in what seemed like a single leap.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Creighton," she began when Val lifted his hand. "Let me tell +it," he begged, "I've been waiting for a chance like this for years." +Ricky was obediently silent, thinking that he wished to break the +mystery of the author. But Jeems and LeFleur understood that it was to +them Val appealed.</p> + +<p>"Val, what are you doing out of bed?" was Rupert's first question.</p> + +<p>"Saving the old homestead while you went joy-riding. We had visitors +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Visitors? Who?" he began when his brother silenced him with a frown.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let's not go into that now," Val said hurriedly. "There is +something more important to be discussed. Since you left this afternoon +we have had an addition to the family."</p> + +<p>"An addition to the family," puzzled Ricky. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Rick Ralestone has come back," Val announced.</p> + +<p>"Val, hadn't you better go back to bed?" suggested his sister.</p> + +<p>"Not now," he grinned at her. "I haven't lost my mind yet, nor am I +raving. Ladies and gentlemen," Val prepared to echo Creighton's speech +of an hour before, "permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean de Roche +Ralestone, the missing heir!"</p> + +<p>With an impish grin Val had never seen on his face before, Jeems clicked +his heels in a creditable imitation of a court bow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS</h3> + + +<p>"Such a nice domestic scene," Val observed.</p> + +<p>Ricky looked up from the bowl into which she was shelling peas. "Now +just what do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing at all. It's getting so I can't say a word around here +without you suspecting some sort of a catch in it," her brother +complained. He shifted the drawing-board Rod had fixed up for him an +inch or two. Although Val's arm was at last out of the sling, he was not +supposed to use it unless absolutely necessary.</p> + +<p>"Well, after that afternoon when you made the missing heir appear like a +rabbit out of a hat—" began his sister.</p> + +<p>"Rod," Val called down to where their cousin was busied over the +stretching of the new badminton net, "did you hear that? She referred to +you as a rabbit—deliberately."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m," Rod answered in absent-minded fashion. "That cat of Miss +Charity's just walked away with one of those feathered things yo' bat +'round."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope that he returns it in time," Val said; "otherwise I can +prophesy that you are going to spend the rest of the morning crawling +around under hedges and things hunting for him and it. Ricky will not be +balked. If she says that we are going to play badminton—well, we are +going to play badminton."</p> + +<p>"I think that you might help too." Ricky attacked a fresh pod viciously +as their cousin came up on the terrace. He stopped for a moment by +Ricky's chair, long enough to gather the pods together on the paper she +had put down for them, piling them up in a more orderly fashion than she +was capable of.</p> + +<p>"Doing what?" Val inquired. "You know that Lucy has chased everyone out +of the house. And now that Rod has finished setting out the lawn sports, +what is there left to do? By the way, did Sam mend that croquet mallet, +the one with the loose head?"</p> + +<p>"The one that you broke hitting the stone with when you aimed at your +ball yesterday?" she asked sweetly. "Yes, I saw to that this morning."</p> + +<p>"Then what more is there to worry about? Let the party begin." Val +reached for his box of pencils.</p> + +<p>That afternoon promptly at three-thirty the Ralestones of Pirate's Haven +were going to give their first party. They had lived, eaten, and slept +with the idea of a party for the past week until Rupert rebelled and +disappeared for the morning, taking Charity with him. He declared before +he left that the house was no longer habitable for anyone above the +mental level of a party-mad monomaniac, a statement with which Val +privately agreed. But Ricky did trap him before he got the roadster out +and made him promise to bring home two pounds of salted nuts and some +more ice, because she simply knew that they wouldn't have enough.</p> + +<p>Ricky dropped the last of the peas into the bowl and leaned back in her +canvas deck-chair. "I'm going to wear green," she murmured dreamily, +"with that leaf thing in my hair. And Charity's going to wear her rose, +the one that swishes when she walks."</p> + +<p>"I think I'll appear in saffron," Val announced firmly. "Somehow I feel +like saffron. How about you, Rod?"</p> + +<p>The thin, efficient, brown-faced person who was Roderick St. Jean de +Roche Ralestone, to grant him his full name, stretched lazily and +transferred a fistful of Ricky's peas to his mouth, a mouth which was no +longer sullen. At Val's question he raised his shoulders in one of his +French shrugs and considered.</p> + +<p>"Yellow, with lilies behind mah ears," he grinned at Ricky. "Bettah give +them somethin' to stare at; they'll all be powerful interested, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the lost viscount," Val agreed. "Of course, you're really only a +Lord like me, but it sounds better to say 'the lost viscount.' You'll +share the limelight with Rupert and the Luck, so you'd better take that +pair of my flannels which haven't turned quite yellow yet."</p> + +<p>Rod shook his head. "This time Ah have mah own. Ah went in town shoppin' +yesterday. It's mah turn to share clothes. Youah brothah told me to get +yo' some shirts. So Ah did. Lucy put them in the top drawer."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me," Val begged, aroused by this news, "that we are actually +able to afford some new clothes again?"</p> + +<p>Rod nodded and Ricky sat up. "Don't be silly," she said, "we're +comfortably well off. With Rupert writing books, and a lot of oil or +something in the swamp, why, what have we got to worry about? And next +fall Rod's going to college and I'm taking that course in dress +designing and Rupert's going to write another book and—and—" Her +inventive powers failed as Holmes came out on the terrace.</p> + +<p>"Hello there." Val glanced at his watch. "I don't want to seem +inhospitable, but you're about four hours too early. We haven't even +crawled into our party duds."</p> + +<p>"So I see. But this isn't a social call. By the way, where's Charity?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she went off with Rupert this morning," answered Ricky. "And I +think it was mean of them, running out on us that way, when there was so +much to do."</p> + +<p>It seemed to Val that there was a faint shadow of irritation across the +open good nature of Holmes' smile when he heard her answer. "That damsel +is becoming very elusive nowadays," he observed as he sat down. "But now +for business."</p> + +<p>"More business? Not another oil-well!" Ricky expressed her surprise +vividly with upflung hands.</p> + +<p>"Not an oil-well, no. Just this—" He pulled Val's black note-book from +his pocket. "Now I am not going to tell you that I have shown them to a +publisher and that he wants fifty thousand or so at five dollars apiece. +But I did show them to that friend I spoke of. He isn't very well known +at present but he will be some day. His name is Fenly Moss and he is +interested in animated cartoons. He has some ideas that sound rather big +to me.</p> + +<p>"Fen says that these animal drawings of yours show promise and he wants +to know whether you ever thought of trying something along his line?"</p> + +<p>Val shook his head, impatient to hear the rest.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's in town right now on his vacation and he's coming out to see +you tomorrow. I advise you, Ralestone, that if Fen makes you the +proposition I think he's going to, to grab it. It'll mean hard work for +you and plenty of it, but there is a future to it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to thank you," the boy began when Holmes frowned at +him half-seriously. "None of that. I was really doing Fen a favor, but +you needn't tell him that. Do you know how long Charity and your brother +are going to be gone?"</p> + +<p>"No. But they'll be back for lunch," Ricky said. "If they remember +lunch—they're getting so vague lately. Val went out to call them to +dinner last night and it took him a good five minutes to get them out of +the garden."</p> + +<p>"Five? Nearer ten," scoffed her brother.</p> + +<p>Holmes got up abruptly. "Well, I'll be drifting. When is this binge of +yours?"</p> + +<p>"Three-thirty, which really means four," answered Ricky. "Aren't you +going to stay to lunch?"</p> + +<p>The New Yorker shook his head. "Sorry, I've another engagement. Thanks +just the same."</p> + +<p>"Thank <i>you</i>!" Val waved the note-book as he vanished. "Wonder why he +hurried off that way?"</p> + +<p>"Mad to think that Miss Charity was gone," answered Rod shrewdly. "Yo've +had that board long enough." He calmly possessed himself of Val's +drawing equipment. "Time to rest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, grandfather," his cousin assented meekly.</p> + +<p>Ricky slapped at a fly. "It seems to get hotter and hotter," she said. +From the breast pocket of her sport dress she produced a handkerchief +and mopped her face. Then she looked at the handkerchief in surprise.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? Some face come off along with the paint?" asked Val.</p> + +<p>"No. But I just remembered what this is—our clue!"</p> + +<p>"You mean the handkerchief we found in the hall? I wonder who—"</p> + +<p>Rod reached up and took it out of her hand.</p> + +<p>"Mine. Miss Charity gave me a dozen last Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Then you left it there," Ricky laughed. "Well, that solves the last of +our mysteries."</p> + +<p>"All present or accounted for," Val agreed as around the house came +Rupert and their tenant.</p> + +<p>"So there you are," began Ricky. "And I'd like to know what you've been +doing all morning—"</p> + +<p>"Would you really?" asked Rupert.</p> + +<p>Ricky stared at him for a long moment and then she arose before +transferring her gaze to Charity. It might have been sunburn or the heat +Ricky had complained of which colored the cheeks of the Boston Biglow.</p> + +<p>"Rod! Val!" cried Ricky. "Where are your manners?" As she sank forward +in a deep and graceful curtsy she added, "Can't you see that Rupert has +brought home his Marchioness?"</p> + +<p>"Now that," said Val, as he held out his hand to the new mistress of +Pirate's Haven, "is what I call 'Ralestone Luck.'"</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ralestone Luck, by Andre Norton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALESTONE LUCK *** + +***** This file should be named 18817-h.htm or 18817-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/8/1/18817/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ralestone Luck + +Author: Andre Norton + +Illustrator: James Reid + +Release Date: July 13, 2006 [EBook #18817] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALESTONE LUCK *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + RALESTONE LUCK + + By ANDRE NORTON + + _Author of_ The Prince Commands + + ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES REID + + +D. APPLETON-CENTURY COMPANY +INCORPORATED +NEW YORK 1938 LONDON + +Copyright, 1938, by +D. Appleton-Century Company, Inc. + +All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced +in any form without permission of the publisher. + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + TO + + D. B. N. + + _In return for many miles of proof so diligently read_ + + + + +[Illustration: _"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question +brought the well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by +the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!"_] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE RALESTONES COME HOME + +II. THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE + +III. THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR + +IV. PISTOLS FOR TWO--COFFEE FOR ONE + +V. THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES + +VI. SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS + +VII. BY OUR LUCK! + +VIII. GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL + +IX. PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN + +X. INTO THE SWAMP + +XI. RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE! + +XII. THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST + +XIII. ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS-- + +XIV. PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS + +XV. PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE! + +XVI. RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER + +XVII. THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE + +XVIII. RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought the +well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, +by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!" + +"I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis is Letty-Lou" + +Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas + +"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity said + +_Zzzzzrupp_! Satan was industriously ripping the remnants of lining from +its interior + +The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead and distorted +strip of country + +At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat + +Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boy +piteously, its eyes green in the light + +Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no doubt in any of +them--the Luck of Lorne had returned + + + + +RALESTONE LUCK + + + + + _How hold ye Lorne?_ + + By the oak leaf, + By the sea wave, + By the broadsword blade, + Thus hold we Lorne! + + _The oak leaf is dust, + The sea wave is gone, + The broadsword is rust, + How now hold ye Lorne?_ + + By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne! + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE RALESTONES COME HOME + + +"Once upon a time two brave princes and a beautiful princess set out to +make their fortunes--" began the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy by the +roadster. + +"Royalty is out of fashion," corrected Ricky Ralestone somewhat +indifferently. "Can't you do better than that?" She gave her small, pert +hat an exasperated tweak which brought the unoffending bowl-shaped bit +of white felt into its proper position over her right eyebrow. "How long +does it take Rupert to ask a single simple question?" + +Her brother Val watched the gas gage on the instrument board of the +roadster fluctuate wildly as the attendant of the station shook the hose +to speed the flow of the last few drops. Five gallons--a dollar ten. Did +he have that much? He began to assemble various small hoards of change +from different pockets. + +"Do you think we're going to like this?" Ricky waved her hand vaguely in +a gesture which included a dilapidated hot-dog stand and a stretch of +road white-hot under the steady baking of the sun. + +"Well, I think that Pirate's Haven is slightly different from our +present surroundings. Where's your proper pride? Not everyone can be +classed among the New Poor," Val observed judiciously. + +"Nobility in the bread line." His sister sniffed with what she fondly +believed was the air of a Van Astor dowager. + +"Nobility?" + +"We never relinquished the title, did we? Rupert's still the Marquess of +Lorne." + +"After some two hundred years in America I am afraid that we would find +ourselves strangers in England. And Lorne crumbled to dust long ago." + +"But he's still Marquess of Lorne," she persisted. + +"All right. And what does that make you?" + +"Lady Richanda, of course, silly. Can't you remember the wording of the +old charter? And you're Viscount--" + +"Wrong there," Val corrected her. "I'm only a lord, by courtesy, unless +we can bash Rupert on the head some dark night and chuck him into the +bayou." + +"Lord Valerius." She rolled it upon her tongue. "Marquess, Lady, and +Lord Val, out to seek their fortunes. Pity we can't do it in the +traditional family way." + +"But we can't, you know," he protested laughingly. "I believe that +piracy is no longer looked upon with favor by the more solid members of +any community. Though plank-walking is an idea to keep in mind when the +bill collectors start to draw in upon us." + +"Here comes Rupert at last. Rupert," she raised her voice as their elder +brother opened the door by the driver's seat, "shall we all go and be +pirates? Val has some lovely gory ideas." + +"Not just yet anyway--we still have a roof over our heads," he answered +as he slid in behind the wheel. "We should have taken the right turn a +mile back." + +"Bother!" Ricky surveyed as much of her face as she could see in the +postage-stamp mirror of her compact. "I don't think I'm going to like +Louisiana." + +"Maybe Louisiana won't care for you either," Val offered slyly. "After +all, we dyed-in-the-wool Yanks coming to live in the deep South--" + +"Speak for yourself, Val Ralestone." She applied a puff carefully to the +tip of her upturned nose. "Since we've got this barn of a place on our +hands, we might as well live in it. Too bad you couldn't have persuaded +our artist tenant to sign another lease, Rupert." + +"He's gone to spend a year in Italy. The place is in fairly good +condition though. LeFleur said that as long as we don't use the left +wing and close off the state bedrooms, we can manage nicely." + +"State bedrooms--" Val drew a deep breath which was meant to be one of +reverence but which turned into a sneeze as the roadster's wheels raised +the dust. "How does it feel to own such magnificence, Rupert?" + +"Not so good," he replied honestly. "A house as big as Pirate's Haven is +a burden if you don't have the cash to keep it up properly. Though this +artist chap did make a lot of improvements on his own." + +"But think of the Long Hall--" began Ricky, rolling her eyes heavenward. + +"And just what do you know about the Long Hall?" demanded Rupert. + +"Why, that's where dear Great-great-uncle Rick's ghost is supposed to +walk, isn't it?" she asked innocently. "I hope that our late tenant +didn't scare him away. It gives one such a blue-blooded feeling to think +of having an active ghost on the premises. A member of one's own family, +too!" + +"Sure. Teach him--or it--some parlor tricks and we'll show it--or +him--off every afternoon between three and four. We might even be able +to charge admission and recoup the family fortune," Val suggested +brightly. + +"Have you no reverence?" demanded his sister. "And besides, ghosts only +walk at night." + +"Now that's something we'll have to investigate," Val interrupted her. +"Do ghosts have union rules? I mean, I wouldn't want Great-great-uncle +Rick to march up and down the carriage drive with a sign reading, 'The +Ralestones are unfair to ghosts,' or anything like that." + +"We'll have to use the Long Hall, of course," cut in Rupert, as usual +ignoring their nonsense. "And the old summer drawing-room. But we can +shut up the dining-room and the ball-room. We'll eat in the kitchen, and +that and a bedroom apiece--" + +"I suppose there are bathrooms, or at least a bathroom," his brother +interrupted. "Because I don't care to rush down to the bayou for a good +brisk plunge every time I get my face dirty." + +"Harrison put in a bathroom at his own expense last fall." + +"For which blessed be the name of Harrison. If he hadn't gone to Italy, +he would have rebuilt the house. How soon do we get there? This touring +is not what I thought it might be--" + +The crease which had appeared so recently between Rupert's eyes +deepened. + +"Leg hurt, Val?" he asked quietly, glancing at the slim figure sharing +his seat. + +"No. I'm expressing curiosity this time, old man, not just a whine. But +if we're going to be this far off the main highway--" + +"Oh, it's not far from the city road. We ought to be seeing the +gate-posts any moment now." + +"Prophet!" Ricky leaned forward between them. "See there!" + +Two gray stone posts, as firmly planted by time as the avenue of +live-oaks they headed, showed clearly in the afternoon light. And from +the nearest, deep carven in the stone, a jagged-toothed skull, crowned +and grinning, stared blankly at the three in the shabby car. Beneath it +ran the insolent motto of an ancient and disreputable clan, "What I +want--I take!" + +"This is the place all right--I recognize Joe there." Val pointed to the +crest. "Good old Joe, always laughing." + +Ricky made a face. "Horrid old thing. I don't see why we couldn't have +had a swan or something nice to swank about." + +"But then the Lords of Lorne were hardly a nice lot in their prime," Val +reminded her. "Well, Rupert, let's see the rest." + +The car followed a graveled drive between tall bushes which would have +been the better for a pruning. Then the road made a sudden curve and +they came out upon a crescent of lawn bordering upon a stone-paved +terrace three steps above. And on the terrace stood the home a Ralestone +had not set foot in for over fifty years--Pirate's Haven. + +"It looks--" Ricky stared up, "why, it looks just like the picture Mr. +Harrison painted!" + +"Which proves why he is now in Italy," Val returned. "But he did capture +it on canvas." + +"Gray stone--and those diamond-paned windows--and that squatty tower. +But it isn't like a Southern home at all! It's some old, old place out +of England." + +"Because it was built by an exile," said Rupert softly. "An exile who +loved his home so well that he labored five years in the wilderness to +build its duplicate. Those little diamond-paned windows were once +protected with shutters an inch thick, and the place was a fort in +Indian times. But it is strange to this country. That's why it's one of +the show places. LeFleur asked me if we would be willing to keep up the +custom of throwing the state rooms open to the public one day a month." + +"And shall we?" asked Ricky. + +"We'll see. Well, don't you want to see the inside as well as the out?" + +"Of course! Val, you lazy thing, get out!" + +"Certainly, m'lady." He swung open the door and climbed out stiffly. +Although he wouldn't have confessed it for any reason, his leg had been +aching dully for hours. + +"Do you know," Ricky hesitated on the first terrace step, bending down +to put aside a trail of morning-glory vine which clutched at her ankle, +"I've just remembered!" + +"What?" Rupert looked up from the grid where he was unstrapping their +luggage. + +"That we are the very first Ralestones to--to come home since +Grandfather Miles rode away in 1867." + +"And why the sudden dip into ancient history?" Val inquired as he limped +around to help Rupert. + +"I don't know," her eyes were fast upon moss-greened wall and ponderous +door hewn of a single slab of oak, "except--well, we are coming home at +last. I wonder if--if they know. All those others. Rick and Miles, the +first Rupert and Richard and--" + +"That spitfire, the Lady Richanda?" Rupert smiled. "Perhaps they do. No, +leave the bags here, Val. Let's see the house first." + +Together the Ralestones crossed the terrace and came to stand by the +front door which still bore faint scars left by Indian hatchets. But +Rupert stooped to insert a very modern key into a very modern lock. +There was a click and the door swung inward before his push. + +"The Long Hall!" They stood in something of a hesitant huddle at the end +of a long stone-floored room. Half-way down its length a wooden +staircase led up to the second floor, and directly opposite that a great +fireplace yawned mightily, black and bare. + +A leather-covered lounge was directly before this, flanked by two square +chairs. And by the stairs was an oaken marriage chest. Save for two skin +rugs, these were all the furnishings. + +But Ricky had crossed hesitatingly to that cavernous fireplace and was +standing there looking up as her brothers joined her. + +"There's where it was," she said softly and pointed to a deep niche cut +into the surface of the stone overmantel. That niche was empty and had +been so for more than a hundred years--to their hurt. "That was where +the Luck--" + +"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought the +well-remembered answer to Val's lips: + +"By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we +Lorne!" + +"The oak leaf is dust," murmured Ricky, "the sea wave is gone, the +broadsword is rust, how now hold ye Lorne?" + +Her brothers answered her together: + +"By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne!" + +"And we've got to get it back," she said. "We've just got to! When the +Luck hangs there again, we--" + +"Won't have anything left to worry about," Val finished for her. "But +that's a very big order, m'lady. Short of catching Rick's ghost and +forcing him to disclose the place where he hid it, I don't see how we're +going to do it." + +"But we are going to," she answered confidently. "I know we are!" + +"A good thing," Rupert broke in, a hint of soberness beneath the +lightness of his tone as he looked about the almost bare room and then +at the strained pallor of Val's thin face. "The Ralestones have been +luckless too long. And now suppose we take possession of this commodious +mansion. I suggest that we get settled as soon as possible. I don't like +the looks of the western sky. We're probably going to have a storm." + +"What about the car?" Val asked as his brother turned to go. + +"Harrison used the old carriage house as a garage. I'll run it in there. +You and Ricky better do a spot of exploring and see about beds and food. +I don't know how you feel," he went on grimly, "but after last night I +want something softer than a dozen rocks to sleep on." + +"I told you not to stop at that tourist place," began Ricky smugly. "I +said--" + +"You said that a house painted that shade of green made you slightly +ill. But you didn't say anything about beds," Val reminded her as he +shed his coat and hung it on the newel-post. "And since the Ralestone +family have definitely gone off the gold or any other monetary standard, +it's tourist rests or the poorhouse for us." + +"Probably the poorhouse." Rupert sounded resigned. "Now upstairs with +you and get out some bedding. LeFleur said in his letter that the place +was all ready for occupancy. And he stocked up with canned stuff." + +"I know--beans! Just too, too divine. Well, let's know the worst." Ricky +started up the stairs. "I suppose there are electric lights?" + +"Got to throw the main switch first, and I haven't time to do that now. +Here, Val." Rupert tossed him his tiny pocket torch as he turned to go. +The door closed behind him and Ricky looked over her shoulder. + +"This--this is rather a darkish place, isn't it?" + +"Not so bad." Val considered the hall below, which seemed suddenly +peopled by an overabundance of oddly shaped shadows. + +"No," her voice grew stronger, "not so bad. We're together anyway, Val. +Last year I thought I'd die, shut up in that awful school, and then +coming home to hear--" + +"About me making my first and last flight. Yes, not exactly a rest cure +for any of us, was it? But it's all over now. The Ralestones may be down +but they're not out, yet, in spite of Mosile Oil and those coal-mines. +D'you know, we might use some of that nice gilt-edged stock for +wall-paper. There's enough to cover a closet at least. Here we are, +Rupert from beating about the globe trying to be a newspaper man, you +straight from N'York's finest finishing-school, and me--well, out of the +plainest hospital bed I ever saw. We've got this house and what Rupert +managed to clear from the wreck. Something will turn up. In the +meantime--" + +"Yes?" she prompted. + +"In the meantime," he went on, leaning against the banister for a +moment's rest, "we can be looking for the Luck. As Rupert says, we need +it badly enough. Here's the upper hall. Which way now?" + +"Over to the left wing. These in front are what Rupert refers to as +'state bedrooms.'" + +"Yes?" He opened the nearest door and whistled softly. "Not so bad. +About the size of a small union station and provided with all the +comforts of a tomb. Decidedly not what we want." + +"Wait, here's a plaque set in the wall. Look!" She ran her finger over a +glass-covered square. + +"Regulations for guests, or a floor plan to show how to reach the +dining-room in the quickest way," her brother suggested. + +"No." She read aloud slowly: + + "'This Room Was Occupied by General Andrew Jackson, the Victor + of the Battle of New Orleans, upon the Tenth Day after the + Battle.'" + +"Whew! 'Old Hickory' here! But I thought that the Ralestones were more +or less under a cloud at that time," commented Val. + +"History--" + +"In the making. Quite so. Now may I suggest that we find some slumber +rooms slightly more modern? Rupert is apt to become annoyed at undue +delay in such matters." + +They went down the hall and turned into a short cross corridor. From a +round window at the far end a ray of sun still swept in, but it was a +sickly, faded ray. The storm Rupert had spoken of could not be far off. + +"This is the right way. Mr. Harrison had these little numbers put on the +doors for his guests," Ricky pointed out. "I'll take 'three'; that was +marked on the plan he sent us as a lady's room. You take that one across +the hall and let Rupert have the one next to you." + +The rooms they explored were not as imposing as the one which had +sheltered Andrew Jackson for a night. Furnished with chintz-covered +chairs, solid mahogany bedsteads and highboys, they were pleasant enough +even if they weren't chambers to make an antique dealer "Oh!" and "Ah!" +Val discovered with approval some stiff prints of mathematically correct +clippers hung in exact patterns on his walls, while Ricky's room held +one treasure, a dainty dressing-table. + +A small door near the end of the hall gave upon a linen closet. And +Ricky, throwing her short white jacket and hat upon the chair in her +room, set about making beds, having given Val strict orders to return to +the lower hall and sort out the luggage before bringing it up. + +As he reached the wide landing he stopped a moment. Since that winter +night, almost a year in the past, when a passenger plane had decided--in +spite of its pilot--to make a landing on a mountainside, he had learned +to hobble where he had once run. The accident having made his right leg +a rather accurate barometer, that crooked bone was announcing the +arrival of the coming storm with a sharp pain or two which shot +unexpectedly from knee to ankle. One such caught him as he was about to +take a step and threw him suddenly off balance. + +He clutched at a dim tapestry which hung across the wall and tumbled +through a slit in the fabric--which smelled of dust and moth balls--into +a tiny alcove flanking a broad, well-cushioned window-seat under tall +windows. Below him in a riot of bushes and hedges run wild, lay the +garden. Somewhere beyond must lie Bayou Mercier leading directly to Lake +Borgne and so to the sea, the thoroughfare used by their pirate +ancestors when they brought home their spoil. + +The green of the rank growth below, thought Val, seemed intensified by +the strange yellowish light. A moss-grown path led straight into the +heart of a jungle where sweet olive, banana trees, and palms grew in a +matted mass. Harrison might have done wonders for the house but he had +allowed the garden to lapse into a wilderness. + +"Val!" + +"Coming!" he shouted and pushed back through the curtain. He could hear +Rupert moving about the lower hall. + +"Just made it in time," he said as the younger Ralestone limped down to +join him. "Hear that?" + +A steady pattering outside was growing into a wild dash of wind-driven +rain. It was dark and Rupert himself was but a blur moving across the +hall. + +"Do you still have the flash? Might as well descend into the lower +regions and put on the lights." + +They crossed the Long Hall, passing through another large chamber where +furniture huddled under dust covers, and then into a small +cupboard-lined passage. This gave upon a dark cavern where Val's hand +scraped a table top only too painfully as he went. Then Rupert found the +door leading to the cellar, and they went down and down into inky +blackness upon which their thread of torch-light made little impression. + +The damp, unpleasant scent of mold and wet grew stronger as they +descended, and their fingers brushed slime-touched walls. + +"Phew! Not very comfy down here," Val protested as Rupert threw the +torch beam along the nearest wall. With a grunt of relief he stepped +forward to pull open the door of a small black box. "That does it," he +said as he threw the switch. "Now for the topside again and some +supper." + +They negotiated the steps and found the button which controlled the +kitchen lights. The glare showed them a room on the mammoth scale +suggested by the Long Hall. A giant fireplace still equipped with +three-legged pots, toasting irons, and spits was at one side, its brick +oven beside it. But a very modern range and sink faced it. + +In the center of the room was a large table, while along the far wall +were closed cupboards. Save for its size and the novelty of the +fireplace, it was an ordinary kitchen, complete to red-checked curtains +at the windows. Pleasant and homey, Val thought rather wistfully. But +that was before the coming of that night when Ricky walked in the garden +and he heard something stir in the Long Hall--which should have been +empty-- + +"Val! Rupert!" A cry which started valiantly became a wail as it echoed +through empty rooms. "Where are yo-o-ou!" + +"Here, in the kitchen," Val shouted back. + +A moment later Ricky stood in the doorway, her face flushed and her +usually correct curls all on end. + +"Mean, selfish, utterly selfish pigs!" she burst out. "Leaving me all +alone in the dark! And it's so dark!" + +"We just went down to turn on the lights," Val began. + +"So I see." With a sniff she looked about her. "It took two of you to do +that. But it only required one of me to make three beds. Well, this is a +warning to me. Next time--" she did not finish her threat. "I suppose +you want some supper?" + +Rupert was already at the cupboards. "That," he agreed, "is the general +idea." + +"Beans or--" Ricky's hand closed upon Val's arm with a nipper-like grip. +"What," her voice was a thin thread of sound, "was that?" + +Above the steady beat of the rain they heard a noise which was half +scratch, half thud. Under Rupert's hand the latch of the cupboard +clicked. + +"Back door," he said laconically. + +"Well, why don't you open it?" Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Val +longed to twist out of her grip. + +The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanying +bolt. + +"Something's there," breathed Ricky. + +"Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind," Val +assured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden. + +The door came back, letting in a douche of cold rain and a black shadow +which leaped for the security of the center of the room. + +"Look!" Ricky laughed unsteadily and released Val's arm. + +In the center of the neat kitchen, spitting angrily at the wet, stood a +ruffled and oversized black tom-cat. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE + + +"Nice of you to drop in, old man," commented Rupert dryly as he shut the +door. "But didn't anyone ever mention to you that gentlemen wipe their +feet before entering strange houses?" He surveyed a line of wet paw +prints across the brick floor. + +"Did he get all wet, the poor little--" Ricky was on her knees, +stretching out her hand and positively cooing. The cat put down the paw +he had been licking and regarded her calmly out of round, yellow eyes. +Then he returned to his washing. Val laughed. + +"Evidently he is used to the strong, silent type of human, Ricky. I +wonder where he belongs." + +"He belongs to us now. Yes him does, doesn't him?" She attempted to +touch the visitor's head. His ears went back and he showed sharp teeth +in no uncertain manner. + +"Better let him alone," advised Rupert. "He doesn't seem to be the kind +you can cuddle." + +"So I see." Ricky arose to her feet with an offended air. "One would +think that I resembled the more repulsive members of my race." + +"In the meantime," Rupert again sought the cupboard, "let's eat." + +Half an hour later, fed and well content (even Satan, as the Ralestones +had named their visitor because of his temperament, having condescended +to accept some of the better-done bits of bacon), they sat about the +table staring at the dishes. Now it is a very well-known fact that +dishes do _not_ obligingly leap from a table into a pan of well-soaped +water, slosh themselves around a few times, and jump out to do a spot of +brisk rubbing down. But how nice it would be if they did, thought Val. + +"The dishes--" began Ricky in a faint sort of way. + +"Must be done. We gather that. How utterly nasty bacon grease looks when +it's congealed." Her younger brother surveyed the platter before him +with mournful interest. + +"And the question before the house is, I presume, who's going to wash +them?" Rupert grinned. "This seems to be as good a time as any to put +some sort of a working plan in force. There is a certain amount of +so-called housework which has to be done. And there are three of us to +do it. It's up to us to apportion it fairly. Shall we say, let everyone +care for his or her own room--" + +"There are also the little matters of washing, and ironing, and +cleaning," Ricky broke in to remind him. + +"And we're down to fifty a month in hard cash. But the tenant farmer on +the other side of the bayou is to supply us with fresh fruit and +vegetables. And our wardrobes are fairly intact. So I think that we can +afford to hire the washing done. We'll take turns cooking--" + +"Who's elected to do the poisoning first?" Val inquired with interest. +"I trust we possess a good cook-book?" + +"Well, I'll take breakfast tomorrow morning," Rupert volunteered. +"Anyone can boil coffee and toast bread. As for dishes, we'll all pitch +in together. And suppose we start right now." + +When the dishes were back again in their neat piles on the cupboard +shelves, Ricky vanished upstairs, to come trailing down again in a +house-coat which she fondly imagined made her look like one of the +better-known screen sirens. The family gathered in an aimless way before +the empty fireplace of the Long Hall. Rupert was filling a black pipe +which allowed him to resemble--in very slight degree, decided Val--an +explorer in an English tobacco advertisement. Val himself was stretched +full length on the couch with about ten pounds of cat attempting to rest +on his center section in spite of his firm refusal to allow the same. + +"Br-r-r!" Ricky shivered. "It's cold in here." + +"Probably just Uncle Rick passing through--not the weather. No, cat, you +may not sit on that stomach. It's just as full of bacon as yours is and +it wants a nice long rest." Val swept Satan off to the floor and he +resignedly went to roost by the boy's feet in spite of the beguiling +noises Ricky made to attract his attention. + +"These stone houses are cold." Rupert scratched a match on the sole of +his shoe. "We ought to have flooring put down over this stone paving. I +saw some wood stacked up in an outhouse when I put the car away. We'll +have it in tomorrow and see what we can do about a fire in the evening." + +"And I thought the South was always warm." Ricky examined her hands. +"Whoever," she remarked pleasantly, "took my hand lotion better return +it. The consequences might not be very attractive." + +"Are you sure you packed it this morning?" Val asked. + +"But of--" Her fingers went to her mouth. "I wonder if I did? I've just +got to have some. We'll drive to town tomorrow and get a bottle." + +"Thirty miles or so for a ten-cent bottle of gooey stuff," Val +protested. + +"Good idea." Rupert stood with his back to the fireplace as if there +really were a flame or two within its black emptiness. "I've some papers +that LeFleur wants to see. Then there're our boxes at the freight +station to arrange transportation for, and we'll have to see about +getting a newspaper and--" + +"Make a list," murmured his brother. + +Rupert dropped down upon the wide arm of Ricky's chair and with her only +too willing aid set to work. Val eyed them drowsily. Rupert and +Ricky--or to give her her very formal name in full--Richanda Anne, were +"Red" Ralestones, possessing the thin, three-cornered faces, the dark +mahogany hair, the sharply defined cheek-bones which had been the mark +of the family as far back in history as portraits or written +descriptions existed. The "Red" Ralestones were marked also by height +and a suppleness of body and movement. The men had been fine swordsmen, +the ladies noted beauties. But they were also cursed, Val remembered +vividly, with uncertain tempers. + +Rupert had schooled himself to the point where his emotions were +mastered by his will. But Val had seen Ricky enjoy full tantrums, and +the last occasion was not so long ago that the scene had become misty in +his memory. Generous to the point of self-beggary, loyal to a fault, and +incurably romantic, that was a "Red" Ralestone. + +Val himself was a "Black" Ralestone, which was a very different thing. +They were a new growth on the family tree, a growth which appeared after +the Ralestones had been exiled to colonial America. His black hair, his +long, dark face of no particular beauty marked with straight, black +brows set in a perpetual frown--that was the sign of a "Black" +Ralestone. They were as strong-willed as the "Reds," but their anger +could be controlled to icy rage. + +"Now that you have spent the monthly income," Val suggested as Rupert +added up a long column of minute figures scrawled across the first page +of his pocket note-book, "let's really get away from economics for one +evening. The surroundings suggest something more romantic than dollars +and cents. After all, when did a pirate ever show a saving disposition? +Would the first Roderick--" + +"The Roderick who brought home the Luck?" Ricky laughed. "But he brought +home a fortune, too, didn't he, Rupert?" + +Her brother relit his pipe. "Yes, but a great many lords came home from +the Crusades with their pockets filled. Sir Roderick de la Stone thought +the Luck worth his entire estate even after he was made Baron +Ralestone." + +Ricky shivered delicately. "Not altogether nice people, those ancestors +of ours," she observed. + +"No," Val grinned. "By rights this room should be full of ghosts instead +of the beat of just one. How many Ralestones died violently? Seven or +eight, wasn't it?" + +"But the ones who died in England should haunt Lorne," argued Ricky, +half seriously. + +"Well then, that sort of confines us to the crews of the ships our +great-great-great-grandfather scuttled," her brother replied. + +"Rupert," Ricky turned and asked impulsively, "do you really believe in +the Luck?" + +Rupert looked up at the empty niche. "I don't know--No, I don't. Not the +way that Roderick and Richard and all the rest did. But something that +has seven hundred years of history behind it--that means a lot." + +"'Then did he take up ye sword fashioned by ye devilish art of ye East +from two fine blades found in ye tomb,'" Val quoted from the record of +Brother Anselm, the friar who had accompanied Sir Roderick on his +crusading. "Do you suppose that that part's true? Could the Luck have +been made from two other swords found in an old tomb?" + +"Not impossible. The Saracens were master metal workers. Look at the +Damascus blades." + +"It all sounds like a fairy-tale," commented Ricky. "A sword with magic +powers beaten out of two other swords found in a tomb. And the whole +thing done under the direction of an Arab astrologer." + +"You've got to admit," broke in Val, "that Sir Roderick had luck after +it was given to him. He came home a wealthy man and he died a Baron. And +his descendants even survived the Wars of the Roses when four-fifths of +the great English families were wiped out." + +"'And fortune continued to smile,'" Rupert took up the story, "'until a +certain wild Miles Ralestone staked the Luck of his house on the turn of +a card--and lost.'" + +"O-o-oh!" Ricky squirmed forward in her chair. "Now comes the pirate. +Tell us that, Rupert." + +"You know the story by heart now," he objected. + +"We never heard it here, where some of it really happened. Tell it, +please, Rupert!" + +"In your second childhood?" he asked. + +"Not out of my first yet," she answered promptly. "Pretty please, +Rupert." + +"Miles Ralestone, Marquess of Lorne," he began, "rode with Prince Rupert +of the Rhine. He was a notorious gambler, a loose liver, and a cynic. +And he even threw the family Luck across the gaming table." + +"'The Luck went from him who did it no honor,'" Val repeated slowly. "I +read that in that old letter among your papers, Rupert." + +"Yes, the Luck went from him. He survived Marston Moor; he survived the +death of his royal master, Charles the First, on the scaffold. He lived +long enough to witness the return of the Stuarts to England. But the +Luck was gone, and with it the good fortune of his line. Rupert, his +son, was but a penniless hanger-on at the royal court; the manor of +Lorne a fire-gutted wreckage. + +"Rupert followed James Stuart from England when that monarch became a +fugitive to escape the wrath of his subjects. And the Marquess of Lorne +sank to the role of pot-house bully in the back lanes of Paris." + +"And then?" prompted Val. + +"And then a miracle occurred. Rupert was employed by his master on a +secret mission to London, and there the Luck came again into his hands. +Perhaps by murder. But he died miserably enough of a heavy cold got by +lying in a ditch to escape Dutch William's soldiers." + +"'So is this perilous Luck come again into our hands. Then did I +persevere to mend the fortunes of my house.' That's what Rupert's son +Richard wrote about the Luck," Ricky recalled. "Richard, the first +pirate." + +"He did a good job of fortune mending," commented Val dryly. "Married +one of the wealthiest of the French king's wards and sailed for the +French West Indies all in a fortnight. Turned pirate with the approval +of the French and took to lifting the cargoes of other pirates." + +"I'll bet that most of his success was due to the Lady Richanda," +observed Ricky. "She sailed with him dressed in man's clothes. Remember +that miniature of her that we saw in New York, the one in the museum? +All the 'Black' Ralestones are supposed to look like her. Hear that, +Val?" + +"At least it was the Lady Richanda who persuaded her husband to settle +ashore," said Rupert. "She was personally acquainted with Bienville and +Iberville who were proposing to rule the Mississippi valley for France +by building a city near the mouth of the river. And 'Black Dick,' the +pirate, obtained a grant of land lying along Lake Borgne and this bayou. +Although the city was not begun until 1724, this house was started in +1710 by workmen imported from England. + +"The house of an exile," Rupert continued slowly. "Richard Ralestone was +born in England, but he left there in his tenth year. In spite of the +price on his head, he crept back to Devon in 1709 to see Lorne for the +last time. And it was from the rude sketches he made of ruined Lorne +that Pirate's Haven was planned." + +"Why, we saw those sketches!" Ricky's eyes shone with excitement. "Do +you remember, Val?" + +Her brother nodded. "Must have cost him plenty to do it," he replied. +"Richard had an immense personal fortune of his own gained from piracy, +and he spared no expense in building. The larger part of the stone in +these walls was brought straight from Europe, just as they later brought +the paving blocks for the streets of New Orleans. When he had done--and +the place was five years a-building because of Indian troubles and other +disturbances--he settled down to live in feudal state. Some of his +former seamen rallied around him as a guard, and he imported blacks from +the islands to work his indigo fields. + +"The family continued to prosper through both French and Spanish +domination until the time of American rule." + +"Now for Uncle Rick." Ricky settled herself with a wriggle. "This is +even more exciting than Pirate Dick." + +"In the year 1788, the time of the great fire which destroyed over half +of New Orleans, twin boys were born at Pirate's Haven. They came into +their heritage early, for their parents died of yellow fever when the +twins were still small children. + +"Those were restless times. New Orleans was full of refugees. From +Haiti, where the revolting blacks were holding a reign of terror, and +from France, where to be a noble was to be a dead one, came hundreds. +Even members of the royal house, the Duc d'Orleans and his brother, the +Duc de Montpensier, came for a space in 1798. + +"The city had always been more or less lawless and intolerant of +control. Like the New Englanders of the eighteenth century, many +respected merchants were also smugglers." + +"And pirates," suggested Val. + +"The king of smugglers was Jean Lafitte. His forge--where his slaves +shaped the wrought-iron which was one of the wonders of the city--was a +fashionable meeting-place for the young bloods. He was the height of wit +and fashion--daring openly to placard the walls of the town with his +notices of smugglers' sales. + +"And Roderick Ralestone, the younger of the twins, became one of +Lafitte's men. In spite of the remonstrances of his brother Richard, +young Rick withdrew to Barataria with Dominque You and the rest of the +outlawed captains. + +"In the winter of 1814 matters came to a head. Richard wanted to marry +an American girl, the daughter of one of Governor Claiborne's friends. +Her father told him very pointedly that since the owners of Pirate's +Haven seemed to be indulging in law breaking, such a marriage was out of +the question. Aroused, Richard made a secret inspection of certain +underground storehouses which had been built by his pirate +great-grandfather and discovered that Rick had put them in use again for +the very same purpose for which they had been first intended--the +storing of loot. + +"He waited there for his brother, determined to have it decided once and +for all. They quarreled bitterly. Both were young, both had bad tempers, +and each saw his side as the right of the matter--" + +"Regular Ralestones, weren't they?" commented Val slyly. + +"Undoubtedly," agreed Rupert. "Well, at last Richard started for the +house, his brother in pursuit. + +"Then they fought, here in this very hall. And not with words this time, +but with the rapiers Richard had brought back from France. A slave named +Falesse, who had been the twins' childhood nurse, was the only witness +to the end of that duel. Richard lay face down across the hearth-stone +as she came screaming down the stairs." + +Ricky was studying the gray stone. + +"By rights," Val agreed with her unspoken thought, "there ought to be a +stain there. Unfortunately for romance, there isn't." + +"Rick was standing by the door," Rupert continued. "When Falesse reached +his brother, he laughed unsteadily and half raised his sword in a +duelist's salute. Then he was gone. But there were two swords on the +floor. And that niche was empty. + +"When he fled into the night storm with his brother's blood staining his +hands, Rick Ralestone took the Luck of his house with him. + +"After almost a year of invalidism, Richard recovered. He never married +his American beauty. But in 1819 he took a wife, a young Creole lady +widowed by the Battle of New Orleans. Of Rick nothing was heard again, +although his brother searched diligently for more than thirty years." + +"How," Val grinned at his brother, "did Richard explain the little +matter of the ghost which is supposed to walk at night?" + +"I don't know. But when the Civil War broke out, Richard's son Miles was +the master of Pirate's Haven. The once-great fortune of the family had +shrunk. Business losses in the city, floods, a disaster at sea, had +emptied the family purse--" + +"The Luck getting in its dirty work by remote control," supplied the +irrepressible Val. + +"Perhaps. Young Miles had married in his teens, and the call to the +Confederate colors brought both his twin sons under arms as well as +their father. + +"Miles, the father, fell in the First Battle of Bull Run. But Miles, the +son and elder of the twins, a lieutenant of cavalry, came out of the war +the only surviving male of his family. + +"His brother Richard had been wounded and was home on sick leave when +the Northerners occupied New Orleans. Betrayed by one of his former +slaves, a mulatto who bore a grudge against the family, he was murdered +by a gang of bullies and cutthroats who had followed the invading army. + +"Richard had been warned of their raid and had managed to hide the +family valuables in a secret place--somewhere within this very hall, +according to tradition." + +Val and Ricky sat up and looked about with wondering interest. + +"But Richard was shot down in cold blood when he refused to reveal the +hiding-place. His brother and some scouts, operating south without +orders, arrived just in time to witness the last act. Miles Ralestone +and his men summarily shot the murderers. But where Richard had so +carefully concealed the last of the family treasure was never +discovered. + +"The war beggared the Ralestones. Miles went north in search of better +luck, and this place was allowed to molder until it was leased in 1879 +to a sugar baron. In 1895 it was turned over to a family distantly +connected with ours. And since then it has been leased. We have had in +all four tenants." + +"But," Ricky broke in, "since the Luck went we have not prospered. And +until it returns--" + +Rupert tapped out his pipe against one of the fire irons. "It's nothing +but a folk-tale," he told her. + +"It isn't!" Ricky contradicted him vehemently. "And we've made a good +beginning anyway. We've come back." + +"If Rick took the Luck with him, I don't see how we have an earthly +chance of finding it again," Val commented. + +"It came back once before after it had gone from us," reminded his +sister. "And I think that it will again. At least I'll hope so." + +"Outside of the superstition, it would be well worth having. The names +of the heads and heirs of the house are all engraved along the blade, +from Sir Roderick on down. Seven hundred years of history scratched on +steel." Rupert stretched and then glanced at his wrist-watch. "Ten to +ten, and we've had a long day. Who's for bed?" + +"I am, for one." Val swung his feet down from the couch, disturbing +Satan who opened one yellow eye lazily. + +Ricky stood by the fireplace fingering the wreath of stiff flowers +carved in the stone. Val took her by the arm. + +"No use wondering which one you push to reveal the treasure," he told +her. + +She looked up startled. "How did you know what I was thinking about?" +she demanded. + +"My lady, your thoughts, like little white birds--" + +"Oh, go to bed, Val. When you get poetical I know you need sleep. Just +the same," she hesitated with one foot on the first tread of the stair, +"I wonder." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR + + +Val lay trapped in an underground cavern, chained to the floor. An +unseen monster was creeping up his prostrate body. He could feel its hot +breath on his cheek. With a mighty effort he broke his bonds and threw +out his arms in an attempt to fight off his tormentor. + +The morning sun was warm across his pillow, making him blink. On his +chest stood Satan, kneading the bedclothes with his front paws and +purring gently. From the open window came a fresh, rain-washed breeze. + +Having aroused the sleeper, Satan deserted his post to hang half-way out +the window, intent upon the housekeeping arrangements of several birds +who had built in the hedges below. A moment later Val elbowed him aside +to look out upon the morning. + +It was a fine one. Wisps of mist from the bayou still hung about the +lower garden, but the sun had already dried the brick-paved paths. A bee +blundered past Val's nose, and he realized that it might be well to +close the screen hanging shutter-like outside. + +From the direction of the hidden water came the faint _putt-putt_ of a +motor-boat, but inside Pirate's Haven there was utter silence. As yet +the rest of the family were not abroad. Val dropped his pajamas in a +huddle by the bed and dressed leisurely, feeling very much at peace with +this new world. Perhaps that was the last time he was to feel so for +many days to come. He stole cautiously out of his room and tiptoed down +halls and dark stairs, wanting to be alone while he discovered Pirate's +Haven for himself. + +The Long Hall looked chilly and bleak, even though patches of sunlight +were fighting the usual gloom. On the hearth-stone lay a scrap of white, +doubtless Ricky's handkerchief. Val flung open the front door and +stepped out on the terrace, drawing deep lungfuls of the morning air. +The blossoms on the morning-glory vines which wreathed the edge of the +terrace were open to the sun, and the birds sang in the bushes below. +Satan streaked by and disappeared into the tangle. It was suddenly very +good to be alive. The boy stretched luxuriously and started to explore, +choosing the nearest of the crazy, wandering paths which began at the +circle of the old carriage drive. + +Here was evidence of last night's storm. Wisps of Spanish moss, torn +from the great live-oaks of the avenue and looking like tufts of coarse +gray horsehair, lay in water-logged mats here and there. And in the open +places, the grass, beaten flat, was just beginning to rise again. + +A rabbit scuttled across the path as it went down four steps of broken +stone into a sort of glen. Here some early owner of the plantation had +made an irregular pool of stone to be fed by the trickle of a tiny +spring. Frogs the size of postage-stamps leaped panic-stricken for the +water when Val's shadow fell across its rim. A leaden statue of the boy +Pan danced joyously on a pedestal above. Ricky would love this, thought +her brother as he dabbled his fingers in the chill water trying to catch +the stem of the single lily bud. + +Out of nowhere came a turtle to slide into the depths of the pool. The +sun was very warm across Val's bowed shoulders. He liked the garden, +liked the plantation, even liked the circumstances which had brought +them there. Lazily he arose and turned. + +By the steps down which he had come stood a slight figure in a faded +flannel shirt and mud-streaked overalls. His bare brown feet gripped the +stones as if to get purchase for instant flight. + +"Hello," Val said questioningly. + +The new-comer eyed young Ralestone warily and then his gaze shifted to +the bushes beyond. + +"I'm Val Ralestone." Val held out his hand. To his astonishment the +stranger's mobile lips twisted in a snarl and he edged crabwise toward +the bushes bordering the glen. + +"Who are you?" Val demanded sharply. + +"Ah has got as much right heah as yo' all," the boy answered angrily. +And with that he turned and slipped into a path at the far end of the +glen. + +Aroused, Val hurried after him to reach the bayou levee. The quarry was +already in midstream, wielding an efficient canoe paddle. On impulse Val +shouted after him, but he never turned. A rifle lay across his knees and +there were some rusty traps in the bottom of the flimsy canoe. Then Val +remembered that Pirate's Haven lay upon the fringe of the muskrat swamps +where Cajun and American squatters still carried on the fur trade of +their ancestors. + +But as Val stood speeding the departure of the uninvited guest, another +canoe put off from the opposite shore of the bayou and came swinging +across toward the rough wooden landing which served the plantation. A +round brown face grinned up at Val as a powerful negro clambered ashore. + +"Is dey up at de big house now?" he asked cheerily as he came up. + +"If you mean the Ralestones, why, we got here last night," Val answered. + +"Yo'all is Mistuh Ralestone, suh?" He took off his wide-brimmed straw +hat and twisted it in his oversized hands. + +"I'm Valerius Ralestone. My brother Rupert is the owner." + +"Well, Mistuh Ralestone, suh, I'se yo'all's fahmah from 'cross wata. +Mistuh LeFleah, he says dat yo'all is come to live heah agin. So mah +woman, she says dat Ah should see if yo'all is heah yet and does yo'all +want anythin'. Lucy, she's bin a-livin' heah, dat is, her mammy and +pappy and her pappy's mammy and pappy has bin heah since befo' old Massa +Ralestone done gone 'way. So Lucy, she jest nachely am oneasy 'bout +yo'all not gettin' things comfo'ble." + +"That is kind of her," Val answered heartily. "My brother said something +last night about wanting to see you today, so if you'll come up to the +house--" + +"I'se Sam, Mistuh Ralestone, suh. Ah done work heah quite a spell now." + +"By the way," Val asked as they went up toward the house, "did you see +that boy in the canoe going downstream as you crossed? I found him in +the garden and the only answer he would give to my questions was that he +had as much right there as I had. Who is he?" + +The wide smile faded from Sam's face. "Mistuh Ralestone, suh, effen dat +no-'count trash comes 'round heah agin, yo'all bettah jest call de +policemans. Dey's nothin' but poah white trash livin' down in de swamp +places an' dey steals whatevah dey kin lay han' on. Was dis boy big like +yo'all, wi' black hair an' a thin face?" + +"Yes." + +"Dat's de Jeems boy. He ain't got no mammy nor pappy. He lives jest like +de wil' man wi' a li'l huntin' an' a big lot stealin'. He talk big. Say +he belongs in de big house, not wi' swamp folks. But jest yo'all pay no +'tenshun to him nohow." + +"Val! Val Ralestone! Where are you?" Ricky's voice sounded clear through +the morning air. + +"Coming!" he shouted back. + +"Well, make it snappy!" she shrilled. "The toast has been burnt twice +and--" But what further catastrophe had occurred her brother could not +hear. + +"Yo'all wants to git to de back do', Mistuh Ralestone, suh? Dere's a +sho't-cut 'cross dis-a-way." Sam turned into a side path and Val +followed. + +Ricky was at the stove gingerly shifting a coffee-pot as her brother +stepped into the kitchen. "Well," she snapped as he entered, "it's about +time you were showing up. I've simply cracked my voice trying to call +you, and Rupert's been talking about having the bayou dragged or +something of the kind. Where have you been, anyway?" + +"Getting acquainted with our neighbors. Ricky," he called her attention +to the smiling face just outside the door, "this is Sam. He runs the +home farm for us. And his wife is a descendant of the Ralestone house +folks." + +"Yassuh, dat's right. We's Ralestone folks, Miss 'Chanda. Mah Lucy done +sen' me ovah to fin' out what yo'all is a-needin' done 'bout de place. +She was in yisteday afo' yo'all come an' seed to de dustin' an' sich--" + +"So that's why everything was so clean! That was nice of her--" + +"Yo'all is Ralestones, Miss 'Chanda. An' Lucy say dat de Ralestones am +a-goin' to fin' dis place jest ready for dem when dey come." He beamed +upon them proudly. "Lucy, she am a-goin' be heah jest as soon as she +gits de chillens set for de day. I'se come fust so's Ah kin see wat +Mistuh Ralestone done wan' done wi dem rivah fiel's--" + +"Where is Rupert?" Val broke in. + +"Went out to see about the car. The storm last night wrecked the door of +the carriage house--" + +"Zat so?" Sam's eyes went round. "Den Ah bettah be a-gittin' out an' see +'bout it. 'Scuse me, suh. 'Scuse me, Miss 'Chanda." With a jerk of his +head he left them. Val turned to Ricky. + +"We seem to have fallen into good hands." + +"It's my guess that his Lucy is a manager. He just does what she tells +him to. I wonder how he knew my name?" + +"LeFleur probably told them all about us." + +"Isn't it odd--" she turned off the gas, "'Ralestone folks.'" + +"Loyalty to the Big House," her brother answered slowly. "I never +thought that it really existed out of books." + +"It makes me feel positively feudal. Val, I was born about a hundred +years too late. I'd like to have been the mistress here when I could +have ridden out in a victoria behind two matched bays, with a coachman +and a footman up in front and my maid on the little seat facing me." + +"And with a Dalmatian coach-hound running behind and at least +three-fourths of the young bloods of the neighborhood as a mounted +escort. I know. But those days are gone forever. Which leads me to +another subject. What are we going to do today?" + +"The dishes, for one thing," Ricky began ticking the items off on her +fingers, "and then the beds. This afternoon Rupert wants us--that is, +you and me--to drive to town and do some errands." + +"Oh, yes, the list you two made out last night. Well, now that that's +all settled, suppose we have some breakfast. Has Rupert been fed or is +he thinking of going on a diet?" + +"He'll be in--" + +"Said she with perfect faith. All of which does not satisfy the pangs of +hunger." + +"Where's Lovey?" + +"If you are using that sickening name to refer to Satan--he's +out--hunting, probably. The last I saw of him he was shooting head first +for a sort of bird apartment house over to the left of the front door. +Here's Rupert. Now maybe we may eat." + +"I've got something to tell you," hissed Ricky as the missing member of +the clan banged the screen door behind him. Having so aroused Val's +curiosity, she demurely went around the table to pour the coffee. + +"How's the carriage house?" Val asked. + +"Sam thinks he can fix it with some of that lumber piled out back of the +old smoke-house." Rupert reached for a piece of toast. "What do you +think of our family retainer?" + +"Seems a good chap." + +"LeFleur says one of the best. Possesses a spark of ambition and is +really trying to make a go of the farm, which is more than most of them +do around here. His wife, by all accounts, is a wonder. Used to be the +cook-housekeeper here when the Rafaels had the place. LeFleur still +talks about the two meals he ate here then. Sam tells me that she is +planning to take us in hand." + +"But we can't afford--" began Ricky. + +"I gathered that money does not come into the question. The lady is +rather strong-willed. So, Ricky," he laughed, "we'll leave you two to +fight it out. But Lucy may be able to find us a laundress." + +"Which reminds me," Ricky took a crumpled piece of white cloth from her +pocket, "if this is yours, Rupert, you deserve to do your own washing. I +don't know what you've got on it; looks like oil." + +He took it from her and straightened out a handkerchief. + +"Not guilty this time. Ask little brother here." He passed over the +dirty linen square. It was plain white--or it had been white before +three large black splotches had colored it--without an initial or +colored edge. + +"I think he's prevaricating, Ricky," Val protested. "This isn't mine. +I'm down to one thin dozen and those are the ones you gave me last +Christmas. They have my initials on." + +Ricky took back the disputed square. "That's funny. It certainly isn't +mine. I'm sure one of you must be mistaken." + +"Why?" asked Rupert. + +"Because I found it on the hearth-stone in the hall this morning. It +wasn't there last night or one of us would have seen it and picked it +up, 'cause it was right there in plain sight." + +"Sure it isn't yours, Val?" + +He shook his head. "Positive." + +"Queer," murmured Rupert and reached for it again. "It's a good quality +of linen and it's almost new." He held it to his nose. "That's oil on +it. But how--?" + +"I wonder--" Val mused. + +"What do you know?" asked Ricky. + +"Well--Oh, it isn't possible. He wouldn't carry a handkerchief," her +brother said half to himself. + +"Who wouldn't?" asked Rupert. Then Val told them of his meeting with the +boy Jeems and what Sam had had to say of him. + +"Don't know whether I exactly like this." Rupert folded the mysterious +square of stained linen. "As you say, Val, a boy like that would hardly +carry a handkerchief. Also, you met him in the garden, while--" + +"The person who left that was in this house last night!" finished Ricky. +"And I don't like that!" + +"The door was locked and bolted when I came down this morning," Val +observed. + +Rupert nodded. "Yes, I distinctly remember doing that before I went up +to bed last night. But when I was going around the house this morning I +discovered that there are French doors opening from the old ball-room to +the terrace, and I didn't inspect their fastening last night." + +"But who would want to come in here? There are no valuables left except +furniture. And it would take three or four men and a truck to collect +that. I don't see what he was after," puzzled Ricky. + +Rupert arose from the table. "We have, it seems, a mystery on our hands. +If you want to amuse yourselves, my children, here's the first clue. +I've got to get back to the carriage house and my labors there." + +He dropped the handkerchief on the table and left. Ricky reached for the +"clue." "Awfully casual about it, isn't he?" she said. "Just the same, I +believe that this is a clue and I know what our visitor was after, too," +she finished triumphantly. + +"What?" + +"The treasure Richard Ralestone hid when the Yankee raiders came." + +"Well, if our unknown visitor has as little in the way of clues as we +have, he'll be a long time finding it." + +"And we're going to beat him to it! It's somewhere in the Hall, and the +secret--" + +"See here," Val interrupted her, "what were you about to tell me when +Rupert came in?" + +She put the handkerchief in the breast pocket of her sport dress, +buttoning the flap over it. + +"Rupert's got a secret." + +"What kind?" + +"It has to do with those two brief-cases of his. You know, the ones he +was so particular about all the way down here?" + +Val nodded. Those bulging brief-cases had apparently contained the +dearest of his roving brother's possessions, judging from the way Rupert +had fussed if they were a second out of his sight. + +"This morning when I came downstairs," Ricky continued, "he was sneaking +them into that little side room off the dining-room corridor, the one +which used to be the old plantation office. And when he came out and saw +me standing there, he deliberately turned around and locked the door!" + +"Whew!" Val commented. + +"Yes, I felt that way too. So I simply asked him what he was doing and +he made some silly remark about Bluebeard's chamber. He means to keep +his old secret, too, 'cause he put the key on his key-ring when he +didn't know I was watching him." + +"This is not the place for a rest cure," her brother observed as he +started to scrape and stack the dishes. "First someone unknown leaves +his handkerchief for a calling card and then Rupert goes Fu Manchu on +us. To say nothing of the rugged and unfriendly son of the soil whom I +found bumping around the garden where he had no business to be." + +"What was he like anyway?" asked his sister as she dipped soap flakes +into the dish-water with a liberal hand. + +"Oh, thin, and awfully brown. But not bad looking if it weren't for his +mouth and that scowl of his. And he very distinctly doesn't like us. +About my build, but quicker on his feet, tough looking. I wouldn't care +to try to stop him doing anything he wanted to do." + +"My dear, are you describing Clark Gable or someone you met in our +garden this morning?" she demanded sweetly. + +"Very well," Val retorted huffily into the depths of the oatmeal pan he +was wiping, "you catch him next time." + +"I will," was her serene answer as she wrung out the dish-cloth. + +They went on to the upstairs work and Val received his first lesson in +the art of bed-making under his sister's extremely critical tuition. It +seemed that corners must be square and that dreadful things were likely +to happen when wrinkles were not smoothed out. This exercise led them +naturally to unpacking the remainder of the hand baggage and putting +things away. It was after ten before Val came downstairs crab-fashion, +wiping off each step behind him as he came with one of Ricky's three +dust-cloths. + +He paused on the landing to pull back the tapestry curtain and open the +windows above the alcove seat, letting in the freshness of the morning +to rout some of the dank chill of the hall. Kneeling there, he watched +Rupert come around the house. Rupert had shed his coat and his sleeves +were rolled up almost to his shoulders. There was a streak of black +across his cheek and a large rip almost separated the collar from his +shirt. Although he looked hot, cross, and tired, more like a day-laborer +than a gentleman plantation owner whose ancestors had always "planted +from the saddle," his stride had a certain buoyancy which it had lacked +the day before. + +With an idea of escaping Ricky by joining his brother, Val hurried +downstairs and headed kitchenward. But his sister was there before him +looking over a collection of knives of various lengths. + +"Preparing for a little murder or two?" Val asked casually. + +She jumped and dropped a paring knife. + +"Val, don't do that! I wish you'd whistle or something while you're +walking around in those tennis shoes. I can't hear you move. I'm looking +for something to cut flowers with. There don't seem to be any scissors +except mine and I'm not going to use those." + +"Take dat, Miss 'Chanda." A fat black hand motioned toward the paring +knife. + +Just within the kitchen door stood a wide, a very wide, Negro woman. Her +neat print dress was stiff with starch from a recent washing, and round +gold hoops swung proudly from her ears. Her black hair, straightened by +main force of arm, had been set again in stiff, corrugated waves of +extreme fashion, but her broad placid face was both kind and serene. + +"I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis," she reached +an arm behind her, pulling forth a girl at least ten shades lighter and +thirty-five shades thinner, "is mah sistah's onliest gal-chil', +Letty-Lou. Mak' yo' mannahs, Letty. Does yo' wan' Miss 'Chanda to think +yo' is a know-nothin' outa de swamp?" + +[Illustration: "_I'se Lucy," she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' +dis is Letty-Lou._"] + +Thus sternly admonished, Letty-Lou ducked her head shyly and murmured +something in a die-away voice. + +"Letty-Lou," announced her aunt, "is com' to do fo' yo'all, Miss +'Chanda. I'se larn'd her good how to do fo' ladies. She is good at +scrubbin' an' cleanin' an sich. Ah done train'd her mahse'f." + +Letty-Lou looked at the floor and twisted her thin hands behind her +back. + +"But," protested Ricky, "we're not planning to have anyone do for us, +Lucy." + +"Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda. Yo'all's not gittin' a know-nothin'. +Letty-Lou, she knows her work. She kin cook right good." + +"We can't take her," Val backed up Ricky. "You must understand, Lucy, +that we don't have much money and we can't pay for--" + +"Pay fo'!" Lucy's indignant sniff reduced him to his extremely +unimportant place. "We's not talkin' 'bout pay workin', Mistuh +Ralestone. Letty-Lou don' git no pay but her eatments. 'Co'se, effen +Miss 'Chanda wanna give her some ole clo's now an' den, she kin tak' +dem. Letty-Lou, she don' hav' to git her a pay-work job, her pappy mak's +him a good livin'. But Miss 'Chanda ain' a-goin' to tak' keer dis big +hous' all by herself wit' her lil' han's dere. We's Ralestone folks. +Letty-Lou, yo' gits on youah ap'on an' gits to work." + +"But we can't let her," Ricky raised her last protest. + +"Miss 'Chanda, we's Ralestone folks. Mah gran' pappy Bob was own man to +Massa Miles Ralestone. He fit in de wah longside o' Massa Miles. An' wen +de wah was done finish'd, dem two com' home to-gethah. Den Massa Miles, +he call mah gran'pappy in an' say, 'Bob, yo'all is free an' I'se a +ruinated man. Heah is fiv' dollahs gol' money an' yo' kin hav' youah +hoss.' An' Bob, he say, 'Cap'n Miles, dese heah Yankees done said I'se +free but dey ain't done said dat I ain't a Ralestone man. W'at time does +yo'all wan' breakfas' in de mornin'?' An' wen Massa Miles wen' no'th to +mak' his fo'tune, he told Bob, 'Bob, I'se leavin' dis heah hous' in +youah keer.' An', Miss 'Chanda, we done look aftah Pirate's Haven evah +since, mah gran'pappy, mah pappy, Sam an' me." + +Ricky held out her hand. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You see, we don't understand +very well, we've been away so long." + +Lucy touched Ricky's hand and then, for all her weight, bobbed a curtsy. +"Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda, yo' is ouah folks." + +Letty-Lou stayed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +PISTOLS FOR TWO--COFFEE FOR ONE + + +Val braced himself against the back of the roadster's seat and struggled +to hold the car to a road which was hardly more than a cart track. Twice +since Ricky and he had left Pirate's Haven they had narrowly escaped +being bogged in the mud which had worked up through the thin crust of +gravel on the surface. + +To the south lay the old cypress swamps, dark glens of rotting wood and +sprawling vines. A spur of this unsavory no-man's land ran close along +the road, and looking into it one could almost believe, fancied Val, in +the legends told by the early French explorers concerning the giant +monsters who were supposed to haunt the swamps and wild lands at the +mouth of the Mississippi. He would not have been surprised to see a +brontosaurus peeking coyly down at him from twenty feet or so of neck. +It was just the sort of place any self-respecting brontosaurus would +have wallowed in. + +But at last they won free from that place of cold and dank odors. +Passing through Chalmette, they struck the main highway. From then on it +was simple enough. St. Bernard Highway led into St. Claude Avenue and +that melted into North Rampart street, one of the boundaries of the old +French city. + +"Can't we go slower?" complained Ricky. "I'd like to see some of the +city without getting a crick in my neck from looking over my shoulder. +Watch out for St. Anne Street. That's one corner of Beauregarde Square, +the old Congo Square--" + +"Where the slaves used to dance on Sundays before the war. I know; I've +read just as many guide-books as you have. But there is such a thing as +obstructing traffic. Also we have about a million and one things to do +this afternoon. We can explore later. Here we are; Bienville Avenue. No, +I will _not_ stop so that you can see that antique store. Six blocks to +the right," Val reminded himself. + +"Val, that was the Absinthe House we just passed!" + +"Yes? Well, it would have been better for a certain ancestor of ours if +he had passed it, too. That was Jean Lafitte's headquarters at one time. +Exchange Street--the next is ours." + +They turned into Chartres Street and pulled up in the next block at the +corner of Iberville. A four-story house coated with grayish plaster, its +windows framed with faded green shutters and its door painted the same +misty color, confronted them. There was a tiny shop on the first floor. + +A weathered sign over the door announced that Bonfils et Cie. did +business within, behind the streaked and bluish glass of the small +curved window-panes. But what business Bonfils and Company conducted was +left entirely to the imagination of the passer-by. Val locked the +roadster and took from Ricky the long legal-looking envelope which +Rupert had given them to deliver to Mr. LeFleur. + +Ricky was staring in a puzzled manner at the shop when her brother took +her by the arm. "Are you sure that you have the right place? This +doesn't look like an office to me." + +"We have to go around to the courtyard entrance. LeFleur occupies the +second floor." + +A small wooden door, reinforced with hinges of hand-wrought iron, opened +before them, making them free of a courtyard paved with flagstones. In +the center a tall tree shaded the flower bed at its foot and threw +shadows upon the first of the steps leading to the upper floors. The +Ralestones frankly stared about them. This was the first house of the +French Quarter they had seen, although their name might have admitted +them to several closely guarded Creole strongholds. LeFleur's house +followed a pattern common to the old city. The lower floor fronting on +the street was in use only as a shop or store-room. In the early days +each shopkeeper lived above his place of business and rented the third +and fourth floors to aristocrats in from their plantations for the +fashionable season. + +A long, narrow ell ran back from the main part of the house to form one +side of the courtyard. The ground floor of this contained the old slave +quarters and kitchens, while the second was cut into bedrooms which had +housed the young men of the family so that they could come and go at +will without disturbing the more sedate members of the household. These +small rooms were now in use as the offices of Mr. LeFleur. From the +balcony, running along the ell, onto which each room opened, one could +look down into the courtyard. It was on this balcony that the lawyer met +them with outstretched hands after they had given their names to his +dark, languid young clerk. + +"But this is good of you!" Rene LeFleur beamed on them impartially. He +was a small, plumpish, round-faced man in his early forties, who spoke +in perpetual italics. His eyebrows, arched over-generously by Nature, +gave him a look of never-ending astonishment at the world and all its +works. But his genial smile was kindness itself. Unaccustomed as Val was +to sudden enthusiasms, he found himself liking Rene LeFleur almost +before his hand gripped Val's. + +"Miss Ralestone, it is a pleasure, a very great pleasure, to see you +here! And this," he turned to Val, "this must be that brother Valerius +both you and Mr. Ralestone spoke so much of during our meeting in New +York. You have safely recovered from that most unfortunate accident, Mr. +Ralestone? But of course, your presence here is my answer. And how do +you like Louisiana, Miss Ralestone?" His eyes behind his gold-rimmed +eyeglasses sparkled as he tilted his head a fraction toward Ricky as if +to hear the clearer. + +"Well enough. Though we've seen very little of it yet, Mr. LeFleur." + +"When you have seen Pirate's Haven," he replied, "you have seen much of +Louisiana." + +"But we're forgetting our manners!" exclaimed the girl. "We want to +thank you for everything you've done for us. Rupert said to tell you +that while he doesn't care for beans as a rule, the beans we found in +our cupboard were very superior beans." + +Mr. LeFleur hooted with laughter like a small boy. "He is droll, is that +brother of yours. And has Sam been to see you?" + +"Sam and--Lucy," answered Ricky with emphasis. "Lucy has decided to take +us in hand. She has installed Letty-Lou over our protests." + +The little lawyer nodded complacently. "Yes, Lucy will take care of you. +She is a master housekeeper and cook--ah!" His eyes rolled upward. "And +Mr. Ralestone, how is he?" + +"All right. He's going over the farm with Sam this afternoon. We were +sent in his place to give you the papers he spoke to you about." + +At Ricky's answer, Val held out the envelope he had carried. To their +joint surprise, LeFleur pounced upon it and withdrew to the window of +the room into which he had conducted them. There he spread out the four +sheets of yellowed paper which the envelope had contained. + +"What were we carrying?" whispered Ricky. "Part of Rupert's deep, dark +secret?" + +"No," her brother hissed back, "those are the plans of the Patagonian +fort which were stolen from the Russian Embassy last Thursday by the +beautiful woman spy disguised with a long green beard. You know, the +proper first chapter of an international espionage thriller. You are the +dumb but beautiful newspaper reporter on the scent, and I--" + +"The even dumber G-man who spends most of his time running three steps +ahead of Fu Chew Chow and his gang of oriental demons. In the second +chapter--" + +But a glance at Mr. LeFleur's face as he turned away from the window put +an end to their nonsense. Gone was his smile, his beaming good-will +toward the world. He seemed a little tired, a trifle stooped. "Not here +then," he said slowly to himself as he slipped the papers back into the +envelope. + +"Mr. Valerius," he looked up at the boy very seriously, "the LeFleurs +have served the Ralestones, acting as their men of business, for over a +hundred years. We owe your family a great debt. When young Denys LeFleur +was shipped over here to New Orleans under false accusation of his +enemies, the first Richard Ralestone became his patron. He helped the +boy salvage something from the wreck of the LeFleur fortunes in France +to start anew in a decent profession under tolerable surroundings, when +others of his kind died miserably as beggars on the mud flats. Twice +before have we been forced to be the bearers of ill news, but--" he +shrugged, "that was in the past. This lies in the future." + +"What does?" asked Ricky. + +"It is such a tangle," he said, running his hand through his short, +gray-streaked hair. "A tangle such as lawyers are supposed to delight +in. But they don't, I assure you that they don't, Miss Ralestone. Not if +they have their client's interest at heart. You know, of course, of the +missing Ralestone--Roderick?" + +Ricky and Val both nodded. Mr. LeFleur spread out his plump hands in a +queer little gesture as if he were pushing something away. "This whole +unfortunate business begins with him. As far as we know today, he and +his brother were co-owners of Pirate's Haven. When young Roderick +disappeared, he was still part owner. Although he was presumed dead, he +was never lawfully declared so. Pirate's Haven was simply assumed to be +the property of your branch of the family." + +"Our branch of the family?" Val echoed him. "Do you mean that some +descendant of Roderick has appeared to put in a claim?" + +"That is the problem. Three days ago a man came to my office. He said +that he is the direct descendant of Roderick Ralestone and that he can +produce proof of that fact." + +"And he wants his share of the estate?" asked Ricky shrewdly. + +"Yes." + +"He can keep on wanting," Val said shortly. "We've nothing to give." + +"There's Pirate's Haven," pointed out Mr. LeFleur. + +"But he can't--" Ricky's hand closed about her brother's wrist. + +"Naturally he can't take it," Val assured her hotly. "Pirate's Haven is +ours. This looks to me like blackmail. He'll threaten to stir up a lot +of trouble unless we buy him off." + +Mr. LeFleur nodded. "That is perhaps the motive behind it all." + +"Well," Val forced a laugh, "then he loses. We haven't the money to buy +him off." + +"Neither have you the money to fight a case through the courts, Mr. +Valerius," answered the lawyer soberly. + +"But there is some chance, there must be!" urged Ricky. + +"I submitted the full case to Mr. John Stanton yesterday--Mr. Stanton is +our local authority on cases of this type. He has informed me that there +is a single ray of hope. Frankly, I find this claimant a dubious person, +but a shrewd one. He knows that he has the advantage now, but should we +gain the upper hand, we could, I believe, rid ourselves of him. Our +chance lies in the past. This was first a French and then a Spanish +colony. Under both rules the law of primogeniture sometimes held force. +That is, an estate passed to the eldest son of a family. Your estate was +such a one. In fact, we possess in this very office old charters and +papers which state that the property was entailed after the European +custom. If that were so, the courts might declare that the elder of the +twins born in 1788 was the sole owner of Pirate's Haven. + +"But which of the twin brothers was the elder? You will say at once, +Richard. But your rival will say Roderick. And there is no proof. For in +the spring, two months after the birth of the boys, most of the family +papers were destroyed in the great fire which almost wiped out the city +and burned the Ralestone town house. There is no birth record in +existence. I appealed to your brother to return to me these papers which +Miles Ralestone took north with him after the war. You returned them +today but there was nothing in them of any value to this case. + +"However, if you can find such proof, that Richard Ralestone was the +elder and thus the legal heir under the laws of Spain, then we shall +have a solid fact upon which to base our fight." + +"There is such a proof," began Ricky slowly. + +"What? Where?" demanded Mr. LeFleur. + +"Don't you remember, Val," she turned to him, "what Rupert said about +the Luck last night--that the names of the heirs were engraved upon its +blade? We'll have to find the Luck! We'll just have to!" + +"But Roderick took the Luck with him. And if it's still in existence, +this rival will have it now," her brother reminded her. + +"Yes, of course, I was forgetting--" her voice trailed off into silence +and Val stared at her with a dropped jaw. Such a quick change of manner +was totally unlike Ricky. "Yes," she repeated slowly and distinctly, "I +guess we're the losers--" + +"For Pete's sake--" he began hotly and then he saw her hand making +furious motions in his direction from behind the screen of her large +purse. "Well, I suppose we are in a hole." He managed to mend his tone a +fraction. "Rupert will probably be in to see you tomorrow, Mr. LeFleur." + +"It would be well for him to become acquainted with the whole matter as +quickly as possible," agreed the unhappy Creole. "You may tell Mr. +Ralestone that I am, of course, having this claimant thoroughly +investigated. We shall have to wait and see. Time is a big factor," he +murmured as if to himself. + +Ricky smiled brightly. There was a sort of eagerness about her, as if +she were wild to be off. "Then we'll say good-bye for the present, Mr. +LeFleur. And may I mention again how much we have appreciated your +thoughtfulness?" + +Rene LeFleur aroused himself. "But it was a pleasure, a very great +pleasure, Miss Ralestone. You are returning to Pirate's Haven now?" + +"Well--" she hesitated. Mystified at what lay behind her unexplainable +actions, Val could only stand and listen. "We did have some errands. Of +course, this news--" + +LeFleur gestured widely. "But it will come all right. It must. There are +papers somewhere." + +Firmly Ricky broke away from more protracted farewells. As the +Ralestones turned out of the courtyard into which their host had +conducted them, Val matched his step with hers. + +"Well? What's the matter?" he demanded. + +"We had an eavesdropper." + +Val stopped short. "What do you mean?" + +"I was facing the door to the balcony. There was the shadow of a head on +the floor. When you spoke about Rick having the sword, it went away--the +shadow, I mean. But someone had been listening and now he knows about +the Luck and what it means to us." + +Aiming a kick at the nearest tire of the roadster, Val regarded the +mud-stained rubber moodily. "Fine mess!" + +"Yes, isn't it? And there seems to be no loose end to the thing," Ricky +protested. "It's like holding a big tangle of wool and being told to +have it all straightened out before night--the plot of a fairy-tale. We +have so many odd sections but no ends. There's that boy in the garden +this morning who said that he has as much right at Pirate's Haven as we +have, and then there's that handkerchief, and now this man who claims +half the estate--" + +"And our mysterious listener," finished her brother. "What shall we do +now? Go home?" + +"No. We might as well do the errands." She seated herself in the car. +"Val--" + +"Yes?" + +"I know one thing." She leaned toward him and her eyes shone green as +they did when she was excited or greatly troubled. "We aren't going to +let go of our tangle until we do find an end. We _are_ the Ralestones of +Pirate's Haven and we are going to continue to be the Ralestones of +Pirate's Haven." + +"In spite of the enemy? I agree." Val stepped on the starter. "You know, +a hundred years ago there would have been a very simple remedy for this +rival-claimant business." + +"What?" + +"Pistols for two--coffee for one. Rupert or I would have met him out at +the dueling oaks and that would have been the end of him." + +"Or you. But dueling--here!" + +"Very common. The finest fencing masters on the North American continent +plied their trade here. Why, one, Pepe Llula, the most famous duelist of +his time, became the guardian of a cemetery just so, as gossip rumored, +he could have some place to bury his opponents. + +"Then on the other hand, if dueling were too risky, we might have had +him voodooed, had we lived back in the good old days. Paid that voodoo +queen--what was her name? Marie something or other--to put a curse on +him so he'd just wither away." + +"And serve him right, too." Ricky stared straight before her. "I don't +know how you feel about it, but I'm not going to give up Pirate's Haven +without a fight. It's--it's the first real home we've ever had. Rupert's +older; he's spent his time traveling and seeing the world; it may not +mean so much to him. But you and I, Val--You know what it's been like! +Schools, and spending the holidays with aunts or in those frightful +camps, never getting a chance to be together. We can't--we just can't +have this only to lose it again. We can't!" her voice broke. + +"So we won't." + +"Val, when you say things like that, I can almost believe them. If--if +we do lose, let's stick together this time. Promise?" her voice lifted +in an effort toward lightness. + +"I promise. After this it will be the two of us together. Do you know, +I've never really had a chance to get acquainted with my very +good-looking sister." + +She laughed. "I can't very well curtsy while sitting down in here, but +'thank yuh for them purty words, stranger.' And now for the express +station. Then you are to stop at the Southeastern News Association +headquarters for something of Rupert's and--" + +The afternoon went quickly enough. They despatched the rest of their +possessions from the express station to Pirate's Haven, went on a round +of miscellaneous shopping, picked up a weighty box at the News +Association, and ended up at five o'clock by visiting that institution +of New Orleans, a coffee-house. Ricky was earnestly peeking into one of +her ten or so small bags. They had parked the car and Val complained +that he had become a sort of packhorse, and anything but patient one. + +"What if your feet do hurt," his sister said wearily as she closed the +bag and reached for another. "So do mine. These sidewalks feel like +red-hot iron. I'll bet I could do one of those fakir tricks where you're +supposed to walk over red-hot plowshares." + +"Not only my feet but also my backbone is protesting. Whether you have +reached the end of that _Anthony Adverse_ of a shopping list or not, +we're going home! And what _are_ you looking for? You've opened all +those bags at least twice and dropped no less than three on the floor +each time," he snapped irritably. + +"My pralines. I'm sure I gave them to you to carry. I've heard of New +Orleans pralines all my life, so I got some today and now they've +disappeared." + +"They were probably included in that last arm-load of parcels I stowed +in the car. Are you through?" + +Ricky looked into her coffee-cup. "It's empty, so I guess I am. Where is +the car? I'm so lost I don't know where we are now." + +"We left it about three blocks away on the sunny side of the street," +Val informed her with the relish of one who is thoroughly tired of his +present existence. "If this is your usual behavior on a shopping trip, +Rupert may bring you in the next time. Half an hour to choose a +toothbrush-mug in the ten-cent store!" + +"For a person who spends a good fifteen minutes matching a tie and a +handkerchief," sniffed Ricky as she rose, "you're in a hurry to +criticize others." + +"Come _on_!" her brother almost howled as he scooped up the packages. + +"Anyway, we won't have to get supper or wash the dishes or anything." +She pulled off her hat as she settled herself in the car. "It's so +beastly hot, but it'll be cooler at home. Do you suppose we could go +swimming in the bayou?" + +"I don't see why not." Val guided the roadster into a side street. +"Where's that map of the city? We've got to see how to get back on to +North Rampart from here." + +"I'll look." Ricky bent her head and so she did not see the two figures +walking close together and so rapt in conversation that the one on the +curb side brushed against a lamp-post. + +Now just what, considered Val, was the slim young clerk from Mr. +LeFleur's office telling that red-faced man in the too-snug suit? He +would have liked to have overheard a word or two. Perhaps he had become +unduly suspicious but--he had his doubts. + +"We turn left at the next corner," said Ricky. + +Val changed gears and drove on. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES + + +Val stood on the small ornamental bridge pitching twigs down into the +tiny garden brook. A moody frown creased his forehead. Under his feet +lay a pair of pruning-shears he had borrowed from Sam with the intention +of doing something about the jungle which surrounded Pirate's Haven on +three sides. That is, he had intended doing something, but now-- + +"Penny for your thoughts." + +"Lady," he answered dismally without turning around, "you can have a +bushel of them for less than that." + +"There is a neat expression which describes you beautifully at this +moment," commented Ricky as she came up beside her brother. "Have you +ever heard of a 'sour puss?" + +"Several times. Oh, what's the use!" Val kicked at a long twig. A warm +wind brought in its hold the heavy scent of flowering bushes and trees. +His shirt clung to his shoulders damply. It was hot even in the shade of +the oaks. Rupert had gone to town to see LeFleur and hear the worst, so +that Pirate's Haven, save for themselves and Letty-Lou, was deserted. + +"Come on," Ricky's arm slid through his, "let's explore. Think of +it--we've been here two whole days and we don't know yet what our back +yard looks like. Rupert says that our land runs clear down into the +swamp. Let's go see." + +"But I was going to--" He made a feeble beginning toward stooping for +the pruning-shears. + +"Val Ralestone, nobody can work outdoors in this heat, and you know it. +Now come on. Bring those with you and we'll leave them in the carriage +house as we pass it. You know," she continued as they went along the +path, "the trouble with us is that we haven't enough to do. What we need +is a good old-fashioned job." + +"I thought we were going to be treasure hunters," he protested +laughingly. + +"That's merely a side-line. I'm talking about the real thing, something +which will pay us cash money on Saturday nights or thereabout." + +"Well, we can both use a typewriter fairly satisfactorily," Val offered. +"But as you are the world's worst speller and I am apt to become +entangled in my commas, I can't see us the shining lights of any +efficient office. And while we've had expensive educations, we haven't +had practical ones. So what do we do now?" + +"We sit down and think of one thing we're really good at doing and +then--Val, what is that?" She pointed dramatically at a mound of brick +overgrown with vines. To their right and left stretched a row of +tumble-down cabins, some with the roofs totally gone and the doors +fallen from the hinges. + +"The old plantation bake oven, I should say. This must be what's left of +the slave quarters. But where's the carriage house?" + +"It must be around the other side of the big house. Let's try that +direction anyway. But I think you'd better go first and do some +chopping. This dress may be a poor thing but it's my own and likely to +be for some time to come. And short of doing a sort of snake act, I +don't see how we're going to get through there." + +Val applied the shears ruthlessly to vine and bush alike, glad to find +something to attack. The weight of his depression was still upon him. It +was all very well for Ricky to talk so lightly of getting a job, but +talk would never put butter on their bread--if they could afford bread. + +"You certainly have done a fine job of ruining that!" + +Val surpassed Ricky's jump by a good inch. By the old bake oven stood a +woman. A disreputable straw hat with a raveled brim was pulled down over +her untidy honey-colored hair and she was rolling up the sleeves of a +stained smock to bare round brown arms. + +"It's very plain to the eye that you're no gardener," she continued +pleasantly. "And may I ask who you are and what you are doing here? This +place is not open to trespassers, you know." + +"We did think we would explore," answered Ricky meekly. "You see, this +all belongs to my brother." She swept her hand about in a wide circle. + +"And just who is he?" + +"Rupert Ralestone of Pirate's Haven." + +"Good--!" Their questioner's hand flew to cover her mouth, and at the +comic look of dismay which appeared on her face, Ricky's laugh sounded. +A moment later the stranger joined in her mirth. + +"And here I thought that I was being oh so helpful to an absent +landlord," she chuckled. "And this brother of yours is _my_ landlord!" + +"How--? Why, we didn't know that." + +"I've rented your old overseer's house and am using it for my studio. By +the way, introductions are in order, I believe. I am Charity Biglow, +from Boston as you might guess. Only beans and the Bunker Hill Monument +are more Boston than the Biglows." + +"I'm Richanda Ralestone and this is my brother Valerius." + +Miss Biglow grinned cheerfully at Val. "That won't do, you know; too +romantic by far. I once read a sword-and-cloak romance in which the hero +answered to the name of Valerius." + +"I haven't a cloak nor a sword and my friends generally call me Val, so +I hope I'm acceptable," he grinned back at her. + +"Indeed you are--both of you. And what are you doing now?" + +"Trying to find a building known as the carriage house. I'm beginning to +believe that its existence is wholly mythical," Val replied. + +"It's over there, simply yards from the direction in which you're +heading. But suppose you come and visit me instead. Really, as part +landlords, you should be looking into the condition of your rentable +property." + +She turned briskly to the left down the lane on which were located the +slave cabins and guided the Ralestones along a brick-paved path into a +clearing where stood a small house of typical plantation style. The +lower story was of stone with steep steps leading to a balcony which ran +completely around the second floor of the house. + +As they reached the balcony she pulled off her hat and threw it in the +general direction of a cane settee. Without that wreck of a hat, with +the curls of her long bob flowing free, she looked years younger. + +"Make yourselves thoroughly at home. After all, this is your house, you +know." + +"But we didn't," protested Ricky. "Mr. LeFleur didn't tell us a thing +about you." + +"Perhaps he didn't know." Charity Biglow was pinning back her curls. "I +rented from Harrison." + +"Like the bathroom," Val murmured and looked up to find them staring at +him. "Oh, I just meant that you were another improvement that he had +installed," he stammered. Miss Biglow nodded in a satisfied sort of way. +"Spoken like a true southern gentleman, though I don't think in the old +days that bathrooms would have crept into a compliment paid to a lady. +Now I did have some lemonade--if you will excuse me," and she was gone +into the house. + +Ricky smiled. "I like our tenant," she said softly. + +"You don't expect me to disagree with that, do you?" her brother had +just time enough to ask before their hostess appeared again complete +with tray, glasses, and a filled pitcher which gave forth the refreshing +sound of clinking ice. And after her paraded an old friend of theirs, +tail proudly erect. "There's our cat!" cried Ricky. + +Val snapped his fingers. "Here, Satan." + +After staring round-eyed at both of them, the cat crossed casually to +the settee and proceeded to sharpen his claws. + +"Well, I like that! After I shared my bed with the brute, even though I +didn't know it until the next morning," Val exploded. + +"Why, where did you meet Cinders?" asked Miss Biglow as she put down the +tray. + +"He came to us the first night we were at Pirate's Haven," explained +Ricky. "I thought he was a ghost or something when he scratched at the +back door." + +"So that's where he was. He used to go over to the Harrisons' for meals +a lot. When I'm working I don't keep very regular hours and he doesn't +like to be neglected. Come here, Cinders, and make your manners." + +Replying to her invitation with an insolent flirt of his tail, Cinders, +whom Val continued obstinately to regard as "Satan," disappeared around +the corner of the balcony. Charity Biglow looked at them solemnly. "So +obedient," she observed; "just like a child." + +"Are you an artist, too?" Ricky asked as she put down her glass. + +Miss Biglow's face wrinkled into a grimace. "My critics say not. I +manage to provide daily bread and sometimes a slice of cake by doing +illustrations for action stories. And then once in a while I labor for +the good of my soul and try to produce something my more charitable +friends advise me to send to a show." + +"May--may we see some of them--the pictures, I mean?" inquired Ricky +timidly. + +"If you can bear it. I use the side balcony for a workshop in this kind +of weather. I'm working on a picture now, something more ambitious than +I usually attempt in heat of this sort. But my model didn't show up this +morning so I'm at a loose end." + +She led them around the corner where Satan had disappeared and pointed +to a table with a sketching board at one end, several canvases leaning +face against the house, and an easel covered with a clean strip of +linen. "My workshop. A trifle untidy, but then I am an untidy person. +I'm expecting an order so I'm just whiling away my time working on an +idea of my own until it comes." + +Ricky touched the strip of covering across the canvas on the easel. "May +I?" she asked. + +"Yes. It might be a help, getting some other person's reaction to the +thing. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do when I started but I +don't think it's turning out to be what I planned." + +Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas. + +[Illustration: _Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas._] + +"But that is he!" he exclaimed. + +Charity Biglow turned to the boy. "And what do you mean--" + +"That's the boy I found in the garden, Ricky!" + +"Is it?" She stared, fascinated, at the lean brown face, the untidy +black hair, the bitter mouth, which their hostess had so skilfully +caught in her unfinished drawing. + +"So you've met Jeems." Miss Biglow looked at Val thoughtfully. "And what +did you think of him?" + +"It's rather--what did he think of me. He seemed to hate me. I don't +know why. All I ever said to him was 'Hello.'" + +"Jeems is a queer person--" + +"Sam says that he is none too honest," observed Ricky, her attention +still held by the picture. + +Miss Biglow shook her head. "There is a sort of feud between the swamp +people and the farmers around here. And neither side is wholly to be +believed in their estimation of the other. Jeems isn't dishonest, and +neither are a great many of the muskrat hunters. In the early days all +kinds of outlaws and wanted men fled into the swamps and lived there +with the hunters. One or two desperate men gave the whole of the swamp +people a bad name and it has stuck. They are a strange folk back there +in the fur country. + +"Some are Cajuns, descendants of exiles from Evangeline's country; some +are Creoles who took to that way of life after the Civil War ruined +them. There's many a barefooted boy or girl of the swamps who bears a +name that was once honored at the Court of France or Spain. And there +are Americans of the old frontier stock who came down river with Andrew +Jackson's army from the wilds of Tennessee and the Indian country. It's +a strange mixture, and once in a while you find a person like Jeems. He +speaks the uneducated jargon of his people but he reads and writes +French and English perfectly. He has studied under Pere Armand until he +has a classical education such as was popular for Creole boys of good +family some fifty years ago. Pere Armand is an old man now, but he is as +good an instructor as he is a priest. + +"Jeems wants to make something of himself. He argues logically that the +swamp has undeveloped resources which might save its inhabitants from +the grinding poverty which is slowly destroying them. And it is Jeems' +hope that he can discover some of the swamp secrets when he is fitted by +training to do so." + +"Who is he?" Val asked. "Is Jeems his first or last name?" + +"His last. I have never heard his given name. He is very reticent about +his past, though I do know that he is an orphan. But he is of Creole +descent and he does have breeding as well as ambition. Unfortunately he +had quite an unpleasant experience with a boy who was visiting the +Harrisons last summer. The visitor accused Jeems of taking a fine rifle +which was later discovered right where the boy had left it in his own +canoe. Jeems has a certain pride and he was turned against all the +plantation people. His attitude is unfortunate because he longs so for a +different sort of life and yet has no contact with young people except +those of the swamp. I think he is beginning to trust me, for he will +come in the mornings to pose for my picture of the swamp hunter. Do you +know," she hesitated, "I think that you would find a real friend in +Jeems if you could overcome his hatred of plantation people. You would +gain as much as he from such an association. He can tell you things +about the swamp--stories which go back to the old pirate days. +Perhaps--" + +Ricky looked up from the uncompleted picture. "I think he'd be nice to +know. But why does he look so--so sort of starved?" + +"Probably because the bill of fare in a swamp cabin is not as varied as +it might be," answered Charity Biglow. "But you can't offer him +anything, of course. I don't even know where he lives. And now, tell me +about yourselves. Are you planning to live here?" + +Her frank interest seemed perfectly natural. One simply couldn't resent +Charity Biglow. + +"Well," Ricky laughed ruefully, "we can't very well live anywhere else. +I think Rupert still has ten dollars--" + +"After his expedition this morning, I would have my doubts of that," Val +cut in. "You see, Miss Biglow, we are back to the soil now." + +"Charity is the name," she corrected him. "So you're down--" + +"But not out!" Ricky hastened to assure her. "But we might be that." And +then and there she told their tenant of the rival claimant. + +Charity listened closely, absent-mindedly sucking the wooden shaft of +one of her brushes. When Ricky had done, she nodded. + +"Nice mess you've dropped into. But I think that your lawyer has the +right idea. This is a neat piece of blackmail and your claimant will +disappear into thin air if you have a few concrete facts to face him +down with. Are you sure you've looked through all the family papers? No +hiding-places or safes--" + +"One," said Ricky calmly, "but we don't know where that is. In the Civil +War days, after General Butler took over New Orleans, some family +possessions were hidden somewhere in the Long Hall, but we don't know +where. The secret was lost when Richard Ralestone was shot by Yankee +raiders." + +"Is he the ghost?" asked Charity. + +"No. You ask that as if you know something," Val observed. + +"Nothing but talk. There have been lights seen, white ones. And a while +back my maid Rose left because she saw something in the garden one +night." + +"Jeems, probably," the boy commented. "He seems to like the place." + +"No, not Jeems. He was sitting right on that railing when we both heard +Rose scream." + +"Val, the handkerchief!" Ricky's hand arose to her buttoned pocket. +"Then there _was_ someone inside the house that night. But why--unless +they were after the treasure!" + +"The quickest way to find out," her brother got up from the edge of the +table where he had perched, "is to go and do a little probing of our +own. We have a good two hours until lunch. Will you join us?" he asked +Charity. + +"You tempt me, but I've got to get in as much work on this as I can," +she indicated her canvas. "And Jeems may show up even if it is late. So +my conscience says 'No.' Unfortunately I do possess a regular +rock-ribbed New England conscience." + +"Rupert will be back by four," said Ricky. "Will your conscience let you +come over for coffee with us then? You see how quickly we have adopted +the native customs--coffee at four." + +"Ricky," her brother explained, "desires to become that figure of +Romance--the southern belle." + +"Then we must do what we can to help her create the proper atmosphere," +urged Charity solemnly. + +"Even to the victoria and the coach-hound?" Val demanded in dismay. + +"Well, perhaps not that far," she laughed. "Anyway, I accept your kind +invitation with pleasure. I shall be there at four--if I can find a +presentable dress. Now clear out, you two, and see what secrets of the +past you can uncover before lunch time." + +But their explorations resulted in nothing except slightly frayed +tempers. Val had sounded what paneling there was, but as he had no idea +what a hollow panel should sound like if rapped, he inwardly decided +that he was not exactly fitted for such investigations. + +Ricky broke two fingernails pressing the carving about the fireplace and +sat down on the couch to state in no uncertain terms what she thought of +the house, and of their ancestor who had been so misguided as to get +himself shot after hiding the stuff. She ended with a brilliant but +short description of Val's present habits and vices--which she added +because he happened to have said meekly enough that if she would only +trim her nails to a reasonable length, such accidents could be avoided. + +When she had done, her brother sat back on the lowest step of the stairs +and wiped his hands on his handkerchief. + +"Seeing that I have been crawling about on my hands and knees inspecting +cracks in the floor, I think I have as much right to lose my temper as +you have. Short of tearing the house down, I don't see how we are going +to find anything without directions. And I am _not_ in favor of taking +such a drastic step as yet." + +"It's around here somewhere, I know it!" She kicked petulantly at the +hearth-stone. + +"That statement is certainly a big help," Val commented. "Several yards +across and I don't know how many up and down--and you just know it's +there somewhere. Well, you can keep on pressing until you wear your +fingers out, but I'm calling it a day right now." + +She did not answer, and he got stiffly to his feet. He was hot and more +tired than he had been since he had left the hospital. Because he was +just as sure as Ricky that the key to their riddle must be directly +before them at that moment, he was thoroughly disgusted. + +A strange sound from his sister brought him around. Ricky was not pretty +when she cried. No pearly drops slipped down white cheeks. Her nose +shone red and she sniffed. But Ricky did not cry often. Only when she +was discouraged, or when she was really hurt. + +"Why, Ricky--" Val began uncertainly. + +"Go 'way," she hiccupped. "You don't care--you don't care 'bout +anything. If we have to lose this--" + +"We won't! We'll find a way!" he assured her hurriedly. "I'm sorry I +snapped at you. I'm just tired and hot, and so are you. Let's go +upstairs and freshen up. Lunch will be ready--" + +"I kno-o-ow--" her sob deepened into a wail. "Then Rupert will laugh at +us and--" + +"Ricky! For goodness sake, pull yourself together!" + +She looked up at him, round-mouthed in surprise at his sharpness. And +then to his amazement she began to giggle, her giggles mixed with her +sobs. "You do look so funny," she gasped, "like the stern father of a +family. Why don't you fight back always when I get mean, Val?" + +He grinned back at her. "I don't know. Shall I, next time?" + +She rubbed her face with a businesslike air and tucked her handkerchief +away. "There isn't going to be any next time," she announced briskly. +"If there is--well--" + +"Yes?" Val prompted. + +"Then you can just spank me or something drastic. Come on, I must look a +sight. And goodness knows, you're no beauty with that black mark across +your chin and your slacks all grimy at the knees. We've got to clean up +before lunch or Letty-Lou will think we're some sort of heathen." + +With that she turned and led the way upstairs, totally recovered and +herself again in spite of a red nose and suspiciously moist eyelashes. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS + + +"Val, did that cat go upstairs?" Ricky stood at the foot of the hall +staircase frowning crossly. "If he did, you'll just have to go up and +get him. I will not have him walking on the beds with muddy feet. +There's enough to do here without cleaning up after a lazy cat. Where's +Rupert?" + +Her brother put aside his note-book and got up from the couch with a +lazy stretch. Ricky's early-morning energy was apt to be a little +irksome and Val had not had a good night. When one lies and stares up at +a ceiling, one sometimes hears strange noises which cannot be accounted +for by wind or creaking boards. + +"He retired into Bluebeard's den right after breakfast and he hasn't +appeared since." + +"I should think that after what he heard yesterday he'd be doing +something," she protested. + +"And what is there for him to do? You know just how far we got with our +investigations yesterday. Go rap on his door if you like and stir him +up. But I don't think his welcome will be a cordial one." + +Ricky sat down on the bottom step and pushed the hair back from her +forehead. Suddenly she looked very small and faintly forlorn with all +that expanse of age-blackened wood behind her. + +"I can't understand you two at all. One would think you would be just as +well pleased if that Beezel the rival walked off with this place. You +aren't even trying to fight!" + +"Listen, Ricky, how can we fight when we have nothing solid to fight +with? LeFleur is doing all he can, we have explored every possibility +here--" + +"Val, don't you _want_ to stay here?" she interrupted him. + +He looked around at stone and wood. Did he really want to? His instant +hot anger at the thought of another owner there was his answer. Why, +this house was a part of them, as much as if they had laid its +foundation stones with their own hands. They had been brought up on its +blood-stained legends, and on the one or two happier tales which had +been lived within its walls. If they had to leave, they would regret it +all their lives. And yet--Rupert seemed to take no interest in the +claims of the rival, and only Ricky wanted to fight. + +Ricky got up from the stairs. + +"We might as well go up and catch that cat," she said. + +At the top of the stairs Satan sat, his eyes upon the landing windows. +Val reached out his hands for him, but in that single instant Satan was +gone. A black tail disappeared around the door of the Jackson room. + +"Oh, dear, I hope he isn't going to get on that bed." Ricky opened the +door wider. "No, there he goes under instead of on it. Can you see him, +Val?" + +Her brother crouched and lifted the edge of the brocaded cover which +swept to the floor. To Val's surprise a thin line of light showed along +the wall at the head of the bed. + +"Ricky, look behind the head of the bed! Is it fast against the wall?" + +She started to the tall canopied head and pulled the faded fabrics away +from the paneling. "No, there's about two feet here at the bottom. It +doesn't show because the canopy covers it. And, Val, there's an opening +here! Satan's trying to get through!" + +"We need a flashlight." + +"I'll get Rupert's. Val, promise not to go in--if it _is_ a door--until +I come back!" + +"Of course; but hurry." + +The flashlight revealed a wide panel which slid upward. Time and damp +had warped the wood so that it no longer fitted snugly to the floor as +the builder had intended. But the same warping made the door defy their +efforts to raise it any higher. At last, by prying and pounding, they +got it up perhaps a yard from the floor. Satan slipped through and they +followed on hands and knees. + +They crawled into a small room lighted by two round windows set like +eyes in the side wall. More than three-quarters of the space was filled +with furniture and boxes wrapped in tarred canvas. The choking dust and +general mustiness of the long-closed apartment drove Val to investigate +the window fastenings and throw them open to the morning air. + +"There must be another door somewhere," he said, calling Ricky away from +a box where she was picking at the knotted rope which bound it. "All +these things couldn't have been brought through that hole behind the +bed." + +"Here it is," she said a moment later, pointing to an oblong set flush +with the wall. "It's bolted on this side." + +"Let me open it and see where we are." Val fumbled at the rusty latch, +but he had to use an iron poker from a discarded fire stand in the +corner before he could hammer it back. Again the door resisted their +efforts to push it open until Val flung his full weight against it. With +a snapping report it swung open and he sprawled forward into the short +hall which had once led into the garden wing, an ell of the house +destroyed by roving British raiders during the days of 1815. The only +wholly wooden portion of the house, it had been burnt and never rebuilt. + +"Come on," Ricky pulled at Val's sleeve, "let's explore." + +He looked at his black hands. "I would suggest some soap and water, +several brooms, and some dusting cloths if we're going to do it right. +Better make a regular house-cleaning party of it." + +"Goodness, what have I strayed into?" Charity Biglow stood in the lower +hall staring at the younger Ralestones as they came through from the +kitchen. They had both changed into their oldest and least respectable +clothes. Ricky, in fact, was wearing a pair of Val's slacks and one of +Rupert's shirts, and they were burdened with a broom which was long past +its youth, several smaller brushes, and a great bundle of floor-cloths. + +"We've found a secret room--" began Ricky. + +"As one door has been in plain sight since the building of this house, +it could hardly be called a secret room," Val objected. + +"Well, we didn't know it was there until Satan found the back entrance +for us. And now we're going to clean it out. It's full of furniture and +boxes and things." + +"Don't!" Charity held up a paint-streaked hand. "You will have me +drooling in a moment. I don't suppose you could use another assistant? +After all, it was my cat who found it for you. If you can provide me +with a set of those weird coverings which seem to be your house-cleaning +uniforms, I would just love to wield a broom in your company." + +"The more the merrier," laughed Ricky. "I think Val has another pair of +slacks--" + +"That's right, dispose of my wardrobe before my face," he commented, +balancing his load more carefully in preparation for climbing the +stairs. "Only spare my white flannels, please. I'm saving those for the +occasion when I can play the country gentleman in style." + +Upstairs he braced open the hall door of the storage-room. The open +windows had cleared the air within but they were too high and too small +to admit enough light to reach the far corners. It would be best, they +decided, to carry each box and piece of furniture to the hall for +examination. With the zeal of treasure hunters they set to work. + +Some time later, when Val was coaxing the second box through the door, +they were interrupted. + +"And just what is going on here?" Rupert stood at the end of the hall. + +"Oh," Ricky smiled sweetly, "did we really disturb you?" + +"Well, I did think that there was a troop of elephants doing tap dancing +up here. But that isn't the point--just _what_ are you doing?" + +"Cleaning house." Ricky flicked a gray rag in his direction freeing a +cloud of dust. "Don't you think it needs it?" + +Rupert sneezed. "It seems so. But why--? Miss Biglow!" + +Charity, extremely dirty--she had apparently run dusty hands across her +forehead several times--had come to the door of the storage-room. At the +sight of Rupert she flushed and made a hurried attempt at smoothing her +hair. + +"I--" she began, when Ricky interrupted her. + +"Charity is helping us, which is more than we can say of you. Go back to +your old den and hibernate. And then you can't look down that long nose +of yours when we turn up the papers that'll save us from the poorhouse." + +"That's telling him," Val murmured approvingly as he fanned himself with +one of the cleaner cloths. "But perhaps we had better explain. You see, +Satan went hunting and found work for idle hands," and he told the tale +of the sliding panel behind the bed. + +When he had finished, Rupert laughed. "So you are still determined on +treasure hunting, are you? Well, if it will keep you out of mischief, go +to it." + +"Rupert," Ricky faced him squarely, "don't be utterly insufferable. +If you had one drop of hot blood in you, you'd be just as thrilled +as we are. Just because you've been around and around the world until +you got dizzy or something, you needn't stand there with that +'See-the-little-children-play' smirk on your face. You don't really care +whether we lose Pirate's Haven or not, do you?" + +Rupert straightened and the color crept up across his high cheek-bones. +His mouth opened and then he closed it again without speaking the words +he had intended, closed with a firmness which tightened his lips into a +straight line. + +"Don't stand there and glower at me," Ricky went on. "Why don't you say +what you were going to? I'm just about tired of this world-weary +attitude--" + +"Ricky!" Val clapped his black hand over her mouth and turned to +Charity. "Please excuse the fireworks. They are not usual, I assure +you." + +"Let me go!" Ricky twisted out of his grip. "I don't care if Charity +does hear. She ought to know what we're really like!" + +"Speak for yourself, my pet." The red had faded from Rupert's face. "You +do have a nice little habit of speaking your mind, don't you? But on +this occasion I believe you're at least eight-tenths right. I have been +neglecting my opportunities. Suppose you let me get at that box, Val. +And look here, if you are going to unpack these, why not move them down +to the end of the hall and turn them out on a sheet?" + +Charity and Ricky suddenly disappeared back into the room and were very +busy whenever Rupert crossed their line of vision, but Val was heartily +glad of his brother's help in lifting and pulling. + +"Better not try to take this bedstead and stuff out," Rupert advised +when they had the three boxes out in the hall. "We have no need for it +now, anyway." + +"I believe--yes, it is! A real Sergnoret piece!" Charity was +industriously rubbing away at the head of the bed. Rupert knelt down +beside her. + +"And just what is a Sergnoret piece?" + +"A collector's item nowadays. Francois Sergnoret was one of the greatest +cabinet-makers of New Orleans. See that 'S'--that's the way he always +signed his work." + +"Treasure trove!" cried Ricky. "I wonder how much it's worth?" + +"Exactly nothing to us." Rupert was running his hands across the +mahogany. "We couldn't sell anything from this house until the title is +cleared." + +As Val moved around to the opposite side to see better, his foot struck +against something on the floor. He stooped and picked up a box with a +slanting cover, the whole black and smooth with age and the rubbing of +countless hands. + +"What's this?" He had crossed to the door and was examining his find in +the light. + +Rupert's hand fell upon his shoulder. "Val, be careful of that. Charity, +he's got something here!" He pulled her up beside him, not noting in his +excitement that he had broken out of the formal shell which seemed to +wall him in whenever she was around. + +"A Bible box! And an authentic one, too!" She drew her fingers down the +slope of the lid. + +"And just what is it?" Val asked for the second time. + +"These boxes were used in the seventeenth century for writing-desks and +later to keep the large family Bibles in. But this is the first one I've +ever seen outside of a museum. What's this on the lid?" She traced a +worn outline. Val studied the design. + +"Why, it's Joe! You know, that grinning skull we have stuck up all over +the place to bolster up our superiority complex. That proves that this +is ours, all right." + +"Perhaps--" Ricky's eyes were round with excitement, "perhaps it +belonged to Pirate Dick himself!" + +"Perhaps it did," her younger brother agreed. + +"Lift the lid." She was almost hopping on one foot in her impatience. +"Let's see what's inside." + +"No gold or jewels, I'll wager. How do you get the thing undone?" + +"Here, let me try." Rupert took it from Val's hands and put it down on +one of the chests, squatting on the floor before it. With the smallest +blade of his penknife he delicately probed the fastening sunken in the +wood. + +"I could do a faster job," he remarked, "if you didn't all breathe down +the back of my neck." They retreated two inches or so and waited +impatiently. With a satisfied grunt he dropped his knife and pulled the +lid up. + +"Why, there's nothing in it!" Ricky's cry of disappointment was almost a +wail. + +"Nothing but that old torn lining." Val was as disgusted as she. + +Rupert closed it again. "I'll rub this up some and put in another +lining. This is too good a piece to hide away up here," and he put it +carefully aside at the end of the hall. + +Their investigations yielded nothing more except great quantities of +dust, a mummified rat which even Satan refused to sniff at, and a large +collection of spider webs. Having swept out the room, they went to wash +their hands before unpacking the well-wrapped boxes. + +When their swathing canvas and sacking was thrown aside, the boxes stood +revealed as stout chests banded with iron. Charity paused before one. +"This is a marriage chest, late seventeenth century, I would judge. Look +there, under that carved leaf--isn't that a date?" + +"Sixteen hundred ninety-three," Rupert deciphered. "That crest above it +looks familiar. I know, it belonged to that French lady who married our +pirate ancestor." + +"The first Lady Richanda!" Ricky touched the chest lovingly. "Then this +is mine, Rupert. Can't it be mine?" she coaxed. + +"Of course. But it's locked, and as we don't have any keys which would +fit the lock, you'll have to wait until we can get a locksmith out to +work on it before you will know what's inside." + +"I don't care. No," she corrected herself, "that's wrong; I do care. But +anyway its mine!" She caressed the stiff carving with her fingers. + +"What's this one?" Val turned to the second box. It, too, was fashioned +of wood, but it was plain where the other was carved, and the iron bands +across it were pitted with rust. + +"A sea chest, I would say." Rupert touched the top gingerly. "By the +feel, it's locked too. And I don't care to play around with it. The men +who made things like these were too fond of having little poisoned fangs +run into your hand when you tried to force the chest without knowing the +trick. We'll have to leave this for an expert, too." + +"What about the third?" + +Charity laughed. "After your two treasures I'm afraid that this will be +a disappointment." She indicated a small humpbacked trunk covered with +moth-eaten horsehair. "No romance here. But the key is tied to the clasp +beside the lock." + +"Then open it before I expire of pure unsatisfied curiosity," Ricky +begged. "Go on, Rupert. Hurry." + +"Oh," she said a moment later, "it's full of nothing but a lot of +books." + +"What did you expect," Val asked her, "a skeleton? Do you know, I think +that Rick's ghost, or whatever influence presides over this house, has a +sense of humor. You find a room, or a trunk, or something which makes +you feel that you are on the verge of getting what you want, and then it +all fades into just nothing again. Now, by rights, that writing-desk +should have contained the secret message which would have told us where +to find a hidden passage or something. But what is in it? A couple of +pieces of lining almost completely torn from the bottom. I'll wager that +when you open those chests you'll find nothing but a brick or 'April +Fool' scrawled across the inside. This isn't true to any fiction I ever +read," he ended plaintively. + +"Good Heavens!" Charity was staring down at what lay within a portfolio +she had opened. + +"Don't tell me you have really found something!" Val exclaimed. + +"It can't be true!" She still stared at what she held. + +Ricky looked over her shoulder. "Why, it's nothing but a picture of a +bird," she observed. + +"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity corrected her. + +[Illustration: _"It's a genuine Audubon," Charity said._] + +"What!" With little regard for manners, Rupert snatched the portfolio +from her hands. "Are you sure?" + +"Yes. But you must take it in to the museum and get an expert opinion. +It's wonderful!" + +"Here's another." Reverently Rupert raised the first sketch and then the +second. "Three, four, five, six," he counted. + +"Was Audubon ever here?" Charity looked about the hall, a sort of awe +coloring her voice. + +"He might easily have been when he lived in New Orleans. Though we have +no record of it," answered Rupert. "But these," he closed the portfolio +carefully and knotted its strings, "speak for themselves. I'll take them +to LeFleur tomorrow. We can't allow them to lie about here." + +"I should hope not!" Charity eyed the portfolio wistfully. "Imagine +actually owning six of those--" + +"They won't pay our bills," said Ricky, practical for once in her life. +Treasure to Ricky was not half a dozen sketches on yellowed paper but +good old-fashioned gold with a few jewels thrown in for her own private +satisfaction. The portfolio and its contents left her unmoved. Val +admitted to himself that he, too, was disappointed. After all--well, +treasure should be treasure. + +Rupert carried the portfolio into his bedroom and locked it in one of +his mysterious brief-cases which had somehow found its way upstairs. + +The two chests they moved out farther into the hall and the trunk was +placed back against the wall, ready for further investigation. + +"Mistuh Ralestone, suh," Letty-Lou, standing half-way up the back +stairs, addressed Rupert, "lunch am on de table. Effen yo'all doan come +now, de eatments will be spiled." + +"All right," he answered. + +"Letty-Lou," called Ricky, "put on another plate. Miss Charity is +staying to lunch." + +"Dat's all ri', Miss 'Chanda. I'se done done dat. Yo'all comin' now?" + +"You see how we are bullied," Ricky appealed to Charity. "Of course +you're going to stay," she swept aside the other's protests. "What's +food for, if not to feed your friends? Val, go wash up; your hands are +frightful. I don't care if you did wash once; go and--" + +"This is her little-mother-of-the-family mood," her younger brother +explained to Charity. "It wears off after a while if you just don't +notice it. But I will wash though," he looked at his hands, "I seem to +need it." + +"And don't use the guest towels," Ricky called after him. "You know that +they're only to look at." + +When Val emerged from the bathroom he found the hall deserted. Sounds +from below suggested that his family had basely left him for food. He +started along the passage. Not far from the stairs was the writing-desk +where Rupert had left it. Val picked it up, thinking that he might as +well take it along down with him. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BY OUR LUCK! + + +Depositing the desk on the seat of one of the hall chairs, Val started +toward the dining-room, a grim hole which Lucy had calmly forced the +family to use but which they all cordially disliked. Its paneled walls, +crystal-hung chandelier, marble-fronted fireplace, and inlaid floor gave +it the appearance of one of the less cozy rooms in a small palace. There +were also two tasteful portraits of dead ducks which had been added as a +finishing touch by some tenant during the eighties and which still +remained upon the walls to Ricky's unholy joy. + +But the long table, the high-backed chairs, the side serving-table, and +the two tall cabinets of china were fine enough pieces if one cared for +the massive. Ricky's table-cloth of violent-hued peasant linen was not +in keeping with the china and glassware Letty-Lou had set out upon it. +Charity was commenting upon this ensemble as Val entered. + +"Doesn't this red and green plaid seem a bit--well, bright?" The corners +of her mouth twitched betrayingly. + +"No," Ricky returned firmly. "This cloth matches the ducks." + +"Oh, yes, the ducks," Charity eyed them. "So you consider that the ducks +are the note you wish to emphasize?" + +"Certainly." Ricky surveyed the picture hanging opposite her. "I +consider them unique. Not everyone can have ducks in the dining-room +nowadays." + +"For which they should be eternally thankful," observed Rupert. "They +are rather gaudy, aren't they?" + +"Oh, but I like the expression in this one's glassy eye," Ricky pointed +out. "You might call this study 'Gone But Not Forgotten.'" + +"Corn-bread, please," Val asked, thus attempting to put an end to the +art-appreciation class. + +"I think," continued Ricky, undisturbed as she passed him the plate +heaped with golden squares, "that they are slightly surrealist. They +distinctly resemble the sort of things one is often pursued by in one's +brighter nightmares." + +"Do you have any really good pictures?" asked Charity, resolutely +averting her gaze from the ducks. + +"Three, but they've been loaned to the museum," answered Rupert. "Not by +well-known painters, but they're historically interesting. There's one +of the first Lady Richanda, and one of the missing Rick. That's the best +of the lot, according to LeFleur. I saw a photograph of it once. Come to +think about it, Val looks a lot like the boy in the picture. He might +have sat for it." + +They all turned to eye Val. He arose and bowed. "I find these +compliments too overwhelming," he murmured. + +Rupert grinned. "And how do you know that that remark was intended as a +compliment?" + +"Naturally I assumed so," his brother retorted with a dignity which +disappeared as the piece of corn-bread in his hand broke in two, the +larger and more liberally buttered portion falling butter side down on +the table. Ricky smiled in a pained sort of way as she attempted to +judge from her side of the table just how much damage Val's awkwardness +had done. + +"If you were the graceful hostess," he informed her severely, "you would +now throw your piece in the middle to show that anyone could suffer a +like mishap." + +Ricky changed the subject hurriedly by passing beans to Charity. + +"So Val looks like the ghost," Charity said a moment later. "Now I will +have to go to town and see that portrait. Just where is it?" + +Rupert shook his head. "I don't know. But it's listed in the catalogue +as 'Portrait of Roderick Ralestone, Aged Eighteen.'" + +"Just Val's age, then." Ricky spooned some watermelon pickles onto her +plate. "But he was older than that when he left here." + +"Let's see. He was born in February, 1788, which would make him fourteen +when his parents died in 1802. Then he disappeared in 1814, twelve years +later. Just twenty-six when he went," computed Rupert. + +"A year younger than you are now," observed Ricky. + +"And nine years older than yourself at this present date," Val added +pleasantly. "Why this sudden interest in mathematics?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Only somehow I always thought Rick was younger when +he went away. I've always felt sorry for him. Wonder what happened to +him afterwards?" + +"According to our rival," Rupert pulled his coffee-cup before him as +Letty-Lou took away their plates, "he just went quietly away, married, +lived soberly, and brought up a son, who in turn fathered a son, and so +on to the present day. A tame enough ending for our wild privateersman." + +"I'll bet it isn't true. Rick wouldn't end like that. He probably went +off down south and got mixed up in some of the revolutions they were +having at the time," suggested Ricky. "He couldn't just settle down and +die in bed. I could imagine him scuttling a ship but not being a quiet +business man." + +"He was one of Lafitte's men, wasn't he?" asked Charity. At their +answering nods, she went on: "Lafitte was a business man, you know. Oh, +I don't mean that forge he ran in town, but his establishment at Grande +Terre. He was more smuggler than pirate, that's why he lasted so long. +Even the most respected tradesmen had dealings with him. Why, he used to +post notices right in town when he held auctions at Barataria, listing +what he had to sell, mostly smuggled Negroes and a few cargoes of +luxuries from Europe. He was a privateer under the rules of war, but he +was never a real pirate. At least, that's the belief held nowadays." + +"We can't turn up our noses at pirates," laughed Ricky. "This house was +built by pirate gold. We only wish--" + +From the hall came a dull thump. Ricky's napkin dropped from her hand +into her coffee-cup. Rupert laid down his spoon deliberately enough, but +there was a certain tension in his movements. Val felt a sudden chill. +For Letty-Lou was in the kitchen, the family were in the dining-room. +There should be no one in the hall. + +Rupert pushed back his chair. But Val was already half-way to the door +when his brother joined him. And Ricky, suddenly sober, was at their +heels. + +_Zzzzzrupp!_ The slitting sound was clear as they burst into the hall. +On the fur rug by the couch lay the writing-desk. Its lid was thrown +back and by it crouched Satan industriously ripping the remnants of +lining from its interior. As Rupert came up, the cat drew back, his ears +flattened and his lips a-snarl. + +[Illustration: Zzzzzrupp! _Satan was industriously ripping the remnants +of lining from its interior._] + +"Cinders! What has he done?" demanded Charity, swooping down upon her +pet. At her coming, he fled under the couch out of reach. + +Rupert picked up the desk. "Nothing much," he laughed. "Just torn all +that lining loose, as I had planned to do." + +"What is this?" Ricky disentangled a small slip of white from the torn +and musty velvet. "Why, it's a piece of paper," she answered her own +question. "It must have been under the lining and Satan pulled it out +with the cloth." + +"Here," Rupert took it from her, "let me see it." + +He scanned the faded lines of writing. "Val! Ricky!" He looked up, his +face flushed with excitement. "Listen!" + + "Gatty has returned from the city. The raiders calling themselves + the 'Buck Boys' are headed this way. Gatty tells me that Alexander + is with them, having deserted the plantation a week ago. Since his + malice towards us is well known, it is easy to believe that he + means us open harm. I am making my preparations accordingly. The + valuables now under this roof, together with the proceeds from the + last voyage of the blockade runner, _Red Bird_, I am putting in + that safe place discovered by me in childhood, of which I have + sometimes spoken. Remember the hint I once gave you--By Our Luck. + Having written this in haste, I shall intrust it to Gatty--" + +"That's the end; the rest is gone." Rupert stared down at the scrap of +paper in his hand as if he simply could not believe in its reality. + +"Richard wrote that." Ricky touched the note in awe. "But why didn't +Gatty give it to Miles when he came?" + +"Gatty was probably a slave who ran when the raiders appeared," +suggested Rupert. "He or she must have hidden this in here before +leaving. We'll never know." + +"But we've got our clue!" cried Ricky. "We knew that the hiding-place +was in this hall, and now we have the clue." + +"'By our Luck.'" Rupert looked about him thoughtfully. "That's not the +most helpful--" + +"Rupert!" Ricky seized him by the arm. "There's only one thing in this +room that will answer that. Can't you see? The niche of the Luck!" + +Their gaze followed her pointing finger to the mantel above their heads. + +"I believe she's right! Wait until I get the step-ladder from the +kitchen." Rupert was gone almost before he had finished speaking. + +"Oh, if it's only true!" Ricky stared up like one hypnotized. "Then +we'll be rich and--" + +"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," Val reminded her, +but he didn't think that she heard him. + +Then Rupert was back with the ladder. He climbed up, leaving the three +of them clustered about its foot. + +"Nothing here but two stone studs to hold the Luck in place," he said a +moment later. + +"Why not try pressing those?" suggested Charity. + +"All right, here goes." He placed his thumbs in the corners of the niche +and threw his weight upon them. + +"Nothing happened." Ricky's voice was deep with disappointment. + +"Look!" Val pointed over her shoulder. + +To the left of the fireplace were five panels of oak, to balance those +on the other side about the door of the unused drawing-room. The center +one of these now gaped open, showing a dark cavity. + +"It worked!" Ricky was already heading for the opening. + +There behind the paneling was a shallow closet which ran the full length +of the five panels. It was filled with a collection of bags and small +chests, a collection which appeared much larger when it lay in the gloom +within than when they dragged it out. Then, when they had time to +examine it carefully, they discovered that their booty consisted of two +small wooden boxes or chests, one fancifully carved and evidently +intended for jewels, the other plain but locked; a felt bag and another +of canvas, and a package hurriedly done up in cloth. Rupert spread it +all out on the floor. + +"Well," he hesitated, "where shall we begin?" + +"Charity thought about how to open it, and it was her cat that found us +the clue--let her choose," Val suggested. + +"Good," agreed Rupert. "And what's your choice, m'lady?" + +"What woman could resist this?" She laid her hand upon the jewel box. + +"Then that it is." He reached for it. + +It opened readily enough to show a shallow tray divided into +compartments, all of them empty. + +"Sold again," Val commented dryly. + +Carefully Rupert lifted out the top tray to disclose another on which +rested three small leather bags. He loosened the draw-string of the +nearest and shook out into his palm a pair of earrings of a quaint +pattern in twisted gold set with dull red stones. Charity pronounced +them garnets. Though they were not of great value, they were precious in +Ricky's eyes, and even Charity exclaimed over them. + +The second bag yielded a carnelian seal on a wide chain of gold mesh, +the sort of ornament a dandy wore dangling from his watch pocket in the +days of the Regency. And the third bag contained a cross of silver, +blackened by time, set with amethysts. This was accompanied by a chain +of the same dull metal. + +Putting these into the girls' hands, Rupert lifted the second tray to +lay bare the bottom of the chest. Here again were several small bags. +There was another cross, this time of jet inlaid with gold and attached +to a short necklace of jet beads; a wide bracelet of coral and turquoise +which was crudely made and might have been native work of some sort. +Then there was a tiny jewel-set bottle, about which, Ricky declared, +there still lingered some faint trace of the fragrance it had once held. +And most interesting to Charity was a fan, the sticks carved of ivory so +intricately that they resembled lacework stiffened into slender ribs. +The covering between them was fashioned of layers of silk painted with a +scene of the bayou country, with the moss-grown oaks and encroaching +swamp all carefully depicted. + +Charity declared that she had never seen its equal and that some great +artist must have decorated the dainty trifle. She closed it carefully +and slipped it back into its covering, and Rupert took out the last of +the bags. From its depths rolled a ring. + +It was plain enough, a simple band of gold so deep in shade as to be +almost red. Nearly an inch in width, there was no ornamentation of any +sort on its broad, smooth surface. + +"Do you know what this is?" Rupert turned the circlet around in his +fingers. + +"No." Ricky was still dangling the earrings before her eyes. + +"It is the wedding-ring of the Bride of the Luck." + +"What!" Val leaned forward to look down at the plain circle of gold. + +Even Ricky gave her brother her full attention now. Rupert turned to +Charity. + +"You probably know the story of our Luck?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"When the Luck was brought from Palestine, it was decided that it must +be given into the hands of a guardian who would be responsible for it +with his or her life. Because the men of the house were always at war +during those troublesome times, the guardianship went to the eldest +daughter if she were a maiden. By high and solemn ceremony she was +married to the Luck in the chapel of Lorne. And she was the Bride of the +Luck until death or a unanimous consent from the family released her. +Nor could she marry a mortal husband during the time she wore this." He +touched the ring he held. + +"This must be very old. It's the red gold which came into Ireland and +England before the Romans conquered the land. Perhaps this was found in +some old barrow on Lorne lands. But it no longer means anything without +the Luck." + +He held it out to Ricky. "By tradition this is yours." + +She shook her head. "I don't think I want that, Rupert. It's too +old--too strange. Now these," she held up the earrings, "you can +understand. The girls who wore them were like me, and they wore them +because they were pretty. But that--" she looked at the Bride's ring +with distaste--"that must have been a burden to its wearer. Didn't you +tell us once of the Lady Iseult, who killed herself when they would not +release her from her vows to the Luck? I don't want to wear that, ever." + +"Very well." He dropped it back into its bag. "We'll send it to LeFleur +for safe-keeping. Any scruples about the rest of this stuff?" + +"Of course not! And none of it is worth much. May I keep it?" + +"If you wish. Now let's see what is in here." He drew the second box +toward him and forced it open. + +"Money!" Charity was staring at it with wide eyes. + +Within, in neat bundles, lay packages of paper notes. Even Rupert was +shaken from his calm as he reached for one. Outside of a bank none of +them had ever seen such a display of wealth. But after he studied the +top note, the master of Pirate's Haven laughed thinly. + +"This may be worth ten cents to some collector if we're lucky--" + +"Rupert! That's real money," began Ricky. + +But Val, too, had seen the print. "Confederate money, child. As useless +now as our pretty oil stock. I told you that things always turn out +wrong in this house. If we do find treasure, it's worthless. How much is +there, anyway?" + +Rupert picked up a slip of paper tucked under the tape fastening the +first bundle. "This says thirty-five thousand--profit from a blockade +runner's trip." + +"Thirty-five thousand! Well, I think that that is just too much," Ricky +said defiantly. "Why didn't they get paid in real money?" + +"Being loyal to the South, the Ralestones probably would not take what +you call 'real money,'" replied Charity. + +"It's nice to know how wealthy we once were," Val observed. "What are +you going to do with that wall-paper, Rupert?" + +"Oh, chuck it in my desk. I'll get someone to look it over; there might +be a collector's item among these bills. Now let's have the joker out of +_this_ bundle." He plucked at the fastenings of the felt bag. + +When he had pulled off its wrappings, a silver tray with coffee- and +chocolate-pot, cream pitcher and sugar bowl stood, tarnished and dingy, +on the floor. + +"That's more like it." Ricky picked up the chocolate-pot. "Do you +suppose it will ever be possible to get these clean again?" + +"With a lot of will power and some good hard rubbing it can be done," +Val assured her. + +"Well, I'll supply the will power and you may do the rubbing," she +announced pleasantly. + +Rupert had opened the remaining packages to display a set of twelve +silver goblets, one with a dented edge, and a queerly shaped vessel not +unlike an old-fashioned gravy-boat. Charity picked this up and examined +it gravely. + +"I'm afraid that this is pirate loot." She tapped the lip of the piece +she held. The metal gave off a clear ringing sound. "If I'm not +mistaken, this was stolen from a church. Yes, I'm right; see this cross +under the leaves?" She pointed out the bit of engraving. + +"Black Dick's work," agreed Ricky complacently. "But after almost three +hundred years I'm afraid we can't return it. Especially since we don't +know where it came from in the first place." + +Val looked about at what they had uncovered. "If you are going to take +all of this in to LeFleur, you'll have to get a truck. D'you know, I +think this place might turn out to be a gold-mine if one knew just where +to dig." + +"We haven't found the Luck yet," reminded Ricky. + +Val got clumsily to his feet and then gave Charity a hand up, beating +Rupert to it by about three seconds. "As we don't even know whether it +is still in existence, there's no use in hunting for it," Val retorted. + +Ricky smiled, that set little smile which usually meant that she neither +agreed with nor approved of the speaker. She got up from the floor and +shook out her skirt purposefully. + +"I'll remind you of that some day," she promised. + +"I suppose," Rupert glanced at the silver, "this ought to be taken to +town as soon as possible. This house is too isolated to harbor both us +and the silverware at the same time. What do you think?" Ignoring both +Ricky and Val, he turned to Charity. + +"You are right. But it seems a pity to send it all away before we have a +chance to rub it up and see what it really looks like!" + +"By all means, take it at once!" Val urged promptly. "We can always +clean it later." + +Rupert grinned. "Now that might be a protest against the suggestion +Ricky made a few minutes ago. But I'll save you some honest labor this +time, Val; I'll take it to town this afternoon." + +Ricky laughed softly. + +"And why the merriment?" her younger brother inquired suspiciously. + +"I was just thinking what a surprise the visitor who dropped his +handkerchief here is going to get when he finds the cupboard bare," she +explained. + +Rupert rubbed his palm across his chin. "Of course. I had almost +forgotten that." + +"Well, I haven't! And I wonder if we have found what he--or they--were +hunting," Val mused as he helped Rupert wrap up the spoil again. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL + + +Sam had produced a horse complete with saddle and a reputed +skittishness. That horse was the pride of Sam's big heart. It had once +won a small purse at some country fair or something of the sort, and +since then it had been kept only to wear the saddle at rare intervals. +Not that Sam ever rode. He drove a spring-board behind a thin, sorrowful +mule called "Suggah." But the saddle horse was rented at times to white +folk of whom Sam approved. + +Soon after the arrival of the Ralestones at Pirate's Haven, Sam had +brought this four-footed prodigy to their attention. But claiming that +the family were his "folks," he indignantly refused to accept hire and +was hurt if one of them did not ride at least once a day. Ricky had +developed an interest in the garden and had accepted the loan of Sam's +eldest son, an earth-brown child about as tall as the spade, to help her +mess about. Rupert spent the largest part of his days shut up in +Bluebeard's chamber. Which of course left the horse to Val. + +And Val was becoming slightly bored with Louisiana, at least with that +portion of it which immediately surrounded them. Charity was hard at +work on her picture of the swamp hunter, for Jeems had come back without +warning from his mysterious concerns in the swamp. There was no one to +talk to and nowhere to go. + +LeFleur had notified them that he believed he was on the track of some +discreditable incident in the past of their rival which would banish him +from their path. And no more handkerchiefs had been found, ownerless, in +their hall. It was a serene morning. + +But, Val thought long afterwards, he should have been warned by that +very serenity and remembered the old saying, that it was always calmest +before a storm. On the contrary, he was riding Sam's horse along the +edge of that swamp, wondering what lay hidden back in that dark jungle. +Some day, he determined, he would do a little exploring in that +direction. + +A heron arose from the bayou and streaked across the metallic blue of +the sky. Another was wading along, intent upon its fishing. Sam's yellow +dog, which had followed horse and rider, set up a barking, annoyed at +the haughty carriage of the bird. He scrambled down the steep bank, +drove it into flight after its fellow. + +Val pulled his shirt away from his sticky skin and wondered if he would +ever feel really cool again. There was something about this damp heat +which seemed to remove all ambition. He marveled how Ricky could even +think of trimming roses that morning. + +Sam's dog began to bark deafeningly again, and Val looked around for the +heron which must have aroused his displeasure. There was none. But +across the swamp crawled an ungainly monster. + +Four great rubber-tired wheels, ten feet high, as he later learned, +supported a metal framework upon which squatted two men and the driver +of the monstrosity. With the ponderous solemnity of a tank it came on to +the bayou. + +Val's mount snorted and his ears pricked back. He began to have very +definite ideas about what he saw. The thing slipped down the marshy bank +and took to the water with ease, turning its square nose downstream and +sending waves shoreward. + +"Ride 'em, cowboy!" yelled one of the men derisively as Sam's horse +decided to stand on his hind legs and wave at the strange apparition as +it went by. Val brought him down upon four feet again, and he stood +sweating, his ears still back. + +"What do you call that?" the boy shouted back. + +"Prospecting engine for swamp use," answered the driver. "Don't you +swampers ever get the news?" + +The car, or whatever it was, moved on downstream and so out of sight. + +"Now I wonder what that was," Val said aloud as his mount sidled toward +the center of the road. The hound-dog came up and sat down to kick a +patch of flea-invaded territory which lay behind his left ear. Again the +morning was quiet. + +But not for long. A mud-spattered car came around the bend in the road +and headed at Val, going a good pace for the dirt surfacing. Before it +quite reached him it stopped and the driver stuck his head out of the +window. + +"Hey, you, move over! Whatya tryin' to do--break somebody's neck?" + +Val surveyed him with interest. The man was, perhaps, Rupert's age, a +small, thin fellow with thick black hair and the white seam of an old +scar beneath his left eye. + +"This is," the boy replied, "a private road." + +"Yeah," he snarled, "I know. And I'm the owner. So get your hobby-horse +going and beat it, kid." + +Val shifted in the saddle and stared down at him. + +"And what might your name be?" he asked softly. + +"What d'yuh think it is? Hitler? I'm Ralestone, the owner of this place. +On your way, kid, on your way." + +"So? Well, good morning, cousin." Val tightened rein. + +The invader eyed him cautiously. "What d'yuh mean--cousin?" + +"I happen to be a Ralestone also," the boy answered grimly. + +"Huh? You the guy who thinks he owns this?" he asked aggressively. + +"My brother is the present master of Pirate's Haven--" + +"That's what _he_ thinks," replied the rival with a relish. "Well, he +isn't. That is, not until he pays me for my half. And if he wants to get +tough, I'll take it all," he ended, and withdrew into the car like a +lizard into its rock den. + +Val sat by the side of the road and watched the car slide along toward +the plantation. As it passed him he caught a glimpse of a second +passenger in the back seat. It was the red-faced man he had seen with +LeFleur's clerk on the street in New Orleans. Resolutely Val turned back +and started for the house in the wake of the rival. + +By making use of a short-cut, he reached the front of the house almost +as soon as the car. Ricky had been working with the morning-glory vines +about the terrace steps, young Sam standing attendance with a rusty +trowel and one of the kitchen forks. + +At the sound of the car she stood up and tried to brush a smear of +sticky earth from the front of her checked-gingham dress. When the rival +got out she smiled at him. + +"Hello, sister," he smirked. + +She stood still for a moment and her smile faded. When she answered, her +voice was chill. "You wished to see Mr. Ralestone?" she asked distantly. + +"Sure. But not just yet, sister. You better be pleasant, you know. I'm +the new owner here--" + +Val rode out of the bushes and swung out of the saddle, coming up behind +him. Although the boy was one of the smaller "Black" Ralestones, he +topped the invader by a good two inches, and he noted this with delight +as he came up to him. + +"Ricky," he said briefly, "go in. And send Sam for Rupert." + +She nodded and was gone. The man turned to face Val. "You again, huh?" +he demanded. + +"Yes. And Ralestone or no Ralestone, I would advise you to keep a civil +tongue in your head," he began hotly, when Rupert appeared at the door. + +"Well, Val," he asked, a frown creasing his forehead, "what is it?" + +The rival advanced a short step and looked up. "So this is the guy who's +trying to do me out of my rights?" + +Rupert reached behind him and closed the screen before coming to the +head of the terrace steps. "I presume that you are Mr. Ralestone?" he +asked quietly. + +"'Course I'm Ralestone," asserted the other. "And I'm part owner of this +place." + +"That has not yet been decided," answered Rupert calmly. "But suppose +you tell me to what we owe the honor of this visit?" + +Now, however, the passenger took a hand in the game. He crawled out of +the car, taking off his soiled panama to wipe his bald head with a gaudy +silk handkerchief. + +"Here, here, Mr. Ralestone," he addressed his companion, "let us have no +unpleasantness. We have merely come here today, sir," he explained to +Rupert, "to see if matters could not be settled amicably without having +to take recourse to a court of law. Your Mr. LeFleur will give us very +little satisfaction, you see. I am a plain and honest man, sir, and I +believe an affair of this kind may be best agreed upon between +principals. My client, Mr. Ralestone, is a reasonable man; he will be +moderate in his demands. It will be to your advantage to listen to our +proposal. After all, you cannot contest his rights--" + +"But that is just what I am going to do." Rupert smiled down at them, if +a slight twist of the lips may be called a smile. "Have you ever heard +that old saying that 'possession is nine points of the law'? I am the +Ralestone in residence, and I shall continue to be the Ralestone in +residence until after this case is heard. Now, as I am a busy man and +this is the middle of the morning, I shall have to say good-bye--" + +"So that's the way you're going to take it?" The visiting Ralestone +glared at Rupert. "All right. Play it that way and you won't be here a +month from now. Nor," he turned on Val, "this kid brother of yours, +either. You can't pull this lord-of-the-land stuff on me and get away +with it. I'll--" But he did not finish his threat. Instead, his jaws +clamped shut on mid-word. In silence he turned and got into the car to +which his counselor had already withdrawn. + +The car leaped forward into a rose bush. With a savage twist of the +wheel the driver brought it back to the drive, leaving deep prints in +the front lawn. Then it was gone, down the drive, as they stood staring +after it. + +"So that's that," Val commented. "Well, all I've got to say is that +Rick's branch of the family has sadly gone to seed--" + +"Being a southern gentleman has made you slightly snobbish." Ricky came +out from her lurking place behind the door. + +"Snobbish!" her brother choked at the injustice. "I suppose that that is +your idea of a perfect gentleman, a diamond in the rough--" + +He pointed down the drive. + +Ricky laughed. "It's so easy to tease you, Val. Of course he is a--a +wart of the first class. But Rupert will fix him--won't you?" + +Her older brother grinned. "After that example of your trust in me, I'll +have to. I agree, he is not the sort you would care to introduce to your +more particular friends. But this visit seems to suggest something--" + +"That he has the wind up?" Val asked. + +"There are indications of that, I think. Something LeFleur has done has +stirred our friends into direct action. We shall probably have more of +it within the immediate future. So I want you, Ricky, to go to town. +Madame LeFleur has very kindly offered to put you up--" + +Each tiny curl on Ricky's head seemed to bristle with indignation. "Oh, +no you don't, Rupert Ralestone! You don't get me away from here when +there are exciting things going on. I hardly think that our friend with +the slimy manner will use machine-guns to blast us out. And if he +does--well, it wouldn't be the first time that this house was used as a +fortress. I'm not going one step out of here unless you two come with +me." + +Rupert shrugged. "As I can't very well hog-tie you to get you to town, I +suppose you will have to stay. But I _am_ going to send for Lucy." With +that parting shot he turned and went in. + +Lucy arrived shortly before noon. She was accompanied by a portion of +her large family--four, Val counted, including that Sam who had become +Ricky's faithful shadow. + +"What's all dis Ah heah 'bout some mans sayin' he am de Ralestone?" she +demanded of Ricky. "De policemans oughta lock him up. Effen he comes +botherin' 'roun' heah agin I'll ten' to him!" + +With that she marched majestically into the kitchen, elbowed Letty-Lou +out of her way, and proceeded to stir up a batch of brown molasses +cookies. "'Cause dey is fillin' fo' boys. An' Mistuh Val, heah, he needs +some moah fat 'crost dose skinny ribs. Letty-Lou, yo'all ain't feedin' +dese men-folks ri'. Now yo' chillens," she swooped down upon her own +family, "yo'all gits outa heah an' don't fuss me." + +"They can come with me," offered Ricky. "I'm trying to find that maze +which is marked on the garden plans." + +"Miss 'Chanda, yo'all ain't a'goin' 'way 'afo' yoah brothah gits through +his wo'k. He done tol' me to keep an eye on yo'all. Why don't yo'all go +visit wi' Miss Charity?" + +Ricky looked at her watch. "All right. She'll be through her morning +work by now. I'll take the children, Lucy." + +To Val's open surprise, she obeyed Lucy, meekly moving off without a +single protest. One of the boys remained behind and offered shyly to +take the horse back to Sam's place. When Lucy agreed that it would be +all right, Val boosted him into the saddle where he clung like a jockey. + +"An' wheah is yo'all goin', Mistuh Val?" asked Lucy, cutting out round +cookies with a downward stroke of the drinking glass she had pressed +into service. The regular cutter was, in her opinion, too small. + +"Down toward the bayou. I'll be back before lunch," he said, and hurried +out before she could as definitely dispose of him as she had of Ricky. + +Val struck off into the bushes until he came to one of the paths that +crossed the wilderness. As it ran in the direction of the bayou, he +turned into it. Then for the second time he came into the glen of the +pool and passed along the path Jeems had known. So somehow Val was not +surprised, when he came out upon the edge of the bayou levee, to see +Jeems sitting there. + +"Hello!" + +The swamper looked up at Val's hail but this time he did not leave. + +"Hullo," he answered sullenly. + +Val stood there, ill at ease, while the swamper eyed him composedly. +What could he say now? Val's embarrassment must have been very apparent, +for after a long moment Jeems smiled derisively. + +"Yo' goin' ridin' in them funny pants?" he asked, pointing to the +other's breeches. + +"Well, that's what they are intended for," Val replied. + +"Wheah's youah hoss?" + +"I sent him back to Sam's." Val was beginning to feel slightly warm. He +decided that Jeems' manners were not all that they might be. + +"Sam!" the swamp boy spat into the water. "He's a--" + +But what Sam was, in the opinion of the swamper, Val never learned, for +at that moment Ricky burst from between two bushes. + +"Well, at last," she panted, "I've gotten rid of my army. Val, do you +think that Lucy is going to be like this all the time--order us about, I +mean?" + +"Who's that?" Jeems was on his feet looking at Ricky. + +"Ricky," her brother said, "this is Jeems. My sister Richanda." + +"Yo' one of the folks up at the big house?" he asked her directly. + +"Why, yes," she answered simply. + +"Yo' don' act like yo' was." He stabbed his finger at both of them. "Yo' +don't walk with youah noses in the air looking down at us--" + +"Of course we don't!" interrupted Ricky. "Why should we, when you know +more about this place than we do?" + +"What do yo' mean by that?" he flashed out at her, his sullen face +suddenly dark. + +"Why--why--" Ricky faltered, "Charity Biglow said that you knew all +about the swamp--" + +His tense position relaxed a fraction. "Oh, yo' know Miss Charity?" + +"Yes. She showed us the picture she is painting, the one you are posing +for," Ricky went on. + +"Miss Charity is a fine lady," he returned with conviction. He shifted +from one bare foot to the other. "Ah'll be goin' now." With no other +farewell he slipped over the side of the levee into his canoe and headed +out into midstream. Nor did he look back. + +Lucy departed after dinner that evening to bed down her family before +returning with Letty-Lou to occupy one of the servant's rooms over the +side wing. Rupert had gone with her to interview Sam. Val gathered that +Sam had some notion of trying to reintroduce the growing of indigo, a +crop which had been forsaken for sugar-cane at the beginning of the +nineteenth century when a pest had destroyed the entire indigo crop of +that year all over Louisiana. + +"Let's go out in the garden," suggested Ricky. + +"What for?" asked her brother. "To provide a free banquet for +mosquitoes? No, thank you, let's stay here." + +"You're lazy," she countered. + +"You may call it laziness; I call it prudence," he answered. + +"Well, I'm going anyway," she made a decision which brought Val +reluctantly to his feet. For mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he was not +going to allow Ricky to be outside alone. + +They followed the path which led around the side of the house until it +neared the kitchen door. When they reached that point Ricky halted. + +"Listen!" + +A plaintive miaow sounded from the kitchen. + +"Oh, bother! Satan's been left inside. Go and let him out." + +"Will you stay right here?" Val asked. + +"Of course. Though I don't see why you and Rupert have taken to acting +as if Fu Manchu were loose in our yard. Now hurry up before he claws the +screen to pieces. Satan, I mean, not the worthy Chinese gentleman." + +But Satan did not meet Val at the door. Apparently, having received no +immediate answer to his plea, he had withdrawn into the bulk of the +house. Speaking unkind things about him under his breath, Val started +across the dark kitchen. + +Suddenly he stopped. He felt the solid edge of the table against his +thigh. When he put out his hand he touched the reassuring everyday form +of Lucy's stone cooky jar. He was in their own pleasant everyday +kitchen. + +But-- + +He was not alone in that house! + +There had been the faintest of sounds from the forepart of the main +section, a sound such as Satan might have caused. But Val knew--knew +positively--that Satan was guiltless. Someone or something was in the +Long Hall. + +He crept by the table, hoping that he could find his way without running +into anything. His hand closed upon the knob of the door opening upon +the back stairs used by Letty-Lou. If he could get up them and across +the upper hall, he could come down the front stairs and catch the +intruder. + +It took Val perhaps two minutes to reach the head of the front stairs, +and each minute seemed a half-hour in length. From below he could hear a +regular _pad, pad_, as if from stocking feet on the stone floor. He drew +a deep breath and started down. + +When he reached the landing he looked over the rail. Upright before the +fireplace was a dim white blur. As he watched, it moved forward. There +was something uncanny about that almost noiseless movement. + +The blur became a thin figure clad in baggy white breeches and loose +shirt. Below the knees the legs seemed to fade into the darkness of the +hall and there was something strange about the outlines of the head. + +Again the thing resumed its padding and Val saw now that it was pacing +the hall in a regular pattern. Which suggested that it was human and was +there with a very definite purpose. + +He edged farther down the stairs. + +"And just what are you doing?" + +If his voice quavered upon the last word, it was hardly his fault. For +when the thing turned, Val saw-- + +It had no face! + +With a startled cry he lunged forward, clutching at the banister to +steady his blundering descent. The thing backed away; already it was +fading into the darkness beside the stairs. As Val's feet touched the +floor of the hall he caught his last glimpse of it, a thin white patch +against the solid paneling of the stairway's broad side. Then it was +gone. When Rupert and Ricky came in a few minutes later and turned on +the lights, Val was still staring at that blank wall, with Satan rubbing +against his ankles. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN + + +Rupert had dismissed Val's story of what he had seen in the hall in a +very lofty manner. When his brother had persisted in it, Rupert +suggested that Val had better keep out of the sun in the morning. For no +trace of the thing which had troubled the house remained. + +Ricky hesitated between believing wholly in Val's tale or just in his +powers of imagination. And between them his family drove him sulky to +bed. He was still frowning, or maybe it was a new frown, when he looked +into the bathroom mirror the next morning as he dressed. For Val knew +that he _had_ seen something in the hall, something monstrous which had +no right to be there. + +What had their rival said before he left? "Play it that way and you +won't be here a month from now." It was just possible--Val paused, half +in, half out of, his shirt. Could last night's adventure have had +anything to do with that threat? Two or three episodes of that sort +might unsettle the strongest nerves and drive the occupants from a house +where such a shadow walked. + +Something else nagged at the boy's memory. Slowly he traced back over +the events of the day before, from the moment when he had watched that +queer swamp car crawl downstream. After the visit of the rival, Lucy had +come to stay. And then Ricky had started for Charity's while he had gone +down to the bayou where he met Jeems. That was it. Jeems! + +When Ricky had hinted that he knew more of the swamp than the Ralestones +did, why had he been so quick to resent that remark? Could it be because +he understood her to mean that he knew more of Pirate's Haven than they +did? + +And the thing in the Long Hall last night had known of some exit in the +wall that the Ralestones did not know of. It had faded into the base of +the staircase. And yet, when Val had gone over the paneling there inch +by inch, he had gained nothing but sore finger tips. + +He tucked his shirt under his belt and looked down to see if Sam Junior +had polished his boots as Lucy had ordered her son to do. Save for a +trace of mud by the right heel, they had the proper mirror-like surface. + +"Mistuh Val," Lucy's penetrating voice made him start guiltily, "is yo' +or is yo' not comin' to brekfas'?" + +"I am," he answered and started downstairs at his swiftest pace. + +The new ruler of their household was standing at the foot of the stairs, +her knuckles resting on her broad hips. She eyed the boy sternly. Lucy +eyed one, Val thought, much as a Scotch nurse Ricky and he had once had. +They had never dared question any of Annie's decrees, and one look from +her had been enough to reduce them to instant order. Lucy's eye had the +same power. And now as she herded Val into the dining-room he felt like +a six-year-old with an uneasy conscience. + +Rupert and Ricky were already seated and eating. That is, Ricky was +eating, but Rupert was reading his morning mail. + +"Yo'all sits down," said Lucy firmly, "an' yo'all eats what's on youah +plate. Yo'all ain' much fattah nor a jay-bird." + +"I don't see why she keeps comparing me to a living skeleton all the +time," Val complained as she departed kitchenward. + +"She told Letty-Lou yesterday," supplied Ricky through a mouthful of +popover, "that you are 'peaked lookin'." + +"Why doesn't she start in on Rupert? He needs another ten pounds or so." +Val reached for the butter. "And he hasn't got a very good color, +either." Val surveyed his brother professionally. "Doesn't get outdoors +enough." + +"No," Ricky's voice sounded aggrieved, "he's too busy having secrets--" + +"Hmm," Rupert murmured, more interested in his letter than in the +conversation. + +"The trouble is that we are not Chinese bandits, Malay pirates, or Arab +freebooters. We don't possess color, life, enough--enough--" + +"Sugar," Rupert interrupted Val, pushing his coffee-cup in the general +direction of Ricky without raising his eyes from the page in his hand. +She giggled. + +"So that's what we lack. Well, now we know. How much sugar should we +have, Rupert? Rupert--Mr. Rupert Ralestone--Mr. Rupert Ralestone of +Pirate's Haven!" Her voice grew louder and shriller until he did lay +down his reading matter and really looked at them for the first time. + +"What do you want?" + +"A little attention," answered Ricky sweetly. "We aren't Chinese, Arabs, +or Malays, but we are kind of nice to know, aren't we, Val? If you'd +only come out of your subconscious, or wherever you are most of the +time, you'd find that out without being told." + +Rupert laughed and pushed away his letters. "Sorry. I picked up the bad +habit of reading at breakfast when I didn't have my table brightened by +your presence. I know," he became serious, "that I haven't been much of +a family man. But there are reasons--" + +"Which, of course, you can not tell _us_," flashed Ricky. + +His face lengthened ruefully. He pulled at his tie with an embarrassed +frown. "Not yet, anyway. I--" He fumbled with his napkin. "Oh, well, let +me see how it comes out first." + +Ricky opened her eyes to their widest extent and leaned forward, every +inch of her expressing awe. "Rupert, don't tell me that you are an +_inventor_!" she cried. + +"Now I know that we'll end in the poorhouse," Val observed. + +Rupert had recovered his composure. "'I yam what I yam,'" he quoted. + +"Very well. Keep it to yourself then," pouted Ricky. "We can have +secrets too." + +"I don't doubt it." He glanced at Val. "Unfortunately you always tell +them. See any more bogies last night, Val? Did a big, black, formless +something reach out from under the bed and clutch at you?" + +But his brother refused to be drawn. "No, but when it does I'll sic it +onto you. A big, black, formless something is just what you need. And +I'll--" + +"Am I interrupting?" Charity stood in the door. "Goodness! Haven't you +finished breakfast yet? Do you people know that it is almost ten?" + +"Madam, we have banished time." Rupert drew out the chair at his left. +"Will you favor us with your company?" + +"I thought you were going to be busy today," said Ricky as she rang for +Letty-Lou and a fresh cup of coffee for their guest. + +"So did I," sighed Charity. "And I should be. I've got this order, you +know, and now I can't get any models. Why there should be a sudden +dearth of them right now, I can't imagine. I thought I could use Jeems +again, but somehow he isn't the type." She raised her cup to her lips. + +"Are you doing story illustrations?" asked Rupert, more alive now than +he had been all morning. + +"Yes. A historical thriller for a magazine. They want a full-page cut +for the first chapter and a half-page to illustrate the most exciting +scene. Then there're innumerable smaller ones. But the two large ones +are what I'm worrying about. I like to get the important stuff finished +first, and now I simply can't get models who are the right types." + +"What's the story about?" demanded Ricky. + +"It's laid in Haiti during the French invasion led by Napoleon's +brother-in-law, the one who married Pauline. All voodoo and aristocratic +young hero and beautiful maiden pursued by an officer of the black +rebels. And," she almost wailed, "here I am with the clothes spread all +over my bed--the right costumes, you know--with no one to wear them. I +went over to the Corners this morning and called Johnson--he runs a +registration office for models--but he couldn't promise me anyone." She +bit absent-mindedly into a round spiced roll Ricky had placed before +her. + +"Wait!" She laid down the roll in a preoccupied fashion and stared +across the table. "Val, stand up." + +Wondering, he pushed back his chair and arose obediently. + +"Turn your head a little more to the right," Charity ordered. "There, +that's it! Now try to look as if there were something all ready to +spring at you from that corner over there." + +For one angry moment he thought that she had been told of what had +happened the night before and was baiting him, as the others had done. +But a sidewise glance showed him that her interest lay elsewhere. So he +screwed up his features into what he fondly hoped was a grim and deadly +smile. + +"For goodness sake, don't look as if you had eaten green apples," Ricky +shot at him. "Just put on that face you wear when I show you a new hat. +No, not that sneering one; the other." + +Rupert threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Better let him alone, +Ricky. After all, it's _his_ face." + +"I'm glad that someone has pointed out that fact," Val said stiffly, +"because--" + +"Oh, be quiet!" Charity leaned forward across the table. "Yes," she +nodded, "you'll do." + +"For what?" Val asked, slightly apprehensive. + +"For my hero. Of course your hair is too short and you are rather too +youthful, but I can disguise those points. And," she turned upon Ricky, +"you can be the lady in distress. Which gives me another idea. Do you +suppose that I might use your terrace for a background and have that big +chair, the one with the high back?" she asked Rupert. + +"You may have anything you want within these walls," he answered lightly +enough, but it was clear that he really meant it. + +"What am I supposed to do?" Val asked. + +Charity considered. "I think I'll try the action one first," she said +half to herself. "That's going to be the most difficult. Ricky, will you +send one of Lucy's children over with me to help carry back the costumes +and my material--" She was already at the door. + +"Val and I will go instead," Ricky replied. + +Some twenty minutes later Val was handed a suitcase and told to use the +contents to cover his back. Having doubts of the wisdom of the whole +affair, he went reluctantly upstairs to obey. But the result was not so +bad. The broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted coat did not fit him ill, +though the shiny boots were at least a size too large. Timidly he went +down. Ricky was the first to see him. + +"Val! You look like something out of _Lloyds of London_. Rupert, look at +Val. Doesn't he look wonderful?" + +Having thus made public his embarrassment, she ran to the mirror to +finish her own prinking. The high-waisted Empire gown of soft green +voile made her appear taller than usual. But she walked with a little +shuffle which suggested that her ribbon-strapped slippers fitted her no +better than Val's boots did him. Charity was coaxing Ricky's tight +fashionable curls into a looser arrangement and tying a green ribbon +about them. This done, she turned to survey Val. + +"I thought so," she said with satisfaction. "You are just what I want. +But," the tiny lines about her eyes crinkled in amusement, "at present +you are just a little too perfect. Do you realize that you have just +fought off an attack, led by a witch doctor, in which you were wounded; +that you have struggled through a jungle for seven hours in order to +reach your betrothed; and that you are now facing death by torture? I +hardly think that you should look as if you had just stepped out of the +tailor's--" + +"I've done all that?" Val demanded, somewhat staggered. + +"Well, the author says you have, so you've got to look it. We'd better +muss you up a bit. Let's see." She tapped her fingernail against her +teeth as she looked him up and down. "Off with that coat first." + +He wriggled out of the coat and stood with the glories of his ruffled +shirt fully displayed. "Now what?" he asked. + +"This," she reached forward and ripped his left sleeve to the shoulder. +"Untie that cravat and take it off. Roll up your other sleeve above the +elbow. That's right. Ricky, you muss up his hair. Let a lock of it fall +across his forehead. No, not there--there. Good. Now he's ready for the +final touches." She went to the table where her paints had been left. +"Let's see--carmine, that ought to be right. This is water-color, Val, +it'll all wash off in a minute." + +Across his smooth tanned cheek she dribbled a jagged line of scarlet. +Then instructing Ricky to bind the torn edge of his sleeve above his +elbow, she also stained the bandage. "Well?" she turned to Rupert. + +"He looks as though he had been through the wars all right," he agreed. +"But what about the costume?" + +"Oh, we needn't worry about that. They knew I'd have to do this, so they +duplicated everything. Now for you, Ricky. Pull your sleeve down off +your shoulder and see if you can tear the skirt up from the hem on that +side--about as far as your knee. Yes, that's fine. You're ready now." + +Rupert picked up from the table a sword and a long-barrelled dueling +pistol and led the way out onto the terrace. Charity pointed to the big +chair in the sunlight. + +"This will probably be hard for you two," she warned them frankly. "If +you get tired, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll give you a rest every ten +minutes. Val, you sit down in the chair. Slump over toward that arm as +if you were about finished. No, more limp than that. Now look straight +ahead. You are on the terrace of Beauvallet. Beside you is the girl you +love. You are all that stands between her and the black rebels. Now take +this sword in your right hand and the pistol in your left. Lean forward +a little. There! Now don't move; you've got just the pose I want. Ricky, +crouch down by the side of his chair with your arm up so that you can +touch his hand. You're terrified. There's death, horrible death, before +you!" + +Val could feel Ricky's hand quiver against his. Charity had made them +both see and feel what she wanted them to. They weren't in the peaceful +sunlight on the terrace of Pirate's Haven; they were miles farther south +in the dark land of Haiti, the Haiti of more than a hundred years ago. +Before them was a semitropical forest from which at any moment might +crawl--death. Val's hand tightened on the sword hilt; the pistol butt +was clammy in his grip. + +Rupert had put up the easel and laid out the paints. And now, taking up +her charcoal, Charity began to sketch with clear, clean strokes. + +Her models' unaccustomed muscles cramped so that when they shifted +during their rest periods they grimaced with pain. Ricky whispered that +she did not wonder models were hard to get. After a while Rupert went +away without Charity noticing his leaving. The sun burned Val's cheek +where the paint had dried and he felt a trickle of moisture edge down +his spine. But Charity worked on, thoroughly intent upon what was +growing under her brushes. + +It must have been close to noon when she was at last interrupted. + +"Hello there, Miss Biglow!" + +Two men stood below the terrace on a garden path. One of them waved his +hat as Charity looked around. And behind them stood Jeems. + +"Go away," said the worker, "go away, Judson Holmes. I haven't any time +for you today." + +"Not after I've come all the way from New York to see you?" he asked +reproachfully. "Why, Charity!" He had the reddest hair Val had ever +seen--and the homeliest face--but his small-boy grin was friendliness +itself. + +"Go away," she repeated stubbornly. + +"Nope!" He shook his head firmly. "I'm staying right here until you +forget that for at least a minute." He motioned toward the picture. + +With a sigh she put down her brush. "I suppose I'll have to humor you." + +"Miss Charity," Jeems had not taken his eyes from the two models since +he had arrived and he did not move them now, "what're they all fixed up +like that fur?" + +"It's a picture for a story," she explained. "A story about Haiti in the +old days--" + +"Ah reckon Ah know," he nodded eagerly, his face suddenly alight. +"That's wheah th' blacks kilt th' French back in history times. Ah got +me a book 'bout it. A book in handwritin', not printin'. Pere Armand +larned me to read it." + +Judson Holmes' companion moved forward. "A book in handwriting," he said +slowly. "Could that possibly mean a diary?" + +Charity was wiping her hands on a paint rag. "It might. New Orleans was +a port of refuge for a great many of the French who fled the island +during the slave uprising. It is not impossible." + +"I've got to see it! Here, boy, what's your name?" He pounced upon +Jeems. "Can you get that book here this afternoon?" + +Jeems drew back. "Ah ain't gonna bring no book heah. That's mine an' you +ain't gonna set eye on it!" With that parting shot he was gone. + +"But--but--" protested the other, "I've got to see it. Why, such a find +might be priceless." + +Mr. Holmes laughed. "Curb your hunting instincts for once, Creighton. +You can't handle a swamper that way. Let's go and see Charity's +masterpiece instead." + +"I don't remember having asked you to," she observed. + +"Oh, see here now, wasn't I the one who got you this commission? And +Creighton here is that strange animal known as a publisher's scout. And +publishers sometimes desire the services of illustrators, so you had +better impress Creighton as soon as possible. Well," he looked at the +picture, "you have done it!" + +Even Creighton, who had been inclined to stare back over his shoulder at +the point where Jeems disappeared, now gave it more than half his +attention. + +"Is that for _Drums of Doom_?" he asked becoming suddenly crisp and +professional. + +"Yes." + +"Might do for the jacket of the book. Have Mr. Richards see this. +Marvelous types, where did you get them?" he continued, looking from the +canvas to Ricky and Val. + +"Oh, I am sorry. Miss Ralestone, may I present Mr. Creighton, and Mr. +Holmes, both of New York. And this," she smiled at Val, "is Mr. Valerius +Ralestone, the brother of the owner of this plantation. The family, I +believe, has lived here for about two hundred and fifty years." + +Creighton's manner became a shade less brusque as he took the hand Ricky +held out to him. "I might have known that no professional could get that +look," he said. + +"Then this isn't your place?" Mr. Holmes said to Charity after he had +greeted the Ralestones. + +"Mine? Goodness no! I rent the old overseer's house. Pirate's Haven is +Ralestone property." + +"Pirate's Haven." Judson Holmes' infectious grin reappeared. "A rather +suggestive name." + +"The builder intended to name it 'King's Acres' because it was a royal +grant," Val informed him. "But he was a pirate, so the other name was +given it by the country folk and he adopted it. And he was right in +doing so because there were other freebooters in the family after his +time." + +"Yes, we are even equipped with a pirate ghost," contributed Ricky with +a mischievous glance in her brother's direction. + +Holmes fanned himself with his hat. "So romance isn't dead after all. +Well, Charity, shall we stay--in town I mean?" + +"Why?" a thin line appeared between her eyes as if she had little liking +for such a plan. + +"Well, Creighton is here on the track of a mysterious new writer who is +threatening to produce a second _Gone with the Wind_. And I--well, I +like the climate." + +"We'll see," muttered Charity. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +INTO THE SWAMP + + +In spite of the fact that they received but lukewarm encouragement from +Charity, both Holmes and Creighton lingered on in New Orleans. Mr. +Creighton made several attempts to get in touch with Jeems, whom he +seemed to suspect of concealing vast literary treasures. And he spent +one hot morning going through the trunk of papers which the Ralestones +had found in the storage-room. Ricky commented upon the fact that being +a publisher's scout was almost like being an antique buyer. + +Holmes was a perfect foil for his laboring friend. He lounged away his +days draped across the settee on Charity's gallery or sitting down on +the bayou levee--after she had chased him away--pitching pebbles into +the water. He told all of them that it was his vacation, the first one +he had had in five years, and that he was going to make the most of it. +Companioned by Creighton, he usually enlarged the family circle in the +evenings. And the tales he could tell about the far corners of the earth +were as wildly romantic as Rupert's--though he did assure his listeners +that even Tibet was very tame and well behaved nowadays. + +Charity had finished the first illustration and had started another. +This time Ricky and Val appeared polished and combed as if they had just +stepped out of a ball-room of a governor's palace--which they had, +according to the story. It was during her second morning's work upon +this that she threw down her brush with a snort of disgust. + +"It's no use," she told her models, "I simply can't work on this now. +All I can see is that scene where the hero's mulatto half-brother +watches the ball from the underbrush. I've got to do that one first." + +"Why don't you then?" Ricky stretched to relieve cramped muscles. + +"I would if I could get Jeems. He's my model for the brother. He's +enough like you, Val, for the resemblance, and his darker tan is just +right for color. But he won't come back while Creighton's here. I could +wring that man's neck!" + +"But Creighton left for Milneburg this morning," Val reminded her. +"Rupert told him about the old voodoo rites which used to be celebrated +there on June 24th, St. John's Eve, and he wanted to see if there were +any records--" + +"Yes. But Jeems doesn't know he's gone. If we could only get in touch +with him--Jeems, I mean." + +"Miss 'Chanda!" + +Sam Two, as they had come to call Sam's eldest son and heir, was +standing on the lowest step of the terrace, holding a small covered +basket in his hands. + +"Yes?" + +"Letty-Lou done say dis am fo' yo'all, Miss 'Chanda." + +"For me?" Ricky looked at the offering in surprise. "But what in the +world--Bring it here, Sam." + +"Yas'm." + +He laid the basket in Ricky's outstretched hands. + +"I've never seen anything like this before." She turned it around. "It +seems to be woven of some awfully fine grass--" + +"That's swamp work." Charity was peering over Ricky's shoulder. "Open +it." + +Inside on a nest of raw wild cotton lay a bracelet of polished wood +carved with an odd design of curling lines which reminded Val of Spanish +moss. And with the circlet was a small purse of scaled hide. + +"Swamp oak and baby alligator," burst out Charity. "Aren't they +beauties?" + +"But who--" began Ricky. + +Val picked up a scrap of paper which had fluttered to the floor. It was +cheap stuff, ruled with faint blue lines, but the writing was bold and +clear: "Miss Richanda Ralestone." + +"It's yours all right." He handed her the paper. + +"I know." She tucked the note away with the gifts. "It was Jeems." + +"Jeems? But why?" her brother protested. + +"Well, yesterday when I was down by the levee he was coming in and I +knew that Mr. Creighton was here and I told him. So," she colored +faintly, "then he took me across the bayou and I got some of those big +swamp lilies that I've always wanted. And we had a long talk. Val, Jeems +knows the most wonderful things about the swamps. Do you know that they +still have voodoo meetings sometimes--way back in there," she swept her +hand southward. "And the fur trappers live on house-boats, renting their +hunting rights. But Jeems owns his own land. Now some northerners are +prospecting for oil. They have a queer sort of car which can travel +either on land or water. And Pere Armand has church records that date +back to the middle of the eighteenth century. And--" + +"So that's where you were from four until almost six," Val laughed. "I +don't know that I approve of this riotous living. Will Jeems take me to +pick the lilies too?" + +"Maybe. He wanted to know why you always moved so carefully. And I told +him about the accident. Then he said the oddest thing--" She was staring +past Val at the oaks. "He said that to fly was worth being smashed up +for and that he envied you." + +"Then he's a fool!" her brother said promptly. "Nothing is worth--" Val +stopped abruptly. Five months before he had made a bargain with himself; +he was not going to break it now. + +"Do you know," Ricky said to Charity, "if you really need Jeems this +morning, I think I can get him for you. He told me yesterday how to find +his cabin." + +"But why--" The objection came almost at once from Charity. Val thought +she was more than a little surprised that Jeems, who had steadfastly +refused to give her the same information, had supplied it so readily to +Ricky whom he hardly knew at all. + +"I don't know," answered Ricky frankly. "He was rather queer about it. +Kept saying that the time might come when I would need help, and things +like that." + +"Charity," Val was putting her brushes straight, "I learned long ago +that nothing can be kept from Ricky. Sooner or later one spills out his +secrets." + +"Except Rupert!" Ricky aired her old grievance. + +"Perhaps Rupert," her brother agreed. + +"Anyway, I do know where Jeems lives. Do you want me to get him for you, +Charity?" + +"Certainly not, child! Do you think that I'd let you go into the swamp? +Why, even men who know something of woodcraft think twice before +attempting such a trip without a guide. Of course you're not going! I +think," she put her paint-stained hand to her head, "that I'm going to +have one of my sick headaches. I'll have to go home and lie down for an +hour or two." + +"I'm sorry." Ricky's sympathy was quick and warm. "Is there anything I +can do?" + +Charity shook her head with a rueful smile. "Time is the only medicine +for one of these. I'll see you later." + +"Just the same," Ricky stood looking after her, "I'd like to know just +what is going on in the swamp right now." + +"Why?" Val asked lightly. + +"Because--well, just because," was her provoking answer. "Jeems was so +odd yesterday. He talked as if--as if there were some threat to us or +him. I wonder if there is something wrong." She frowned. + +"Of course not!" her brother made prompt answer. "He's merely gone off +on one of those mysterious trips of his." + +"Just the same, what if there were something wrong? We might go and +see." + +"Nonsense!" Val snapped. "You heard what Charity said about going into +the swamp alone. And there is nothing to worry about anyway. Come on, +let's change. And then I have something to show you." + +"What?" she demanded. + +"Wait and see." His ruse had succeeded. She was no longer looking +swampward with that gleam of purpose in her eye. + +"Come on then," she said, prodding him into action. + +Val changed slowly. If one didn't care about mucking around in the +garden, as Ricky seemed to delight in doing, there was so little in the +way of occupation. He thought of the days as they spread before him. A +little riding, a great amount of casual reading and--what else? Was the +South "getting" him as the tropics are supposed to "get" the +Northerners? + +That unlucky meeting with a mountaintop had effectively despoiled him of +his one ambition. Soldiers with game legs are not wanted. He couldn't +paint like Charity, he couldn't spin yarns like Rupert, he possessed a +mind too inaccurate to cope with the intricacies of any science. And as +a business man he would probably be a good street cleaner. + +What was left? Well, the surprise he had promised Ricky might cover the +problem. As he reached for a certain black note-book, someone knocked on +his door. + +"Mistuh Val, wheah's Miss 'Chanda? She ain't up heah an' Ah wan's to--" + +Lucy stood in the hall. The light from the round window was reflected +from every corrugated wave of her painfully marcelled hair. Her vast +flowered dress had been thriftily covered with a dull-green bib-apron +and she had changed her smart slippers for the shapeless gray relics she +wore indoors. Just now she looked warm and tired. After all, running two +households was something of a task even for Lucy. + +"Why, she should be in her room. We came up to change. Miss Charity's +gone home with a headache. What was it you wanted her for?" + +"Dese heah cu'ta'ns, Mistuh Val"--she thrust a mound of snowy and +beruffled white stuff at him--"dey has got to be hung. An' does Miss +'Chanda wan' dem in her room or does she not?" + +"Better put them up. I'll tell her about it. Here wait, let me open that +door." + +Val looked into Ricky's room. As usual, it appeared as though a +whirlwind, a small whirlwind but a thorough one, had passed through it. +Her discarded costume lay tumbled across the bed and her slippers lay on +the floor, one upside down. He stooped to set them straight. + +"It do beat all," Lucy said frankly as she put her burden down on a +chair, "how dat chile do mak' a mess. Now yo', Mistuh Val, jest put +eberythin' jest so. But Miss 'Chanda leave eberythin' which way afore +Sunday! Looka dat now." She pointed to the half-open door of the closet. +A slip lay on the floor. Ricky must have been in a hurry; that was a +little too untidy even for her. + +A sudden suspicion sent Val into the closet to investigate. Ricky's +wardrobe was not so extensive that he did not know every dress and +article in it very well. It did not take him more than a moment to see +what was missing. + +"Did Ricky go riding?" Val asked. "Her habit is gone." + +"She ain' gone 'cross de bayo' fo' de hoss," answered Lucy, reaching for +the curtain rod. "An' anyway, Sam done took dat critter down de road fo' +to be shoed." + +"Then where--" But Val knew his Ricky only too well. + +She had a certain stubborn will of her own. Sometimes opposition merely +drove her into doing the forbidden thing. And the swamp had been +forbidden. But could even Ricky be such a fool? Certain memories of the +past testified that she could. But how? Unless she had taken Sam's +boat-- + +Without a word of explanation to Lucy, he dashed out of the room and +downstairs at his best pace. As he left the house Val broke into a +stumbling run. There was just a chance that she had not yet left the +plantation. + +But the bayou levee was deserted. And the post where Sam's boat was +usually moored was bare of rope; the boat was gone. Of course Sam Two +might have taken it across the stream to the farm. + +That hope was extinguished as the small brown boy came out of the bushes +along the stream side. + +"Sam, have you seen Miss 'Chanda?" Val demanded. + +"Yessuh." + +"Where?" Carrying on a conversation with Sam Two was like prying +diamonds out of a rock. He possessed a rooted distaste for talking. + +"Heah, suh." + +"When?" + +"Jest a li'l bitty 'go." + +"Where did she go?" + +Sam pointed downstream. + +"Did she take the boat?" + +"Yessuh." And then for the first time since Val had known him Sam +volunteered a piece of information. "She done say she a-goin' in de +swamp." + +Val leaned back against the hole of one of the willows. Then she had +done it! And what could he do? If he had any idea of her path, he could +follow her while Sam aroused Rupert and the house. + +"If I only knew where--" he mused aloud. + +"She a-goin' to see dat swamper Jeems," Sam continued. "Heh, heh," a +sudden cackle of laughter rippled across his lips. "Dat ole swamper +think he so sma't. Think no one fin' he house--" + +"Sam!" Val rounded upon him. "Do you know where Jeems lives?" + +"Yessuh." He twisted the one shoulder-strap of his overalls and Val +guessed that his knowledge was something he was either ashamed of or +afraid to tell. + +"Can you take me there?" + +He shook his head. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere, Ah ain'!" + +"But, Sam, you've got to! Miss 'Chanda is in there. She may be lost. +We've got to find her!" Val insisted. + +Sam's thin shoulders shook and he slid backward as if to avoid the white +boy's reach. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere," he repeated stubbornly. "Effen +yo'all wants to go in dere--Looky, Mistuh Val, Ah tells yo'all de way +an' yo'all goes." He brightened at this solution. "Yo'all kin take +pappy's othah boat; it am downstream dere, behin' dem willows. Den +yo'all goes down to de secon' big pile o' willows. Behin' dem is a li'l +bitty bayo' goin' back. Yo'all goes up dat 'til yo'all comes to a fur +rack. Den dat Jeems got de way marked on de trees." + +With that he turned and ran as if all the terrors of the night were on +his trail. There was nothing for Val to do but to follow his directions. +And the longer he lingered before setting out the bigger lead Ricky was +getting. + +He found the canoe behind the willows as Sam had said. Awkwardly he +pushed off, hoping that Lucy would pry the whole story out of her son +and put Rupert on their track as soon as possible. + +The second clump of willows was something of a landmark, a huge matted +mass of sucker and branch, the lower tips of the long, frond-like twigs +sweeping the murky water. A snake swimming with its head just above the +surface wriggled to the bank as Val cut into the small hidden stream Sam +had told him of. + +Vines and water plants had almost choked this, but there was a passage +through the center. And one tough spike of vegetation which snapped back +into his face bore a deep cut from which the sap was still oozing. The +small stinging flies and mosquitoes followed and hung over him like a +fog of discomfort. His skin was swollen and rough, irritated and +itching. And in this green-covered way the heat seemed almost solid. +Drops of moisture dripped from forehead and chin, and his hair was +plastered tight to his skull. + +Frogs leaped from the bank into the water at the sound of his coming. In +the shallows near the bank, crawfish scuttled under water-logged leaves +and stones at this disturbance of their world. Twice the bayou widened +out into a sort of pool where the trees grew out of the muddy water and +all sorts of lilies and bulb plants blossomed in riotous confusion. + +Once a muskrat waddled into the protection of the bushes. And Val saw +something like a small cat drinking at a pool. But that faint shadow +disappeared noiselessly almost before the water trickled from his +upraised paddle. + +Clumps of wild rice were the meeting grounds for flocks of screaming +birds. A snow-white egret waded solemnly across a mud-rimmed pocket. And +once a snake, more dangerous than the swimmer Val had first encountered, +betrayed its presence by the flicker of its tongue. + +The smell of the steaming mud, the decaying vegetation, and the nameless +evils hidden deeper in this water-rotted land was an added torment. The +boy shook a large red ant from its grip in the flesh of his hand and +wiped the streaming perspiration from his face. + +It was then that the canoe floated almost of its own volition into a +dead and distorted strip of country. Black water which gave off an evil +odor covered almost half an acre of ground. From this arose the twisted, +gaunt gray skeletons of dead oaks. To complete the drear picture a row +of rusty-black vultures sat along the broad naked limb of the nearest of +these hulks, their red-raw heads upraised as they croaked and sidled up +and down. + +[Illustration: _The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead +and distorted strip of country._] + +But the bayou Val was following merely skirted this region, and in a few +moments he was again within the shelter of flower-grown banks. Then he +came upon a structure which must have been the fur rack Sam Two had +alluded to, for here was their other boat moored to a convenient willow. + +Val fastened the canoe beside it. The turf seemed springy, though here +and there it gave way to patches of dark mud. It was on one of these +that Ricky had left her mark in the clean-cut outline of the sole of her +riding-boot. + +With a last desperate slap at a mosquito Val headed inland, following +with ease that trail of footprints. Ricky was suffering, too, for her +rashness he noted with satisfaction when he discovered a long curly hair +fast in the grip of a thorny branch he scraped under. + +But the path was not a bad one. And the farther he went the more solid +and the dryer it became. Once he passed through a small clearing, +man-made, where three or four cotton bushes huddled together forlornly +in company with a luxuriant melon patch. + +And the melon patch was separated by only a few feet of underbrush from +Jeems' domain. In the middle of a clearing was a sturdy platform, +reinforced with upright posts and standing about four feet from the +surface of the ground. On this was a small cabin constructed of slabs of +bark-covered wood. As a dwelling it might be crude, but it had an air of +scrupulous neatness. A short distance to one side of the platform was a +well-built chicken-run, now inhabited by five hens and a ragged-tailed +cock. + +The door of the cabin was shut and there were no signs of life save the +chickens. But as Val lowered himself painfully onto the second step of +the ladder-like stairs leading up to the cabin, he thought he heard +someone moving around. Glancing up, he saw Ricky staring down at him, +open-mouthed. + +"Hello," she called, for one of the few times in her life really +astounded. + +"Hello," Val answered shortly and shifted his weight to try to relieve +the ache in his knee. "Nice day, isn't it?" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE! + + +"Val! What are you doing here?" she demanded. + +"Following you. Good grief, girl," he exploded, "haven't you any better +sense than to come into the swamp this way?" + +Ricky's mouth lost its laughing curve and her eyes seemed to narrow. She +was, by all the signs, distinctly annoyed. + +"It's perfectly safe. I knew what I was doing." + +"Yes? Well, I will enjoy hearing Rupert's remarks on that subject when +he catches up with us," snapped her brother. + +"Val!" She lost something of her defiant attitude. He guessed that for +all her boasted independence his sister was slightly afraid of Mr. +Rupert Ralestone. "Val, he isn't coming, too, is he?" + +"He is if he got my message." Val stretched his leg cautiously. The +cramp was slowly leaving the muscles and he felt as if he could stand +the remaining ache without wincing. "I sent Sam Two back to tell Rupert +where his family had eloped to. Frankly, Ricky, this wasn't such a smart +trick. You know what Charity said about the swamps. Even the little I've +seen of them has given me ideas." + +"But there was nothing to it at all," she protested. "Jeems told me just +how to get here and I only followed directions." + +Val chose to ignore this, being hot, tired, and in no mood for one of +those long arguments such as Ricky enjoyed. "By the way, where is +Jeems?" He looked about him as if he expected the swamper to materialize +out of thin air. + +Ricky sat down on the edge of the platform and dangled her booted feet. +"Don't know. But he'll be here sooner or later. And I don't feel like +going back through the swamp just yet. The flies are awful. And did you +see those dreadful vultures on that dead tree? What a place! But the +flowers are wonderful and I saw a real live alligator, even if it was a +small one." She rubbed her scarf across her forehead. "Whew! It seems +hotter here than it does at home." + +"This outing was all your idea," Val reminded her. "And we'd better be +getting back before Rupert calls out the Marines or the State Troopers +or something to track us down." + +Ricky pouted. "Not going until I'm ready. And you can't drag me if I dig +my heels in." + +"I have no desire to be embroiled in such an undignified struggle as you +suggest," he told her loftily. "But neither do I yearn to spend the day +here. I'm hungry. I wonder if our absent host possesses a larder?" + +"If he does, you can't raid it," Ricky answered. "The door's locked, and +that lock," she pointed to the bright disk of brass on the solid cabin +door, "is a good one. I've already tried a hairpin on it," she added +shamelessly. + +They sat awhile in silence. A wandering breeze had found its way into +the clearing, and with it came the fragrance of flowers blossoming under +the sun. The chicken family were pursuing a worm with more energy than +Val decided he would have cared to expend in that heat, and a heavily +laden bee rested on the lip of a sunflower to brush its legs. Val's +eyelids drooped and he found himself thinking dreamily of a hammock +under the trees, a pillow, and long hours of lazy dozing. At the same +time a corner of his brain was sending forth nagging messages that they +should be up and off, back to their own proper world. But he simply did +not have the will power to get up and go. + +"Nice place," he murmured, looking about with more approbation than he +would have granted the clearing some ten minutes earlier. + +"Yes," answered Ricky. "It would be nice to live here." + +Val was beginning to say something about "no bathtubs" when a sound +aroused them from their lethargy. Someone was coming down the path. +Ricky's hand fell upon her brother's shoulder. + +"Quick! Up here and behind the house," she urged him. + +Not knowing just why he obeyed, Val scrambled up on the tiny platform +and scuttled around behind the cabin. Why they should hide thus from +Jeems who had given Ricky directions for reaching the place and had +asked her to come, was more than he could understand. But he had a +faint, uneasy feeling of mistrust, as if they had been caught off guard +at a critical moment. + +"This the place, Red?" The clipped words sounded clear above the murmurs +of life from swamp and woods. + +"Yeah. Bum-lookin' joint, ain't it? These guys ain't got no brains; they +like to live like this." The contempt of the second speaker was only +surpassed by the stridency of his voice. + +"What about this boy?" asked the first. + +"Dumb kid. Don't know yet who his friends is." There was a satisfied +grunt as the speaker sat down on the step Val had so lately vacated. +Ricky pressed closer to her brother. + +"What about the cabin?" + +"He ain't here. And it's locked, see? Yuh'd think he kept the crown +jewels there." The tickling scent of a cigarette drifted back to the two +in hiding. "Beats me how he slipped away this morning without Pitts +catching on. For two cents I'd spring that lock of his--" + +"Isn't worth the trouble," replied the other decisively. "These trappers +have no money except at the end of the fur season, and then most of them +are in debt to the storekeepers." + +"Then why--" + +"I sometimes wonder," the voice was coldly cutting, "why I continue to +employ you, Red. What profit would I find in a cabin like this? I want +what he knows, not what he has." + +Having thus reduced his henchman to silence, the speaker went on +smoothly, as if he were thinking aloud. "With Simpson doing so well in +town, we're close to the finish. This swamper must tell us--" His voice +trailed away. Except for the creaking of wood when the sitter shifted +his position, there was no other sound. + +Then Red must have grown restless, for someone stamped up to the +platform and rattled the chain on the cabin door aggressively. Val +flattened back against the wall. What if the fellow took it into his +head to walk around? + +"Gonna wait here all day?" demanded Red. + +"As it is necessary for me to have a word with him, we will. This waste +of time is the product of Pitts' stupidity. I shall remember that. It is +entirely needless to use force except as a last resource. Now that this +swamper's suspicions are aroused, we may have trouble." + +"Yeah? Well, we can handle that. But how do yuh know that this guy has +the stuff?" + +"I can at least believe the evidence of my own eyes," the other replied +with bored contempt. "I came down river alone the night of the storm and +saw him on the levee. He has a way of getting into the house all right. +I saw him in there. And he doesn't go through any of the doors, either. +I must know how he does it." + +"All right, Boss. And what if you do get in? What are we supposed to be +lookin' for?" + +"What those bright boys up there found a few days ago. That clerk told +us that they'd discovered whatever the girl was talking about in the +office that day. And we've got to get that before Simpson comes into +court with his suit. I'm not going to lose fifty grand." The last +sentence ended abruptly as if the speaker had snapped his teeth shut +upon a word like a dog upon its quarry. + +"What does this guy Jeems go to the house for?" asked Red. + +"Who knows? He seems to be hunting something too. But that's not our +worry. If it's necessary, we can play ghost also. I've got to get into +that house. If I can do it the way this Jeems does, without having to +break in--so much the better. We don't want the police ambling around +here just now." + +Val stiffened. It didn't require a Sherlock Holmes to get the kernel of +truth out of the conversation he had overheard. "Night of the storm," +"play ghost," were enough. So Jeems had been the ghost. And the swamper +knew a secret way into the house! + +"Wait," Ricky's lips formed the words by his ear as Val stirred +restlessly. "Someone else is coming." + +"I don't like the set-up in town," Red was saying peevishly. "That +smooth mouthpiece is asking too darn many questions. He's always asking +Simpson about things in the past. If you hadn't got Sim that family +history to study, he'd been behind bars a dozen times by now." + +"And he had better study it," commented the other dryly, "because he is +going to be word perfect before the case comes to court, if it ever +does. There are not going to be any slip-ups in this deal." + +"'Nother thing I don't like," broke in the other, "is this Waverly guy. +I don't like his face." + +"No? Well, doubtless he would change it if you asked him to. And I do +not think it is wise of you to be too critical of plans which were made +by deeper thinkers than yourself. Sometimes, Red, you weary me." + +There was no reply to that harsh judgment. And now Val could hear what +Ricky had heard earlier--a faint swish as of a paddle through water. +Again Ricky's lips shaped words he could barely hear. + +"Spur of bayou runs along here in back. Someone coming up from there." + +"Jeems?" + +"Maybe." + +"We'd better--" Val motioned toward the front of the cabin. Ricky shook +her head. Jeems was to be allowed to meet the intruders unwarned. + +"This swamper may be tough," ventured Red. + +"We've met hard cases before," answered the other significantly. + +Red moved again, as if flexing his muscles. + +"One boy, and a small one at that, shouldn't force you to undergo all +that preparation," goaded the Boss. + +Ricky must get away at once, her brother decided. Stubbornness or no +stubbornness, she must go this time. Why he didn't think of going +himself Val never afterwards knew. Perhaps he possessed a spark of the +family love of danger, after all, but mostly he clung to his perch +because of that last threat. Whoever Jeems was or whatever he had done, +he was one and alone. And he might relish another player on his side. +But Ricky must go. + +He said as much in a fierce whisper, only to have her grin recklessly +back at him. In pantomime she gestured that he might try to make her. +Val decided that he should have known the result of his efforts. Ricky +was a Ralestone, too. And short of throwing her off the platform and so +unmasking themselves completely, he could not move her against her will. + +"No," she whispered. "They're planning trouble for Jeems. He'll probably +need us." + +"Well," Val cautioned her, "if it gets too rough, you've got to promise +to cut downstream for help. We'll be able to use it." + +She nodded. "It's a promise. But we've got to stand by Jeems if he needs +us." + +"If he does--" Val was still suspicious. "He may fall in with their +suggestions." + +Ricky shook her head. "He isn't that kind. I don't care if he _has_ been +playing ghost." + +Someone was walking along the path among the bushes bordering the back +of the clearing. Although they could hear no sound, they could mark the +passing of a body by the swish of the foliage. Val lay, face down, on +the platform and reached for a stick of wood lying on the ground below. +Somehow he did not like to think of being caught empty-handed when the +excitement began. + +"Hello." It was Red, suddenly genial. The Ralestones could almost feel +the radiance of the smile which must have split his face. + +"Whatta yo' doin' heah?" That was Jeems, and his demand was sharply +hostile. + +"Now, bub, don't get us wrong." That was Red, still genial. "I know my +pal sorta flew off his base this mornin'. But it was all in fun, see? So +we kinda wanted yuh to stick around till he came and not do the run-out +on us. And now the Boss has come down here so we can talk business all +friendly like." + +"Shut up, Red!" Having so bottled his companion's flow of words, the +other spoke directly to Jeems. "My men made a mistake. All right. That's +over and done with; they'll get theirs. Now let's get down to business. +What do you know about that big plantation up river, the one called +'Pirate's Haven'?" + +"Nothin'." Jeems' answer was clear. The hostility was gone from his +voice; nothing remained but an even tonelessness. + +"Come now, I know you have reason to be hot. But this is business. I'll +make it worth your while--" + +"Nothin'," answered Jeems as concisely as before. + +"You can't expect us to believe that. I followed you one night." + +"Yo' did?" The challenge was unmistakable. + +"I did. So you see I know something of you. Something which even the +present owner does not. Say the ghost in the hall, for example." + +There was the sound of a deeply drawn breath. + +"So you see it is to your advantage to listen to us," continued the Boss +smoothly. + +"What do you want?" + +Val knew disappointment at that question. Would Jeems surrender as +easily as that? + +"Just an explanation of how you get into the house unseen." + +"Yo'll nevah know!" The swamper's reply came swift and clear. + +"No? Well, I'd think twice before I held to that answer if I were you," +purred the other softly. "A word to the Ralestones about those nightly +walks of yours--" + +"Won't give yo' what yo' want," replied Jeems shrewdly. + +"I see. Perhaps I have been using the wrong approach," observed the Boss +composedly. "You work for a living, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you know the value of money. What is your price? Come on, we won't +haggle." + +The Boss' impatience colored his tone. "How much do you want for this +information?" + +"Nothin'!" + +"Nothing?" + +"Ah ain't said nothin' an' Ah ain't a-goin' to say nothin'. An' yo' +bettah be a-gittin' offen this heah land of mine afo'--" + +"Before what, swamper?" Red was taking a hand in the game. + +"Yo' can't fright'n me with that gun," came calmly enough from Jeems. +"Yo' ain't a-goin' to risk shootin'--" + +"There ain't no witnesses here, kid. And there ain't no law back in +these swamps. Yuh're gonna tell the Boss what he wants to know an' +yuh're gonna spill it quick, see? I know some ways of making guys +squeal--" + +At that suggestion Val's fingers tightened on his club and Ricky choked +back a cry as her brother crept toward the corner of the cabin. Their +melodrama was fast taking on the color of tragedy. + +"So yuh better speak up." Red was still encouraging Jeems. + +There was no immediate answer from the swamper, but Ricky touched Val's +arm and nodded toward the bushes. She had decided that it was time for +her to leave. He agreed eagerly. She dropped lightly to the ground and +he watched her crawl away unnoticed by those in front who were so intent +upon the baiting of their quarry. + +"Three minutes, swamper!" + +Ricky was gone, free from whatever might develop. Val edged forward and +for the first time peered around the corner of the cabin. The two +assailants were still only voices, but he could see Jeems. The swamper's +face was bruised and there was a smear of dried blood across one cheek +as if he had already been roughly handled. But he stood at ease, facing +the cabin. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides and he was +seemingly unconcerned by what confronted him. Suddenly his eyes +flickered to the bushes at one side. Had Ricky betrayed herself, Val +wondered breathlessly. + +Clear now of the cabin, Val wriggled his way around the platform. In a +minute he would be able to see the Boss and Red. He gripped the club. + +Then Jeems stared straight into his face. But the swamper gave no sign +of seeing Val. And that, to the boy's mind, was the greatest feat of all +that afternoon. For Val knew that if he had been in Jeems' place he +would have betrayed them both in his surprise. + +The others were at last visible, their backs to Val. Nervously he sized +them up. The Boss was tall and thin, but his movements suggested +possession of wiry strength. Red, his brick-colored hair making him easy +to identify, was shorter and thick across the shoulders, but his +waistline was also thick and the boy thought that his wind was bad. Of +the two, the Boss was the more dangerous. Red might lose his head in a +sudden attack, but not the Boss. Val decided to tackle the latter. + +Slowly he got from his knees to his feet. After the first quick glance, +Jeems hadn't looked at him, but Val knew that the swamper was ready and +waiting to take advantage of any diversion he might make. + +"Three minutes are up, swamper. So yuh've decided to be tough, eh?" + +"Whatta yo' wanna know?" Jeems' question was silly but it held their +attention. + +"We have told you several times," answered the Boss, his temper +beginning to fray visibly. "What is the trick of getting into that +house?" + +"Well," Jeems raised his hand to rub his ear, "yo' turn to the left--" + +So he agreed with the listener. Val was to take the Boss on his left. He +gathered his feet under him for the leap which he hoped would land him +full upon the invader. + +"Yes?" prompted the man impatiently as Jeems hesitated. At that moment +Val sprang. + +But his game leg betrayed him again. Instead of landing cleanly upon the +other, he came down draggingly across the Boss' shoulders. The gun +roared and then the attacked man lashed back a vicious blow which split +the skin over Val's cheek-bone. + +For the next three minutes Val was more than occupied. His opponent was +a dirty fighter, and when he had recovered from his surprise he was more +than the boy could handle. Val's club was twisted out of his hands, and +he found himself fighting wildly to keep the man's clawing fingers from +his eyes. They were both rolling on the ground, flailing out at each +other. Twice Val tasted his own blood when one of the enemy's vicious +jabs glanced along his face. Either blow would have finished Val had it +landed clean. + +Then in a sudden turn the Boss caught him in a deadly body-lock which +left him half-stunned and panting, at his mercy. And there was no mercy +in the man. When Val looked up into that flushed, snarling face, he knew +that he was as hopeless as a trapped animal. The man could--and +would--finish him at his leisure. + +"This way, Rupert! Sam!" the cry reached even Val's dulled ears. + +The man above him stirred. The boy saw the blood-lust fade from his eyes +and apprehension take its place. He got to his feet, launching a last +bruising kick at Val's ribs before he limped across the clearing. On his +way he hauled Red to his feet. They were going, not toward the path from +the bayou, but around the house on the trail that Jeems had followed. +Val struggled up and looked around. The turf was torn and gouged. In the +dust lay his club and Red's revolver. + +And by the steps lay something else, a slight brown figure. Painfully +the boy got to his feet and lurched across to Jeems. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST + + +The swamper was lying on his back, his eyes closed. From a great purple +welt across his forehead the blood oozed sluggishly. When Val touched +him he moaned faintly. + +"Val! Are you hurt? What's the matter?" Ricky was upon them like a +whirlwind out of the bush. + +"Jeems stopped a nasty one," her brother panted. + +"Is he--" She dropped down in the dust beside them. + +"He's knocked out, and he'll have a bad headache for some time, but I +don't think it's any worse than that." + +Ricky had pulled out a microscopic bit of handkerchief and was dabbing +at the blood in an amateurish way. Jeems moaned and turned his head as +if to get away from her ministrations. + +"Where's Rupert--and Sam?" Val looked toward the path. "They were with +you, weren't they?" + +Ricky shook her head. "No. That was just what you call creating a +diversion. For all I know, they're busy at home." + +Her brother straightened. "Then we've got to get out of here--fast. +Those two left because they were rattled, but when they have had a +chance to cool off they'll be back." + +"What about Jeems?" + +"Take him with us, of course. We won't be able to manage the canoe. But +you brought the outboard, so we'll go in that and tow the canoe. We +ought to have something to cover his head." Val regarded the bleeding +wound doubtfully. + +Without answering, Ricky leaned forward and began systematically going +through Jeems' pockets. In the second she found a key. Val took it from +her and hobbled up the cabin steps. For a wonder, he thought thankfully, +the key was the right one. The lock clicked and he went in. + +Like the clearing, the interior of the one-room shack was neat, a place +for everything and everything in its place. Under the window in the far +wall was a small chest of some dark polished wood. Save for its size, it +was not unlike the chests the Ralestones had found in their store-room. +Opposite it was a wooden cot, the covers smoothly spread. A stool, a +blackened cook stove, and a solid table with an oil lamp were the extent +of the furnishings. Lines of traps hung on the walls, along with the +wooden boards for the stretching of drying skins, and there was a +half-finished grass basket lying on top of the chest. + +Val hefted a stoneware jug. They had no time to hunt for a spring. And +if this contained water, they would need it. At the resulting gurgle +from within, he set it by the door and returned to rob the cot of pillow +and the single coarse but clean sheet. + +Ricky tore the sheet and made a creditable job of washing and bandaging +the ugly bruise. Jeems drank greedily when they offered him water but he +did not seem to recognize them. In answer to Ricky's question of how he +felt, he muttered something in the swamp French of the Cajuns. But he +was uneasy until Val locked the cabin door and put the key in his hand. + +"How are we going to get him to the boat?" asked Ricky suddenly. + +"Carry him." + +"But, Val--" for the first time she looked at her brother as if she +really saw him--"Val, you're hurt!" + +"Just a little stiff," he hastened to assure her. "Our late visitors +play rather rough. We'll manage all right. I'll take his shoulders and +you his feet." + +They wavered drunkenly along the path. Twice Val stumbled and regained +his balance just in time. Ricky had laid the pillow across their +burden's feet, declaring that she would need it when they got to the +boat. Val passed the point of aching misery--when he thought that he +could not shuffle forward another step--and now he came into what he had +heard called "second wind." By fixing his eyes on a tree or a bush a +step or two ahead and concentrating only upon passing that one, and then +that, and that, he got through without disgracing himself. + +At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat. Val +had no doubt that a woodsman might have done the whole job better in +much less time and without a tenth of the effort they had expended. But +all he ever wondered afterward was how they ever did it at all. + +[Illustration: _At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into +the boat._] + +It was when Ricky had made their passenger as comfortable as she could +in the bottom of the boat, steadying his head across her knees, that her +brother partially relaxed. + +"Val, you run the engine," she said without looking up. + +He dragged himself toward the stern of the boat, remembering too late, +when he had cast off, that he had not taken the canoe in tow. The engine +coughed, sputtered, and then settled down to a steady _putt-putt_. They +were off. + +"Val, do you--do you think he is badly hurt?" + +He dared not look down; it required all his powers of concentration on +what lay before them to keep his hand steady. + +"No. We'll get a doctor when we get back. He'll come around again in no +time--Jeems, I mean." + +But would he? Head injuries were sometimes more serious than they +seemed, Val remembered dismally. + +It was not until they came out into the main bayou that Jeems roused +again. He looked up at Ricky in a sort of dull surprise, and then his +gaze shifted to Val. + +"What--" + +"We won the war," Val tried to grin, an operation which tore his mask of +dried blood, "thanks to Ricky. And now we're going home." + +At that, Jeems made a violent effort to sit up. + +"_Non_!" his English deserted him and he broke into impassioned French. + +"Yes," Val replied firmly as Ricky pushed the swamper down. "Of course +you're coming with us. You've had a nasty knock on the head that needs +attention." + +"Ah'm not a-goin' to no hospital!" His eyes burned into Val's. + +"Certainly not!" cried Ricky. "You're bound for our guest-room. Now keep +quiet. We'll be there soon." + +"Ah ain't a-goin'," he declared mutinously. + +"Don't be silly," Ricky scolded him; "we're taking you. Does Val have to +come and hold you down?" + +"Ah can't!" His eyes flickered from Val's face to hers. There was +something more than independence behind that firm refusal. "Ah ain't +a-goin' theah." + +"Why not?" + +He seemed to shrink from her. "It ain't fitten," he murmured. + +"How perfectly silly," laughed Ricky. But Val thought that he +understood. + +"Because of the secret you know?" he asked quietly. + +The pallor beneath Jeems' heavy tan vanished in a flush of slow-burning +red. "Ah reckon so," he muttered, but he met Val's eyes squarely. + +"Let's leave all explanations until later," Val suggested. + +"Ah played haunt!" the confession came out of the swamper in a rush. + +"Then you _were_ my faceless ghost?" + +Jeems tried to nod and the action printed a frown of pain between his +eyes. + +"Why? Didn't you want us to live there?" asked Ricky gently. + +"Ah was huntin'--" + +"What for?" + +The frown became one of puzzlement. "Ah don't know--" His voice trailed +off into a thin whisper as his eyes closed wearily. Val signaled Ricky +to keep quiet. + +"Ahoy there!" Along the bank toward them came Rupert and after him Sam. +Beyond them lay the Ralestone landing. Val headed inshore. + +"Just what does this mean--Val! Has there been an accident?" The +irritation in Rupert's voice became hot concern. + +"An intended one," his brother replied. "We've got the real victim here +with us." + +They tied up to the landing and Sam came down to hand out Jeems who +apparently had lapsed into unconsciousness again. + +"You'd better call a doctor," Val told Rupert. "Jeems has a head wound." + +But Rupert had already taken charge of affairs with an efficiency which +left Val humbly grateful. The boy didn't even move to leave the boat. It +was better just to sit and watch other people scurry about. Sam had +started for the house, carrying Jeems as if the long-legged swamper was +the same age and size as his own small son. Ricky dashed on ahead to +warn Lucy. Rupert had Sam Two by the collar and was giving him +instructions for catching Dr. LeFrode, who was probably making his +morning rounds and might be found at the sugar-mill where one of the +feeders had injured his hand. Sam Two's sister had seen the doctor on +his way there a scant ten minutes earlier. + +Val watched all this activity dreamily. Everything would be all right +now that Rupert was in charge. He could relax-- + +"Now," his brother turned upon Val, "just what did--What's the matter +with you?" + +"Tired, I guess," Val said ruefully. But Rupert was already in the boat, +getting the younger boy to his unsteady feet. + +"Can you make it to the house?" he asked anxiously. + +"Sure. Just give me an arm till I get on the landing." + +But when Val had crawled up on the levee he did not feel at all like +walking to the house. Then Rupert's arm was about his thin shoulders and +he thought that he could make it if he really tried. + +The garden path seemed miles long, and it was not until Val had the soft +cushions of the hall couch under him that he felt able to tell his +story. But at that moment the short, stout doctor came through the door +in a rush. Sam Two had led him to believe that half the household had +been murdered. At first Dr. LeFrode started toward Val, until in alarm +the boy swung his feet to the floor and sat up, waving the man to the +stairway where Ricky hovered to act as guide. + +Then Val was alone, even Sam Two having edged upstairs to share in the +excitement. The boy sank back on his pillows and wondered where their +late assailants were now, and why they had been so determined to learn +Jeems' secret. As Ricky had said once before, the Ralestones seemed to +have been handed a gigantic tangle without ends, only middle sections, +and had been told to unravel it. + +Boot heels clicked on the stone flooring. Val turned his head cautiously +and tried not to wince. Rupert was coming in with a bowl of water, from +which steam still arose. Across his arm lay a towel and in his other +hand was their small first-aid kit. + +"Suppose we do a little patching," he suggested. "Your face at present +is not all it might be. What did you and your swamp friend do--run into +a mowing machine?" He swabbed delicately at the cut the Boss had opened +across Val's cheek-bone, and at another by his mouth. + +"I thought it might be that for a moment--a mowing machine, I mean. No, +we just met a couple of gentlemen--enterprising fellows who wanted to +see more of this commodious mansion of ours--" Val's words faded into a +sharp hiss as Rupert applied iodine with a liberal hand. "They seemed to +think that Jeems knew a lot about Pirate's Haven and they were going to +persuade him to tell all. Only it didn't turn out the way they had +planned." + +"Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face was +swollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this sudden +talkativeness. + +"Due partly to me, but mostly to Ricky. She--ah--created the necessary +diversion. I had sort of lost interest at the time. I know so little +about gouging and biting in clinches." + +"Dirty fighters?" + +"Well, soiled anyway. But if the Boss isn't nursing a cracked wrist, it +isn't my fault. I don't know what Jeems did to Red, but he, too, +departed in a damaged condition. Do you have to do that?" Val demanded +testily, squirming as Rupert ran his hands lightly over the boy's +shoulders and down his ribs, touching every bruise to tingling life. + +"Just seeing the extent of the damage," he explained. + +"You don't have to see, I can feel!" Val snapped pettishly. + +Rupert got to his feet. "Come on." + +"Where?" + +"Oh, a hot bath and then bed. You'll be taking an interest in life again +about this time tomorrow. I think LeFrode had better see you too." + +"No," Val objected. "I'm not a child." + +Rupert grinned. "If you'd rather I carried you--" + +There was no opposing Rupert when he was in that mood, as his brother +well knew. Val got up slowly. + +The program that Rupert had outlined was faithfully carried out. Half an +hour later Val found himself between sheets, blinking at the ceiling +drowsily. When two cracks overhead wavered together of their own accord, +his eyes closed. + +"--still sleeping?" whispered someone at his side much later. + +"Yes, best thing for him." + +"Was he badly hurt?" + +"No, just banged around more than was good for him." + +Val opened his eyes. It must have been close to dusk, for the sunlight +was red across the bedclothes. Rupert stood by the window and Ricky was +in the doorway, a tray of covered dishes in her hands. + +"Hello!" Val sat up, grimacing at the twinge of pain across his back. +"What day is this?" + +Rupert laughed. "Still Tuesday." + +"How's Jeems?" + +"Doing very well. I've had to have Rupert in to frighten him into +staying in bed," Ricky said. "The doctor thinks he ought to be there a +couple of days at least. But Jeems doesn't agree with him. Between +keeping Jeems in bed and keeping Rupert out of the swamp I've had a full +day." + +Rupert sat down on the foot of the bed. "You'd know this Boss and Red +again, wouldn't you?" + +"Of course." + +"Then you'll probably have a chance to identify them." There was a grim +look about Rupert's jaw. "Ricky's told me all that you overheard. I +don't know what it means but I've heard enough for me to get in touch +with LeFleur. He'll be out tomorrow morning. And once we get something +to work on--" + +"I'm beginning to feel sorry for our swamp visitors," Val interrupted. + +"They'll be sorry," hinted Rupert darkly. "How about you, Val, beginning +to feel hungry?" + +"Now that you mention it, I _am_ discovering a rather hollow ache in my +center section. Supper ready?" + +"Half an hour. I'll bring you up a tray--" began Ricky. + +But Val had thrown back the sheet and was sitting on the side of the +bed. "Oh, no, you don't! I'm not an invalid yet." + +Ricky glanced at Rupert and then left. Val reached for his shirt +defiantly. But his brother raised no objection. The painful stiffness +Val had felt at first wore off and he was able to move without feeling +as if each muscle were tied in cramping knots. + +"May I pay Jeems a visit?" he asked as they went out into the hall. +Rupert nodded toward a door across the corridor. + +"In there. He's a stubborn piece of goods. Reminds me of you at times. +If he'd ever get rid of that scowl of his, he'd be even more like you. +He warms to Ricky, but you'd think I was a Chinese torturer the way he +acts when I go in." There was a shade of irritation in Rupert's voice. + +"Maybe he's afraid of you." + +"But what for?" Rupert stared at the boy in open surprise. + +"Well, you do have rather a commanding air at times," Val countered. If +Ricky had told Rupert nothing of Jeems' confession, he wasn't going to. + +"So that's what you really think of me!" observed Rupert. "Go reason +with that wildcat of yours if you want to. I'm beginning to believe that +you are two of a kind." He turned abruptly down the hall. + +Val opened the door of the bedroom. The sunlight was fading fast and +already the corners of the large room were filled with the gray of dusk. +But light from the windows swept full across the bed and its occupant. +Val hobbled stiffly toward it. + +"Hello." The brown face on the pillow did not change expression as Val +greeted the swamper. "How do you feel now?" + +"Bettah," Jeems answered shortly. "Ah'm good but they won't le' me up." + +"The Doc says you're in for a couple of days," Val told him. + +Somehow Jeems looked smaller, shrunken, as he lay in that oversized bed. +And he had lost that air of indolent arrogance which had made him seem +so independent in their swamp and garden meetings. It was as if Val were +looking down upon a younger and less confident edition of the swamper he +had known. + +"What does he think?" There was urgency in that question. + +"Who's he?" + +"Yo' brothah." + +"Rupert? Why, he's glad to have you here," Val answered. + +"Does he know 'bout--" + +Val shook his head. + +"Tell him!" ordered the swamper. "Ah ain't a-goin' to stay undah his +ruff lessen he knows. 'Tain't fitten." + +At this clean-cut statement of the laws of hospitality, Val nodded. "All +right. I'll tell him. But what were you after here, Jeems? I'll have to +tell him that, too, you know. Was it the Civil War treasure?" + +Jeems turned his head slowly. "No." Again the puzzled frown twisted his +straight, finely marked brows. "What do Ah want wi' treasure? Ah don't +know what Ah was lookin' fo'. Mah grandpappy--" + +"Val, supper's ready," came Rupert's voice from the hall. + +Val half turned to go. "I've got to go now. But I'll be back later," he +promised. + +"Yo'll tell him?" Jeems stabbed a finger at the door. + +"Yes; after supper. I promise." + +With a little sigh Jeems relaxed and burrowed down into the softness of +the pillow. "Ah'll be awaitin'," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS-- + + +It had been on of those dull, weepy days when a sullen drizzle clouded +sky and earth. In consequence, the walls and floors of Pirate's Haven +seemed to exude chill. Rupert built a fire in the hall fireplace, but +none of the family could say that it was a successful one. It made a +nice show of leaping flame accompanied by fancy lighting effects but +gave forth absolutely no heat. + +"Val?" + +The boy started guiltily and thrust his note-book under the couch +cushion as Charity came in. Tiny drops of rain were strung along the +hairs which had blown free of her rain-cape hood like steel beads along +a golden wire. + +"Yes? Don't come here expecting to get warm," he warned her bitterly. +"We are very willing but the fire is weak. Looks pretty, doesn't it?" He +kicked at a charred end on the hearth. "Well, that's all it's good for!" + +"Val, what sort of a mess have you and Jeems jumped into?" she asked as +she handed him her dripping cape. + +"Oh, just a general sort of mess," he answered lightly. "Jeems had +callers who forgot their manners. So Ricky and I breezed in and brought +the party to a sudden end--" + +"As I can see by your black eye," she commented. "But what has Jeems +been up to?" + +Val was suddenly very busy holding her cape before that mockery of a +blaze. + +"Why don't you ask him that?" + +"Because I'm asking you. Rupert came over last night and sat on my +gallery making very roundabout inquiries concerning Jeems. I pried out +of him the details of your swamp battle. But I want to know now just +what Jeems has been doing. Your brother is so vague--" + +"Rupert has the gift of being exasperatingly uncommunicative," his +brother told her. "The story, so far as I know, is short and simple. +Jeems knows a secret way into this house. In addition, his grandfather +told him that the fortune of the house of Jeems is concealed +here--having been very hazy in his description of the nature of said +fortune. Consequently, grandson has been playing haunt up and down our +halls trying to find it. + +"His story is as full of holes as a sieve but somehow one can't help +believing it. He has explained that he has the secret of the outside +entrance only, and not the one opening from the inside. In the meantime +he is in bed--guarded from intrusion by Ricky and Lucy with the same +care as if he were the crown jewels. So matters rest at present." + +"Neatly put." She dropped down on the couch. "By the way, do you realize +that you have ruined your face for my uses?" + +Val fingered the crisscrossing tape on his cheek. "This is only +temporary." + +"I certainly hope so. That must have been some battle." + +"One of our better efforts." He coughed in mock modesty. "Ricky saved +the day with alarms and excursions without. Rupert probably told you +that." + +"Yes, he can be persuaded to talk at times. Is he always so silent?" + +"Nowadays, yes," he answered slowly. "But when we were younger--You +know," Val turned toward her suddenly, his brown face serious to a +degree, "it isn't fair to separate the members of a family. To put one +here and one there and the third somewhere else. I was twelve when +Father died, and Ricky was eleven. They sent her off to Great-aunt +Rogers because Uncle Fleming, who took me, didn't care for a girl--" + +"And Rupert?" + +"Rupert--well, he was grown, he could arrange his own life; so he just +went away. We got a letter now and then, or a post-card. There was money +enough to send us to expensive schools and dress us well. It was two +years before I really saw Ricky again. You can't call short visits on +Sunday afternoons seeing anyone. + +"Then Uncle Fleming died and I was simply parked at Great-aunt +Rogers'. She"--Val was remembering things, a bitter look about +his mouth--"didn't care for boys. In September I was sent to a military +academy. I needed discipline, it seemed. And Ricky was sent to Miss +Somebody's-on-the-Hudson. Rupert was in China then. I got a letter from +him that fall. He was about to join some expedition heading into the +Gobi. + +"Ricky came down to the Christmas hop at the academy, then Aunt Rogers +took her abroad. She went to school in Switzerland a year. I passed from +school to summer camp and then back to school. Ricky sent me some +carvings for Christmas--they arrived three days late." + +He stared up at the stone mantel. "Kids feel things a lot more than +they're given credit for. Ricky sent me a letter with some tear stains +between the lines when Aunt Rogers decided to stay another year. And +that was the year I earned the reputation of being a 'hard case.' + +"Then Ricky cabled me that she was coming home. I walked out of school +the same morning. I didn't even tell anyone where I was going. Because I +had money enough, I thought I would fly. And that, dear lady, is the end +of this very sad tale." He grinned one-sidedly down at her. + +"It was then that--that--" + +"I was smashed up? Yes. And Rupert came home without warning to find +things very messy. I was in the hospital when I should have been in some +corrective institution, as Aunt Rogers so often told me during those +days. Ricky was also in disgrace for speaking her mind, as she does now +and then. To make it even more interesting, our guardian had been +amusing himself by buying oil stock with our capital. Unfortunately, oil +did not exist in the wells we owned. Yes, Rupert had every right to be +anything but pleased with the affairs of the Ralestones. + +"He swept us off here where we are still under observation, I believe." + +"Then you don't like it here?" + +"Like it? Madam, 'like' is a very pallid word. What if you were offered +everything you ever wished for, all tied up in pink ribbons and laid on +your door-step? What would your reaction be?" + +"So," she was staring into the fire, "that's the way of it?" + +"Yes. Or it would be if--" He stooped to reach for another piece of +wood. The fire was threatening to die again. + +"What is the flaw in the masterpiece?" she asked quietly. + +"Rupert. He's changed. In the old days he was one of us; now he's a +stranger. We're amusing to have around, someone to look after, but I +have a feeling that to him we don't really exist. We aren't real--" Val +floundered trying to express that strange, walled-off emotion which so +often held him in this grown-up brother's presence. "Things like this +'Bluebeard's Chamber' of his--that isn't like the Rupert we knew." + +"Did you ever think that he might be shy, too?" she asked. "He left two +children and came home to find two distrustful adults. Give him his +chance--" + +"Charity!" Ricky ran lightly downstairs. "Why didn't Val tell me you had +come?" + +"I just dropped in to inquire concerning your patient." + +"He's better-tempered than Val," declared Ricky shamelessly. "You'll +stay to dinner of course. We're having some sort of crab dish that Lucy +seems to think her best effort. Rupert will be back by then, I'm sure; +he's out somewhere with Sam. There's been some trouble about trespassers +on the swamp lands. Goodness, won't this rain ever stop?" + +As if in answer to her question, there came a great gust of wind and +rain against the door, a blast which shook the oak, thick and solid as +it was. And then came the thunder of the knocker which Letty-Lou had +polished into shining life only the day before. + +Val opened the door to find Mr. Creighton and Mr. Holmes huddled on the +mat. They came in with an eagerness which was only surpassed by Satan, +wet and displaying cold anger towards his mistress, whom he passed with +a disdainful flirt of his tail as he headed for that deceptive fire. + +"You, again," observed Charity resignedly as Sam Two was summoned and +sent away again draped with wet coats and drenched hats. + +"Man"--Holmes argued with Satan for the possession of the +hearth-stone--"when it rains in this country, it rains. A branch of your +creek down there is almost over the road--" + +"Bayou, not creek," corrected Charity acidly. Lately she had shown a +marked preference for Holmes' absence rather than his company. + +"I stand corrected," he laughed; "a branch of your bayou." + +"If you found it so unpleasant, why did you--" began Charity, and then +she flushed as if she had suddenly realized that that speech was too +rude even for her recent attitude. + +"Why did we come?" Holmes' crooked eyebrow slid upward as his face +registered mock reproof. "My, my, what a warm welcome, my dear." He +shook his head and Charity laughed in spite of herself. + +"Don't mind my bearishness," she made half apology. "You know what +pleasant moods I fall into while working. And this rain is depressing." + +"But Miss Biglow is right." Creighton smiled his rare, shy smile. +Brusque and impatient as he was when on business bent, he was awkwardly +uncomfortable in ordinary company. The man, Val sometimes thought +privately, lived, ate, slept books. Save when they were the subject of +conversation, he was as out of his element as a coal-miner at the +ballet. "We should explain the reason for this--this rather abrupt +call." He fingered his brief-case, which he still clutched, nervously. + +"Down to business already." Holmes seated himself on the arm of Ricky's +chair. "Very well, out with it." + +Creighton smiled again, laid the case across his knees, and looked +straight at Ricky. For some reason he talked to her, as if she above all +others must be firmly convinced of the importance of his mission. + +"It is a very queer story, Miss Ralestone, a very queer--" + +"Said the mariner to the wedding guest." Holmes snapped his fingers at +Satan, who contemptuously ignored him. "Or am I thinking of the Whiting +who talked to the Snail?" + +"Perhaps I had better begin at the beginning," continued Creighton, +frowning at Holmes who refused to be so suppressed. + +"Why be so dramatic about it, old man? It's very simple, Miss Ricky. +Creighton has lost an author and he wants you to help find him." + +When Ricky's eyes involuntarily swept about the room, Val joined in the +laughter. "No, it isn't as easy as all that, I'm afraid." Creighton had +lost his nervous shyness. "But what Holmes says is true. I have lost an +author and do hope that you can help me locate the missing gentleman--or +lady. Two months ago an agent sent a manuscript to our office for +reading. It wasn't complete, but he thought it was well worth our +attention. It was. + +"Although there were only five chapters finished, the rest being but +synopsis and elaborated scenes, we knew that we had something--something +big. We delayed reporting upon it until Mr. Brewster--our senior +partner--returned from Europe. Mr. Brewster has the final decision on +all manuscripts; he was as well pleased with this offering as we were. +Frankly, we saw possibilities of another great success such as those two +long historical novels which have been so popular during the past few +years. + +"Queerly enough, the author's name was not upon the papers sent us by +the agent--that is, his proper name; there was a pen-name. And when we +applied to Mr. Lever, the agent, we received a most unpleasant shock. +The author's real name, which had been given in the covering letter +mailed with the manuscript to Mr. Lever, had most strangely disappeared, +due to some carelessness in his office. + +"Now we have an extremely promising book and no author--" + +"What I can't understand," cut in Holmes, "is the modesty of the author. +Why hasn't he written to Lever?" + +"That is the most unfortunate part of the whole affair." Mr. Creighton +shook his head. "Lever recalled that the chap had said in the letter +that if Lever found the manuscript unsalable he should destroy it, as +the writer was moving about and had no permanent address. The fellow +added that if he didn't hear from Lever he would assume that it was not +acceptable. Lever wrote to the address given in the letter to +acknowledge receipt, but that was all." + +"Mysterious," Val commented, interested in spite of himself. + +"Just so. Lever deduced from the tone of the letter that the writer was +very uncertain of his own powers and hesitated to submit his manuscript. +And yet, what we have is a very fine piece of work, far beyond the +ability of the average beginner. The author must have written other +things. + +"The novel is historical, with a New Orleans setting. Its treatment is +so detailed that only one who had lived here or had close connections +with this country could have produced it. Mr. Brewster, knowing that I +was about to travel south, asked me to see if I could discover our +missing author through his material. So far I have failed; our man is +unknown to any of the writers of the city or to any of those interested +in literary matters. + +"Yet he knows New Orleans and its history as few do today except those +of old family who have been born and bred here. Dr. Hanly Richardson of +Tulane University has assured me that much of the material used is +authentic--historically correct to the last detail. And it was Dr. +Richardson who suggested that several of the scenes must have actually +occurred, becoming with the passing of time part of the tradition of +some aristocratic family. + +"The period of the story is that time of transition when Louisiana +passed from Spain to France and then under the control of the United +States. It covers the years immediately preceding the Battle of New +Orleans. Unfortunately, those were years of disturbance and change. +Events which might have been the talk of the town, and so have found +description in gossipy memoirs, were swallowed by happenings of national +importance. It is, I believe, in intimate family records only that I can +find the clue I seek." + +"Which scenes"--Ricky's eyes shone in the firelight--"are those Dr. +Richardson believes real?" + +"Well, he was very certain that the duel of the twin brothers must have +occurred--Why, Mr. Ralestone," he interrupted himself as the stick Val +was about to place on the fire fell from his hands and rolled across the +floor. "Mr. Ralestone, what is the matter?" + +Across his shoulder Ricky signaled her brother. And above her head Val +saw Holmes' eyes narrow shrewdly. + +"Nothing. I'm sorry I was so clumsy." Val stooped hurriedly to hide his +confusion. + +"A duel between twin brothers." Ricky twisted one of the buttons which +marched down the front of her sport dress. "That sounds exciting." + +"They fought at midnight"--Creighton was enthralled by the story he was +telling--"and one was left for dead. The scene is handled with restraint +and yet you'd think that the writer had been an eye-witness. Now if such +a thing ever did happen, there would have been a certain amount of talk +afterwards--" + +Charity nodded. "The slaves would have spread the news," she agreed, +"and the person who found the wounded twin." + +Val kept his eyes upon the hearth-stone. There was no stain there, but +his vivid imagination painted the gray as red as it had been that cold +night when the slave woman had come to find her master lying there, his +brother's sword across his body. Someone had used the story of the +missing Ralestone. But who today knew that story except themselves, +Charity, LeFleur, and some of the negroes? + +"And you think that some mention of such an event might be found in the +papers of the family concerned?" asked Ricky. She was leaning forward in +her chair, her lips parted eagerly. + +"Or in those of some other family covering the same period," Creighton +added. "I realize that this is an impertinence on my part, but I wonder +if such mention might not be found among the records of your own house. +From what I have seen and heard, your family was very prominent in the +city affairs of that time--" + +Ricky stood up. "There is no need to ask, Mr. Creighton. My brother and +I will be most willing to help you. Unfortunately, Rupert is very much +immersed in a business matter just now, but Val and I will go through +the papers we have." + +Val choked down the protest that was on his lips just in time to nod +agreement. For some reason Ricky wanted to keep the secret. Very well, +he would play her game. At least he would until he knew what lay behind +her desire for silence. + +"That is most kind." Creighton was beaming upon both of them. "I cannot +tell you how much I appreciate your cooeperation in this matter--" + +"Not at all," answered Ricky with that deceptive softness in her voice +which masked her rising temper. "We are only too grateful to be allowed +to share a secret." + +And then her brother guessed that she did not mean Creighton's secret +but some other. She crossed the room and rang the bell for Letty-Lou to +bring coffee. Something triumphant in her step added to Val's suspicion. +Like the Englishman of Kipling's poem, Ricky was most to be feared when +she grew polite. He turned in time to see her wink at Charity. + +Rupert came in just then, wet and thoroughly out of sorts, full of the +evidences he had discovered on Ralestone lands bordering the swamp that +strangers had been camping there. Their guests all stayed to supper, +lingering long about the table to discuss Rupert's find, so that Val did +not get a chance to be alone with Ricky to demand an explanation. And +for some reason she seemed to be adroitly avoiding him. He did have her +almost cornered in the upper hall when Letty-Lou came up behind him and +plucked at his sleeve. + +"Mistuh Val," she said, "dat Jeems boy done wan' to see yo'all." + +"Bother Jeems!" Val exploded, his eyes on Ricky's back. But he stepped +into the bedroom where the swamper was still imprisoned by Lucy's +orders. + +The boy was propped up on his pillows, looking out of the window. His +body was tense. At the sound of Val's step he turned his bandaged head. + +"Can't yo' git me outa heah?" he demanded. + +"Why?" + +"The watah's up!" His eyes were upon the water-filled darkness of the +garden. + +"But that's all right," the other assured him. "Sam says that it won't +reach the top of the levee. At the worst, only the lower part of the +garden will be flooded." + +Jeems glanced at Val over his shoulder and then without a word he edged +toward the side of the bed and tried to stand. But with a muffled gasp +he sank back again, pale and weak. Awkwardly Val forced him back against +his pillows. + +"It's all right," he assured him again. + +But in answer the swamper shook his head violently, "It ain't all right +in the swamp." + +In a flash Val caught his meaning. Swampers lived on house-boats for the +most part, and the boats will outride all but unusual floods. But Jeems' +cabin was built on land, land none too stable even in dry weather. The +swamp boy touched Val's hand. + +"It ain't safe. Two of them piles is rotted. If the watah gits that far, +they'll go." + +"You mean the piles holding up your cabin platform?" Val asked. + +He nodded. For a second Val caught a glimpse of forlorn loneliness +beneath the sullen mask Jeems habitually wore. + +"But there's nothing you can do now--" + +"It ain't the cabin. Ah gotta git the chest--" + +"The one in the cabin?" + +His black eyes were fixed upon Val's, and then they swerved and rested +upon the wall behind the young Ralestone. + +"Ah gotta git the chest," he repeated simply. + +And Val knew that he would. He would get out of bed and go into the +swamp after that treasure of his. Which left only one thing for Val to +do. + +"I'll get the chest, Jeems. Let me have your key to the cabin. I'll take +the outboard motor and be back before I'm missed." + +"Yo' don't know the swamp--" + +"I know how to find the cabin. Where's the key?" + +"In theah," he pointed to the highboy. + +Val's fingers closed about the bit of metal. + +"Mistuh," Jeems straightened, "Ah won't forgit this." + +Val glanced toward the downpour without. + +"Neither will I, in all probability," he said dryly as he went out. + +It had been on just such a night as this that the missing Ralestone had +gone out into the gloom. But he was coming back again, Val reminded +himself hurriedly. Of course he was. With a shake he pulled on his +trench-coat and slipped out the front door unseen. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS + + +The rain, fine and needle-like, stung Val's face. There were ominous +pools of water gathering in the garden depressions. Even the small +stream which bisected their land had grown from a shallow trickle into a +thick, mud-streaked roll crowned with foam. + +But the bayou was the worst. It had put off its everyday sleepiness with +a roar. A chicken coop wallowed by as the boy struggled with the knot of +the painter which held the outboard. And after the coop traveled a dead +tree, its topmost branches bringing up against the plantation landing +with a crack. Val waited for it to whirl on before he got on board his +craft. + +The adventure was more serious than he had thought. It might not be a +case of merely going downstream and into the swamp to the cabin; it +might be a case of fighting the rising water in grim battle. Why he did +not turn back to the house then and there he never knew. What would have +happened if he had? he sometimes speculated afterward. If Ricky had not +come into the garden to hunt him? If together they had not-- + +While Val went with the current, his voyage was ease itself. But when he +strove to cut across and so reach the mouth of the hidden swamp-stream, +he narrowly escaped upsetting. As it was, he fended off some dark blot +bobbing through the water, his palm meeting it with a force that jarred +his bones. + +But he did make the mouth of the swamp-stream. Switching on the strong +search-light in the bow, he headed on. And because he was moving now +against the current, it seemed that he lost two feet for every one that +he advanced. + +The muddy water was whipped into foam where it tore around shrub and +willow. There were no longer any confining banks, only a waste of water +glittering through the dark foliage. The drear habitat of the vultures +was being swept bare by the scouring of the incoming streams, but its +moldy stench still arose stronger than ever, as if some foulness were +being stirred up from its ancient bed. + +It was only by chance that Val found the drying rack which marked the +boundary of Jeems' property. Here the land was higher than the flood, +which had not yet spread inland. He tied the boat to a willow and +splashed ashore. In the lower portions of the path his feet sank into +patches of wet. Something which might have been--and probably was--a +snake oozed away from the beam of his pocket torch. + +The clearing was much as it had been, save that the door of the +chicken-run stood ajar and its feathered population was gone. But under +the cabin Val saw the betraying sparkle of water. The bayou in the rear +must have topped flood level. + +Someone had been there before him. The lock was battered and there had +been an attempt to pry loose its staples, an attempt which had left +betraying gouges on the door frame. But misused as it had been, the lock +yielded to the key and Val went in. Warned by a lapping sound from +beneath, it did not take him long to get the chest, relock the door, and +head back to the boat. + +He was none too soon. Already, in the few moments of his absence, there +were rills cutting across the mud, rills which were growing in strength +and size. And the flood around the drying rack was up a good three +inches. Val dumped the chest into the bow with little ceremony and +climbed in after it, his wet trousers clinging damply to his legs. +Something plate-armored and possessing wicked yellow eyes swam +effortlessly through the light beam--a 'gator bound for the Gulf, +whether he would or no. + +The return as far as the bayou was easy enough, for again the boat was +borne on the current. But when Val faced the torn waters of the river he +experienced a certain tightness of throat and chill of blood. What might +have been the roof of a small shed was passing lumpily as he hesitated. +Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boy +piteously, its eyes green in the light. An eddy sent its ship close to +the boat; the top branches clung a moment to the bow. And to Val's +surprise, the 'coon roused itself to a mighty effort and crossed into +the egg-shell safety the boat offered. Once in the outboard, it +retreated to the bow where it crouched beside the chest and kept a wary +eye on Val's every movement. + +[Illustration: _Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which +stared at the boy piteously, its eyes green in the light._] + +But he could not rescue the wildcat which swept by spitting at the water +from a log, nor the shivering doe which awaited the coming of death, +marooned on an islet which was fast being cut away by the hungry waters. +And all the time the stinging rain fed the flood. + +Val gripped the rudder until the bar was printed deep across his palm. +Soon it would be too late. He must cross now, heading diagonally +downstream to escape the full fury of the current. With a deep breath he +turned out into the bayou. + +It was like fighting some vast animated feather-bed. His greatest +efforts were as nothing against the overpowering sweep seaward. And +there was constant danger from the floating booty of the storm. The +muddy spray lashed his body, filling the bottom of his craft as if it +were a tea-cup. And once the boat was whirled almost around. + +Val was beginning to wonder just how long a swimmer might last in that +black fog of rain, wind, and water when his bow eased into comparatively +quiet water. He had crossed the main current; now was the time to head +upstream. Grimly he did, to begin a struggle which was to take on all +the more horrible properties of a nightmare. For this was many times +worse than his fight against the swamp-stream. + +Twice the engine sputtered protestingly and Val thought of trying to +leap ashore. But stubbornly the outboard fought on. If there ever were a +sturdy ship, fit to be named with Columbus' gallant craft or Hudson's +vessel, it was that frail outboard which buffeted the rising waters of a +Louisiana bayou gone flood mad. + +It achieved the impossible; it crept upstream inch by inch, escaping +disaster after disaster by the thinness of a dime. Since he had +apparently not been born to drown, Val thought as he saw his headlight +touch the tip of the landing, he would doubtless depart this life by +hanging. + +Then his light picked out something else which lay between him and the +landing. The sleek, knife-bowed cruiser certainly did not belong to +Pirate's Haven. And what neighbor would come calling by water on such a +night? It was moored by two thick ropes to a sunken post, and already +the mooring was dragging the bow down. Val headed in toward it, running +the outboard between the stranger and the landing. + +Out of the blackness ashore a shadow arose and waved at him frenziedly. +Then he saw Ricky's white face above her long oil-silk cape. Her hair +was plastered tight to her skull and she was protecting her eyes from +the fury of the rain with her hands. + +Val sent the boat inshore until it bit into the crumbling surface of the +levee with a shock which threatened his balance. Ricky snatched at the +painter and held steady while he jumped. They made the boat fast and Val +landed the chest. The passenger did his own disembarking, making his way +into the garden without a backward look. Then Val demanded an +explanation. + +"What are you doing here?" he tried to out-screech the wind. + +In answer she clapped her wet, muddy hand across his mouth and pulled +him back from the levee. + +They reached the semi-shelter of a rotting summer-house where he put +down the chest. Ricky pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. It was +impossible for them to hear each other without screaming madly. + +"Jeems told me--after you left--Val! How could you be so mad!" + +"I made it." He touched the chest with his toe. "After we had +practically kidnapped him, we couldn't let his belongings just float +away. But why are you out here? And where did that boat come from?" + +"I came out here after Jeems told me. I'm all right." She laughed +shakily. "I've got my oldest clothes on--and this," she touched her +cape. "I couldn't stay in there--waiting--after I knew. And I didn't +want Rupert to ask questions. So I said that I was going to bed with a +headache. Then I slipped out here to the levee. And I hadn't been here +two minutes before that boat came downstream. There were four men in it +and they got out and went into the bushes over there. And, Val, Rupert +is down at the other end of the garden where they are having trouble +with the levee. Holmes and Creighton went down to see if they could +help, too, just after you left. There's nobody but Charity up at the +house with Lucy and Letty-Lou. Val, what are we going to do?" she +appealed to him. + +"First I'll investigate these visitors," he said easily, though he felt +far from easy within. + +"Me too," she said firmly if ungrammatically, and since Val could not +wait to argue, she went along. + +They took the route she had watched the invaders follow, wriggling +through wet bushes and around trees. + +"Val, look out!" She grabbed his arm and so saved him from tumbling +headlong into a black hole in the ground. Vines and a small shrub or two +had been ruthlessly torn out to bare the opening. It was here that the +visitors must have gone to earth. And then Val had a glimmering of the +truth; the "Boss" and his friends had at last found Jeems' private door. + +Prudence urged that they return to the house and send Sam Two or some +other messenger down to the cross-roads store to summon the police by +phone. Prudence however had never successfully advised any Ralestone. +They had a decided taste for fighting their own battles. So, torch in +hand, Val dropped into the hole. And a moment later Ricky slid down to +join him. + +They stood in a rough passage. Stout timbers banked its sides and +guarded the roof. There was a damp underground smell such as Val had +noted in the cellar of the house, but the air was fresh enough. After +the first hasty survey, the boy held his fingers over the bulb of the +flashlight so that only the faintest glimmer escaped to light their +path. + +The passage was short, ending abruptly in a low bricked room. Save for +themselves, a tangle of rotting rope in a far corner, and two lively +black beetles, it was empty. + +"Val," Ricky's throaty whisper reached him, "can't you guess what this +is? The first pirate Ralestone's storage-house!" + +It was a likely enough explanation--though nothing could have been +stored there very long; the place was too damp. Beads of slimy moisture +from the walls dripped slowly down, shining like silver in the light. + +At the other side of the room was a corridor branching away. But this +they barely glanced into, little knowing how that neglect was to prove +disastrous in the end. It was the main door to their right which +interested them most, for that led, so far as Val could determine, +toward the house. And that must have been the one the mysterious +visitors had followed. + +Thus they came into the second of their pirate ancestor's store-rooms. +This one was long and narrow. Three wooden casks eaten with decay and +spotted with fungus stood against the wall, testifying to the use to +which this chamber had been put, though the all-pervading damp could not +have been good for the wine. + +Again a dark archway tempted them on, and the third room into which they +came had a more grim reminder of the scarlet past of the house. For +Ricky stumbled over something which clinked dully. And when Val used the +flash they looked down upon a telltale length of chain ending in an iron +ring, its other end soldered into the wall. + +"Val," Ricky's voice quavered, "did--did they keep people here?" + +"Slaves, perhaps," her brother answered soberly and shoved the rusting +metal aside with his foot. But there were two other chains hanging from +the wall, speaking of past horrors of which he did not care to think. + +And then as their light picked out these damning testimonials, Val +thought that the Ralestones, for all their pride and fine, brave airs, +had been only pirates after all, akin to those whom they were now +hunting through the dark. + +There was a low arched doorway of brick on the right side of the room, +and this they passed through. Beyond were three broad stone steps, worn +a little on the treads, one cracked clear across. These led to a wide +landing paved with brick. Here the walls were brick as well. Ricky +touched one involuntarily and drew back her hand with a little +exclamation of disgust. She wiped her palm vigorously on the wet surface +of her cape. + +Everywhere was the smell of rot and slow, vile decay. In spite of its +historical associations, decided Val, this vault should be sealed +forever from the daylight and left to the sole occupancy of those +nameless things which creep in its dark. The very air, in spite of its +freshness, seemed tainted. + +Another flight of stairs was before them, the treads fashioned of stone +but equipped with a rotted wooden hand-rail. And above was the faint +reflection of light and the sound of voices. Val hesitated and realized +for the first time how foolhardy their expedition was. + +Those above would be prepared to handle interruptions. Val was +determined to keep Ricky out of trouble, and to go on alone was the +rankest folly. But, as he hesitated, the decision was taken out of his +hands, for the light above suddenly became brighter. Grabbing at Ricky's +arm, he stumbled back into the shelter of the archway, pulling her after +him. + +A round circle of light shone plainly at the top of the stairs. Someone +was coming down. Ricky's breath was warm on Val's cheek and she moved +with a faint crackling of her cape which sounded as loud as a +thunderclap in his ears. + +"How're we gonna do it without bustin' the wall down?" demanded an +aggrieved voice from the top of the stairs. "There ain't no knob, no +handle, no nothin' to work it from this side. And these guys what stored +their stuff here in the boot-leggin' days never got into the house." + +"The boy got through, didn't he?" Val knew that voice, the Boss of the +swamp meeting. "Well, if he did, we can." + +"Lissen, Boss, it's a secret, ain't it? An' we gotta know how it works +before we can work it. An' lissen here, you swamp bum, you keep outta my +way--see? I don't care if you were one of Mike Flanigan's boys; that +don't cut no ice with me." This truculent warning must have been +addressed to an unseen companion on the same stair level. The listeners +below heard a faint sound which might have marked a collision and then +the hiss of swamp French spoken hurriedly and angrily. + +"What're you gonna do now, Boss?" + +The light half-way down the stairs paused. "There is some way of opening +that panel--" + +"An' we gotta find it. All right, all right. But tell me how." + +"I don't know whether it will be necessary to open it--from this side." + +"What d'ya mean?" + +"Use that thick skull of yours, Red. Doors swing two ways, don't they? +They can be used either to go in or to go out." + +"Got it!" The thick voice was oily with flattering approval. "We can get +out this way--" + +"Smart work, Red. Did you think that out all by yourself?" asked the +other contemptuously. "Yes, we can come out this way when"--his voice +was sharp with purpose--"we are finished. Send one of these swampers +down to the levee where the men are working. As long as this flood keeps +rising we're safe. Then the other three of us will go for the house. We +may be seen that way, but there's no use spending any more time here +playing tick-tack-toe on that wood up there. We locate what we want, and +if we're cornered we can come out through here to the bayou. Slick +enough." + +"Great stuff, Boss--" Red began. But the rest was muffled, for Ricky and +Val drew back into the room of the chains. There was only one thing to +do now--reach Rupert and the others and prepare to meet these skulkers +in the open. But before they had quite crossed the room Ricky came to +grief. She caught her foot in one of those gruesome chains and stumbled +forward, falling on her hands and knee. The noise of her fall echoed +around the low chamber with betraying clamor. + +A white light beat upon them as Val stooped to aid Ricky. + +"Stop!" came the shout, but Val had only one thought, to dim that light. +He swung back his arm and flung his own flash straight at the other. +There was a grunt of pain and the light fell to the floor. With the +tinkle of breaking glass it went out. Val pulled Ricky to her feet and +threw her toward the door, forgetting everything but the wild panic +which urged him out of that place of foul darkness. They bruised their +hands against the brick as they felt for the opening, and then they were +out in the other chamber. + +"Val," Ricky clung to him, "I've got that little flash I keep under my +pillow at night. Wait a minute until I get it out of my pocket. We can't +find our way out of here without a light." + +Muffled sounds from behind them suggested that their pursuers were on +the trail even without light. After all, given time enough, it would be +easy for them to feel their way out of the vaults. Val hustled Ricky on, +taking his direction from one of the wine-casks he had bumped into. And +before he allowed her to hunt for her torch they stood in the first of +the chambers. + +The light she produced was poor and it flickered warningly. But it was +good enough for them to see the dark opening which led to the outer +world. They ducked into this just as the first of the other party came +cursing into the open. At Val's orders, Ricky switched off the light and +they crept along by the wall, one hand on its guiding surface. + +But the way seemed longer than it had upon their entering. Surely they +should have reached the garden entrance by now. And the surface +underfoot remained level instead of slanting upward. Suddenly Ricky gave +a little cry. + +"We've taken the wrong passage! There's only a blank wall in front of +us!" + +She was right. The torch showed a brick surface across their path, and +Val remembered too late the second passage out of the first chamber. +They must go back and hope to elude the others in the dark. + +"They may have all gone out, thinking we were still ahead of them," he +mused aloud. + +"Well, it's got to be done," Ricky observed, "so we might as well do +it." + +Back they went along the unknown passage. This appeared to run straight +out from the first chamber. But why it had been fashioned and then +walled up they had no way of knowing. Ricky's torch picked out the +entrance at last. + +"Wait," Val cautioned her, "we had better see how the land lies before +we go out in the open." + +They stood listening. Save for the constant drip, drip of water, there +was no sound. + +"I guess it's clear," he said. + +"Wonder where all the water is coming from?" Ricky shivered. + +"Down from the garden. Come on, I think it's safe to have a light now." + +Ricky must have been holding the torch upward when she pressed the +button, for the round circle of light appeared on the supporting timbers +above the door. They both looked up, fascinated for a moment. The old +oak had been laid in a crisscross pattern, the best support possible in +the days when the vaults had been made. + +"How wet--" began Ricky. + +Val cried out suddenly and struck at her. The blow sent her sprawling +some three or four feet back in the passage. There might be time yet to +cover her body with his own, he planned desperately, before-- + +The sound of slipping earth was all about them as Val flung himself +toward Ricky. As he thrust blindly at her body, rolling her back farther +into the tunnel, he felt the first clod strike full upon his shoulder. +Ricky's complaining whimper was the last thing he heard clearly. For in +the dark was the crash of breaking timber. + +He was felled by a stroke across the upper arm, and then came a chill +darkness in which he was utterly swallowed up. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE! + + +Through the dull roaring which filled his ears Val heard a sharp call: + +"Val! Val, where are you? Val!" + +He stared up into utter blackness. + +"Val!" + +"Here, Ricky!" But that thin thread of a whisper surely didn't belong to +him. He tried again and achieved a sort of croak. Something moved behind +him and there was an answering rattle of falling clods. + +"Val, I'm afraid to move," her voice wavered unsteadily. "It seems to be +falling yet. Where are you?" + +The boy tried to investigate, only to find himself more securely +fastened than if he had been scientifically bound. And now that the +mists had cleared from him, his spine and back felt a sharp pain to +which he was no stranger. From his breast-bone down he was held as if in +a vise. + +"Are you hurt, Ricky?" He formed the words slowly. Every breath he drew +thrust a red-hot knife between his ribs. He turned his head toward her, +pillowing his cheek on the gritty clay. + +"No. But where are you, Val? Can't you come to me?" + +"Sorry. Un--unavoidably detained," he gasped. "Don't try any crawling or +the rest may come down on us." + +"Val! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Her questions cut sharply +through the darkness. + +"Banged up a little. No"--he heard the rustle which betrayed her +movements--"don't try to come to me--Please, Ricky!" + +But with infinite caution she came, until her brother felt the edge of +her cape against his face. Then her questing hand touched his throat and +slid downward to his shoulders. + +"Val!" He knew what horror colored that cry as she came upon what +imprisoned him. + +"It's all right, Ricky. I'm just pinned in. If I don't try to move I'm +safe." Quickly he tried to reassure her. + +"Val, don't lie to me now--you're hurt!" + +"It's not bad, really, Ricky--" + +"Oh!" There was a single small cry and a moment of utter silence and +then a hurried rustling. + +"Here." Her hand groped for his head. "I've wadded up my cape. Can I +slip it under your head?" + +"Better not try just yet. Anything might send off the landslide again. +Just--just give me a minute or two to--to sort of catch my breath." +Catch his breath, when every sobbing gasp he drew was a stab! + +"Can't we--can't I lift some of the stuff off?" she asked. + +"No. Too risky." + +"But--but we can't stay here--" Her voice trailed off and it was then +that she must have realized for the first time just what had happened to +them. + +"I'm afraid we'll have to, Ricky," said her brother quietly. + +"But, Val--Val, what if--if--" + +"If we aren't found?" he put her fear into words. "But we will be. +Rupert is doubtless moving a large amount of earth right now to +accomplish that." + +"Rupert doesn't know where we are." She had regained control of both +voice and spirit. "We--we may never be found, Val." + +"I was a fool," he stated plainly a fact which he now knew to be only +too true. + +"I would have come even if you hadn't, Val," she answered generously and +untruthfully. It was perhaps the kindest thing she had ever said. + +Now that the noise of the catastrophe had died away they could hear +again the drip of water. And that sound tortured Val's dry throat. A +glass of cool water--He turned his head restlessly. + +"If we only had a light," came Ricky's wish. + +"The flash is probably buried." + +"Val, will--will it be fun?" + +"What?" he demanded, suddenly alert at her tone. Had the dark and their +trouble made her light-headed? + +"Being a ghost. We--we could walk the hall with Great-uncle Rick; he +wouldn't begrudge us that." + +"Ricky! Stop it!" + +Her answering laugh, though shaky, was sane enough. + +"I do pick the wrong times to display my sense of humor, don't I? Val, +is it so very bad?" + +Something within him crumbled at that question. + +"Not so good, Lady," he replied in spite of the resolutions he had made. + +She brushed back the hair glued by perspiration to his forehead. Ricky +was not gold, he thought, for gold is a rather dirty thing. But she was +all steel, as clean and shining as a blade fresh from the hands of a +master armorer. He made a great effort and found that he could move his +right arm an inch or two. Concentrating all his strength there, he +wriggled it back and forth until he could draw it free from the +wreckage. But his left shoulder and side were numb save for the pain +which came and went. + +"Got my arm free," Val told her exultantly and reached up to feel for +her in the dark. His fingers closed upon coarse cloth. He pulled feebly +and something rolled toward him. + +"What's this?" + +Ricky's hands slid along his arm to the thing he had found. He could +hear her exploring movements. + +"It's some sort of a bundle. I wonder where it came from." + +"Some more remains of the jolly pirate days, I suppose." + +"Here's something else. A bag, I think. Ugh! It smells nasty! There's a +hole in it--Oh, here's a piece of money. At least it feels like money. +There's more in the bag." She pressed a disk about as large as a +half-dollar into Val's palm. + +"Pirate loot--" he began. Anything that would keep them from thinking of +where they were and what had happened was to be welcomed. + +"Val"--he could hear her move uneasily--"remember that old saying: +'Pieces of eight--Ralestones' fate?" + +"All good families have curses," he reminded her. + +"And good families can have--can have accidents, too." + +There could be no answer to that. Nor did Val feel like answering. The +savage pain in his legs and back had given way to a kind of numbness. A +chill not caused by the dank air crawled up his body. What--what if his +injuries were worse than he had thought? What if--if-- + +The dripping of the water seemed louder, and it no longer fell with the +same rhythm. Ricky must be counting money from the bag. He could hear +the clink of metal against stone as she dropped a piece. + +"Don't lose it," he muttered foggily. + +"Lose what?" + +"Your pieces of eight." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You just dropped a piece." + +"I haven't touched--Val, do--do you feel worse?" + +But he had no thought now for his body. If Ricky had not dropped the +money, then what had caused the clink? He ground his cheek against the +clay. _Thud, thud, clink, thud._ That was not water dripping nor coin +rattling. That was the sound of digging. And digging meant-- + +"Ricky! They're digging! I can hear them!" + +Her fingers closed about his free hand until the nails dug into the +flesh. "Where?" + +"I don't know. Listen!" + +The sound had grown in strength until now, though muffled, it sounded +through that part of the passage still remaining open. + +"It comes from this end. From behind that wall. But why should it come +from there?" + +"Does it matter? Val, do you suppose they could hear me if I pounded on +the wall at this side?" + +"You haven't anything heavy enough to pound with." + +"Yes, I have. This package thing that you found. It's quite heavy. Val, +we've got to let them know we're here!" + +She crawled away, moving with caution lest she bring on another slide. +That reassuring _thud, thud_ still sounded. Then, after long minutes, +Val heard the answering blow from their side. Three times Ricky struck +before the rhythm of the digging was broken. Then there was silence +followed by three sharp blows. They had heard! + +Ricky beat a perfect tattoo in joy and was quickly answered. Then the +_thud, thud_ began again, but this time the pace was quickened. + +"They've heard! They're coming!" Ricky's voice shrilled until it became +a scream. "Val, we're found!" + +A clod was loosened somewhere above them and crashed upon the wreckage. +Would the efforts of their rescuers bring on another slide? + +"Be quiet, Ricky," Val croaked a warning, "it's still moving." + +Then there came the sharp clink of metal against stone. "Val," called +Ricky, "they're right against the wall now!" + +"Come back here, away from it. We--we don't want you caught, too," he +answered her. + +Obediently she crawled back to him and again he felt her hand close +about his. The sound of metal grating against stubborn brick filled +their pocket of safety. But as an ominous accompaniment came the soft +hiss of earth sliding onto the wreckage. Which would win to them first, +the rescuers or the second slide? + +There was a vicious grinding noise from the walled end of the passage. A +moment later a blinding ray of light swung in, to focus upon them. + +"Ricky! Val!" + +Val was blinking stupidly at the light, but Ricky had presence of mind +enough to answer. + +"Here we are!" + +"Look out," Val roused enough to warn, "the walls are unsafe!" + +"We're coming through," rang the answer out of the dark. "Stand away!" + +Now that they could see, Val realized for the first time the danger of +their position. A jagged, water-rotted beam half covered with clay and +sand lay across him, and beyond that was a mass of splintered wood and +wet earth. A little sick, he looked up at Ricky. She was staring at the +wreckage. Her eyes were black in a white, mud-smeared face. + +"Val--Val!" His name came as the thinnest of whispers. + +"It isn't as bad as it looks," he said hurriedly. "Something underneath +must be supporting most of the weight or--or I wouldn't be here at all." + +"Val," she repeated, and then, paying no heed to his frantic injunctions +to keep away, she dug at earth and rotten wood with her hands. Using the +long bundle clumsily wrapped in stained canvas, she levered a piece of +beam out of the way so that she might get down on her knees and scoop up +the sand and clay. + +"Ricky! Val!" The light swung ahead as someone scrambled through the +hole in the barrier wall. Then, when the ray held firm upon them, the +headlong rush was checked for a long instant. "Val!" + +"Get her--away," he begged. "Another--slip--" + +But before he had done, a long arm gathered Ricky up as if she had been +a child. "Right," came the firm answer. "Sam, take Miss 'Chanda back. +Then--" + +Val was watching the reflection of the flash on the broken roof above +him. Sand slid in tiny streams down the wall, mingling with the greenish +trickles of water. There were queer blue and green arcs painted on the +brick which had something to do with the hot pain behind his eyes. The +blue turned to orange--to scarlet-- + +"Careful! Right here in the hall, Holmes--" + +The broken earth above him had somehow been changed to a high ceiling, +the chill darkness to blazing light and warmth. + +"Ricky?" he asked. + +"Here, Val." Her face was very close to his. + +"You--are--all--right?" + +"'Course!" But she was crying. "Don't try to talk, Val. You must be +quiet." + +He heard someone moving toward them but he kept his eyes on Ricky's +face. "We did it!" + +"Yes," she answered slowly, "we did it." + +"Val, don't try to talk." Rupert's face showed above Ricky's hunched +shoulder. There was an odd, strained look about his mouth, a smear of +mud across his cheek. But the harsh tone of his voice struck his brother +as dumb as if he had slapped him. + +"Sorry," Val shaped the words stiffly, "all my fault." + +"Nothing's your fault," Ricky's indignant answer cut in. "But--but just +be quiet, Val, until the doctor comes." + +He turned his head slowly. On the hearth-stone stood Charity talking +quietly to Holmes. Just within the circle of the firelight lay a bundle +which he had seen before. But of course, that was the thing they had +found in the passage, which Ricky had used to pound out their answer to +Rupert. + +"Ricky--" Val always believed that it was some instinct out of the past +which forced that whisper out of him--"Ricky, open that package." + +"Why--" she began, but then she got to her feet and went to the bundle, +twisting the tarred rope that fastened it in a vain attempt to undo the +intricate knots. It was Holmes who produced a knife and sawed through +the tough cord. And it was Holmes who unrolled the strips of canvas, +oil-silk, and greasy skins. But it was Ricky who took up what lay within +and held it out so that it reflected both red firelight and golden room +light. + +Her brother's sigh was one of satisfaction. + +For Ricky held aloft by its ponderous hilt a great war sword. There +could be no doubt in any of them--the Luck of Lorne had returned. + +[Illustration: _Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no +doubt in any of them--the Luck of Lorne had returned._] + +"We found it!" breathed Ricky. + +"Put it in its place," Val ordered. + +Without a word, Rupert drew out a chair and scrambled up. Taking from +Ricky's hands the ancient weapon, he slipped it into the niche their +pirate ancestor had made for it. In spite of the years underground, the +metal of hilt and blade was clear. Seven hundred years of history--their +Luck! + +"Everything will come right again," Val repeated as Ricky came back to +him. "You'll see. Everything--will--be--all--right." + +His eyes closed in spite of his efforts. He was back in the darkness +where he could only feel the warmth of Ricky's hands clasped about his. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER + + +"I like Louisiana," drawled Holmes lazily from his perch on the +window-seat. "The most improbable things happen here. One finds secret +passages under houses and medieval war swords stuck in drains. Then +there are 'things that go boomp in the night,' too. It might be worth +settling down here--" + +"Not for you," cut in Charity briskly. "Too far from the bright lights +for you, my man." + +"Just for that," he triumphed, "I shall not return this lost property +found under a cushion of the couch in the hall." + +At the sight of that familiar black note-book, Val shifted uneasily on +his pillows. Rupert got up. + +"Tired, old man?" he asked and reached to straighten one of his +brother's feather-stuffed supports. + +Val shook his head. Being bandaged like a mummy was wearying, but one +had to humor two broken ribs and a fractured collar-bone. + +"Sometimes," replied Charity, "you are just too clever, Mr. Judson +Holmes. That does not happen to be my property." + +"No?" He flipped it open and held it up so that she might see what lay +within. "I'll admit that it isn't your usual sort of stuff, but--" + +She was staring at the drawings. "No, that isn't mine. But who--" + +Ricky got up from the end of Val's cot and went to look. Then she +turned, her eyes shining with excitement. "You're trying them again! +But, Val, you said you never would." + +"Give me that book!" he ordered grimly. But Rupert had calmly collected +the trophy and was turning over the pages one by one. Val made a +horrible face at Ricky and resigned himself to the inevitable. + +"How long have you been doing this sort of thing?" his brother asked as +he turned the last page. + +"Ever so long," Ricky answered for Val brightly. "He used to draw whole +letters of them when we were at school. There were two sets, one for +good days and the other for bad." + +"And now," Val cut in, "suppose we just forget the whole matter. Will +you please let me have that!" + +"Rupert, don't let him go all modest on us now," urged the demon sister. +"One retiring violet in the family is enough." + +"And who is the violet? Your charming self?" inquired Holmes. + +"No." Ricky smiled pleasantly. "Only Mr. Creighton might be interested +in the contents of Bluebeard's Chamber. What do you think, Rupert?" + +At that audacious hint, Val remembered the night of the storm and +Ricky's strange attitude then. + +"So Rupert's the missing author," he commented lightly. "Well, well, +well." + +Charity's indulgent smile faded, and Holmes, suddenly alert, leaned +forward. Rupert stared at Val for a long moment, his face blank. Was he +going to retire behind his wall of reserve from which their venture +underground had routed him? Or was he going to remain the very human +person who had spent eight hours of every day at his brother's beck and +call for the past few weeks? + +"Regular Charlie Chan, aren't you?" he asked mildly. + +Val's sigh of relief was echoed by Ricky. "Thanks--so much," Val replied +humbly in the well-known manner of the famous detective Rupert had +likened him to. + +"Then we are right?" asked Ricky. + +Rupert's eyebrows slid upward. "You seemed too sure to be in doubt," he +commented. + +"Well, I was sure at times. But then no one can ever be really sure of +anything about you," she admitted frankly. + +"But why--" protested Charity. + +"Why didn't I spread the glad tidings that I was turning out the great +American novel?" he asked. "I don't know. Perhaps I am a violet--no?" He +looked pained at Ricky's snort of dissent. "Or perhaps I just don't like +to talk about things which may never come true. When I didn't hear from +Lever, I thought that my worst forebodings were realized and that my +scribbling was worthless. But you know," he paused to fill his pipe, +"writing is more or less like the drug habit. I've told stories all my +life, and I found myself tied to my typewriter in spite of my +disappointment. As for talking about it--well, how much has Val ever +said about these?" He ruffled the pages of the note-book provokingly. + +"Nothing. And you would never have seen those if I could have prevented +it," his brother replied. "Those are for my private satisfaction only." + +"Two geniuses in one family." Ricky rolled her eyes heavenward. "This is +almost too, too much!" + +"Jeems," Val ordered, "you're the nearest. Can't you make her shut up?" + +"Just let him try," said his sister sweetly. The swamper grinned but +made no move to stir from his chair. + +Jeems had become as much a part of Pirate's Haven as the Luck, which Val +could see from his cot glimmering dully in its niche in the Long Hall. +The swamper's confinement in the sick-room had paled his heavy tan and +he had lost the sullen frown which had made him appear so old and +bitter. Now, dressed in a pair of Val's white slacks and a shirt from +his wardrobe, Jeems was as much at ease in his surroundings as Rupert or +Holmes. + +It had been Jeems who had saved Ricky and Val on that night of terror +when they had been trapped in the secret ways of their pirate ancestors. +Sam Two had trailed Ricky to the garden and had witnessed their entering +the tunnel. But his racial fear of the dark unknown had kept him from +venturing in after them. So he had lingered there long enough to see the +invaders come out and take to the river. Catching some words of theirs +about a cave-in, he had gone pelting off to Rupert with the story. + +The investigating party from the levee had discovered, to their horror, +the passage choked for half its length. They were making a futile and +dangerous attempt to clear it when Jeems appeared on the scene. +Letty-Lou having given him a garbled account of events, he had staggered +from his bed in an effort to reach Rupert. He alone knew the underground +ways as well as he knew the garden. And so once getting Rupert's +attention, he had set them to work in the cellar cutting through to the +one passage which paralleled the foundation walls. + +In the weeks which followed their emergence from the threatened tomb, +the swamper had unobtrusively slipped into a place in the household. +While Val was frightening his family by indulging in a bout of fever to +complicate his injuries, Jeems was proving himself a tower of strength +and a person to be relied upon. Even Lucy had once asked his opinion on +the importance of a fire in the hall, and with that his position was +assured. + +Of the invaders they had heard or seen no more, although the police had +visited Pirate's Haven on two separate occasions, interviewing each and +every member of the household. They had also made a half-hearted attempt +to search the swamp. But for all the evidence they found, Ricky and Val +might have been merely indulging in an over-vivid dream. Save that the +Luck hung again in the Long Hall. + +"Seriously, though," Holmes drew Val's thoughts out of the past, "these +are worth-while. Would you mind if I showed them to a friend of mine who +might be interested?" + +Since Rupert had already nodded and Charity had handed him the +note-book, Val decided that he could hardly raise a protest. + +"Rupert," Charity glanced at him, "are you going to see Creighton?" + +"Since all has been discovered," he misquoted, "I suppose that that is +all there is left for me to do." + +"Then you had better do it today; he's planning to leave for the North +tonight," she informed him. + +Rupert came to life. For all his pose of unconcern, he was excited. In +the long days Val had been tied to the cot hurriedly set up in a corner +of the drawing-room on the night of the rescue--it had been thought +wiser to move him no farther than necessary--he had found again the real +Rupert they had known of old. There was little he could conceal from his +younger brother now--or so Val thought. + +"Sam has the roadster," Rupert said. "There's something wrong with the +brakes and I told him to take it to town and have it looked over. +Goodness only knows what time he'll be back." + +"See here, Ralestone," Holmes looked at his wrist-watch, "I've the car I +hired here with me. Let me drive you in. Charity has to go, anyway, and +see about sending off those sketches of hers." + +"Oh, but we were going together," protested Ricky. "I have some shopping +to do." + +"Very simple," Val suggested. "Why don't you all go?" + +"But that would leave you alone." Rupert shook his head. + +"No. There's Jeems." + +"I don't know," Rupert hesitated doubtfully. + +"It doesn't require more than one person to wait on me at present," Val +said firmly. "Now all of you go. But remember, I shall expect the Greeks +to return bearing gifts." + +Holmes saluted. "Right you are, my hearty. Well, ladies, the chariot +awaits without." + +In spite of their protests, Val at last got rid of them. Since he had a +project of his own, he was only too glad to see the last of his +oversolicitous family for awhile. + +Val had never been able to understand why broken ribs or a fractured +collar-bone should chain one to the bed. And since he had recovered from +his wrenched back he was eager to be up and around. In private, with the +protesting assistance of Sam Two, he had made a pilgrimage across the +room and back. And now it was his full intention to be seated on the +terrace when the family came home. + +It was Lucy of all people who aided fortune to give him his opportunity. + +"Mistuh Val," she announced from the doorway as the sound of the car +pulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party, +"dem lights is out agin." + +"Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playing +games?" he asked. + +"Dis heah no-'count!" She dragged out of hiding from behind her +voluminous skirts her second son, a chocolate-brown infant who rejoiced +in the name of Gustavus Adolphus and was generally called "Doff." At +that moment he was sobbing noisily and eyeing Val as if the boy were the +Grand High Executioner of Tartary. "Yo'all tell Mistuh Val whats yo' bin +a-doin'!" commanded his mother, emphasizing her order with a shake. + +"Ain't done nothin'," wailed Doff. "Sam, he give me de penny an' say, +'Le's hab fun.' Den Ah puts de penny in de lil' hole an' den Mammy cotch +me." + +"Doff seems to be the victim, Lucy," Val observed. "Where's Sam?" + +"Ah don' know. But I'se a-goin' to fin' out!" she stated with ominous +determination. "How's Ah a-goin' to git mah ironin' done when dere ain't +no heat fo' de iron? Ah asks yo' dat!" + +"There are some fuses in the pantry and Jeems will put one in for you," +Val promised. + +With a sniff Lucy withdrew, her fingers still hooked in the collar of +her tearful son. Jeems glanced at Val as he went by the boy's cot. And +Val didn't care for what he read into that glance. Had the swamper by +any foul chance come to suspect Val's little plan? + +But it all turned out just as he had hoped. Val made that most momentous +trip in four easy stages, resting on the big chair where Rupert had +spent so many hours, on the bench by the window, in the first of the +deck-chairs by the side of the French doors leading to the terrace, and +then he reached the haven of the last deck-chair and settled down just +where he had intended. And when Jeems returned there was nothing he +could do but accept the fact that Val had fled the cot. + +"Miss Ricky won't like this," he prophesied darkly. "Nor Mr. Rupert +neither. Yo' wouldn't've tried it if they'd been heah." + +"Oh, stop worrying. If you'd been tied to that cot the way I've been, +you'd be glad to get out here, too. It's great!" + +The sun was warm but the afternoon shadow of an oak overhung his seat so +that Val escaped the direct force of the rays. A few feet away Satan +sprawled full length, giving a fine imitation of a cat that had rid +himself of all nine lives, or at least of eight and a half. + +Never had the garden shown so rich a green. Ricky's care had sharpened +the lines of the flower-beds and had set shrubs in their proper places. +And the plants had repaid her with a riot of blossoms. A breeze set the +gray moss to swaying from the branches of the oak. And a green +grasshopper crossed the terrace in four great leaps, almost scraping +Satan's ear in a fashion which might easily have been fatal to the +insect. Val sighed and slipped down lower in his chair. "It's great," he +murmured again. + +"Sure is," Jeems echoed. He dropped down cross-legged beside Val, +disdaining the other chair. + +Satan stretched without opening his eyes and yawned, gaping to the +fullest extent of his jaws and curling his tongue upward so that it +seemed pointed like a snake's. Then he rolled over on his other side and +curled up with his paws under his chin. A bumblebee blundered by Val's +head on its way to visit the morning-glories. He suddenly discovered it +difficult to keep his eyes open. + +"Someone's comin'," observed Jeems. "Ah just heard a car turn in from +the road." + +"But the folks have been gone such a short time," Val protested. + +However, the car which came almost noiselessly down the drive was not +the one in which the family had departed. It had the shape of a sleek +gray beetle, rounded so that it was difficult to tell at first glance +the hood from the rear. It glided to a stop before the steps and after a +moment four passengers disembarked. + +Val simply stared, but Jeems got to his feet in one swift movement. + +For, coming purposefully up the terrace steps, were four men they had +seen before and had very good cause to remember for the rest of their +lives. + +In the lead strutted the rival, a tight smile rendering his unlovely +features yet more disagreeable. Behind him trotted the red-faced +counselor who had accompanied him on his first visit. But matching the +rival step for step was the "Boss," while "Red" brought up the rear in a +tidy fashion. + +"Swell place, ain't it?" demanded the rival, taking no notice of Val or +Jeems. "Make yourselves to home, boys; the place is yours." + +Val gripped the arm of his chair. Sam, Rupert, Holmes--they were all +beyond call. It was left to him to meet this unbelievable invasion +alone. There was a stir beside him. Val glanced up to meet the slightest +of reassuring nods from the swamper. Jeems was with him. + +"Whatcha gonna do with the joint, Brick?" asked Red, tossing his +cigarette down on the flagstones and grinding it to powder with his +heel. + +"I dunno yet." The rival strode importantly toward the front door. + +"You might tell us when you find out," Val suggested quietly. + +With an exaggerated start of surprise the rival turned toward the boy. + +"Oh, so it's you, kid?" + +"Perhaps," Val said softly, "you had better introduce your friends. +After all, I like to know the names of my guests." + +The Boss smiled sardonically and Red grinned. Only the red-faced lawyer +shuffled his feet uneasily and looked from one to another of his +companions with an expression of pleading. But the rival came directly +to the point. + +"Where's that high and mighty brother of yours?" he demanded. + +"Mr. Ralestone will doubtless be very glad to see you," Val evaded, +having no desire for the visitors to discover just how slender his +resources were. "Jeems, you might go and tell him that we have visitors. +Go through the Long Hall, it's nearer that way." He dug the fingernails +of his sound hand into the soft wood of the chair arm. Could Jeems +interpret that hint? Someone must remove and hide the Luck before these +men saw it. + +"Right." The swamper turned on his heel and padded toward the French +windows. + +"No, you don't!" the rival snarled as he moved into line between Jeems +and his objective. "When we want that guy, we'll hunt him out ourselves. +When we're good and ready!" + +"If you don't wish to see my brother, just why did you come?" Val asked +feverishly. He must keep them talking there until he had time to think +of some way of getting that slender blade of steel into hiding. + +"We're movin' in," Red answered casually for them all. + +"How interesting. I think that the police will enjoy hearing that," Val +commented. + +"It's perfectly legal," bleated the lawyer. "We possess a court order to +view the place with the purpose of appraising it for sale." He drew a +stiff paper from the inside pocket of his coat and waved it toward the +boy. + +"Bunk! I don't know much about the law but I do know that you could have +obtained nothing of the kind without our being notified. And just which +one of you has been selected to do the appraising?" + +"Him," answered Red laconically and jerked his thumb at the Boss. + +"So," Jeems stared at him, "since yo' couldn't git what yo' want by +thievin' at night, yo're goin' to try and git it by day." + +"But what are you really after? I'm curious to know. You certainly don't +want a sugar plantation which hasn't been paying its way since the Civil +War. That just isn't reasonable. And you ought to know that we can't +afford to buy you off. We must be living over a gold-mine that we +haven't discovered. Come on, tell us where it is," Val prodded. + +"Cut the cackle," advised Red, "an' le's git down to it." + +"I would advise you to get back in your car and drive out." Val wondered +if his face looked as stiff as it felt. "This visit isn't going to get +you anywhere." + +"We ain't goin' any place, kid," remarked the rival. "You don't seem to +understand. We're stayin' right here. I got rights and the judge has +recognized them. I'm top guy here now." + +"Yeah. Yuh ain't so smart as yuh think yuh are," contributed Red, +scowling at Val. "We ain't gonna leave." + +It wasn't Red's speech, however, that straightened the boy's back and +made Jeems shift his position an inch or two. There was another car +coming up the drive. And since their enemies were all gathered before +them, they could only be receiving friends, or at the worst neutrals. + +But the car which came from between the live-oaks to park behind the +first contained only two passengers. LeFleur and Creighton got out, +stopped in surprise to view the party on the terrace, and then came up, +shoving by Red. + +"Quite a party," Val observed. "But how did you manage to arrive so +opportunely?" + +"We have made a discovery," panted the Creole lawyer; "a very important +discovery. What are these men doing here?" + +"We got a court order to view this house for sale." The rival was +truculent. "An' it's all legal. The mouthpiece says so," he indicated +his counselor. + +"Perhaps," Creighton's cool tones cut through, "you had better introduce +us." There was a decided change in his manner. Gone was his shy +nervousness, his slightly hesitant reserve. It was a keen business man +who stood there now. + +Val grinned. "You see before you the family skeleton. May I introduce +Mr. Ralestone, who firmly believes that he is the Ralestone of Pirate's +Haven? And three other--shall we say gentlemen--whom I myself have never +met formally. Though I did have the pleasure, I believe," he addressed +the Boss directly, "of blackening your eye." + +"Yeah, I'm Ralestone, and I'm gonna have my rights," stated the rival +briskly. + +"You are a descendant of Roderick Ralestone?" asked LeFleur. + +"Yuh know I am. I got proofs!" + +"The man is a liar," Creighton said calmly. + +As they stared at him, LeFleur nodded. Val saw an ugly grin begin to +curve Red's thick lips. + +"Yeah? An how do yuh know that, wise guy?" he asked. + +"Because there is only one Roderick Ralestone in this generation and he +is standing right there. Permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean +Ralestone!" + +The person he turned to was Jeems! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE + + +Val ventured to break the sudden silence which resulted from Creighton's +astonishing statement. + +"But how--why--" + +"Yeah," the rival had collected a measure of his scattered wits, "whatta +yuh mean, wise guy?" + +"Just this--" LeFleur drew himself up and faced the invaders sternly--"I +have only this very morning deposited with the probate court certain +documents making very plain the identity of this young man. Without the +shadow of a doubt he is the only living descendant of Roderick Ralestone +and his wife, Valerie St. Jean de Roche. I have also sworn out a +complaint--" + +Then the Boss took a hand in the game. "The boy's a minor," he observed. + +"Through me," LeFleur returned, "Mr. Rupert Ralestone as nearest of kin +has applied for guardianship and there will be no difficulty in the +settlement of that matter." + +"Yeah!" The rival threw his gloves on the terrace and glared not at +LeFleur but at his own backing. Having stared at the lawyer of his party +until that unfortunate man lost all assurance, he attacked the Boss. +"So, wise guy, what now? We ain't got such a snap as yuh said we were +gonna have. We were gonna move right in and take over the joint, were +we? We didn't have anything to worry about. For once we was playin' with +the law. Yeah, we were. We are nothin' but a gang of mugs. Whatta we +gonna do now, huh? You oughta know. Ain't yuh been doin' our thinkin' +for us all along? We can't grab the land and run. We gotta camp right +here if we're gonna git anything. And how are we gonna--" + +"Simpson!" the Boss's voice was sharp. "Be quiet! You are becoming +wearisome. Gentlemen," he bowed slightly toward LeFleur and Creighton, +"one cannot fight bad luck, and this time Fate smiles upon you. It was a +good idea if it had worked," he added musingly. "Young Ralestone seems +to have gathered all the aces into his hand. Even," the drawl became a +sneer, "even the guardianship of the missing heir, which will mean a +nice sum in the bank for the happy guardian, if all reports are true." + +"What _did_ you want here?" Val asked for the last time. + +The Boss smiled. "I shall leave that mystery for you to unravel, my +wounded hero. It should occupy an idle moment or two. Doubtless all will +be made clear in the fullness of time. As for you," he turned upon +LeFleur, "there is no use in your entertaining any foolish idea of +calling the police. For our invasion today we have a court order; +unhappily it is no longer of use. But we did come here in good faith, as +we are prepared to prove. And all other evidence of any lawbreaking upon +our part rests, I believe, upon the word of two boys, evidence which +might be twisted by a clever lawyer. You may prosecute Simpson for +perjury, of course. But I think that Simpson will not be in this part of +the country long. Yes," he looked about him once more at garden and +house, "it was a very good idea. A pity it did not work. Well, I must be +going before I begin to curse my luck. When a man does that, he +sometimes loses it. You must have found yours, I think." + +"We did," Val answered, but the Boss did not hear him, for he had turned +on his heel and was striding down the terrace. For a moment his +followers hesitated uncertainly and then they were after him. Back into +their sinister beetle-car went the invaders and then they were gone down +the drive, leaving the Ralestones in possession of the victorious field. + +"Now," Val said plaintively, "will somebody please tell me just what +this is all about? Who is Jeems, really?" + +"Just who I said," answered Creighton promptly. "Roderick St. Jean +Ralestone, the only descendant of your pirate ancestor." + +"Bettah tell us the story," suggested the swamper quietly. "Yo' ain't +foolin', are yo', Mistuh Creighton?" + +The New Yorker shook his head. "No, I'm not fooling. But you are not the +first one to question my story." He smiled reminiscently. "Judge Henry +Lane had to see every line of written proof this morning before he would +admit that the tale might be true." + +"But where did you find this 'proof'?" Val demanded as Jeems pulled up +chairs for the lawyer and Creighton. + +"In that chest of Jeems' which you brought out of the swamp on the night +of the storm," he replied promptly. "And, young man," he said to Jeems +indignantly, "if you had let me see those papers of yours a month ago, +instead of waiting until last week, we would have had this matter +cleared up then--" + +"But then we might never have found the Luck!" Val protested. + +"Humph, that piece of steel is historically interesting, no doubt," +conceded Creighton, "but hardly worth risking your life for." + +"No? Well, you heard what that man said just now--that we had found our +luck. It's so; we have had good luck since. But I'm sorry; do get on +with the story of Jeems' box." + +"Ah gave it to him Monday," said the swamper slowly. "But, Mistuh +Creighton, there weren't nothin' in that chest but some books full of +handwritin'--most in some funny foreign stuff--an' a French +prayer-book." + +"Plenty to establish your right to the name and a quarter interest in +the estate," snapped LeFleur. Val thought the lawyer rather resented the +fact that it was Creighton and not he who had found the way out of their +difficulties. + +"Two of those books were ships' logs, kept in the fashion of diaries, +partly in Latin," explained the New Yorker. "The log of the ship +_Annette Marie_ for the years 1814 and 1815 gave us what we wanted. The +master was Captain Roderick Ralestone, although he concealed his name in +a sort of an anagram. After his quarrel with his brother he apparently +went to Lafitte and purchased the ship which he had once commanded for +the smuggler. Then he sailed off into the Gulf to become a free-trader, +with his headquarters first in Georgetown, British Guiana, then in Dutch +Curacao, and finally at Port-au-Prince, Haiti. It was there that he met +and fell in love with Valerie St. Jean de Roche, the only living child +and heir of the Comte de Roche, who had survived the Terror of the +French Revolution only to fall victim to the rebel slaves on his Haitian +estates. + +"Horribly injured, the Comte de Roche had been saved from death by the +devotion of his daughter and her nurse, a free woman of color. These two +women not only saved his life, but managed to keep him and themselves +alive through the dark years which followed the horrors of the black +uprising and the overthrow of the French rule. The courage of that lady +of France must have been very great. But she was near to the end of her +strength when she met Roderick Ralestone. + +"Against the direct orders of the black despots in the land, young +Ralestone got de Roche and his daughter away on his ship. Her maid chose +to remain among her people. Ralestone hints that she was a sort of +priestess of Voodoo and that it had been her dark powers which had +protected the lives of those she loved. + +"Ralestone took the refugees to Curacao, but de Roche did not survive. +He lived only long enough to see his daughter married to her rescuer and +to persuade his son-in-law to legally adopt the name of St. Jean de +Roche, that an old and honored family might not be forgotten. The +Comte's only son had been killed by the blacks. + +"So it was as Roderick St. Jean--he dropped the 'de Roche' in time--that +he returned here in 1830. His wife was dead, worn out while yet in her +youth by the horrors of her girlhood. But Roderick brought with him a +ten-year-old boy who had the right to both the name of Ralestone and +that of de Roche. + +"Roderick himself was greatly changed. Years of free-trading, both in +the Gulf and in the South Seas, had made him wholly sailor. A cutlass +cut disfigured his face and altered the line of his mouth. Anyone who +had known Roderick Ralestone would have little interest in Captain St. +Jean, the merchant adventurer. He discusses this point at some length in +his log, always concealing his real name. + +"For the space of a year or two he was content to live quietly. He even +opened a small shop and dealt in luxuries from the south. Then the +desire to wander, which must have been the key-note of his life, drove +him out into the world again. He placed his son in the care of a certain +priest, whom he trusted, and went south to become one of the visionary +revolutionists who were fighting their way back and across South and +Central America. In one bloody engagement he fell, as his son notes in +the old logs which he was now using to record his own daily +experiences." + +"Ricky said," Val mused, "that Roderick Ralestone never died in his bed. +What became of the son?" + +"Father Justinian wanted him to enter the Church, but in spite of his +strict training he had no vocation. The money his father had left with +the priest was enough to establish him in a small coastwise trading +venture, and later he developed a flatboat freight service running +upriver to Nashville." + +"But didn't he ever try to get in touch with the Ralestones?" Val asked. + +"No. When Roderick Ralestone sailed from New Orleans he seems to have +determined to cut himself off from the past entirely. As I said, he used +an anagram to hide his name all the way through the log, and doubtless +his son never knew that there was anything strange about his father's +past. Laurent St. Jean, the son, prospered. Just before the outbreak of +the Civil War he was reckoned one of the ten wealthiest men of his +native city. + +"But that wealth vanished in the war when shipping no longer went forth +from the port. I did come across one interesting fact in Laurent's notes +covering those years. In 1861 Laurent St. Jean built a blockade-runner +called the _Red Bird_. His backer in the venture was a Mr. Ralestone of +Pirate's Haven. So once Ralestone did meet Ralestone without being aware +of the fact. + +"Laurent St. Jean was imprisoned by 'Beast' Butler, along with other +prominent men of the city, when the Yankees captured New Orleans. And he +died in 1867 from a lingering illness contracted during his +imprisonment. His son, Rene St. Jean, came home from war to find himself +ruined. His father's shipping business existed on paper only. Having the +grit and determination of his grandfather, he struggled along for almost +ten years trying to get back on his feet. But those were dark years for +the whole country. + +"In 1876 St. Jean gave up the struggle. With his Creole wife and their +two sons he moved into the swamps. Working first as a guide and trapper +and then as a hunter of birds, he managed to make a sparse living. His +eldest son followed in his footsteps, but the younger took to the sea. +Roderick St. Jean, the eldest son, died of yellow fever in 1890. He left +one son to the guardianship of his brother who had come home from the +sea. That son came to look upon his uncle as his father and the real +relationship between them was half forgotten. + +"But Rene St. Jean the second was curious. He knew something of the +world and he was interested in the past. It was his custom to do a great +amount of reading, especially reading which concerned the history of his +own state and city. And once he was inclined to get out the old sea +chest which had been moved with the family for so many years. Then he +must have discovered his relationship to the Ralestones; perhaps he +solved the anagram or found the pasted pages in the prayer-book-- + +"He was not ambitious for himself, but he wanted a better chance for his +foster-son and nephew than the one he had had. So he endeavored to prove +his claim to this property. Unfortunately, the lawyer he trusted was a +shyster of the worst sort. He himself had no belief in his client's +story and merely bled him for small sums each month without ever really +looking into the matter." + +"Gran'pappy said he was tryin' to git his rights," broke in Jeems. "He +nevah tol' mah pappy what he knowed. An' he wouldn't let anyone see into +that chest--he kep' it undah his bed. Then aftah Pappy died of the +fever--'long with mah mothah--Gran'pappy cotched it too. An' the doctah +said that was what made him so fo'getful aftahwards. He stopped goin' in +town; but he came heah--'huntin' his rights,' he said. An' he tol' me +that our fortune was hidden heah. 'Course," Jeems looked at them +apologetically, "it soun's sorta silly, but when Gran'pappy tol' yo' +things yo' kinda believed 'em. So aftah he died Ah usta come huntin' +heah too. An' then when Ah opened the chest and foun' these--" From his +breast pocket he drew a wash-leather bag and opened it. + +He held out to Val a chain of gold mesh ending in a carnelian carved +into a seal. "This is youah crest," he pointed to the seal. "Ah took it +in town an' a man at the museum tol' me about it. An' this heah is +Ralestone, too," he indicated a small miniature painted on a slip of +yellowed ivory. Val was looking at the face of the Ralestone rebel, as +near like the water-color copy Charity had made of the museum portrait +as one pea is to its pod-mate. Creighton took up the small painting. + +"Hm-m," he looked from the ivory to Jeems and then to Val, "this is the +final proof. Either one of you might have sat for this. You have the +same coloring and features. If it were not for a slight difference of +expression you might pass for twins. At any rate, there is no denying +that you are both Ralestones." + +"I don't think that we'll ever attempt to deny it," Val laughed. "But +you were right, Jeems--I mean Roderick," he said to his newly discovered +cousin, "you do have as much right here as we do." + +Jeems colored. "Ah'm sorry for sayin' that," he confessed. "Ah thought +yo' were right smart and too good for us. An' Ah'm sorry Ah played +ha'nt. But Ah didn't expec' yo' would evah see me, only the niggahs, an' +I didn't care 'bout them. Ah always came when yo' were 'way or in bed." + +"Well, you've explained your interest in the place," Val assented, "but +what about the rival? Why did he appear?" + +"It started in a blackmail plot. Your family have been wealthy, you +know," explained LeFleur. "But then the scheme became more serious when +the oil prospectors aroused interest in the swamp. Already several men +whose property bounds yours have been approached by the Central American +Oil Company with an offer for their land. It would not at all surprise +me if you were asked to dispose of your swamp wasteland for a good +price. And the rumor of oil is what made the rival, as you call him, try +to press his false claim instead of merely holding it over you as a +threat." + +"The Luck is certainly doing its stuff," Val observed. "Here's the lost +heir found, oil-wells bubbling at our back door--" + +"I would hardly say that, Mr. Valerius," remonstrated LeFleur. + +"They may bubble yet," the boy assured him airily. "I wouldn't put it +beyond the power of that length of Damascus steel to make wells bubble. +Oil-wells bubbling," Val continued from the point where the lawyer had +interrupted him, "Rupert turning out to be the missing author--" + +"What was that?" demanded Creighton sharply. He was on the point of +handing a small book to Jeems. + +"We just discovered that Rupert is your missing author," Val explained. +"Didn't you guess when you heard the story of the missing Ralestone? The +family went into town to tell you all about it; that's why we were alone +when the invaders arrived." + +"Mr. Ralestone my missing author! No, I didn't guess. I was too +interested in the story--but I should have! How stupid!" He looked down +at the book he still held and then put it into the swamper's hand. +"Between the pages of the prayer-book, covering the offices for St. +Louis' Day, you'll find the birth certificate for Laurent St. Jean with +his right name," he said. "That's a very important paper to keep, young +man. Mr. Ralestone my author." He wiped his forehead with the +handkerchief from his breast-pocket. "How stupid of me not to have seen +at once. But why--" + +"He had some idea that his stuff was no good when he didn't hear from +that agent," Val explained, "so he just tried to forget the whole +matter." + +"But I have to see him, I have to see him at once." The New Yorker +looked about him as if by will-power alone he could summon Rupert to +stand before him on the terrace. + +"Stay to supper and you will," Val invited. "Ricky and I discovered him +for you just as we promised we would. But then you've given us Rod in +return. I am not," Val told his cousin, "going to call you Rick even +though there is a tradition for it. There are too many 'Ricks' +complicating the family history now. I think you had better be 'Rod'." + +"Anythin' yo' say," he grinned. + +For the third time that afternoon Val heard a car coming up the drive. + +"If this should turn out to be the Grand Chan of Tartary or the Lama of +Peru I shall not be one iota surprised," he announced. "After what I've +been through this afternoon, nothing, absolutely nothing, would surprise +me. Oh, it's only the family." + +With the impatience of one who has a good earth-shaking shock ready to +administer, he watched his wandering relatives disembark. Charity and +Holmes were still with them and a sort of aura of disappointment hung +over the group. Then Ricky looked up and with a cry of joy came up the +terrace steps in what seemed like a single leap. + +"Oh, Mr. Creighton," she began when Val lifted his hand. "Let me tell +it," he begged, "I've been waiting for a chance like this for years." +Ricky was obediently silent, thinking that he wished to break the +mystery of the author. But Jeems and LeFleur understood that it was to +them Val appealed. + +"Val, what are you doing out of bed?" was Rupert's first question. + +"Saving the old homestead while you went joy-riding. We had visitors +this afternoon." + +"Visitors? Who?" he began when his brother silenced him with a frown. + +"Oh, let's not go into that now," Val said hurriedly. "There is +something more important to be discussed. Since you left this afternoon +we have had an addition to the family." + +"An addition to the family," puzzled Ricky. "What do you mean?" + +"Rick Ralestone has come back," Val announced. + +"Val, hadn't you better go back to bed?" suggested his sister. + +"Not now," he grinned at her. "I haven't lost my mind yet, nor am I +raving. Ladies and gentlemen," Val prepared to echo Creighton's speech +of an hour before, "permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean de Roche +Ralestone, the missing heir!" + +With an impish grin Val had never seen on his face before, Jeems clicked +his heels in a creditable imitation of a court bow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS + + +"Such a nice domestic scene," Val observed. + +Ricky looked up from the bowl into which she was shelling peas. "Now +just what do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously. + +"Nothing, nothing at all. It's getting so I can't say a word around here +without you suspecting some sort of a catch in it," her brother +complained. He shifted the drawing-board Rod had fixed up for him an +inch or two. Although Val's arm was at last out of the sling, he was not +supposed to use it unless absolutely necessary. + +"Well, after that afternoon when you made the missing heir appear like a +rabbit out of a hat--" began his sister. + +"Rod," Val called down to where their cousin was busied over the +stretching of the new badminton net, "did you hear that? She referred to +you as a rabbit--deliberately." + +"Hm-m," Rod answered in absent-minded fashion. "That cat of Miss +Charity's just walked away with one of those feathered things yo' bat +'round." + +"Let us hope that he returns it in time," Val said; "otherwise I can +prophesy that you are going to spend the rest of the morning crawling +around under hedges and things hunting for him and it. Ricky will not be +balked. If she says that we are going to play badminton--well, we are +going to play badminton." + +"I think that you might help too." Ricky attacked a fresh pod viciously +as their cousin came up on the terrace. He stopped for a moment by +Ricky's chair, long enough to gather the pods together on the paper she +had put down for them, piling them up in a more orderly fashion than she +was capable of. + +"Doing what?" Val inquired. "You know that Lucy has chased everyone out +of the house. And now that Rod has finished setting out the lawn sports, +what is there left to do? By the way, did Sam mend that croquet mallet, +the one with the loose head?" + +"The one that you broke hitting the stone with when you aimed at your +ball yesterday?" she asked sweetly. "Yes, I saw to that this morning." + +"Then what more is there to worry about? Let the party begin." Val +reached for his box of pencils. + +That afternoon promptly at three-thirty the Ralestones of Pirate's Haven +were going to give their first party. They had lived, eaten, and slept +with the idea of a party for the past week until Rupert rebelled and +disappeared for the morning, taking Charity with him. He declared before +he left that the house was no longer habitable for anyone above the +mental level of a party-mad monomaniac, a statement with which Val +privately agreed. But Ricky did trap him before he got the roadster out +and made him promise to bring home two pounds of salted nuts and some +more ice, because she simply knew that they wouldn't have enough. + +Ricky dropped the last of the peas into the bowl and leaned back in her +canvas deck-chair. "I'm going to wear green," she murmured dreamily, +"with that leaf thing in my hair. And Charity's going to wear her rose, +the one that swishes when she walks." + +"I think I'll appear in saffron," Val announced firmly. "Somehow I feel +like saffron. How about you, Rod?" + +The thin, efficient, brown-faced person who was Roderick St. Jean de +Roche Ralestone, to grant him his full name, stretched lazily and +transferred a fistful of Ricky's peas to his mouth, a mouth which was no +longer sullen. At Val's question he raised his shoulders in one of his +French shrugs and considered. + +"Yellow, with lilies behind mah ears," he grinned at Ricky. "Bettah give +them somethin' to stare at; they'll all be powerful interested, anyway." + +"Yes, the lost viscount," Val agreed. "Of course, you're really only a +Lord like me, but it sounds better to say 'the lost viscount.' You'll +share the limelight with Rupert and the Luck, so you'd better take that +pair of my flannels which haven't turned quite yellow yet." + +Rod shook his head. "This time Ah have mah own. Ah went in town shoppin' +yesterday. It's mah turn to share clothes. Youah brothah told me to get +yo' some shirts. So Ah did. Lucy put them in the top drawer." + +"Don't tell me," Val begged, aroused by this news, "that we are actually +able to afford some new clothes again?" + +Rod nodded and Ricky sat up. "Don't be silly," she said, "we're +comfortably well off. With Rupert writing books, and a lot of oil or +something in the swamp, why, what have we got to worry about? And next +fall Rod's going to college and I'm taking that course in dress +designing and Rupert's going to write another book and--and--" Her +inventive powers failed as Holmes came out on the terrace. + +"Hello there." Val glanced at his watch. "I don't want to seem +inhospitable, but you're about four hours too early. We haven't even +crawled into our party duds." + +"So I see. But this isn't a social call. By the way, where's Charity?" + +"Oh, she went off with Rupert this morning," answered Ricky. "And I +think it was mean of them, running out on us that way, when there was so +much to do." + +It seemed to Val that there was a faint shadow of irritation across the +open good nature of Holmes' smile when he heard her answer. "That damsel +is becoming very elusive nowadays," he observed as he sat down. "But now +for business." + +"More business? Not another oil-well!" Ricky expressed her surprise +vividly with upflung hands. + +"Not an oil-well, no. Just this--" He pulled Val's black note-book from +his pocket. "Now I am not going to tell you that I have shown them to a +publisher and that he wants fifty thousand or so at five dollars apiece. +But I did show them to that friend I spoke of. He isn't very well known +at present but he will be some day. His name is Fenly Moss and he is +interested in animated cartoons. He has some ideas that sound rather big +to me. + +"Fen says that these animal drawings of yours show promise and he wants +to know whether you ever thought of trying something along his line?" + +Val shook his head, impatient to hear the rest. + +"Well, he's in town right now on his vacation and he's coming out to see +you tomorrow. I advise you, Ralestone, that if Fen makes you the +proposition I think he's going to, to grab it. It'll mean hard work for +you and plenty of it, but there is a future to it." + +"I don't know how to thank you," the boy began when Holmes frowned at +him half-seriously. "None of that. I was really doing Fen a favor, but +you needn't tell him that. Do you know how long Charity and your brother +are going to be gone?" + +"No. But they'll be back for lunch," Ricky said. "If they remember +lunch--they're getting so vague lately. Val went out to call them to +dinner last night and it took him a good five minutes to get them out of +the garden." + +"Five? Nearer ten," scoffed her brother. + +Holmes got up abruptly. "Well, I'll be drifting. When is this binge of +yours?" + +"Three-thirty, which really means four," answered Ricky. "Aren't you +going to stay to lunch?" + +The New Yorker shook his head. "Sorry, I've another engagement. Thanks +just the same." + +"Thank _you_!" Val waved the note-book as he vanished. "Wonder why he +hurried off that way?" + +"Mad to think that Miss Charity was gone," answered Rod shrewdly. "Yo've +had that board long enough." He calmly possessed himself of Val's +drawing equipment. "Time to rest." + +"Yes, grandfather," his cousin assented meekly. + +Ricky slapped at a fly. "It seems to get hotter and hotter," she said. +From the breast pocket of her sport dress she produced a handkerchief +and mopped her face. Then she looked at the handkerchief in surprise. + +"What's the matter? Some face come off along with the paint?" asked Val. + +"No. But I just remembered what this is--our clue!" + +"You mean the handkerchief we found in the hall? I wonder who--" + +Rod reached up and took it out of her hand. + +"Mine. Miss Charity gave me a dozen last Christmas." + +"Then you left it there," Ricky laughed. "Well, that solves the last of +our mysteries." + +"All present or accounted for," Val agreed as around the house came +Rupert and their tenant. + +"So there you are," began Ricky. "And I'd like to know what you've been +doing all morning--" + +"Would you really?" asked Rupert. + +Ricky stared at him for a long moment and then she arose before +transferring her gaze to Charity. It might have been sunburn or the heat +Ricky had complained of which colored the cheeks of the Boston Biglow. + +"Rod! Val!" cried Ricky. "Where are your manners?" As she sank forward +in a deep and graceful curtsy she added, "Can't you see that Rupert has +brought home his Marchioness?" + +"Now that," said Val, as he held out his hand to the new mistress of +Pirate's Haven, "is what I call 'Ralestone Luck.'" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ralestone Luck, by Andre Norton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RALESTONE LUCK *** + +***** This file should be named 18817.txt or 18817.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/8/1/18817/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Jason Isbell, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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