The Phantom Treasure

CHAPTER XIX  RECOVERED TREASURE CHAPTER XIX RECOVERED TREASURE Jan’s secret must be shared with his chum, but both he and Nell promised to keep it to themselves. For several days there were frequent reunions either at the Van Meter farm or that of the Clydes. The summer promised to be a happy one. Uncle Pieter said that he would have a new lock put on the attic door, but so far he had been too busy to attend to it. Vittoria had handed back the key which she had had from her mistress, the second Mrs. Van Meter. She had handed her savings to Mr. Van Meter, who took them to a bank for her. Paulina, Jannet knew, from various remarks by that worthy lady, still kept her savings at home, but no one knew just where, which was just as well. Then no one felt any responsibility. So Cousin Diana said. But it would be a shame if anything happened to that for which Paulina had worked so long, and Jannet meant to speak to her uncle about it,—some day. The ghost had been discovered, but what had become of the pearls was still a mystery to Jannet. She felt that she knew Hepsy and Vittoria, Daphne, too, and others about the place who seldom came to the house, but of no one could she suspect the theft. Her lovely pearls! She wondered that Uncle Pieter did not do something; but Uncle Pieter was very busy. Once when she was coming back from a ride, Uncle Pieter, also on his horse, rode up to her and asked, “Any sign of the pearls?” “No sir,” she replied. “I will come to your room some day,” said he, “and you shall show me where you found them.” That was all, and Jannet would have been impatient had she had any time to become so, but there were too many pleasant plans afoot. She loved the place now and even without a horse to ride would have been perfectly content. Early apples were ripe in the orchard and the young lambs on the hills were the prettiest things Jannet had ever seen, she thought. May was hurrying by very fast, and Jannet was several pounds heavier, especially since she had joined Jan in his more or less frequent visits to the kitchen. Jan pointed to fat Daphne in warning, but Uncle Pieter pinched her cheek lightly once in a while and remarked that a farm was better than a school for growing lasses. The opening from the tool house to the ladder in the secret way had been made into a stout door, secured on the inside by a bolt; but as burglars were almost unknown in these parts, Jannet began to feel about it as the rest of them did and never bothered to bolt her door at night. She turned her key and looked to see that the panel was closed tightly and that was all. Bottle and wires had been taken from the attic and no sounds other than those made by an occasional squirrel disturbed the night. One evening Jannet wrote somewhat later than she had intended, for she was telling Miss Hilliard all about the mystery and the excitement. Could it be, Jannet thought, so short a time since she left the school and came to Uncle Pieter’s? But so much had happened! And she had made herself such a part of the family, in these last days especially. Jannet felt very happy and told Miss Hilliard so, though she took care to say that not even her own family could ever take Miss Hilliard’s place in her heart. “Perhaps I’ll even find my pearls,” she thought, as she slipped between her sheets and drew only a light blanket over her. She fell asleep thinking of school affairs, for Lina had just written that school closed a little later than usual and would not be over till the second week in June. Uncle Pieter had said that she might have Lina to visit her and she “would write to L”—, and her purpose drifted off into a dream. But a more gentle ghost was drifting toward Jannet, one as ignorant of Jannet as Jannet was of the ghost. It was about the hour for ghosts, midnight, when an automobile turned into the drive from the main road and rolled rapidly up and around the house and even into the back part not far from the barns. “I can’t see a light anywhere,” said the lady who sat with the driver and who was peering out with the greatest interest. “If it were not for the trees and certain landmarks, I would think that we had driven into the wrong place.” “Perhaps we have,” suggested the other lady who sat behind. “No, indeed. I am not mistaken, but I scarcely know what to do. If we had not been so delayed,—I just meant to call, since I was so near,—and I wanted to see—one or two things.” “If this were my old home, I certainly would see what I wanted to, even if I waked somebody up. You are hopeless sometimes, my dear!” The first lady laughed. “So I am. Well, I see that they have left the old house intact anyhow. Pieter said that he intended to do so. But you can scarcely understand how I want to see it and how I do not want to see it. Come on, then, Francis, see me to the door, please, and Lydia, it is goodnight if I can get inside, though I may sit up until morning, thinking. I hope that you may be able to sleep in the village hotel. I appreciate your sacrifice. But call for me after breakfast, unless I telephone for you earlier.” “Please spare me unless you are in danger,” replied the lady addressed as Lydia. “Perhaps it will be just as well if you can not get in.” No light appeared at any of the windows, though the visit of an automobile might well have aroused some one. The lady and gentleman walked through the pergola and into the court to the front door, and the lady drew a key from her purse. “Odd that you kept the keys all these years,” said the gentleman. “Yes, isn’t it?” the lady replied, trying the key. It turned, but there was a bolt of some sort within. “There is another door, Francis,” she said, and they walked around to the rear door, where another key was inserted. “Honestly, my courage almost fails me, Francis.” “Why don’t you ring, then, instead of getting in this foolish way?” “I always was a little foolish, Francis, as you well know, and I am just a little afraid to meet my—why, this lets me in, Francis. Now I shall be safely inside till morning at least, and if I can reach my room without meeting old P’lina, I shall gain courage from the old background. Goodnight and thank you.” The door closed and the man called Francis walked back to the car, entered it and drove away. But none of them had seen a dark figure which kept to the shadows and which stood behind a tree when the lady entered the house. Waiting a little, listening at the door, it, too, entered at the back of the old house. The lady, with a small flashlight, hurried rather breathlessly up the back stairs and stood smiling a little, hesitating between routes, and fingering a small bunch of keys. No one could see her smiles in the dark, to be sure, but by a sudden impulse she turned to the attic stairs, opened the door there and disappeared from the ken of the man listening at the foot of the first flight. Stealthily he followed, occasionally letting the light in his hand fall before him. But he was familiar with the place, it would have been evident to any one who had seen him. At the attic door, which stood ajar, he paused, looking within at the small light which proceeded a little slowly into the depths beyond. “Mercy,—I had forgotten how dusty attics are!” he heard her say, as she drew aside the carpet, which had been replaced, and opened the trap door. “Now, if only I don’t break my neck!” But the neck did not seem to be broken, for there was no sound of any calamity as the light disappeared. The man then turned on his own light and softly walked across the attic. But he sat down a few moments later in the secret room, to wait, for he did not desire to be present when first she entered the room below. The panel opened without waking the quietly sleeping Jannet. The little flashlight searched the lower regions of the room first, for possible obstacles. It flashed on the rug, the desk, the little chair. Why, whose pretty slippers were those by the chair? For a moment only the light flashed on the bed, with some of its covers neatly thrown back across its foot and the outline of some small person lying beneath sheet and blanket. How foolish she had been to think that her room would not be occupied! Should she go back the way in which she had come? Once more she flashed her light upon the bed,—why this could almost have been herself in days gone by! Jannet’s fair hair, her quiet, sweet young face, the slender hand under her cheek,—who was this? Tossing aside the tight hat from her own fluffy golden crown of thick hair, the lady, startled, touched, found her way to the little electric lamp upon the desk and turned on the current. The room glowed a little from the rosy shade. She tiptoed to the bed, bending over with lips parted and amazed eyes. The light, perhaps, or the presence, woke Jannet, still half in a dream as she looked up into the face above her. Whose was it, so lovely with its surprised and tender smile? “Why, Mother,” she softly said, “did you come,—at last?” “Dear heart!” exclaimed a low, musical voice. “It can’t be true, can it? You are not my own little baby that I lost,—but you have a look of Douglas! Who are you?” Jannet, her own amazement growing as she wakened more thoroughly, raised herself on her elbow, then sat up, and the lady reached for her hand. Jannet’s other hand came to clasp more firmly the older one with its one flashing ring above a wedding ring. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought that you were my mother. See? You look just like her picture, and I suppose that you are too young, then.” But the lady, whose breath came so quickly and who looked so eagerly into Jannet’s eyes, did not follow them to the picture. “If the picture is that of your mother, dear child, then I am your mother, for that is my picture and this is the room that was mine. Oh, how cruel, my dear, that we have had to do without each other all these years!” Jannet’s arms went around her mother’s neck as her mother clasped her, gently, yet possessively, and the sweetest feeling of rest came to Jannet, though her throat choked some way, and she felt her mother catching her breath and trying to control herself. Then her mother sat down on the bed beside her, holding Jannet off a moment to look at her again. “I believe that this is heaven and we are both ghosts,” said Jannet, half smiling and winking hard. “Not a bit of it,” said the other Jannet. “We are both as real as can be, though we shall be real enough there some day, I hope. Your mouth has a look of your father,—O Jannet! The tragedy of it!” “Don’t cry, Mother! I have so much to tell you,—” “And I so much to ask. Have you been here all these years?” “Oh, no,—just a few weeks. Uncle Pieter found me, and oh, we must tell Uncle Pieter right away, because he feels so terribly about things he has just found out, how you must have written and telegraphed to him and he never got the telegrams and letters!” Jannet’s mother looked at her in surprise. Her face had sobered at the mention of her brother, but now she gave close attention to what Jannet went on to explain. “I should have come,” she said, “instead of depending on messages. But I was so ill.” A little knock drew their attention to the opening into the secret stairway, for Jannet senior had not touched the spring which would replace the panel. There stood Uncle Pieter, but everything was so surprising that this did not seem unnatural. “Pardon me, Jannet,” he said, “for following you. I was sleepless, and as I was taking a turn about the gardens I saw strangers, to all appearances, entering the house. I came to see what it meant, but by the time you reached the attic I knew who it was. I sat in the secret chamber to wait for your surprise!” Uncle Pieter was hesitating at the opening, but with a few steps his sister had reached him and extended her hand. Tears were in her eyes as she said, “I am glad, Pieter, that what I have thought all these years is not true, and oh, how glad I am that you found this little girl for me! But I am in a daze just now. Can we have a talk? Where has the child been, and what can you both tell me about my husband?” “None of us can sleep, Jannet, till it is explained. I will call old P’lina. She will want to be in this, and can make us some coffee. Get dressed, Jannet Junior, and bring your mother to the library.” How wonderful to have a pretty, young mother, that helped her into her clothes, kissed soundly the face that glowed from the application of rose soap and water, and selected a pair of shoes for her from the closet! But she was going to do things for her mother,—mostly. They heard Mr. Van Meter rapping at Paulina’s door and heard his rapid stride as he left the house, leaving it all alight as he went through the corridors on the way to the library. Paulina, all astonished and more speechless than usual, came out of her room in time to meet Mrs. Eldon and Jannet as they started for the library. But Paulina held her mother’s hand tightly, Jannet noticed, as they walked along the corridor together. “Where’ve you been all this time Miss Jannet?” Paulina finally asked. “In Europe, P’lina, studying, singing and giving some lessons myself. I’ll tell you all about it very soon.” Mr. Van Meter was pacing up and down the library, as they could hear when they approached the open door. “Why, Pieter, you have made a lovely place of this!” his sister exclaimed, taking the chair he drew up for her. “Do you think so? Wait till you see all the old treasures I have furbished up and put around in the old house. You will stay with us, I hope. But I know how overcome you must feel to find this child, and I will tell first all that we have to explain, with Jannet’s help.” Quietly they all sat in the comfortable library chairs, Jannet scarcely able to take her eyes from her mother, while her uncle told all that they knew, soberly saying that his wife could “scarcely have been herself” when she intercepted the messages. With a serious face, Mrs. Eldon listened to the account. One pleasant little interlude occurred when Mr. Van Meter said that Jannet had not yet heard how he found her. “You would never guess it, my child,” he said, and reached into his desk for a booklet tied with gay ribbons. “Why, that’s our annual ‘Stars and Stripes,’” cried Jannet, recognizing it at once. “The same,” said her uncle. “One of our guests left it here in my library and I idly picked it up one evening. Glancing through it, my eye fell on your picture first, then on your name, and I read your history at once.” Mr. Van Meter smiled as he handed the open book to his sister. “Is this ‘Who’s Who,’ my daughter?” lightly asked Jannet’s mother, taking the book and looking at the account on the page of photographs reproduced with a short account of each pupil. “It is of our school, Mother, and those girls are all in my class.” Wasn’t it great that her mother had a sense of humor and was smiling over the booklet? But she began to read the account of her own child aloud: “‘Janet Eldon is one of the fixed stars in the firmament of our Alma Mater, and her brilliancy is of the first magnitude. She is the daughter of Douglas Eldon and has her Scotch Janet from his mother’s side of the house. Janet came originally from the Buckeye state, but claims Philadelphia as her real home. She sings and plays and enjoys our wild rides about Fairmount Park,—’” Here Mrs. Eldon stopped. “No wonder that you looked Jannet up when you read that. It was providential!” Mrs. Eldon’s story supplied the rest of the explanation. She had returned from the hospital, after wondering why her husband did not continue his visits there, and realizing that he must be sick, to find some one else in their little apartment and her trunks packed and stored. The woman in charge was shocked and startled upon seeing her, having been told that she had not lived through her illness. “Douglas must have been delirious then,” said Mrs. Eldon. “The poor boy was taking his baby to his mother, he told the woman, and when she asked if she should pack up the things he ‘thanked her kindly’ and paid her, she said. “Then I telegraphed and wrote, frantically. No word came from anyone. I see now that Mother Eldon was in a strange place, at the hospital, and probably had not yet arranged to have her mail forwarded, if she was only in the midst of her moving. She was seeing that my baby was pulled through, and very likely the final burial of my poor Douglas was postponed, for I even found the name of the minister of their old church and wrote to him about it. If he ever wrote to me, I was gone by that time. Meanwhile I had traced another young father who had been traveling about the same time with a sick baby that died. Kind people had buried the little one, and the father had wandered from the hospital in the night and found a grave in the river.” Mrs. Eldon did not add to the sober look on Jannet’s face by telling her that for years flowers had been placed at Easter upon a tiny grave in the far West. “I was ill again, and then friends that I had known in New York chanced upon me in Los Angeles. They urged an ocean voyage to strengthen me. It was Hawaii, then the East and then Europe and music and I have been in America only a few weeks, coming to arrange for engagements.” “O Mother! I shall hear you sing!” “And you shall sing yourself, perhaps.” “No, Jannet is going to be a missionary,” smiled Uncle Pieter. “So she told me.” But Mrs. Eldon only patted Jannet’s hand and told her that it was a noble purpose. “We shall see about the future, my child, but I shall accept your invitation to stay here, Pieter, for the present. I am not real sure but all this is a dream.” Coffee, sandwiches and some of Daphne’s latest triumph in the line of white cake and frosting were brought in by old P’lina’s capable hands, so glad to serve the older Jannet once more; and while they refreshed themselves Jannet told her mother many things about her school and her dearest friends, Miss Hilliard, Miss Marcy and Lina in particular. “We must invite them all to come here as soon as school is out,” said Uncle Pieter. “Miss Hilliard is Jannet’s guardian and there will be things to arrange. I tried to trace what had become of what would have been Jannet’s little fortune, but without success, of course.” “I had turned everything into available funds,” said Mrs. Eldon, “but there is still enough for us both.” There was a nap for them all after the little lunch. Then came the exciting morrow, with breakfast and the surprise of Cousin Andy, Cousin Di and Jan, and later the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Murray, Mrs. Eldon’s friends. Jannet almost shivered to think how nearly she had missed seeing her mother, as the circumstances of the delay and of her hesitation were related. Mr. and Mrs. Murray, whom Jannet senior called Francis and Lydia, warned her against giving up her profession and told the glowing Jannet junior about her mother’s beautiful voice. Jan telephoned the news to Nell and Chick and stopped Jannet in the hall one time to ask her, “How about the fortune that old Grandma Meer told you? I guess that you’ll get the long trip to Europe with your mother, and how about the ‘luck when you are found’?” Jannet beamed upon her cousin who was so kindly in his sympathy. “I still don’t believe in ‘fortunes,’ and neither do you, Mister Jan, but it is funny how they hit it sometimes, isn’t it?” It was after two blissful and thrilling days that Jannet thought of the pearls, when her mother opened the desk to write a letter. Jannet had been examining the knot hole in the panels where she had seen the light on one of those exciting nights of which she had been telling her mother; but she came to stand by her mother a moment and a vision of the pearls flashed before her. “We must share the desk now, Jannet,” said the elder Jannet. “It is a shame to take it partly away from you. Your cousin has been telling me how delighted you were with the room and its furniture.” “I’d much rather have a mother than a desk,” lovingly said Jannet, “but I must tell you about finding the pearls,—and losing them again!” “What do you mean, child?” Mrs. Eldon laid down her pen and turned to her daughter. To her astonished mother Jannet related the story and opened the secret drawer by way of illustration. This time the drawer came out most easily, and both Jannets exclaimed in surprise. In their case, as beautiful as ever, the shining pearls lay before them! “Why Jannet!” “Mother! There must be something queer about that desk! Take them,—quick!” As if she were afraid that they would vanish before their eyes, Jannet gathered pearls and case and placed them in her mother’s hands. “Oh, you shall wear them the next time you sing!” Jannet stood looking at her mother, who was turning over the pearls. Then she examined the drawer. “I have an idea, Mother,” she said. “I think that somebody fixed this with a sort of false bottom. I did something before I opened the drawer that time I found them, and I think that I must have done it again when I closed it, or some time before the time, they were gone. “See this little worn place, with the wood that gives a little? There is a spring under that and it lets down things or brings them up again, perhaps.” Mrs. Eldon looked doubtfully at Jannet, but Jannet dropped her own fountain pen into the drawer, closed it, and pressed the place to which she had referred. Then she pressed the spring which opened the drawer. No fountain pen was in sight. Again Jannet closed the drawer. Again she pressed the wood. Again she pressed the spring, and the drawer came out. There lay the fountain pen. “Quod erat demonstrandum!” smiled Jannet senior. “Isn’t that strange? We must have Pieter up here to show us how that is managed.” “I think now that a piece of wood just shoots in over whatever is there,” said Jannet, “instead of letting them down.” Jannet was examining the drawer again. “See, the drawer is much more shallow when what you put in isn’t there!” Jannet senior laughed at Jannet junior’s explanation. “You are like your father, Jannet, to want to find it all out yourself. To think of their having been there all these years!” “I called them ‘Phantom Treasure,’” said Jannet, taking up a white and gleaming strand. “Like you, they were waiting for me. These are not the greatest treasure I have recovered, my darling child!” “Well, Mother, it took three ‘ghosts,’ and one angel that descended by the secret stairs, to bring my treasure to me . Let me give you another big hug, to make sure that you are real!” THE END *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHANTOM TREASURE *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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