The Mystery of the Emeralds (20 page)

Mart’s humor and good nature were infectious. As the group broke up and started for the door, they were all laughing.

“Good luck!” Mr. Carver called back to Trixie and
Jim as he left with the others for Williamsburg and the Inn.

Jim and Trixie, alone now, descended into the familiar depths of the stairwell.

“I don’t think Ruth would pick a spot that was too hard to find, do you?” Trixie asked as they approached the tunnel. “Or is that just wishful thinking?”

“No, she probably worked out the intricate plans for hiding the directions in the urn so no one except her sister would find them,” Jim said, “and then she may have put the brick in plain sight. There’d be no need to make it too difficult once Ruth had got into the secret passage.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.” Trixie sighed. “Suppose we start going down the right-hand side. You hold the flashlight over my shoulder.”

Trixie began running her hands over the bricks, one by one, occasionally stopping to scratch the moss away when she thought she felt an indentation. She tried not to let her growing feeling of frustration get the better of her, but as time wore on, she became more and more discouraged.

“I’ll simply die if it’s hidden in the part that’s caved in, or on the other side,” she whispered to Jim as they neared the blocked-up end of the tunnel.

“It could be, of course,” Jim answered, “but don’t give up yet, Trixie. We still have the opposite wall to examine.”

As they turned and started to look at the left-hand side of the tunnel, the light suddenly flashed on a brick of a different texture and color than the others. It looked as though it had been waxed, and there was no moss on it. Trixie let out a gasp when she looked closely and saw a distinct X cut quite deeply into the center of the soft clay brick. It was all she could do to suppress a scream. She stuck her fingernails into the crack and tried to pry the brick loose. When it refused to budge, she turned to Jim, a desperate look on her face. Jim handed her the flashlight and, taking a small jackknife from his pocket, started to probe around the edges of the brick.

“Thank goodness it isn’t set in mortar,” he whispered, “only dirt and sand, so it should come out without too much trouble.”

All this time, sounds of activity on the other side of the pile could be heard. The sounds became more and more distinct, and Trixie was sure Jenkins was shoveling away the rubble to get to their side.

“Hurry, Jim, please!” she urged. “He’s coming right through here, I
know!
”

Jim worked desperately to force the brick out, but
the knife blade was so short it didn’t penetrate much beyond the surface.

“Do you want me to get a knife from the kitchen?” Trixie asked.

“No, thanks, I’ve almost got it,” Jim answered, twisting the knife this way and that. “Hold the flash closer, Trix. I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“I’ve got it as close as I can, Jim,” Trixie whispered.

They had been so preoccupied that neither of them noticed the light growing dimmer and dimmer. Then suddenly it went out completely, leaving them in utter darkness!

“Oh, Jim! What will we do?” she moaned, giving the flashlight a desperate shake to see if it had any more life in it. “The batteries are completely dead, but we can’t leave now!”

“Wait a minute, Trix,” Jim said. “The brick is so loose it’s practically out. Here, change places with me. Maybe your fingers are small enough to pry it out of the wall now.”

Feeling her way, Trixie reached between the bricks where the crack felt widest, and with a desperate effort and a silent prayer she pulled. Suddenly the brick came out and fell to the floor with a dull thud. The sound of Jenkins’s digging stopped abruptly, and Trixie’s heart
skipped a beat as she and Jim waited to see what would happen. After what seemed an eternity the noises started up again, and Trixie cautiously reached into the open space where the brick had been. She felt something cold. With shaking hands she lifted out what she was sure was a small metal box.

“Come on, Jim,” she said under her breath. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve come to the end of the trail!”

They felt their way along the wall of the tunnel to the bottom of the stairs, where the light from above gave them some visibility, dim though it was.

Once back in the music room, the first thing Trixie did was to pull the panel down.

“I don’t want to run the risk of Jenkins coming through there,” she explained. “He just might dig his way through that barrier.”

“Come on into the study,” Jim suggested, noticing that Trixie’s face was unnaturally pale, and that despite the heat of the day, she was shivering. “It’ll be more comfortable in there, and you look as though you need to sit down for a while.”

He took her gently by the hand and led her out, still clutching the unopened box.

Trixie slumped into a chair near the window in the warm sunlight.

“It does feel good to relax,” she said. “I’m glad it’s all over. I feel as though I’d been on the jump for days.”

“I won’t believe the hunt is over until I actually see the necklace, Trix,” Jim said. “Go on, open the box.”

“No, Jim,” she answered slowly. “Don’t think I’m not just as anxious as you are to see what’s in it, but I’ve been thinking.”

She paused, looking out across the stretch of lawn toward the old burying ground. Jim didn’t hurry her. He sensed that she was preoccupied with a decision which she had to make herself.

“Jim,” she finally began again, “I don’t think Ruth would have wanted a complete stranger to open this box. She hid it for her sister, and since
she’s
not here, I feel Mr. Carver should be the one. Do you see what I mean?”

“Of course I do,” Jim said. “You know, Trix, people may say you’re impulsive, but when it comes to
something really important, you’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever known.”

Trixie thanked her lucky stars that Jim was standing in back of her so he couldn’t see the telltale blush she knew was flooding her face. She couldn’t say a word.

Mart came running in ahead of the others, holding a big paper bag high over his head.

“Belden Catering Service!” he shouted. “Double hamburgers and French fries coming up!”

“And chocolate malts!” Honey, who was just behind him with Di and Brian, held up two tall containers.

“Anything new, Trix?” Brian asked eagerly.

Trixie shook her head enigmatically. She didn’t want to spoil the surprise for all of them when she told Mr. Carver of her discovery. “Be patient while I eat. I’m starved and I can’t talk with my mouth full, you know,” she chuckled, hoping to put them off.

When Trixie smelled the delicious odor of food, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. She unobtrusively pushed the metal box under the chair cushion for the time being. As Mart handed her the big juicy hamburger, he told her Mr. Carver was giving the Lynches a glimpse of the formal gardens, but that they would be along in a few minutes.

Just as Trixie and Jim had finished eating, Mr. and Mrs. Lynch and Edgar Carver came in. As soon as Mr. Carver entered the room, he wheeled his chair over to Trixie. There was no need for him to speak. The question in his eyes was there for all of them to see. Trixie started to reach for the box to give to him, when the silent tableau was shattered.

“Mr. Lynch! You!” It was Jenkins. He stood, the picture of shocked surprise, in the French doors, confronting Di’s father.

“Yes, Mr. Jenkins, it is indeed I,” Mr. Lynch replied coldly, motioning the man to come in. Jenkins looked as though he wanted to turn tail and run. But twisting his hat in his hands and looking from one to the other of the Bob-Whites, he slowly came in and sat on the edge of the chair which Brian pushed toward him. Trixie noticed there was brick dust on the knees of his riding breeches and in his short-cropped hair. He apparently had come here directly from the tunnel.

“I just dropped in to see Mr. Carver,” he began, his voice sounding unnaturally loud as he tried to regain his composure. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Mr. Lynch replied. “I’m Diana’s father,” he went on, “and these are her friends. I take it you’ve met them.”

“Yes, sir,” Jenkins said, his tone somewhat meeker, “but Mr. Carver didn’t tell me their last names.”

Edgar Carver edged his wheelchair into the circle as Jenkins finished speaking.

“This morning,” he said icily, “you came here with a necklace you purportedly found at Rosewood. Seeing what I believed to be a family heirloom naturally upset me emotionally, and it didn’t occur to me then to question your veracity.”

Jenkins stood up. His attempt to smile ended in failure.

“Oh,” he whined, “I didn’t mean to have you on, Mr. Carver. I just thought—”

“You just thought you’d take advantage of a situation you happened to stumble on,” Mr. Carver charged angrily, “and had it not been for Trixie you might very likely have succeeded.”

“But I never said I’d found the necklace at Rosewood.” Jenkins’s whine was even more pronounced. “You can’t get anything on me. I said I’d found the
box
over there, and that was the truth. I found it in the loft over the stable.”

“Now wait a minute,” Mr. Lynch interposed. “We’re not interested in ‘getting’ anything on you, although I’m sure with a little police work there would be plenty of
evidence against you. Mr. Carver has discussed this whole thing with me.”

He paused to let Jenkins get the full impact of his words before continuing.

“I’m sure you won’t deny you came to Green Trees looking for information about the necklace. In the course of your visit, Mr. Carver fell and injured himself. We strongly suspect this was when he tried to keep you from stealing the directions to the treasure.”

Jenkins started to say something, but Mr. Lynch silenced him with an upraised hand.

“When you learned from Neil that Mr. Carver remembered nothing of the affair, you came back and tried to swindle him. This is enough to put you behind bars for a long time. Now all we want is for you to get out of town. I’ll give you twenty-four hours. If you’re in the neighborhood after that I’ll have the police pick you up!”

Jenkins looked from Mr. Lynch to Mr. Carver, then cast a frightened glance at the circle of Bob-Whites.

“I—I—” he began. Then he whirled and ran out of the room. The last they saw of him he was driving up the road away from Rosewood Hall and Green Trees in an ancient pickup truck.

The Bob-Whites breathed a sigh of relief when he
had gone. Edgar Carver was visibly shaken and the tight lines around Mr. Lynch’s mouth showed that his anger had not yet subsided.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more unsavory character in my life!” Mrs. Lynch burst out. “I hope he never shows his face around here again!”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mother,” Mr. Lynch assured her. “His kind know when it’s getting too hot for them, and move out like rats deserting a sinking ship.”

“I’m not concerned about
him
,” Honey said. “What’s been worrying me, though, are the horses at Rosewood. Who’ll take care of them with Jenkins and Neil both gone?”

“Gleeps!” Trixie suddenly exclaimed. “I’ve got an idea. Why couldn’t Neil go back to Rosewood Hall, Mr. Lynch, now that Jenkins isn’t there?”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Mr. Lynch replied. “I’ll suggest it later this afternoon when he comes to see me.”

“Oh, that would be just perfect,” Trixie said. “He loves horses, and maybe he could start back to school in the fall, too.”

“That’s quite possible,” Mr. Lynch went on. “I want to find a competent overseer for the place, so Neil
wouldn’t have the whole responsibility. It should work out very well.”

Trixie was dying to tell Mr. Carver about the box. Now with everyone relaxed again after Jenkins’s departure, and warmed by the solution of Neil’s problem, she knew the moment had arrived.

“Well, child,” Mr. Carver said softly, “I never got to ask how you and Jim fared earlier. Now I’m almost afraid to press you for an answer.”

Trixie glanced at Jim and then at the others. She slipped the little silver box from under the chair cushion, stood up, and, taking a step forward, laid it in Edgar Carver’s lap.

“When you open this, you’ll be the first to know whether we were successful or not,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“You mean—” Mr. Carver paused, incredulous. “You mean you haven’t looked to see what’s in here?”

“No, sir,” Jim said. “I was all for opening it right away, but Trixie said she wanted to wait for you.”

“Thank you, Trixie, my dear” was all he said. His voice was barely audible.

Trixie stood beside his chair, almost afraid to look as he removed the cover from the tarnished silver box. Inside was a piece of black velvet. He carefully lifted out
the cloth and, after handing the box back to Trixie, unfolded it. Just at that moment, the rays of the late afternoon sun fell across his chair, highlighting the emeralds that lay revealed on his lap. A gasp went up from everyone as they clustered close around Mr. Carver to admire the beautiful necklace.