CHAPTER XXV
Though we were out of the water, we were not yet out of the woods. Therewere many explanations to be made and many guesses that took the placeof explanations. No questions could be put to the butler, Florey, norNealman, host of Kastle Krags, nor to Major Kenneth Dell. All of thesehad been swept down the sink-hole and through the subterranean channelinto the sea.
Perhaps we would never have got anywhere, for a certainty, if it hadn'tbeen for the letter and the photograph that William Noyes sent me fromVermont, and which arrived the day following our journey through thepassage. Short though it was, it served to clear up many matters to ourcomplete satisfaction. It was addressed to me:
I am sending photo of that scoundrel, George Florey, brother of the dead man. I hope it helps you catch him. He always hated his brother, and my late wife told me that as far back as you want to go in her family you'll find one brother hating another. I don't know where to tell you to look for George. He and his brother both had spent most of their lives looking for a chest of treasure that was hidden by their grandfather down where you are--in Florida. They just took this name of Florey the last generation. Before that it was Hendrickson, my wife told me--and before that Heaven knows what. Mostly they were a bad lot.
After I had read it I showed it to Nopp; and he breathed deeply. But hemade but one comment.
"Human nature is a winner, isn't it, Killdare?" he observed. "Will weever see the head and tail of it? Now let me see the picture."
Neither Nopp nor Edith nor any one who looked at it could mistake thelikeness presented in the photograph. It was not that of my suspect, Mr.Pescini. One glance established that fact. The well-bred, ratheraristocratic face was none other than that of Major Kenneth Dell, he whohad got himself invited to Kastle Krags, and who had died in the traphis grandfather had set nearly eighty years before.
Edith and I went over the case together, and we managed to fill up thebreaks in each other's story. We talked it over in the early evening,sitting in a secluded corner of the veranda.
She had already mostly recovered from the experience of the day before.She was still weak and shaken, but seemingly all serious complicationshad been averted. And she resolutely refused to stay in bed.
"It's been a tragic thing, all the way through," she began in the voiceI loved. "It's over now--but Heaven knows it cost enough lives. All fora treasure that no one knows for sure is a reality.
"I'm going over the case simply, Ned--and you tell me if I have itright. The letter shows that both George Florey and David Florey, thebutler, were the grandsons of Hendrickson, who once owned thishouse--who of course was no one but the original Godfrey Jason. Jasontoo had hated his brother enough to kill him, and as the legend says, itwas Jason who first buried the treasure in the lagoon.
"He put it near, perhaps just beside a dangerous sink-hole through whichthe tidal waters swept under the wall to the open sea. And when he diedhe left two, and perhaps more, copies of a cryptogram to show where thechest was hidden.
"As you say, Dave Florey, one of the two brothers of this generation ofthe Jason family, unquestionably got hold of one of the copies. Hesecured the position of butler at this house on purpose to hunt for andsecure the chest. Meanwhile George Florey--we can call him Major Dell,the name he assumed, from now on--got track of the hiding-place of thetreasure. The letters show that he had sought for it and traced it fromBrazil to Washington, D. C.--at the latter place he possibly consultedold marine records. He evidently had considerable money, and was earningsome in questionable ways, and through his acquaintance with Van Hope hegot himself invited to this house.
"Here he found his brother. It must have been a disagreeable surprise tohim--the fact that you saw him so shaken and seemingly alarmed in thehall would indicate that it was. As the Jason brothers had done beforethem, these two men hated each other as only brothers can--jealously andterribly. And through some series of events that will never be known,they met that night beside the lagoon.
"George Florey--rather, Major Dell--must have been a thoroughlywicked man. I guess he inherited all of his grandfather Jason'swickedness--otherwise he wouldn't have been able to play the parthe did. To me it was a dramatic thing--this heritage of wickedness,generation after generation: this blood lust and hatred that was thecurse of all his breed. It was Cain and Abel again--the same, oldtragic story.
"They met on the lagoon shore, beside the crags, and perhaps Major Dellmade an attempt to wrest the copy of the cryptogram from his brother.It's even possible, but it doesn't seem likely, that it was the otherway 'round. At least, they were working at cross purposes, both of themseemed just about to triumph--and hating each other like two serpents,they came to grips. And here Dell struck a fatal blow--likely with someterrible, hooked instrument that he had brought to grapple for thechest.
"Florey cried out in his death agony and his fear, and Dell was obligedto flee without getting hold of the cryptogram. While the hunt was goingon through the gardens, he came back to the body, likely searched thepockets of the victim, and for some reason that can never be exactlyknown, dragged the body into the lagoon.
"Perhaps he thought the character of the wound would give him away.There's little doubt that he threw it there with the idea of destroyingevidence--at least its presence some way interfered with his plans. Andof course before the night was done it had drifted to the sink-hole andthrough the channel to the open sea.
"Dell likely saw you pick up the script, and that accounts for hispresence in your room that night. Meanwhile Nealman and I were workingon a copy of it I had found in an old book. The book was the Bible, bythe way, and it gave me the first key to the truth. Nealman offered todivide the treasure with me, if he was able to find it. That promise ison paper. It isn't necessary now, however--and you know why."
I knew why--well enough. As his niece, Edith inherited all that GroverNealman left, including this Floridan estate. It was true, however, thathis debts just about wiped out all his other possessions.
"As you know, a deal in the stock market practically ruined him," shewent on. "The only way out he could see was the chest that both of usfelt was hidden in the lagoon. He never took the monster legendseriously, but always before he had been willing to wait until he couldprocure some safe appliance to rescue the chest. At that time both of usknew almost exactly where it was. And when the crash came, the suddenneed for money and his desperation sent him out in the darkness toprocure it. He too was caught in the undersea channel.
"Of course Major Dell was never even menaced by the sink-hole. Likely hehad some knowledge of it. He vanished the third night, because first,he realized that Noyes' testimony would sooner or later convict him ofhis brother's murder, and second, because the disappearance of Floreyand Nealman had set a good example for him. Some secret business tookhim into my uncle's room first, as you guessed. I have no doubt that hewas hiding in the dense thickets on the other side of the lagoon all thetime--waiting for his chance to procure the treasure and make hisescape.
"I don't know that you'll believe it, but by this time I had guessed thesecret of the lagoon. I didn't know just how it worked, but I felt therewas some kind of an underground outlet that would sweep away any one whotried to wade in the proximity of the treasure. Of course I didn'tsuspect Dell--I thought he had merely gone as Uncle Grover had gone,through the sink-hole to his death. When I made my attempt, I wentprepared."
"But how dared you attempt it?" I demanded.
She laughed at my anger. "I wanted to know the truth!" she exclaimed. "Iowed it to Uncle Grover--to find out what became of him. I needed thetreasure chest, too--for his securities won't quite balance, he told me,the demands that will be made upon the estate. And finally--maybe therewas another reason, too. Perhaps you know what it was."
The narration could not go on at once. It was one of those moments thata man always remembers, and holds dear when most earthly treasures areas dust. She hadn't forgotten my own dreams--t
he plans I had made butwhich seemed so impossible of fulfillment.
"But how did you dare take the risk?" I demanded.
"There wasn't any risk--at least, I didn't think there was. I felt surethat a sink-hole in the bed of the lagoon was the explanation. The plankI dragged out there was plenty big enough to hold me up. You know afloating cake of soap doesn't go down the sluice as long as the bathtubis any way near full of water. The plank would have held me easily ifDell hadn't interfered and torn it from my hands.
"Why did he interfere? Of course we can only guess at that. I think hewas waiting for a chance to take the treasure himself--and he saw myintention. I suppose he had dreamed about his grandfather's gold untilit was a veritable passion with him--a mania--and he was willing to riskdeath in the sink-hole sooner than let it go? Likely he meant to tear myhands from the plank but hang on to it himself. Of course it got awayfrom us both. That's the whole story. Your own wonderful endurance andmastery of swimming saved me. Doesn't that seem to clear up everything?"
"Almost everything. Yet I don't see why Dell waited--why he hadn't gotthe treasure out some time night before last--or yesterday----"
"Of course he couldn't work in daylight. Most of the night after hisdisappearance the lagoon was guarded. Yet it isn't easy to see why hedidn't make the attempt the night of his disappearance----"
"I suppose he was waiting for a favorable time. He had to have certainequipment, I suppose--to keep from being carried down. Perhaps there arecertain periods when the flow through the channel is less, and thereisn't so much suction----"
A sudden light in the girl's face arrested me and held me. Her eyes weresparkling like blue seas in the sunlight. "'At F. T.,'" she quoted."Ned, Ned, what stupids we are! Don't you see----"
"I can't say that I do. I saw 'At F. T.,' at the bottom of the script,but I don't know what it meant----"
"'At flood tide'--that's what it meant! Just as a sailor would say it.He told on his own directions the way to safety. When the tide flowsthe water movement is probably in the other direction through theunderground channel, and the lagoon is as safe as a lake; and it's onlyin the ebb-tide that the suction exists. And of course the ignoranttreasure-seeker would make his search in the ebb-tide, when the surfaceof the lagoon is still."
Exultant over this, a discovery that, if the treasure was a reality,assured its procurance, neither of us noticed the dignified, courteousapproach of Pescini from the hallway. He was distinguished as ever, hisdinner-jacket unruffled, his linen gleaming white in the dying light.
"Have you seen Sheriff Slatterly anywhere?" he asked me. "I'm in a sortof quandary--I've got a letter on my hands and don't know what to dowith it."
"A letter?" I repeated. The skin was twitching on my back.
"Yes. I hardly know whether to send it on--or whether he will want itfor the investigations. It's one that Major Dell gave me a few days agoto mail, but which I dropped in my pocket and forgot."
CHAPTER XXVI
The guests refused to go back to their city homes until they had seenthe contents of the chest that had brought such woe to Kastle Krags; andthere was nothing to do but to make an immediate search. When daylightcame again Edith announced that she had fully recovered from theadventure of two days before, and was ready to help me recover thechest.
"I can't wait to see if it's really there," she confessed.
We went in flow-tide, and we guided a boat over the place. But weweren't trusting entirely to our theory that the sink-hole was onlydangerous when the tide was running out. A stout rope was attached tothe prow of the boat, and I lashed it about my waist before I steppedoff into the water.
We had guessed right about the underground channel. At flood tide aswimmer could pass directly over it in safety. I located a greatlimestone boulder that I thought was undoubtedly the "white rock" of thescript, but as the surface was rough and choppy from the tidal wavesbreaking against the rock wall, it was impossible to find the chest bypower of vision alone. I found I had to dive again and again, gropingwith my hands.
But in scarcely a moment my foot encountered an iron chain at the baseof the rock. In a moment more the search was ended. A small, iron-boundchest, hardly of twelve inch dimensions, was fastened to the chain,which in turn was hooked securely in a crevice of the boulder.
It was a rather wide-eyed, sober group that rowed back to the shore. Inthe first place it was almost impossible to believe that such a seeminglegendary thing was actually in our hands, a thing of weight andsubstance and unquestioned reality.
The chest had been made of some sort of very hard wood, chemicallytreated, and showed not the slightest sign of decay in the eighty yearsit had lain in the water. How many little crafts had passed over it!What a scarlet trail it had left since the _Arganil_ had borne it fromRio de Janeiro, so long ago. "But naked treasures breed murder!" Nealmanhad said--speaking truer than he knew.... "They get home to humanimagination and human wickedness as nothing else can."
The boat touched the shore. Nopp lifted the chest easily on the ground."Don't be too hopeful," he advised Edith quietly. "If it's gold that'sin it, you couldn't have much over a thousand. It only weighs nine orten pounds, box and all."
It was true. And the box itself, bound with iron, could easily weighthat much. Had we been hoaxed by an empty chest?
Somehow or other, nervous and fumbling, we got the thing open. Some ofthe rods we broke, others we bent back. And at first we only stared inblank surprise.
It did not look like gold--the contents of the chest. Nor was it astring of precious jewels. It seemed merely a bent, shapeless object ofsome dark-colored metal, and a few dull stones, some of which were aslarge as hickory nuts, loose in the bottom. Certain words were said aswe looked down, certain questions asked--but all of them were dim andlost in a great, wondering preoccupation that dropped over me.
Nopp reached a big hand, took one of the stones, and rubbed it on histrouser leg. Looking at it, he rubbed it again with added vigor. Then hestared at it in sudden, fascinated _wonder_.
"Good Heavens!" he suddenly exclaimed in tremendous excitement. "Do youknow what this is?"
We turned to him, staring blankly. "What is it?" Edith asked. Her voicewas quiet; only the bright sparkle in her eyes revealed how excited shereally was.
"It's an emerald. That's what it is. One of the finest in this country.It's worth a whole chest of gold. Killdare, the story was that it was a_Portuguese_ ship--bound out from Rio?"
"Yes----"
"And the chest was the property of some noble family, Portuguese princesat the time the court of Portugal was located in Rio de Janeiro?"
"Something like that----"
"The property of a noble family! Edith, it was unquestionably theproperty of the ruling house itself. Wait just a minute."
He took the shapeless thing of metal, rubbed it until a little of thetarnish was gone, revealing yellow gold beneath, and slowly bent it inhis hands. It took a circular shape. Then he showed us little sockets,set at various points, that had been the settings for the jewels. We sawthe truth at once.
"A crown!" Edith said.
"Unquestionably the famous crown that the Portuguese king wore at hisBrazilian court--one of the richest courts in history. The jewels camefrom Brazil, from Peruvian temples--Heaven knows where. And for Heaven'ssake, Edith, send it away and get it changed into securities. It'sdeath--that's all it is. It's the kind of thing that drives men insane."
We took the yellow thing, and in a wonderful, elated mood, we set it onher own golden curls. But she removed it quickly. We were all instantlysobered as she put it into my hands.
"It's bad luck to wear it," she said. "It makes me creep to think whatwickedness it has caused--clear through the centuries. I'm anAmerican--and being a queen has never appealed to me."
Nopp smiled quietly, into the depths of the lagoon. "But you intend tobe _somebody's_ queen, don't you, Edith?" he asked.
And thus the matter of Kastle Krags came to a new beginning. Edithchanged t
he jewels into securities, just as Nopp advised, and a tenth ofthem paid the obligations that were left after Nealman's estate wassettled up. The rest provided an annual income that, while it would havebeen considered moderate by such great financiers as Marten and hisfellows, seemed of kingly proportions to me. At least it provided forthe maintenance of the old southern manor-house according to its besttraditions.
And when Edith and I go sailing away to strange lands beyond the sea,bent on scientific research and adventure, we often wonder what haughtyprinces and bearded pirates, lurking in the shadows of the deck aresaying among themselves. Things have taken a great turn, they whispertogether, when the jewels for which they lived and fought, did murderand died, have gone to sustain a rich man's secretary and a pennilessschoolmaster! Perhaps lovely Portuguese princesses watch with contempt;and ear-ringed villains, scornful of such science as mine, swear eviloaths and wonder how the times have tamed!
But perhaps they are glad that their watch of the lagoon is over! Thereis nothing to hold these restless spirits now, and you can hear themrustling no more in the forest, or feel their tragic presence in thegardens. Some way, the house is more cheerful, and the sea no longerconveys the image of desolation and mystery. When our young friendsvisit us, to play golf on our links and shoot and fish in the lakes andrivers, they invariably speak of its homely charm and cheer. We have,however, made certain improvements in the grounds.
We have huge, black-lettered signs posted here and there along thelagoon, giving certain advice concerning swimming at ebb-tide.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words andintent.
Kastle Krags: A Story of Mystery Page 25