The Lake Mystery. Marvin Dana

dwelling to be seen anywhere, as far as eye could reach. The seeker had no doubt that now, at last, he had his first sight of Abernethey’s cottage—that spot in which his cunning must meet—and master—the cunning of a dead man, who had made grim jest with the gold he loved.

CHAPTER V

       THE SEARCH BEGINS

       Table of Contents

      AN UNWONTED activity prevailed in the miser’s cottage. The presence of Saxe Temple and his companions brought into the isolated dwelling a varied and bustling atmosphere, which, at times, came near confusion. The one member of the party who permitted naught to disturb his tranquillity was Billy Walker, and that because of a chronic aversion to every form of physical exertion. He contented himself with holding a sort of informal court on the porch, sitting at ease with his massive frame sprawled in a commodious wicker chair. Mrs. West remained with him much of the time, while Margaret by turns joined them, or moved about here and there as an interested observer of the other three men, who were already busily searching the house.

      On occasion, Margaret and May Thurston wandered away together in long strolls by the lake shore, or over the hills through the forest. By the circumstances of such companionship, a considerable degree of intimacy was soon established between the two girls, which was inexpressibly comforting to the secretary. She would have delighted to tell this new friend of the engagement that existed between herself and the engineer, but she had passed her word not to do so, and it never occurred to her as possible that she should break it. At times, Masters joined the girls in their rambles, but that avaricious gentleman, though eager to press his suit with Margaret could not often bear to absent himself from the scene of operations that had to do with the treasure. So, for the most part, he either joined the group on the porch, or gave himself over to loitering hidden in the woods, at a point a few hundred yards to the south, where a thick screen of undergrowth effectually offered a barrier against observation from the cottage. By such espionage, he was sure to be instantly advised concerning any discovery of a clue, as it would create excitement among those on the piazza. He would have preferred to remain constantly among the searchers, but this was patently impossible. Masters was by no means lacking in shrewdness, however great his shortcomings in the way of respect for meum et tuum, and he was both sensitive and sensible enough to know that his company was not especially agreeable to Temple and his friends in their exploration of the house.

      It was, in truth, rather curious to note the various opinions held in reference to the engineer by the four men engaged in seeking Abernethey’s treasure. Masters had been introduced to them by May on the morning after their arrival at the cottage, and had shown himself as friendly as possible. But, in accordance with the usual effect he had on men, the impression created by him on each of the four was distinctly unpleasant. Saxe Temple felt an intuitive dislike, which he was at no pains to explain. Billy Walker regarded the engineer with a mingling of amusement and disdain, ill concealed, and he did not scruple afterward to describe the visitor as a peculiarly obnoxious romantic pirate, with a flamboyant veneer of the Quartier Latin. But he refused to take the fellow with much seriousness. In this respect, he differed from Roy Morton, who made it a rule to be uniformly suspicious of all things and all persons, and lived up to this rule with finical fidelity. He immediately characterized the engineer as a completely base and designing person, one of whom all decent and honest men might well beware. He proved his contentions quite to his own satisfaction by physiognomy, by phrenology, by chiromancy, by the sixth sense and by the fourth dimension. David Thwing, who was ordinarily a kindly soul, made some small effort to combat the severity of Roy’s strictures, but the philanthropic attempt failed dismally of appreciation—which result troubled David not at all, since his heart was not in the task.

      Ensued a week of feverish activity on the part of Saxe and his friends, in which Billy Walker was as busy as any, although his toil was exclusively mental, while his body remained in its customary lethargic condition. By day and by night, he devoted himself to examination of the problem that confronted his friend, and by day and by night the other three carried out his every suggestion. Unfortunately, however, for Saxe’s hopes of inheritance, their first hurried search of the cottage resulted in naught save weariness and dismay. Of anything in the nature of a clue, they found no least trace.

      Billy Walker delivered the final decree in a council held by the four, after dinner on the seventh day. It had so chanced that the friends were alone together in the chief room of the cottage, which was the music-room.

      “I’ve addled my wits in vain,” Billy Walker confessed, dolefully. “Until there shall have been an accumulation of new intellectual energy on my part, I shall be able to offer you no theory as to the actual hiding-place so ingeniously selected by the late lamented Mr. Abernethey—to whose ashes, peace! While I am thus recuperating, however, you, my children, shall not be idle—oh, by no manner of means. On the contrary, you shall be very busy, indeed, after the method prescribed by inexorable logic.”

      “I’m beginning to think that a little luck just now would help more than a lot of logic,” Saxe declared, gloomily.

      “Listen to the oracle, anyhow,” David Thwing urged, in his always kindly voice. “You see,” he went on whimsically, “Billy is a specialist in thinking: he doesn’t do anything except think. So, we must respect his thinking. Otherwise, we could not respect our friend at all.” David’s big, protruding eyes, magnified by the heavy lenses of his eyeglasses, beamed benignantly on his three companions.

      The one thus dubiously lauded grunted disdainfully.

      “Panegyrics apart,” he resumed, in his roughly rumbling tones, “there appears at this time but one course of procedure. To wit: Tomorrow morning, you must start on an exhaustive search of the whole house. Hitherto, you have made only a superficial examination. This has failed miserably. Now, the scrutiny must be made microscopic.”

      There could be no gainsaying the utterance. As the speaker had declared, it was the command of the inevitable logic presented by the situation. The hearers gave grumbling assent to the wisdom of the suggestion—with the exception of Roy Morton, who, curled lazily in the depths of the morris chair, was staring vacantly at the elaborate carving of the wainscoting, and smoking an especially fat Egyptian cigarette. Now, he suddenly sat upright, and his gaze was turned on his companions, who had looked up at his abrupt movement. Roy’s eyes were hard; his chin was thrust forward, in the fashion characteristic of him when the spirit of combat flared high, which, to tell the truth, was rather often. He spoke with apparent seriousness, but Thwing, who had been through some adventures of a violent sort in his company, noted that a significant excess of amiability in his tones, which was always to be heard on critical occasions, was now wanting.

      “There’s only one simple and sure way to success,” Roy declared authoritatively. “We must burgle.”

      There were ejaculations of astonishment from his curious hearers.

      “It’s this way,” he explained blandly, fixing his steel-blue eyes grimly on the wondering Billy Walker. “We must rifle the lawyer’s safe. Of course, the lawyer whom Abernethey employed has exact instructions as to how to come on the treasure. All we have to do, then, is to break into his office, carrying an oxy-acetylene blow-pipe, cut open the safe, find the secret instructions, copy them off, and afterward duly retrieve the gold at our leisure; besides,” he concluded, with great complacency, “I know a first-class safe-blower, to help us on the job. I did him a favor once. He’ll be glad to do me a kindness, in turn.”

      A chorus of protests came from Saxe and Billy, to which, at last, with much apparent reluctance, Roy yielded, and definitely, though sulkily, withdrew his ingenious predatory plan. But David, the while, chuckled contentedly, for he was apt at a jest—and, too, he had known Roy more closely than had the other two.

      Since the working schedule had been thus happily determined on the side of law and order, the friends gave themselves over to an interval of social relaxation for the remainder of the evening, during which period, at the suggestion of David, the subject of the treasure was taboo. Roy, who was fond of music, and had himself once possessed