Galleon House

by Margaret Malcolm

  “With me, Madam?” Andrea repeated blankly. “You mean, though Simon is master here, I must nonetheless be the one who carries on Leo’s work?”

  “Of course not! When will you learn that a woman’s power lies in being a woman?”

  Involuntarily Andrea shivered. This was no casual comment but a command—an edict. Madam—and doubtless Leo—had decided that if he died, she must marry Simon. And suddenly, her cheeks that had been so white flamed brilliantly.

  “I won’t ... I can’t!” she stammered. “Sooner than that, I would leave St. Finbar and never come back!”

  “You cannot do that without Simon’s permission,” Madam said, her voice menacingly soft. “It is evident that you did not hear all that Trenire read to us. Simon is now your guardian—as Leo was. For a year, until you are of age, you must do what he tells you. And you can trust me to convince him that it will be to your advantage that you should stay here!”

  She shut her eyes resolutely, and because Andrea knew that it was purposeless to stay, she went to her own room.

  And Simon, sitting at Leo’s desk in the tower room, what did he feel about it all?

  As Andrea herself had done, he had taken it for granted that Leo would have left everything to her. His first reaction, when he heard that he was Leo’s heir, was to refuse his inheritance. Not only was it grossly unfair to Andrea to do anything else, but, if he accepted it, he was also accepting banishment from his own country and the home he had known all his life.

  Andrea. It all came back to her. Whatever he decided to do must serve her best interests. That being so, on the face of it, it would seem that he must somehow pass his inheritance on to her. But there was more to it than that. Luke, for one thing. And for another, the secret of Galleon House which he believed he had all but solved. An odd word here and there, a look of amusement in Leo’s eyes—the amusement of a man who has always enjoyed playing with fire. And, now and again, a sudden feeling of tension in the air.

  There were other things too, some so nebulous as to make them impossible to grasp, some insignificant in themselves, but adding up, surely, to give substance to an incredible conviction.

  Yes, convincing to himself but lacking actual proof. And that he was determined to have before he went to Madam and demanded the truth, as he fully intended doing.

  Already he knew that he would not find the proof among Leo’s papers. Sitting in this quiet room with an unpleasant feeling of guilt, he had gone through every cupboard, every drawer, every file. All dealt with the normal business of the estate. And all were in apple-pie order. Leo had been a good man of business as well as everything else.

  There was the safe too. That yielded up a certain amount of jewelry, though none of very great value, a list of Leo’s investments, a statement showing at which bank they were deposited and various certificates and statements from the same bank. These last Simon went through carefully. For a good many years Leo had been paying in large sums from time to time—twice or three times a year at the outside. One had been made very recently, and Simon recognized it as being approximately the amount that the diamond necklace and bracelet had fetched. Surely, all clear and above board! And yet he was not satisfied.

  But for days he had had the growing conviction that there was one place where he would find the information he wanted.

  That story, which Leo had confirmed, about the Trevaine treasure buried beneath the house itself, had always fired his imagination. His grandfather had told him stories about it that, to his boyish mind, had held the very essence of romance. And though he had never mentioned the fact to Leo, he knew where the entry to the hidden chamber was. What was more, he himself had taken the key on its slender steel chain from around his dead cousin’s neck and had worn it around his own neck ever since.

  Now he slipped it off and looked at it intently. It was a modern key, beautifully made and engraved with the name of a famous firm of safe-makers. That further confirmed his suspicions. His grandfather had spoken of a massive oak door, studded with steel bosses and strengthened with steel bars. Strong enough, no doubt, in the days when it was put there, but evidently not strong enough to please Leo. Well, he would go and see what it was all about, for only when he knew the whole story could he decide

  He went to his own bedroom for a flashlight and then made his way to Leo’s bedroom—a room which, in fact, he could claim as his own now if he wished since it was always used by the owner of the house. This, however, he had no desire to do, but at least the fact gave him the feeling that he was not trespassing. When one generation succeeded another over so many years as was the case here, some rooms, at least, acquired an almost impersonal quality.

  It was so here. Presumably Madam had given orders for the room to be entirely cleared of all of Leo’s personal property. It was simply a bedroom, swept and garnished for its next occupant—himself.

  Like many of the other rooms in the house, this was paneled. By one side of the fireplace was a door that looked as if it might lead to another room. Simon knew better. Carefully locking the door through which he had just come, he opened the second door and turned on the flashlight. At right angles to the door and in the thickness of the massive wall a flight of stone steps ran down and at the bottom was a heavy oak door—the one his grandfather had told him about. As he went down, he counted the steps and estimated that they must have brought him just about to ground level.

  It did not surprise him very much to find that the door opened on the latch, for it was so old and worn that it offered little security. Beyond it Simon found more steps which suddenly took a turn, so that he knew the old story was true; the Trevaine treasure was buried right under the house itself.

  It did not surprise him to find that now, instead of the walls and steps being of stone, they were hewn out of solid rock, and then, at the bottom of another set of stairs, he found a new door. It was painted a dull gray, but as Simon laid his hand on it, he knew from the coldness of it that it was made of steel. He pursed his lips in a whistle as he flashed the flashlight over it. Set in the rock itself, it presented a formidable barrier—and it must have been no easy task getting it into place. All the same, it opened easily at the turn of Leo’s key and Simon pushed it open. Eager though he was to get on with his discoveries, he examined the edge of the thick door and its interior carefully before letting go of it. It looked safe enough to him to let go of the door, but just in case, he looked around for something to prop against it so that it could not close, and then, for the first time, he realized that he was actually in the treasure chamber. Neatly ranged against the rock walls were all manner of chests and trunks. Some were comparatively modern, some, Simon thought, Captain Jeremy might well have brought home full of plunder. He found a good, solid metal one that was not too heavy to lift and set it between the door and its frame. Then he began his search.

  It would have been tempting to investigate the contents of the chests, but there was something else which intrigued Simon even more than they did. Sunk right into the rock so that only its door showed was a modern safe, and a glance showed that it had a combination lock.

  So, after all, he could not find out what he wanted to know without taking someone into his confidence, he thought wryly.

  Madam, presumably, would know the word that unlocked the safe, but the last thing he wanted to do was ask her for it. Well, at least he could have a shot. He did not know much about such locks, but he did know that you could tell the number of letters in the word by the number of dials. This was a six-letter word.

  Six letters—and it might be any word in the world! But it was worth trying words that had some connection with Galleon House. Andrea—that had the right number of letters, but he quickly found it was not the right one. Galleon—no, seven. Trevaine, much too long. Well, how about—he looked about himself for inspiration—Jeremy—or pirate? He tried each in turn without success. Feeling considerably discouraged, he tried other family names. Cherry, Leo’s mother. Esther, his grandfather’s
sister. Two other surnames connected with the family—Penlee and Polwyn—though with little hope over the last. Leo, he felt, would hardly use the name of a man he despised so heartily.

  He thought deeply. What else was there to try? Poldean, on the other side of the estuary, was too long. So was St. Finbar—although Finbar alone—suddenly he gave a shout of laughter that echoed oddly in the confined space. There was no saintliness about St. Finbar these days, if his suspicions were correct. And, he thought, it was a joke that Leo would have appreciated. Quickly he turned the dials—and heard the click he had been waiting for. The next moment he had swung the heavy door open.

  To his surprise, for it was a large safe, there were only half a dozen jewellers’ boxes in it, some large, some small. He removed the first one that came to his hand, opened it and flashed the light onto it. A necklace of pigeon’s blood rubies and diamonds made him catch his breath. A fabulous thing—a necklace fit for a queen—and who knew, it might have belonged to a queen at one time. The next case held two identical bracelets, emeralds this time, and more diamonds. Evidently the Trevaines had a weakness for diamonds.

  He took another case from the safe, but it was several minutes before he could make himself open it. When he did, he caught his breath in a deep, gasping sigh, for he was staring at a necklace and a bracelet that he had seen before—on Andrea’s neck and wrist, and again in the London sale room...

  He found Madam sitting in a chair by her window, a dignified commanding figure. Mentally Simon saluted her.

  “It’s good of you to see me, Madam,” he said gently.

  “It is good of you to spare time to come and see an old woman,” she countered. “You must be a busy man now.”

  “A busy one—and a troubled one, Madam,” Simon told her gravely. “I need your help.”

  “I have never yet refused help to a Trevaine,” Madam said deliberately. “It is unlikely that I should begin now.”

  But her eyes were guarded and watchful. She knew well enough what he had come to say, and she was frightened, not because of what he had found out but because she did not know what he would do about it. He decided that it was best to come straight to the point.

  “A strange thing has happened, Madam,” he began. “Since I arrived here, Leo found it necessary, so he told me, to sell some of the family jewelry—a necklace and a bracelet that Andrea wore one night. I’m sure you remember the occasion?”

  “Most certainly. I remember thinking what a pity it was that they must go because they became her so admirably.”

  “So admirably,” Simon said deliberately, “that I went to the sale hoping that I could afford to buy them and give them to Andrea as a wedding present.”

  “It was a charming notion ... and a generous gesture,” Madam said with a little inclination of her head.

  “Hardly—since I had to retire in the face of greater opposition than I had anticipated,” Simon said gravely. “The point is, however, that I was actually present when they were sold.”

  “Yes?” Obviously Madam had no intention of helping him out. “Yes. And yet, not half an hour ago, I was looking at those two selfsame pieces of jewelry—buried, as Leo once put it, in the bowels of the earth beneath the house. Unless, of course, they were replicas?”

  “No,” Madam admitted blandly. “They are the genuine ones.”

  “Ah—in that case, it would seem to be a situation that requires some explanation,” Simon suggested.

  “But I am sure you have the wit to have found an explanation for yourself!” Madam countered. “Tell me what you think.”

  “As you wish.” Simon drew a deep breath. This was it! “I believe that the apparent sale of these things was carried out purely to explain why large sums of money were paid to Leo from time to time.”

  “You are quite right,” Madam nodded, her brilliant eyes intent on his face. “Well?”

  “And I believe that the reason why this money was paid to him was that, for a good many years now, Leo has been engaged in smuggling on a very remunerative scale.”

  Madam gave an almost girlish crow of pleasure and triumph. “I always said you were an exceptionally intelligent man, Simon!” she declared warmly. “I am so glad you have not disappointed me!”

  “It’s possible that I may do yet,” Simon warned her. “Was it—drugs?”

  “Good gracious, no!” Madam was quite genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “That would be most immoral!”

  “I’m relieved to hear you say so!” Simon said dryly. “Then—diamonds, I suppose?”

  “We Trevaines have always had a weakness for diamonds,” she announced coolly. “Perhaps because they have always been our lucky stones.”

  Simon did not reply immediately, and Madam’s lips curved into a mocking smile.

  “Why, Simon, I really believe you are shocked!” she twitted him. “And you a Trevaine!”

  “I’m not as shocked as if it had been drugs,” he admitted. “That, as you say, is a moral offense. This—”

  “This is only breaking man-made laws made for no other reason than that governments are wasteful and spendthrift,” Madam interrupted eagerly. “We have been robbed—yes, robbed! There is no other word for it. So, in return, we rob. Surely that is logical!” And then, seeing how Simon’s face hardened, she went on: “Besides, our people were next door to starving. Something had to be done for them. So Leo bought the Cormorant—”

  “Yes, with its speed and its radar, that obviously played a part in it,” Simon interjected. “At a safe distance out, Leo met another ship, I suppose, and the diamonds were transferred.”

  “Leo swam from one boat to the other,” Madam agreed. “Even if they were picked up on someone else’s radar, they were only within hailing distance. There was no obvious contact.”

  “After that, lobster pots come into it somewhere...” Simon suggested.

  “Quite right. The stones were done up very securely and fixed in a lobster pot which had a false bottom. Then, on the way home, the Cormorant picked up all the pots which had been laid a day or so before and put down new ones. The one with the diamonds in it was dropped in the estuary. Then, when next the pots were changed, it, with others, was brought in. It was purposely damaged a little so that there was a reason for it to be taken into one of the sheds, and Leo took charge of the packet.”

  “And then?” as Madam paused.

  “Oh, several weeks later a holiday visitor would casually contact Leo. Oh, that was always being done because people wanted to come and see the house. It is quite famous, you know. And Leo would let them come because, of course, the more that came, the safer it was. But one of them—a different one each time—was the one. It was all very simple, really.”

  “And this happened two or three times a year,” Simon prompted.

  “About that,” Madam agreed. “It was a clever scheme, wasn’t it?”

  “It was indeed,” Simon admitted grimly.

  “The only trouble was, of course, that though he got the jewelry back each time, it could not be worn again,” Madam went on regretfully. “However, there are not the same occasions for wearing such things these days, so perhaps that does not really matter.”

  Simon began to feel as if he was taking part in a nightmare. This simply could not be happening! People did not do things like this—but they did, when they were Trevaines who lived in a world of their own and felt themselves entitled to make their own laws.

  “Was Andrea ever involved in any of these exploits?” Simon demanded and breathed more easily when Madam shook her head.

  “Leo did not want her to be mixed up in it. Although...” She stopped abruptly.

  “Although?”

  “On the last occasion—after Leo had broken his arm—she was to have taken his place,” Madam admitted unwillingly. “Only the Dutch boat did not keep the appointment.”

  “Did Leo find out why?” Simon asked quickly.

  “No, he didn’t. He was waiting to hear when—” She bit her lip a
nd her eyes misted.

  Simon’s heart was wrung for her. Between them Leo and this incredible old woman had broken the law on a grand scale for years and they had led astray others who accepted their word as law. But a deep chord of love had linked grandmother and grandson, and Madam had retained something of her youth in Leo’s vitality. Now that chord was broken, and to Simon it seemed that Madam was a good ten years older than when he had first seen her.

  “I have told you all I know,” she said wearily. “It is for you to decide...”

  “I have already decided,” Simon told her strongly, but he did not tell her what his decision had been. Instead, very gently, even regretfully, he went on: “I know you are very tired, Madam, and I wish I could spare you, but there is one more question I must ask.”

  “Still more? You are insatiable, Simon!” She smiled at him with an affection that touched him deeply but did not deflect him an inch from his resolution to get to the bottom of all the mysteries that Galleon House held.

  “It has nothing to do with what we have been discussing...” he began, and Madam stiffened defensively. “It concerns Andrea.” Madam did not reply and Simon, leaning forward and gazing into her face, asked quietly:

  “Madam—who is Andrea?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  With that astounding question still echoing through the room neither Madam nor Simon heard a slight sound from the other side of the door that led to Madam’s dressing room. So neither of them knew that what they were saying was being overheard.

  Andrea had brought Madam’s afternoon tea up and by chance had come through the landing door of the dressing room instead of straight into Madam’s room. She had paused when she heard Madam say: