The Manor House School Part 30

"We won't give up too soon," said Lindsay, whose st.u.r.dy courage stood her in good stead on this occasion.

She had been feeling about here and there on the blank wall that faced them, and her fingers at last encountered something that seemed like a sliding bolt. She pushed it back eagerly. A door opened outwards, letting in a blaze of light. To their utter amazement they were gazing down into the picture gallery!

It did not take them many seconds to spring to the floor and turn round to look through what aperture they had made their escape. It was the portrait of Monica Courtenay that formed the secret exit. It had swung out, frame and all, into the gallery, and appeared to be fitted with hinges so as to close and unclose quite easily.

"Now I see why the picture shook in its frame that day!" exclaimed Cicely. "I wonder we never thought of this before."

"And of course that was why she was supposed to guard the fortunes of the Courtenays. No doubt they always kept their valuables in this hiding-place, and only the head of the family would know the way to it."

"So old sayings do generally mean something, and aren't just nonsense."

"Let us go and tell at once. Everybody'll be wondering where we are.

They must be doing prep. now, and Miss Russell will be sitting with the first cla.s.s."

The headmistress's tranquil demeanour was not usually easily ruffled, but she sprang up in excitement as her two missing pupils burst into the library proclaiming the glorious news.

"Lindsay and Cicely! Where have you been? I was growing most uneasy at your absence. You say you have actually found Sir Giles's treasure? It is hardly to be credited. Girls, girls, try to calm yourselves and give me an intelligible account!" as first one and then the other took up the tale in disjointed sentences.

"We played hide-and-seek--and fell through the bottom of the settle--there were great bags of gold--and boxes of silver things and bank notes--won't she be rich? And he'd written it in an enigma--we thought we were going to starve there like Ginevra--and we climbed down through the portrait--oh, may we go and tell Monica about it now?"

"This is indeed a most extraordinary discovery," said Miss Russell, when at length she had drawn from them a more lucid statement of affairs.

"Monica must certainly know, but no one is to tell her except myself. I will go down presently to the cottage and see her, and warn her to break the news very gently to her mother. If Mrs. Courtenay were to hear of it suddenly, the shock might be exceedingly dangerous, in her weak state of health."

The news that something of great importance had happened seemed to spread like wildfire through the school. Both teachers and pupils, abandoning their books, came crowding into the library to hear particulars. Even the servants hurried to the spot.

"Oh, bless you, bless you!" cried Mrs. Wilson, who had pushed her way among the girls to the central source of information. "This is indeed a day of rejoicing--a day to remember and give thanks for to the end of one's life!"

Lindsay and Cicely stared at her in amazement. Was it actually "The Griffin" who was speaking? And were those tears that were trickling down her hard cheeks? What did it mean? Was she acting a part? Or had they after all misjudged her? There was no time then for either surmises or explanations. They were the heroines of the hour, and had to repeat their story afresh to those who had not yet heard it at first hand.

"We couldn't imagine where you were hidden," said Marjorie Butler. "We were hunting in the picture gallery for ever so long. Beryl peeped inside the settle, and said it was empty."

"We were still more puzzled when you didn't turn up for tea," said Nora Proctor. "Do tell us again about the bags of money!"

Miss Russell, however, thinking the excitement had lasted long enough, interfered and put a stop to the recital.

"Everybody must go back to preparation at once," she decreed. "Lindsay and Cicely have had no tea. Are you hungry?" she added, turning to the adventurous pair.

"Starving," they replied laconically.

"Then I will excuse your preparation to-night, and you may come with me to the dining-room. It would be rather hard to expect you to set to work upon lessons immediately after such an experience."

CHAPTER XVII

Good-bye to the Manor

Monica's agitation, when she heard that her uncle's legacy had been found, was extreme. At first she refused to believe it; but when she was told the story of Lindsay's and Cicely's strange adventure, she began slowly to realize that it was no fairy tale, and that the fortune, so sorely needed and so much longed for, was lying awaiting her disposal.

"The money is there, and I can have some of it now?" she asked, still almost incredulously. "Will there be as much as a hundred guineas?"

"Far more than that, my dear, from the girls' account."

"Then we can send for Sir William Garrett!" she said, with a sigh of intense relief.

Miss Russell, who did not like the responsibility of being even a temporary custodian of such riches, had informed the Rector of what had occurred, and requested him to come to the Manor and help her to investigate the matter. As he was Monica's guardian, he seemed the proper person to take charge of her affairs. He arrived next morning, and, accompanied by Miss Russell and Monica, made a careful examination of the hiding-place and its contents. At the mistress's urgent request, he promised to arrange that all the valuables should be removed as speedily as possible to the bank.

"I could not sleep with them in the house, I should be so afraid of burglars, now the news of the discovery has been spread abroad,"

declared Miss Russell.

"They were only too safe here," said Monica.

"Yes, when their whereabouts was a mystery. It is different when everyone knows."

The wealth which old Sir Giles had stored in the secret room was considerable. He had evidently distrusted investments, and, following his own singular whim, had h.o.a.rded his money in gold and bank notes.

There were precious stones also, in themselves worth a small fortune, which he must have collected, in addition to the family jewels and the old silver plate that had been handed down through generations of Courtenays.

After looking through some of the boxes, the Rector picked up the casket, and made a short scrutiny of its contents.

"This envelope is addressed to you, Monica," he observed.

The girl took it hesitatingly, then pa.s.sed it back to her guardian.

"It seems like a message from the dead," she said. "I think, please, I would rather that you should read it aloud."

The letter was well in keeping with its writer's eccentric and morbid character. It ran thus:--

"MY DEAR MONICA,

"Gold, silver, and precious stones are but vanity of vanities, a snare to many, and the root of all evil. By the time you claim these, I trust you will have found how easy it is to dispense with them, and that you will despise them as much as I do.

"They have never brought me any happiness, and I am uncertain whether it is a kindness to bequeath to you what to me has been but an irksome enc.u.mbrance. After giving long and earnest thought to the matter, I have decided to leave it in the hands of destiny.

"I shall lay by these possessions in the hidden chamber, the existence of which was told me by my grandfather, and now is unknown to any except myself. I have concealed the secret, however, in an enigma, which, if you have followed my advice concerning the study of Botany, you will have found written inside the cover of the _Floral Calendar_.

"Should Heaven ordain that you are to take up this burden, then you will read my riddle aright. Should it be otherwise decreed, this message will never meet your eyes. Believe me that I have striven to act for your best good.

"From your uncle and well-wisher, "GILES PEMBERTON COURTENAY."

"He seemed quite afraid for me to have this money," faltered poor Monica, on whom the letter had left a deep impression. "Shall I regret it? Is it really such a dangerous thing?"

"Not if you make a wise use of it. In your hands I hope it may prove a blessing instead of a curse," answered the Rector.

"It does not seem to have brought any happiness to Uncle Giles. He calls it a burden."