The Master of Phoenix Hall (24 page)

I was a little alarmed as I stopped the wagon and climbed down. I had been gone longer than I had intended, of course, but still Nan should have cooked dinner. There should have been a light burning in the kitchen and the odors of food cooking. I stood there for a moment, my hand resting on the warm muzzle of Billy's dappled gray. The animal was placid, kicking his hooves lightly on the dirt. If anything were wrong he would have sensed it, I thought.

Then I wondered about Peter. He should be barking. He always rushed out to greet me when I had been gone. There was no sign of him now. Well, I thought, perhaps they took him with them. I hesitated, looking at the dark house, and then I saw something far off, beyond the house. It lasted just a second, a brief flash, a tiny pin point of yellow light in the quarry behind Dower House. It came and went so quickly that I could not really be sure I had seen it.

I stepped across the yard and opened the front door, scolding myself for a too vivid imagination. Nan and Billy had gone for a walk. They were huddled together somewhere now, exchanging intimate confidences, and Peter was with them. A firefly had flashed in one of the shrubs, and I had let my imagination magnify it into a sinister light in the quarry. I should have better sense, I thought. I resolved to dress down Nan and Billy both for their thoughtlessness.

The house was very dark and still. I stood for a moment in the hall trying to get my bearings. I touched the wall and felt my way over to the little secretary where we kept matches. I opened the drawer and felt for the slender little sticks. My hand brushed over paper, ribbons, a package of seed, but I could not find the matches. We had probably used them all. I knew for certain that there were some in the parlor. I stumbled into the room, irritated with myself. It was so dark I could not feel a sense of direction.

I stood in the middle of the parlor. The curtains were drawn and not a drop of light penetrated into the room. Where was the desk? I started to move towards the right when I heard a noise that caused my pulses to leap. It was not my imagination this time. The noise was repeated, a rattle and creak that was here in the room with me. Someone was moving. The noise was followed by a faint chirp and I realized that Nan's canary had jumped up on his swing in the cage. The noise enabled me to find my bearings. I went to the desk and found the matches immediately.

The lamp spread a warm glow of light in the room. It was friendly and welcoming, all neat and clean as I had left it. The canary blinked sleepy eyes at me and hopped down from his swing to peck at his seed. I went into the kitchen and lit the lamp there. The room was filled with the fragrant odors of newly baked bread, and two golden brown loaves were setting on the drain board beside the whetstone and four newly sharpened knives. The light glittered on the long steel blades. Although Nan had cleaned up all of her bread making mess, there was a sprinkling of flour on the floor, and there were no signs of preparation for dinner.

I went back into the parlor and sat down, trying to curb my irritation with the negligent couple. This was not at all like Nan. I wondered if anything had happened. Had there been an accident? Had someone come to fetch Billy? Nan would have gone along with him if there promised to be any kind of excitement. There was bound to be any number of logical explanations for their absence, the most likely being the romantic stroll I had surmised in the first place. They were both young and carefree. What did a late dinner matter in the face of that?

The house was very quiet, almost too quiet. I could hear the wind in the trees outside, the limbs groaning. I could hear the clock ticking on the mantle. It was a monotonous sound, only emphasizing the silence. They would be back soon, surely. I did not like being alone. I had been upset by my discoveries, and I wanted to hear Nan's friendly chatter. I wanted to feel the security of Billy's presence. I sat there in the chair, my palms resting on the overstuffed arms, waiting to hear the sound of footsteps on the gravel and Peter's excited yelp.

The clock ticked on. Merely sitting here only made matters worse. My impatience was getting out of bounds and I knew I could no longer wait. The key was in the desk drawer and I took it out, holding the tarnished object in the curve of my hand, examining it as though I had never seen a key before. If my aunt had, hidden it in the secret drawer with the revolver and the notebooks, there must have been a reason. The key must have been important. I knew it did not fit any of the cabinets or drawers in the main part of the house. All those keys were on a ring I kept hanging beside the kitchen door. What could it possibly fit?

She had hidden the gold very skillfully. She would have put it somewhere where she could have more or less kept an eye on it. I did not think she would have buried it, and I was certain it was not stuffed away anywhere in the house. The key must be significant. It must have something to do with the hidden gold. Why else would she have put it away with the other things? I tried to think of any place I might have overlooked.

Then I remembered the cellar.

Of course. There were several old boxes and trunks down there. I had never gone through them. I had avoided the cellar whenever possible. The key must fit one of those locks. What a perfect place for the gold. Aunt Lucille had been a shrewd old woman, and she must have known her man very thoroughly. It was the one place he would not think to look. It was much too obvious. It was the one place he had most access to. The gold would be right there, within easy reach, and he would never have thought about looking for it right there under his eyes.

I grew more and more excited as I thought about this possibility. I grew convinced the gold was in the cellar. The cellar was the focal point of this whole afair, and if the gold was still at Dower House the cellar was the only place it could possibly be.

I had forgotten about Nan and Billy now. I had forgotten about everything else. I hurried into the kitchen and unlocked the door that led down to the cellar. A wave of cold, clammy air rustled up from the darkness and the fetid odor assailed my nostrils. I stood there, peering down. Something held me back. Perhaps it was the filth. Perhaps it was the smell. Perhaps it was the associations the place had in my mind. I could feel the clammy air on my arms, and the sour smell was ugly. It was a place of cobwebs and spiders and dust and darkness, and I hesitated. It would be much better to wait until morning. Then Billy could go down with me and I would not feel so uneasy.

I looked down at the key in my hand. It seemed to burn there in my palm, urging me to use it immediately. My curiosity got the better of me, overcoming the sense of uneasiness. I opened the cellar door all the way back and propped a chair against it to hold it open. It would be the first thing Nan and Billy would see when they came in. I took the oil lamp from the shelf and started down the stairs.

They were slick with moisture, and bits of green moss grew between the cracks. The lamp spluttered, throwing garish shadows over the damp wall. It was very cold down here, and I shivered a little, standing at the foot of the stairs and wondering where to begin. A huge cobweb was draped over one corner, its silky threads dripping with moisture, and I shuddered as I saw a spider dangling in the center of the web. The earth floor was spongy to my feet. I set the lamp on a stack of old boxes and kneeled down before a small trunk.

It was not locked. It contained old photographs and ancient letters. I moved aside a basket of rubbish to get to a brass bound trunk that looked promising. It was locked securely, but the leather hinges were so old and mildewed that they broke easily and I was able to lift the lid. The trunk contained nothing but books.

The light flickered. I was extremely nervous. I kept looking over my shoulder as though I expected to see someone standing there in the shadows. I had the curious feeling that someone was watching me, but I knew it must be my imagination. There was a strange noise, too, a scurrying sound behind the shelves of poison. No doubt it was mice, but it worried me nevertheless. I was beginning to lose my nerve. I stood up, brushing the dirt from my skirt.

The oil lamp spilled a pool of spluttering light in the center of the room, but the rest of the cellar was in shadows. I held the lamp up, peering into the corners. I could not get over the feeling that a pair of eyes was fastened upon me. The sensation grew stronger. There was a crunching sound, like someone shifting their weight from one foot to the other. When I whirled around there was nothing but my own shadow on the wall. There was no one in the cellar besides myself. It was absurd to imagine these things, I told myself, trying to regain my composure. There was no possible way anyone could get here without coming down the steps, and the door had been securely locked. I moved the lamp to another stack of boxes so that it could illuminate another part of the cellar.

I was convinced that the gold was down here, or had been. The conviction grew stronger, and with it my determination to find a lock that would match the key. I knew I had seen other trunks here at one time or another. We had taken none of them upstairs. They must still be here. I saw an old dressmaker's dummy standing against the wall, the wire rusted, the padding coming out of the form. I paused, frowning. It should not have been there. It should have been in the corner, beside the wheelbarrow. That was where it had been the last time I was in the cellar. Then I noticed that several things were not where they had been before. Someone had moved them.

Nothing would induce Nan to come down here alone. Perhaps Billy had moved the things around, looking for some tool or other. Surely he had. I certainly hadn't. I frowned, bewildered. No one else could have done it. No one else could have been down here. It must have been Billy. But when had he been in the cellar recently to fetch something?

Then I saw the old brass bound trunk. It had been shoved against the wall. It was securely fastened with a heavy lock, and the lock was brass, green with tarnish. A stack of old newspapers and magazines was piled on top of the trunk. I pushed them aside and put the key into the lock. It went in smoothly, turned easily. The hinges creaked as I lifted the lid. A cloud of dust rose in my face and I Goughed. The trunk was filled with balls of newspaper, tightly packed against four lumpy bags of worn chamois cloth. I took out one of the bags.

It was terribly heavy. It split open. Gold showered at my feet, and I let out a little cry. The gold glistened and glittered there on the floor of the cellar, all the brighter against the muddy surface. I looked at it with disbelief. It was hard to believe that it was really there, that I had actually discovered it.

So I had been right after all. I stared at the gold, frightened now. I did not want to touch it. I thought of all the hands that must have touched it, of all the crimes that had been committed for its sake. It was evil, and now that I had found it I merely wanted to run.

I heard the loud creaking noise. There was a sudden draft of cold air, sharp and chill, and the lamp fluttered wildly, throwing grotesque shadows on the wall. The wall that held the shelves of poison was swinging inwards, opening like a door. A jar of poison fell, shattered into a dozen pieces. I was paralyzed. I watched as the arm pushed the wall all the way back, and in the flickering light of the lamp I could see the man as he had been that other time, dressed all in black, a silky black hood over his head. He stood just inside the cellar.

“Thank you for finding it for me,” he said. “I knew it must be here. I had been looking earlier.”

“You?” I whispered.

“I knew it was in Dower House somewhere. That's why I wanted you to go away.”

“You are the one,” I said. My voice was barely audible.

He stepped fully into the cellar. Behind him I could see a long passage that led down into darkness. That explained so much. He had been here looking for the gold, and that explained the disorder. He had been here before, and I remembered the mystrious footprints I had found earlier. He had been standing behind the shelf of poison just now, watching me as I opened the lid of the trunk. He was a menacing figure as he moved towards me. The yellow light picked up the gloss on his tall black boots. I could see the butt of a revolver projecting from the belt of his tight black pants. The silky black hood completely covered his face, with only two holes at eye level. The eyes were watching me, waiting to see what I would do.

I stood up very straight, my back arched. I held my chin out, meeting his stare with calm eyes. Only my hands betrayed me. They trembled visibly, and I put them behind me, hoping that he had not noticed.

“You are the one who tried to frighten, me away,” I said. “You threw the rock with the warning note tied to it.”

“I had one of my men do it, Angela.”

“Why? Why did you want to frighten me?”

“I wanted you out of the way.”

“You knew the gold was here?”

“I suspected it. I knew it couldn't be far away. I didn't think of the cellar until I read the notebooks.”

“I went to the school this afternoon. I found them.”

“Pity,” he said. “I had hoped I could pull all this off without involving you. I hoped I could get the gold and then persuade you to leave with me. I've been back to Liverpool. I've booked passage on a ship sailing for South America. Everything is ready. I even have passports for a Mr. Andrews and his wife.”

“You thought I would go with you?”

He nodded. The eyes did not leave my face.

“You were wrong, Greg.”

“I think not,” he said.

“The night of the ball—” I began. “There was no sick child. There was no message from the school.”

“That fool Clements. He came. He was panicky. We were almost caught after the last robbery. They searched the quarry and passed right by the crevice that leads to the cave. This passage connects with the cave. All the rest of the loot is there, and the clothes. Clements came to Phoenix Hall. He was drunk. He demanded his part of the gold. He wanted to take it and leave for Devon and be done with it.”