All that glimmers is not gold.
But then again, who knows?
What’s mine is mine and yours is yours,
As this note clearly shows.
You think because I’m dead and gone,
My fortune’s yours by right.
But let me tell you, nothing ever
Comes without a fight.
Dear Agnes,
I know you’re probably thrilled that I’ve finally gone so you can get your hands on my fortune. Let’s face it, that’s all you’ve ever wanted from me. But just to make your life a little interesting, I’m not going to tell you where to find it! You can look for yourself, and if you can’t discover where it is, then bad luck to you. You should know that I’ve also changed my will – the fortune will still go to the youngest in the family, as your father requested, but now if another relative is born before you manage to find it, then that person will become the new heir instead of you. You’d better hope your sister doesn’t have a baby in the next few years, because, let me tell you, I’ve hidden the fortune well!
Trust me, Agnes, if I could I’d leave the whole lot to your older sister, who at least came to visit we occasionally, but silly old Edgar was quite insistent in his will about the youngest family member inheriting. This was the best I could come up with. Consider it my way of thanking you for ignoring me these last twenty years.
So that’s it from me, then. Don’t waste any time getting to work, as you’ll need every second you have. Don’t even come to my funeral (although I’m sure you wouldn’t have, anyway.).
Ungratefully yours,
Aunt Penelope Pincushion
Kate read the note to herself a couple of times. How furious Miss Pincushion must have been to find that letter. Kate wished that she could have seen Miss Pincushion’s face at that moment. No wonder she was desperate enough when Kate was born to have her kidnapped.
Carefully, Kate folded the note and slipped it into her pocket. Then she closed the secret drawer, pushing it back into place with a “click”, and crept out into the hallway.
Down in the basement, it sounded like Uncle Dermott had found a jackhammer and was using it to pound away at the concrete foundations. The whole house was shaking and juddering with noise and vibrations. A trickle of dust fell down from the ceiling and into Kate’s hair.
As quickly as she dared, Kate slipped down the stairs and dashed past the basement door. She caught a glimpse of Aunt Tina desperately clinging on to a massive jackhammer. She was only just in control of it as it smashed and bashed this way and that against the concrete floor. Massive vibrations rippled up her arms, making her whole body look like a plastic shopping-bag full of jelly being shaken up and down. Uncle Dermott was scooping up broken concrete with a shovel, and piling it in one corner of the basement.
On her way through the kitchen, Kate grabbed a couple of Aunt Tina’s Mars Bars then hurried down to her cave.
In daylight the open mouth of the cave seemed tiny and was almost hidden by bushes and weeds. It looked too small and insignificant to have a fortune hidden inside, but if Kate was right, somewhere, tucked away in the deepest corner, was the key to the whole mystery. Ducking her head low, Kate crawled inside.
Chapter Ten
Digging
After the bright sunlight, inside the cave was cold and damp and Kate shivered slightly as she crept right to the back corner, to where she’d found the strange flat black rock with the engravings. There in the rock face was that tiny thread of gold, tracing away into the darkness and disappearing behind a small pile of loose boulders piled up against the back wall.
Slowly, one at a time, Kate began to pull the rocks aside, following the golden trail as it went deeper and deeper into the cave. It was hard work; the rocks were quite heavy and there wasn’t much room to move them around. Kate had to back in and out of the widening gap, again and again, pulling and pushing the boulders as she did so.
After moving the first few boulders, however, she was surprised to find herself in a kind of tunnel, leading deeper and deeper into the rock. Eventually, the cave started to get bigger, and as she followed the thread of gold forwards there was more head-room to work in.
Unfortunately, the further in she went, the darker it became, and soon she could barely see her hand in front of her face.
“I need some kind of light,” she whispered, and the sound of her voice echoing off the cave walls told her that she was no longer in the narrow little tunnel but standing at the opening to a much bigger underground cavern.
Finally, when she could no longer see the golden trail in the wall, Kate turned and felt her way back along the tunnel to the narrow opening into her own tiny cave. After being in the bigger chamber inside, she realised how terribly small her home was – it was nothing more than the entry to the much larger cave inside.
Grabbing one of the candles from her rock shelf, Kate looked around for something to light it with, but realised that, with all the excitement of Miss Pincushion’s visit, Aunt Tina had forgotten to give Kate her matches for the week. She would have to go up to the house and get some for herself.
The sound of the jackhammer in the basement was still ringing loudly through the house as Kate slipped back inside. The matches were kept on the highest shelf of the pantry in the kitchen, well beyond Kate’s reach, so she had to drag a chair in from the dining room to stand on.
While she was doing so, she noticed that more and more dusty plaster was shaking itself loose from the ceiling and floating down, covering her hair and arms in a fine coat of white powder.
Snatching a whole box of matches off the top shelf, Kate dashed back out the door and through the yard. Safely in the cave, she lit her candle and, clutching it tightly, ducked through the opening at the back of the cave and started down the tunnel.
In the flickering candlelight, the gold glimmer in the rock seemed to twinkle even brighter as she followed it along the wall. The deeper she went, the thicker it became, until, by the time she reached the dark cavern inside, it was almost as wide as three fingers. Holding the candle high, she stepped into the big cave.
Candlelight danced on the rock walls and across the sandy floor, and much to Kate’s surprise, the cave was almost totally empty. There was nothing there – no gold, no chests of money. Nothing but a battered old desk and chair in the middle of the cavern. Trembling, Kate walked slowly over to it. The wood was old and worn, and she could see where it had cracked and split from the moisture inside the cave. And there was the strangest thing – something Kate would never have expected in a million years. Sitting in the middle of the desk was an artist’s paint box and ajar of tiny paintbrushes. Beside these was an envelope, made of thick waxed paper, designed to protect its contents from time and moisture.
Picking up the envelope, Kate turned it over and over. There was no writing on it, no name or address. Should she open it? Inside might well be the answer to all these mysteries but on the other hand, perhaps it would be better to wait until she had some help from the police.
She didn’t get a chance to make up her mind, however, because the most awful splintering, crashing sound came rumbling into the cave from the direction of the house. The walls shook and her candle fell off the old desk onto the sandy floor and went out, plunging Kate into total darkness.
For a couple of minutes she stood there, dead still, until her eyes grew used to the dark. She could just see the dim glow where a tiny amount of sunlight crept in up the tunnel entrance to the cavern. Slowly she picked her way towards the light, and then along the tunnel and through the cave, to see what had caused the crashing noise.
Following the path, Kate slipped through the thorn bushes and out onto the back lawn of the house.
Only there was no house there anymore. Just a huge pile of rubble: bricks, bits of timber, broken glass, a gigantic pile where once Uncle Dermott and Aunt Tina’s house had stood. Dust still floated around in the air, settling over everything.
Kate stood there
aghast. Uncle Dermott and Aunt Tina must still be inside, somewhere under that enormous heap of bricks and timber. What to do? She was about to run across the paddocks to the roadway and flag down a passing car when she heard a noise, just the faintest of sounds, coming from the depths of the pile.
“Help! Dermott!”
“Aunt Tina!” yelled Kate. “Can you hear me?”
“Girl? GIRL! Is that you?” Uncle Dermott’s voice seemed to be coming from over to her left, so Kate scrambled across a pile of broken tiles towards the noise.
“Yes, Uncle Dermott. Are you all right?”
“All right? Don’t ask preposterous questions, you silly child. Of course we’re not all right. Your aunt and I are trapped down here.”
“Dermott, I’m hungry!” wailed Aunt Tina.
“If you want, I can go and get the police,” Kate called into the hole from where their voices floated out.
“No! Whatever you do, don’t call them. You’ll have to dig us out yourself.”
“But Uncle Dermott, there’s far too much wreckage. I’ll never be able to move it all.”
“Stop wasting time and get to work, then. We haven’t got all day, you know.”
Kate took a deep breath.
“No.”
“WHAT!” Uncle Dermott thundered from the basement.
“I said no,” Kate repeated, yelling herself now. “I’m sick of being pushed around by the two of you. If you want me to go and get some help, then I will, but otherwise you can dig yourselves out.”
There was silence from the hole.
“And by the way,” she added, “I’ve found Great Aunt Penelope’s fortune. I knew where it was all along.”
That was a lie, but she figured she could get away with it for the moment.
“You WHAT?”
From deep inside the rubble came the sound of things being thrown aside.
“Dermott, what are you doing?”
“Be quiet and help me dig, you large lump! Girl, when I get out of here, you are in so much trouble. I’ll call Miss Pincushion to come and take you off our hands once and for all. But not before I skin you alive myself! I’m going to beat your behind, young lady, I’m going to …”
Kate had had enough of listening to Uncle Dermott’s threats. Calmly she took the bottle of chloroform from her pocket, removed the lid, and poured just a little of it down the hole and into the basement.
A couple of minutes later the only sound she could hear was Aunt Tina snoring.
Chapter Eleven
A Surprise
“Well, Miss Pincushion, I have both good news and bad news for you, I’m afraid.” The gentleman in the grey suit sat behind his desk and looked over the top of his glasses at Kate. “Which would you like first?”
Kate thought for a moment or two.
“The bad news, please, Mr Jenkins.”
The lawyer shuffled some papers in front of him.
“Well, it would appear that the Pincushion fortune, which you were to inherit, is in fact substantially less than originally thought.”
“How much less?”
“Well, actually, nothing at all.”
“Nothing?”
“Perhaps I can explain. As you know, the Pincushion wealth was made by two people, your grandfather, Sir Edgar, and his sister, Lady Penelope.”
“Yes.”
“It would appear that Lady Penelope’s part of the family money came from the sale of small gold nuggets, which most people assumed she had found during her trips overseas. It appears, however, that she had been mining the gold herself from the cave in her back garden.”
“I know this.”
“Quite. What you don’t know is that our experts have now had time to survey the cave properly, and they believe that all of the gold was exhausted from that particular cave over ten years ago. Quite simply, there’s nothing left.”
“But what about the gold I found there? The trail into the main cavern?”
“Ah, yes, that. Well, Miss Kate, I’m afraid Lady Penelope told you the answer to that question herself.”
Kate thought for a moment.
“All that glitters is not gold?” she said.
“Quite right. In this case, I’m afraid, nothing more than common yellow household paint mixed with iron filings. All that remained of Lady Penelope’s fortune was several thousand dollars, which was being held in a secret trust account, the details of which were in that envelope you discovered.”
Kate cheered up a little.
“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Kate. You see, there’s also your grandfather’s part of the fortune, held in the same trust account; unlike Lady Penelope’s share, his amounted to several hundred thousand dollars.”
Kate looked at the man, puzzled.
“I thought you said that this was bad news.”
“Forgive me, Miss Kate, but I haven’t finished explaining yet. Sir Edgar, it would appear, was not quite the noted lepidopterist that he was thought to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you know, he made his share of the family wealth selling rare and exotic butterflies to rich collectors the world over.”
“Yes.”
“The strange thing was, he never once, in all those years, sold or donated a single butterfly to a museum or a university. Only ever to private collectors.”
“What’s strange about that?”
“Tell me, Miss Kate,” the lawyer reached in and pulled something out of a drawer in his mahogany desk, “do you recognise this at all?”
Kate stared, amazed, at the familiar cream and black patterning.
“Of course I do, it’s Uncle Dermott’s Zerynthia polyxena. However did you find it in all that wreckage?”
“We didn’t, Miss Kate. Look closely. Do you notice anything unusual?”
For a few seconds Kate studied the tiny insect carefully. Then she realised.
“There’s no spot on the hindwing. This isn’t the same butterfly, is it?”
“Quite right, Miss Kate. Very observant of you, I must say. This in fact came from the private collection of a Sydney gentleman, who originally obtained it from your grandfather for the sum of twenty thousand dollars.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
“Watch then.”
The lawyer eased open the drawer of the display case, then reached out and buzzed his secretary.
“Miss Pumble, do you by chance have any nail polish remover with you?”
“Of course, Mister Jenkins.”
“Might I borrow it for a moment or two?”
The office door opened and Miss Pumble crossed the room and handed the lawyer a small bottle.
“Thank you. Now, Miss Pincushion. Watch carefully.”
Gently he applied just a tiny stroke of nail polish remover to the hindwing of the butterfly. To Kate’s amazement, the colours on the wing immediately began to melt and run, leaving a pale, bleached spot, just like the one she’d noticed on Uncle Dermott’s butterfly.
“You see, Miss Kate, your grandfather might not have been much of a lepidopterist but he was certainly quite an artist.”
“Do you mean that it isn’t …”
“I’m afraid not. This, I’m sorry to tell you, is nothing more than a well-painted Delias nigrina, a remarkably common white butterfly with a similar shape to the Zerynthia. Not quite identical, but with a little trimming your grandfather managed to make them close enough.”
“So my grandfather was …”
“… A con man,” finished the lawyer. “The cave in the back yard, from which Lady Penelope mined the gold, was his studio. In her final letter she left quite detailed instructions, not only about the trust account but also about all the people whom your grandfather had sold “rare’ butterflies to; they were all to be informed and paid back immediately. As her lawyer, this is what I have been doing these last few weeks.”
“And so all that is left is �
��”
“Nothing. After all of the people had their money, plus interest, restored to them, I’m afraid to report that there isn’t a single cent left.”
“Oh.” Poor Kate was crestfallen as all her dreams of her own home and schools and holidays fell apart.
“But don’t worry, Miss Kate, I did tell you that there was good news as well, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“Quite understandable.”
“So what is the good news?”
“Well, firstly, the judge passed sentence on Dermott and Nastina Butterbum yesterday, and gave them twenty-five years each, but he didn’t send them to prison. Tina Butterbum was sent to work at a health farm, where she’ll be fed only vegetables and made to run twenty kilometres every morning, and Dermott Butterbum will serve out his sentence doing volunteer work in a home for abandoned puppies.”
“Serves them right.” Kate smiled at the thought. “And what about Miss Pincushion?”
“Ah, well now, that was a little different. Thanks to that letter you found in Dermott’s secret drawer, it was quite clear that she was the instigator of your kidnapping, and that she was blackmailing the Butterbums as well. I’m afraid your aunt will be spending the next twenty-seven years in a maximum-security prison for the worst criminals.”
“Well then.” Kate stood to leave. “Thankyou for all your time and help over these last couple of weeks, Mr Jenkins. I’m sorry that there’s not enough of the family fortune left to pay you.”
“Don’t worry about that, Miss Kate, Lady Penelope saw to my fees long before she died.”
“What was she like? It would have been nice to know her.”
“She was quite an amazing woman.” For a moment the elderly lawyer stared off into the distance. “Quite incredible. She had the most amazing …” He stopped and shook his head slightly.
“Listen to me, daydreaming about an old friend when I haven’t given you the most important news of all.”
“What?” Kate tilted her head slightly, uncertain what to expect.
The Girl In the Cave Page 6