RALESTONE LUCK By ANDRÉ NORTON _Author of_ The Prince Commands ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES REID D. APPLETON-CENTURY COMPANYINCORPORATEDNEW YORK 1938 LONDON Copyright, 1938, byD. Appleton-Century Company, Inc. All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, must not be reproducedin any form without permission of the publisher. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA TO D. B. N. _In return for many miles of proof so diligently read_ [Illustration: _"How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken questionbrought the well-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, bythe sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!"_] CONTENTS I. THE RALESTONES COME HOME II. THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE III. THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR IV. PISTOLS FOR TWO--COFFEE FOR ONE V. THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES VI. SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS VII. BY OUR LUCK! VIII. GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL IX. PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN X. INTO THE SWAMP XI. RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE! XII. THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST XIII. ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS-- XIV. PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS XV. PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE! XVI. RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER XVII. THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE XVIII. RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS ILLUSTRATIONS "How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought thewell-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold we Lorne!" "I'se Lucy, " she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis is Letty-Lou" Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas "It's a genuine Audubon, " Charity said _Zzzzzrupp_! Satan was industriously ripping the remnants of lining fromits interior The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a dead and distortedstrip of country At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boypiteously, its eyes green in the light Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be no doubt in any ofthem--the Luck of Lorne had returned RALESTONE LUCK _How hold ye Lorne?_ By the oak leaf, By the sea wave, By the broadsword blade, Thus hold we Lorne! _The oak leaf is dust, The sea wave is gone, The broadsword is rust, How now hold ye Lorne?_ By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne! CHAPTER I THE RALESTONES COME HOME "Once upon a time two brave princes and a beautiful princess set out tomake their fortunes--" began the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy by theroadster. "Royalty is out of fashion, " corrected Ricky Ralestone somewhatindifferently. "Can't you do better than that?" She gave her small, perthat an exasperated tweak which brought the unoffending bowl-shaped bitof white felt into its proper position over her right eyebrow. "How longdoes it take Rupert to ask a single simple question?" Her brother Val watched the gas gage on the instrument board of theroadster fluctuate wildly as the attendant of the station shook the hoseto speed the flow of the last few drops. Five gallons--a dollar ten. Didhe have that much? He began to assemble various small hoards of changefrom different pockets. "Do you think we're going to like this?" Ricky waved her hand vaguely ina gesture which included a dilapidated hot-dog stand and a stretch ofroad white-hot under the steady baking of the sun. "Well, I think that Pirate's Haven is slightly different from ourpresent surroundings. Where's your proper pride? Not everyone can beclassed among the New Poor, " Val observed judiciously. "Nobility in the bread line. " His sister sniffed with what she fondlybelieved was the air of a Van Astor dowager. "Nobility?" "We never relinquished the title, did we? Rupert's still the Marquess ofLorne. " "After some two hundred years in America I am afraid that we would findourselves strangers in England. And Lorne crumbled to dust long ago. " "But he's still Marquess of Lorne, " she persisted. "All right. And what does that make you?" "Lady Richanda, of course, silly. Can't you remember the wording of theold charter? And you're Viscount--" "Wrong there, " Val corrected her. "I'm only a lord, by courtesy, unlesswe can bash Rupert on the head some dark night and chuck him into thebayou. " "Lord Valerius. " She rolled it upon her tongue. "Marquess, Lady, andLord Val, out to seek their fortunes. Pity we can't do it in thetraditional family way. " "But we can't, you know, " he protested laughingly. "I believe thatpiracy is no longer looked upon with favor by the more solid members ofany community. Though plank-walking is an idea to keep in mind when thebill collectors start to draw in upon us. " "Here comes Rupert at last. Rupert, " she raised her voice as their elderbrother opened the door by the driver's seat, "shall we all go and bepirates? Val has some lovely gory ideas. " "Not just yet anyway--we still have a roof over our heads, " he answeredas he slid in behind the wheel. "We should have taken the right turn amile back. " "Bother!" Ricky surveyed as much of her face as she could see in thepostage-stamp mirror of her compact. "I don't think I'm going to likeLouisiana. " "Maybe Louisiana won't care for you either, " Val offered slyly. "Afterall, we dyed-in-the-wool Yanks coming to live in the deep South--" "Speak for yourself, Val Ralestone. " She applied a puff carefully to thetip of her upturned nose. "Since we've got this barn of a place on ourhands, we might as well live in it. Too bad you couldn't have persuadedour artist tenant to sign another lease, Rupert. " "He's gone to spend a year in Italy. The place is in fairly goodcondition though. LeFleur said that as long as we don't use the leftwing and close off the state bedrooms, we can manage nicely. " "State bedrooms--" Val drew a deep breath which was meant to be one ofreverence but which turned into a sneeze as the roadster's wheels raisedthe dust. "How does it feel to own such magnificence, Rupert?" "Not so good, " he replied honestly. "A house as big as Pirate's Haven isa burden if you don't have the cash to keep it up properly. Though thisartist chap did make a lot of improvements on his own. " "But think of the Long Hall--" began Ricky, rolling her eyes heavenward. "And just what do you know about the Long Hall?" demanded Rupert. "Why, that's where dear Great-great-uncle Rick's ghost is supposed towalk, isn't it?" she asked innocently. "I hope that our late tenantdidn't scare him away. It gives one such a blue-blooded feeling to thinkof having an active ghost on the premises. A member of one's own family, too!" "Sure. Teach him--or it--some parlor tricks and we'll show it--orhim--off every afternoon between three and four. We might even be ableto charge admission and recoup the family fortune, " Val suggestedbrightly. "Have you no reverence?" demanded his sister. "And besides, ghosts onlywalk at night. " "Now that's something we'll have to investigate, " Val interrupted her. "Do ghosts have union rules? I mean, I wouldn't want Great-great-uncleRick to march up and down the carriage drive with a sign reading, 'TheRalestones are unfair to ghosts, ' or anything like that. " "We'll have to use the Long Hall, of course, " cut in Rupert, as usualignoring their nonsense. "And the old summer drawing-room. But we canshut up the dining-room and the ball-room. We'll eat in the kitchen, andthat and a bedroom apiece--" "I suppose there are bathrooms, or at least a bathroom, " his brotherinterrupted. "Because I don't care to rush down to the bayou for a goodbrisk plunge every time I get my face dirty. " "Harrison put in a bathroom at his own expense last fall. " "For which blessed be the name of Harrison. If he hadn't gone to Italy, he would have rebuilt the house. How soon do we get there? This touringis not what I thought it might be--" The crease which had appeared so recently between Rupert's eyesdeepened. "Leg hurt, Val?" he asked quietly, glancing at the slim figure sharinghis seat. "No. I'm expressing curiosity this time, old man, not just a whine. Butif we're going to be this far off the main highway--" "Oh, it's not far from the city road. We ought to be seeing thegate-posts any moment now. " "Prophet!" Ricky leaned forward between them. "See there!" Two gray stone posts, as firmly planted by time as the avenue oflive-oaks they headed, showed clearly in the afternoon light. And fromthe nearest, deep carven in the stone, a jagged-toothed skull, crownedand grinning, stared blankly at the three in the shabby car. Beneath itran the insolent motto of an ancient and disreputable clan, "What Iwant--I take!" "This is the place all right--I recognize Joe there. " Val pointed to thecrest. "Good old Joe, always laughing. " Ricky made a face. "Horrid old thing. I don't see why we couldn't havehad a swan or something nice to swank about. " "But then the Lords of Lorne were hardly a nice lot in their prime, " Valreminded her. "Well, Rupert, let's see the rest. " The car followed a graveled drive between tall bushes which would havebeen the better for a pruning. Then the road made a sudden curve andthey came out upon a crescent of lawn bordering upon a stone-pavedterrace three steps above. And on the terrace stood the home a Ralestonehad not set foot in for over fifty years--Pirate's Haven. "It looks--" Ricky stared up, "why, it looks just like the picture Mr. Harrison painted!" "Which proves why he is now in Italy, " Val returned. "But he did captureit on canvas. " "Gray stone--and those diamond-paned windows--and that squatty tower. But it isn't like a Southern home at all! It's some old, old place outof England. " "Because it was built by an exile, " said Rupert softly. "An exile wholoved his home so well that he labored five years in the wilderness tobuild its duplicate. Those little diamond-paned windows were onceprotected with shutters an inch thick, and the place was a fort inIndian times. But it is strange to this country. That's why it's one ofthe show places. LeFleur asked me if we would be willing to keep up thecustom of throwing the state rooms open to the public one day a month. " "And shall we?" asked Ricky. "We'll see. Well, don't you want to see the inside as well as the out?" "Of course! Val, you lazy thing, get out!" "Certainly, m'lady. " He swung open the door and climbed out stiffly. Although he wouldn't have confessed it for any reason, his leg had beenaching dully for hours. "Do you know, " Ricky hesitated on the first terrace step, bending downto put aside a trail of morning-glory vine which clutched at her ankle, "I've just remembered!" "What?" Rupert looked up from the grid where he was unstrapping theirluggage. "That we are the very first Ralestones to--to come home sinceGrandfather Miles rode away in 1867. " "And why the sudden dip into ancient history?" Val inquired as he limpedaround to help Rupert. "I don't know, " her eyes were fast upon moss-greened wall and ponderousdoor hewn of a single slab of oak, "except--well, we are coming home atlast. I wonder if--if they know. All those others. Rick and Miles, thefirst Rupert and Richard and--" "That spitfire, the Lady Richanda?" Rupert smiled. "Perhaps they do. No, leave the bags here, Val. Let's see the house first. " Together the Ralestones crossed the terrace and came to stand by thefront door which still bore faint scars left by Indian hatchets. ButRupert stooped to insert a very modern key into a very modern lock. There was a click and the door swung inward before his push. "The Long Hall!" They stood in something of a hesitant huddle at the endof a long stone-floored room. Half-way down its length a woodenstaircase led up to the second floor, and directly opposite that a greatfireplace yawned mightily, black and bare. A leather-covered lounge was directly before this, flanked by two squarechairs. And by the stairs was an oaken marriage chest. Save for two skinrugs, these were all the furnishings. But Ricky had crossed hesitatingly to that cavernous fireplace and wasstanding there looking up as her brothers joined her. "There's where it was, " she said softly and pointed to a deep niche cutinto the surface of the stone overmantel. That niche was empty and hadbeen so for more than a hundred years--to their hurt. "That was wherethe Luck--" "How hold ye Lorne?" Rupert's softly spoken question brought thewell-remembered answer to Val's lips: "By the oak leaf, by the sea wave, by the broadsword blade, thus hold weLorne!" "The oak leaf is dust, " murmured Ricky, "the sea wave is gone, thebroadsword is rust, how now hold ye Lorne?" Her brothers answered her together: "By our Luck, thus hold we Lorne!" "And we've got to get it back, " she said. "We've just got to! When theLuck hangs there again, we--" "Won't have anything left to worry about, " Val finished for her. "Butthat's a very big order, m'lady. Short of catching Rick's ghost andforcing him to disclose the place where he hid it, I don't see how we'regoing to do it. " "But we are going to, " she answered confidently. "I know we are!" "A good thing, " Rupert broke in, a hint of soberness beneath thelightness of his tone as he looked about the almost bare room and thenat the strained pallor of Val's thin face. "The Ralestones have beenluckless too long. And now suppose we take possession of this commodiousmansion. I suggest that we get settled as soon as possible. I don't likethe looks of the western sky. We're probably going to have a storm. " "What about the car?" Val asked as his brother turned to go. "Harrison used the old carriage house as a garage. I'll run it in there. You and Ricky better do a spot of exploring and see about beds and food. I don't know how you feel, " he went on grimly, "but after last night Iwant something softer than a dozen rocks to sleep on. " "I told you not to stop at that tourist place, " began Ricky smugly. "Isaid--" "You said that a house painted that shade of green made you slightlyill. But you didn't say anything about beds, " Val reminded her as heshed his coat and hung it on the newel-post. "And since the Ralestonefamily have definitely gone off the gold or any other monetary standard, it's tourist rests or the poorhouse for us. " "Probably the poorhouse. " Rupert sounded resigned. "Now upstairs withyou and get out some bedding. LeFleur said in his letter that the placewas all ready for occupancy. And he stocked up with canned stuff. " "I know--beans! Just too, too divine. Well, let's know the worst. " Rickystarted up the stairs. "I suppose there are electric lights?" "Got to throw the main switch first, and I haven't time to do that now. Here, Val. " Rupert tossed him his tiny pocket torch as he turned to go. The door closed behind him and Ricky looked over her shoulder. "This--this is rather a darkish place, isn't it?" "Not so bad. " Val considered the hall below, which seemed suddenlypeopled by an overabundance of oddly shaped shadows. "No, " her voice grew stronger, "not so bad. We're together anyway, Val. Last year I thought I'd die, shut up in that awful school, and thencoming home to hear--" "About me making my first and last flight. Yes, not exactly a rest curefor any of us, was it? But it's all over now. The Ralestones may be downbut they're not out, yet, in spite of Mosile Oil and those coal-mines. D'you know, we might use some of that nice gilt-edged stock forwall-paper. There's enough to cover a closet at least. Here we are, Rupert from beating about the globe trying to be a newspaper man, youstraight from N'York's finest finishing-school, and me--well, out of theplainest hospital bed I ever saw. We've got this house and what Rupertmanaged to clear from the wreck. Something will turn up. In themeantime--" "Yes?" she prompted. "In the meantime, " he went on, leaning against the banister for amoment's rest, "we can be looking for the Luck. As Rupert says, we needit badly enough. Here's the upper hall. Which way now?" "Over to the left wing. These in front are what Rupert refers to as'state bedrooms. '" "Yes?" He opened the nearest door and whistled softly. "Not so bad. About the size of a small union station and provided with all thecomforts of a tomb. Decidedly not what we want. " "Wait, here's a plaque set in the wall. Look!" She ran her finger over aglass-covered square. "Regulations for guests, or a floor plan to show how to reach thedining-room in the quickest way, " her brother suggested. "No. " She read aloud slowly: "'This Room Was Occupied by General Andrew Jackson, the Victor of the Battle of New Orleans, upon the Tenth Day after the Battle. '" "Whew! 'Old Hickory' here! But I thought that the Ralestones were moreor less under a cloud at that time, " commented Val. "History--" "In the making. Quite so. Now may I suggest that we find some slumberrooms slightly more modern? Rupert is apt to become annoyed at unduedelay in such matters. " They went down the hall and turned into a short cross corridor. From around window at the far end a ray of sun still swept in, but it was asickly, faded ray. The storm Rupert had spoken of could not be far off. "This is the right way. Mr. Harrison had these little numbers put on thedoors for his guests, " Ricky pointed out. "I'll take 'three'; that wasmarked on the plan he sent us as a lady's room. You take that one acrossthe hall and let Rupert have the one next to you. " The rooms they explored were not as imposing as the one which hadsheltered Andrew Jackson for a night. Furnished with chintz-coveredchairs, solid mahogany bedsteads and highboys, they were pleasant enougheven if they weren't chambers to make an antique dealer "Oh!" and "Ah!"Val discovered with approval some stiff prints of mathematically correctclippers hung in exact patterns on his walls, while Ricky's room heldone treasure, a dainty dressing-table. A small door near the end of the hall gave upon a linen closet. AndRicky, throwing her short white jacket and hat upon the chair in herroom, set about making beds, having given Val strict orders to return tothe lower hall and sort out the luggage before bringing it up. As he reached the wide landing he stopped a moment. Since that winternight, almost a year in the past, when a passenger plane had decided--inspite of its pilot--to make a landing on a mountainside, he had learnedto hobble where he had once run. The accident having made his right lega rather accurate barometer, that crooked bone was announcing thearrival of the coming storm with a sharp pain or two which shotunexpectedly from knee to ankle. One such caught him as he was about totake a step and threw him suddenly off balance. He clutched at a dim tapestry which hung across the wall and tumbledthrough a slit in the fabric--which smelled of dust and moth balls--intoa tiny alcove flanking a broad, well-cushioned window-seat under tallwindows. Below him in a riot of bushes and hedges run wild, lay thegarden. Somewhere beyond must lie Bayou Mercier leading directly to LakeBorgne and so to the sea, the thoroughfare used by their pirateancestors when they brought home their spoil. The green of the rank growth below, thought Val, seemed intensified bythe strange yellowish light. A moss-grown path led straight into theheart of a jungle where sweet olive, banana trees, and palms grew in amatted mass. Harrison might have done wonders for the house but he hadallowed the garden to lapse into a wilderness. "Val!" "Coming!" he shouted and pushed back through the curtain. He could hearRupert moving about the lower hall. "Just made it in time, " he said as the younger Ralestone limped down tojoin him. "Hear that?" A steady pattering outside was growing into a wild dash of wind-drivenrain. It was dark and Rupert himself was but a blur moving across thehall. "Do you still have the flash? Might as well descend into the lowerregions and put on the lights. " They crossed the Long Hall, passing through another large chamber wherefurniture huddled under dust covers, and then into a smallcupboard-lined passage. This gave upon a dark cavern where Val's handscraped a table top only too painfully as he went. Then Rupert found thedoor leading to the cellar, and they went down and down into inkyblackness upon which their thread of torch-light made little impression. The damp, unpleasant scent of mold and wet grew stronger as theydescended, and their fingers brushed slime-touched walls. "Phew! Not very comfy down here, " Val protested as Rupert threw thetorch beam along the nearest wall. With a grunt of relief he steppedforward to pull open the door of a small black box. "That does it, " hesaid as he threw the switch. "Now for the topside again and somesupper. " They negotiated the steps and found the button which controlled thekitchen lights. The glare showed them a room on the mammoth scalesuggested by the Long Hall. A giant fireplace still equipped withthree-legged pots, toasting irons, and spits was at one side, its brickoven beside it. But a very modern range and sink faced it. In the center of the room was a large table, while along the far wallwere closed cupboards. Save for its size and the novelty of thefireplace, it was an ordinary kitchen, complete to red-checked curtainsat the windows. Pleasant and homey, Val thought rather wistfully. Butthat was before the coming of that night when Ricky walked in the gardenand he heard something stir in the Long Hall--which should have beenempty-- "Val! Rupert!" A cry which started valiantly became a wail as it echoedthrough empty rooms. "Where are yo-o-ou!" "Here, in the kitchen, " Val shouted back. A moment later Ricky stood in the doorway, her face flushed and herusually correct curls all on end. "Mean, selfish, utterly selfish pigs!" she burst out. "Leaving me allalone in the dark! And it's so dark!" "We just went down to turn on the lights, " Val began. "So I see. " With a sniff she looked about her. "It took two of you to dothat. But it only required one of me to make three beds. Well, this is awarning to me. Next time--" she did not finish her threat. "I supposeyou want some supper?" Rupert was already at the cupboards. "That, " he agreed, "is the generalidea. " "Beans or--" Ricky's hand closed upon Val's arm with a nipper-like grip. "What, " her voice was a thin thread of sound, "was that?" Above the steady beat of the rain they heard a noise which was halfscratch, half thud. Under Rupert's hand the latch of the cupboardclicked. "Back door, " he said laconically. "Well, why don't you open it?" Ricky's fingers bit tighter so that Vallonged to twist out of her grip. The key grated in the lock and then Rupert shot back the accompanyingbolt. "Something's there, " breathed Ricky. "Probably nothing but a branch blown against the door by the wind, " Valassured her, remembering the tangled state of the garden. The door came back, letting in a douche of cold rain and a black shadowwhich leaped for the security of the center of the room. "Look!" Ricky laughed unsteadily and released Val's arm. In the center of the neat kitchen, spitting angrily at the wet, stood aruffled and oversized black tom-cat. CHAPTER II THE LUCK OF THE LORDS OF LORNE "Nice of you to drop in, old man, " commented Rupert dryly as he shut thedoor. "But didn't anyone ever mention to you that gentlemen wipe theirfeet before entering strange houses?" He surveyed a line of wet pawprints across the brick floor. "Did he get all wet, the poor little--" Ricky was on her knees, stretching out her hand and positively cooing. The cat put down the pawhe had been licking and regarded her calmly out of round, yellow eyes. Then he returned to his washing. Val laughed. "Evidently he is used to the strong, silent type of human, Ricky. Iwonder where he belongs. " "He belongs to us now. Yes him does, doesn't him?" She attempted totouch the visitor's head. His ears went back and he showed sharp teethin no uncertain manner. "Better let him alone, " advised Rupert. "He doesn't seem to be the kindyou can cuddle. " "So I see. " Ricky arose to her feet with an offended air. "One wouldthink that I resembled the more repulsive members of my race. " "In the meantime, " Rupert again sought the cupboard, "let's eat. " Half an hour later, fed and well content (even Satan, as the Ralestoneshad named their visitor because of his temperament, having condescendedto accept some of the better-done bits of bacon), they sat about thetable staring at the dishes. Now it is a very well-known fact thatdishes do _not_ obligingly leap from a table into a pan of well-soapedwater, slosh themselves around a few times, and jump out to do a spot ofbrisk rubbing down. But how nice it would be if they did, thought Val. "The dishes--" began Ricky in a faint sort of way. "Must be done. We gather that. How utterly nasty bacon grease looks whenit's congealed. " Her younger brother surveyed the platter before himwith mournful interest. "And the question before the house is, I presume, who's going to washthem?" Rupert grinned. "This seems to be as good a time as any to putsome sort of a working plan in force. There is a certain amount ofso-called housework which has to be done. And there are three of us todo it. It's up to us to apportion it fairly. Shall we say, let everyonecare for his or her own room--" "There are also the little matters of washing, and ironing, andcleaning, " Ricky broke in to remind him. "And we're down to fifty a month in hard cash. But the tenant farmer onthe other side of the bayou is to supply us with fresh fruit andvegetables. And our wardrobes are fairly intact. So I think that we canafford to hire the washing done. We'll take turns cooking--" "Who's elected to do the poisoning first?" Val inquired with interest. "I trust we possess a good cook-book?" "Well, I'll take breakfast tomorrow morning, " Rupert volunteered. "Anyone can boil coffee and toast bread. As for dishes, we'll all pitchin together. And suppose we start right now. " When the dishes were back again in their neat piles on the cupboardshelves, Ricky vanished upstairs, to come trailing down again in ahouse-coat which she fondly imagined made her look like one of thebetter-known screen sirens. The family gathered in an aimless way beforethe empty fireplace of the Long Hall. Rupert was filling a black pipewhich allowed him to resemble--in very slight degree, decided Val--anexplorer in an English tobacco advertisement. Val himself was stretchedfull length on the couch with about ten pounds of cat attempting to reston his center section in spite of his firm refusal to allow the same. "Br-r-r!" Ricky shivered. "It's cold in here. " "Probably just Uncle Rick passing through--not the weather. No, cat, youmay not sit on that stomach. It's just as full of bacon as yours is andit wants a nice long rest. " Val swept Satan off to the floor and heresignedly went to roost by the boy's feet in spite of the beguilingnoises Ricky made to attract his attention. "These stone houses are cold. " Rupert scratched a match on the sole ofhis shoe. "We ought to have flooring put down over this stone paving. Isaw some wood stacked up in an outhouse when I put the car away. We'llhave it in tomorrow and see what we can do about a fire in the evening. " "And I thought the South was always warm. " Ricky examined her hands. "Whoever, " she remarked pleasantly, "took my hand lotion better returnit. The consequences might not be very attractive. " "Are you sure you packed it this morning?" Val asked. "But of--" Her fingers went to her mouth. "I wonder if I did? I've justgot to have some. We'll drive to town tomorrow and get a bottle. " "Thirty miles or so for a ten-cent bottle of gooey stuff, " Valprotested. "Good idea. " Rupert stood with his back to the fireplace as if therereally were a flame or two within its black emptiness. "I've some papersthat LeFleur wants to see. Then there're our boxes at the freightstation to arrange transportation for, and we'll have to see aboutgetting a newspaper and--" "Make a list, " murmured his brother. Rupert dropped down upon the wide arm of Ricky's chair and with her onlytoo willing aid set to work. Val eyed them drowsily. Rupert andRicky--or to give her her very formal name in full--Richanda Anne, were"Red" Ralestones, possessing the thin, three-cornered faces, the darkmahogany hair, the sharply defined cheek-bones which had been the markof the family as far back in history as portraits or writtendescriptions existed. The "Red" Ralestones were marked also by heightand a suppleness of body and movement. The men had been fine swordsmen, the ladies noted beauties. But they were also cursed, Val rememberedvividly, with uncertain tempers. Rupert had schooled himself to the point where his emotions weremastered by his will. But Val had seen Ricky enjoy full tantrums, andthe last occasion was not so long ago that the scene had become misty inhis memory. Generous to the point of self-beggary, loyal to a fault, andincurably romantic, that was a "Red" Ralestone. Val himself was a "Black" Ralestone, which was a very different thing. They were a new growth on the family tree, a growth which appeared afterthe Ralestones had been exiled to colonial America. His black hair, hislong, dark face of no particular beauty marked with straight, blackbrows set in a perpetual frown--that was the sign of a "Black"Ralestone. They were as strong-willed as the "Reds, " but their angercould be controlled to icy rage. "Now that you have spent the monthly income, " Val suggested as Rupertadded up a long column of minute figures scrawled across the first pageof his pocket note-book, "let's really get away from economics for oneevening. The surroundings suggest something more romantic than dollarsand cents. After all, when did a pirate ever show a saving disposition?Would the first Roderick--" "The Roderick who brought home the Luck?" Ricky laughed. "But he broughthome a fortune, too, didn't he, Rupert?" Her brother relit his pipe. "Yes, but a great many lords came home fromthe Crusades with their pockets filled. Sir Roderick de la Stone thoughtthe Luck worth his entire estate even after he was made BaronRalestone. " Ricky shivered delicately. "Not altogether nice people, those ancestorsof ours, " she observed. "No, " Val grinned. "By rights this room should be full of ghosts insteadof the beat of just one. How many Ralestones died violently? Seven oreight, wasn't it?" "But the ones who died in England should haunt Lorne, " argued Ricky, half seriously. "Well then, that sort of confines us to the crews of the ships ourgreat-great-great-grandfather scuttled, " her brother replied. "Rupert, " Ricky turned and asked impulsively, "do you really believe inthe Luck?" Rupert looked up at the empty niche. "I don't know--No, I don't. Not theway that Roderick and Richard and all the rest did. But something thathas seven hundred years of history behind it--that means a lot. " "'Then did he take up ye sword fashioned by ye devilish art of ye Eastfrom two fine blades found in ye tomb, '" Val quoted from the record ofBrother Anselm, the friar who had accompanied Sir Roderick on hiscrusading. "Do you suppose that that part's true? Could the Luck havebeen made from two other swords found in an old tomb?" "Not impossible. The Saracens were master metal workers. Look at theDamascus blades. " "It all sounds like a fairy-tale, " commented Ricky. "A sword with magicpowers beaten out of two other swords found in a tomb. And the wholething done under the direction of an Arab astrologer. " "You've got to admit, " broke in Val, "that Sir Roderick had luck afterit was given to him. He came home a wealthy man and he died a Baron. Andhis descendants even survived the Wars of the Roses when four-fifths ofthe great English families were wiped out. " "'And fortune continued to smile, '" Rupert took up the story, "'until acertain wild Miles Ralestone staked the Luck of his house on the turn ofa card--and lost. '" "O-o-oh!" Ricky squirmed forward in her chair. "Now comes the pirate. Tell us that, Rupert. " "You know the story by heart now, " he objected. "We never heard it here, where some of it really happened. Tell it, please, Rupert!" "In your second childhood?" he asked. "Not out of my first yet, " she answered promptly. "Pretty please, Rupert. " "Miles Ralestone, Marquess of Lorne, " he began, "rode with Prince Rupertof the Rhine. He was a notorious gambler, a loose liver, and a cynic. And he even threw the family Luck across the gaming table. " "'The Luck went from him who did it no honor, '" Val repeated slowly. "Iread that in that old letter among your papers, Rupert. " "Yes, the Luck went from him. He survived Marston Moor; he survived thedeath of his royal master, Charles the First, on the scaffold. He livedlong enough to witness the return of the Stuarts to England. But theLuck was gone, and with it the good fortune of his line. Rupert, hisson, was but a penniless hanger-on at the royal court; the manor ofLorne a fire-gutted wreckage. "Rupert followed James Stuart from England when that monarch became afugitive to escape the wrath of his subjects. And the Marquess of Lornesank to the role of pot-house bully in the back lanes of Paris. " "And then?" prompted Val. "And then a miracle occurred. Rupert was employed by his master on asecret mission to London, and there the Luck came again into his hands. Perhaps by murder. But he died miserably enough of a heavy cold got bylying in a ditch to escape Dutch William's soldiers. " "'So is this perilous Luck come again into our hands. Then did Ipersevere to mend the fortunes of my house. ' That's what Rupert's sonRichard wrote about the Luck, " Ricky recalled. "Richard, the firstpirate. " "He did a good job of fortune mending, " commented Val dryly. "Marriedone of the wealthiest of the French king's wards and sailed for theFrench West Indies all in a fortnight. Turned pirate with the approvalof the French and took to lifting the cargoes of other pirates. " "I'll bet that most of his success was due to the Lady Richanda, "observed Ricky. "She sailed with him dressed in man's clothes. Rememberthat miniature of her that we saw in New York, the one in the museum?All the 'Black' Ralestones are supposed to look like her. Hear that, Val?" "At least it was the Lady Richanda who persuaded her husband to settleashore, " said Rupert. "She was personally acquainted with Bienville andIberville who were proposing to rule the Mississippi valley for Franceby building a city near the mouth of the river. And 'Black Dick, ' thepirate, obtained a grant of land lying along Lake Borgne and this bayou. Although the city was not begun until 1724, this house was started in1710 by workmen imported from England. "The house of an exile, " Rupert continued slowly. "Richard Ralestone wasborn in England, but he left there in his tenth year. In spite of theprice on his head, he crept back to Devon in 1709 to see Lorne for thelast time. And it was from the rude sketches he made of ruined Lornethat Pirate's Haven was planned. " "Why, we saw those sketches!" Ricky's eyes shone with excitement. "Doyou remember, Val?" Her brother nodded. "Must have cost him plenty to do it, " he replied. "Richard had an immense personal fortune of his own gained from piracy, and he spared no expense in building. The larger part of the stone inthese walls was brought straight from Europe, just as they later broughtthe paving blocks for the streets of New Orleans. When he had done--andthe place was five years a-building because of Indian troubles and otherdisturbances--he settled down to live in feudal state. Some of hisformer seamen rallied around him as a guard, and he imported blacks fromthe islands to work his indigo fields. "The family continued to prosper through both French and Spanishdomination until the time of American rule. " "Now for Uncle Rick. " Ricky settled herself with a wriggle. "This iseven more exciting than Pirate Dick. " "In the year 1788, the time of the great fire which destroyed over halfof New Orleans, twin boys were born at Pirate's Haven. They came intotheir heritage early, for their parents died of yellow fever when thetwins were still small children. "Those were restless times. New Orleans was full of refugees. FromHaiti, where the revolting blacks were holding a reign of terror, andfrom France, where to be a noble was to be a dead one, came hundreds. Even members of the royal house, the Duc d'Orleans and his brother, theDuc de Montpensier, came for a space in 1798. "The city had always been more or less lawless and intolerant ofcontrol. Like the New Englanders of the eighteenth century, manyrespected merchants were also smugglers. " "And pirates, " suggested Val. "The king of smugglers was Jean Lafitte. His forge--where his slavesshaped the wrought-iron which was one of the wonders of the city--was afashionable meeting-place for the young bloods. He was the height of witand fashion--daring openly to placard the walls of the town with hisnotices of smugglers' sales. "And Roderick Ralestone, the younger of the twins, became one ofLafitte's men. In spite of the remonstrances of his brother Richard, young Rick withdrew to Barataria with Dominque You and the rest of theoutlawed captains. "In the winter of 1814 matters came to a head. Richard wanted to marryan American girl, the daughter of one of Governor Claiborne's friends. Her father told him very pointedly that since the owners of Pirate'sHaven seemed to be indulging in law breaking, such a marriage was out ofthe question. Aroused, Richard made a secret inspection of certainunderground storehouses which had been built by his pirategreat-grandfather and discovered that Rick had put them in use again forthe very same purpose for which they had been first intended--thestoring of loot. "He waited there for his brother, determined to have it decided once andfor all. They quarreled bitterly. Both were young, both had bad tempers, and each saw his side as the right of the matter--" "Regular Ralestones, weren't they?" commented Val slyly. "Undoubtedly, " agreed Rupert. "Well, at last Richard started for thehouse, his brother in pursuit. "Then they fought, here in this very hall. And not with words this time, but with the rapiers Richard had brought back from France. A slave namedFalesse, who had been the twins' childhood nurse, was the only witnessto the end of that duel. Richard lay face down across the hearth-stoneas she came screaming down the stairs. " Ricky was studying the gray stone. "By rights, " Val agreed with her unspoken thought, "there ought to be astain there. Unfortunately for romance, there isn't. " "Rick was standing by the door, " Rupert continued. "When Falesse reachedhis brother, he laughed unsteadily and half raised his sword in aduelist's salute. Then he was gone. But there were two swords on thefloor. And that niche was empty. "When he fled into the night storm with his brother's blood staining hishands, Rick Ralestone took the Luck of his house with him. "After almost a year of invalidism, Richard recovered. He never marriedhis American beauty. But in 1819 he took a wife, a young Creole ladywidowed by the Battle of New Orleans. Of Rick nothing was heard again, although his brother searched diligently for more than thirty years. " "How, " Val grinned at his brother, "did Richard explain the littlematter of the ghost which is supposed to walk at night?" "I don't know. But when the Civil War broke out, Richard's son Miles wasthe master of Pirate's Haven. The once-great fortune of the family hadshrunk. Business losses in the city, floods, a disaster at sea, hademptied the family purse--" "The Luck getting in its dirty work by remote control, " supplied theirrepressible Val. "Perhaps. Young Miles had married in his teens, and the call to theConfederate colors brought both his twin sons under arms as well astheir father. "Miles, the father, fell in the First Battle of Bull Run. But Miles, theson and elder of the twins, a lieutenant of cavalry, came out of the warthe only surviving male of his family. "His brother Richard had been wounded and was home on sick leave whenthe Northerners occupied New Orleans. Betrayed by one of his formerslaves, a mulatto who bore a grudge against the family, he was murderedby a gang of bullies and cutthroats who had followed the invading army. "Richard had been warned of their raid and had managed to hide thefamily valuables in a secret place--somewhere within this very hall, according to tradition. " Val and Ricky sat up and looked about with wondering interest. "But Richard was shot down in cold blood when he refused to reveal thehiding-place. His brother and some scouts, operating south withoutorders, arrived just in time to witness the last act. Miles Ralestoneand his men summarily shot the murderers. But where Richard had socarefully concealed the last of the family treasure was neverdiscovered. "The war beggared the Ralestones. Miles went north in search of betterluck, and this place was allowed to molder until it was leased in 1879to a sugar baron. In 1895 it was turned over to a family distantlyconnected with ours. And since then it has been leased. We have had inall four tenants. " "But, " Ricky broke in, "since the Luck went we have not prospered. Anduntil it returns--" Rupert tapped out his pipe against one of the fire irons. "It's nothingbut a folk-tale, " he told her. "It isn't!" Ricky contradicted him vehemently. "And we've made a goodbeginning anyway. We've come back. " "If Rick took the Luck with him, I don't see how we have an earthlychance of finding it again, " Val commented. "It came back once before after it had gone from us, " reminded hissister. "And I think that it will again. At least I'll hope so. " "Outside of the superstition, it would be well worth having. The namesof the heads and heirs of the house are all engraved along the blade, from Sir Roderick on down. Seven hundred years of history scratched onsteel. " Rupert stretched and then glanced at his wrist-watch. "Ten toten, and we've had a long day. Who's for bed?" "I am, for one. " Val swung his feet down from the couch, disturbingSatan who opened one yellow eye lazily. Ricky stood by the fireplace fingering the wreath of stiff flowerscarved in the stone. Val took her by the arm. "No use wondering which one you push to reveal the treasure, " he toldher. She looked up startled. "How did you know what I was thinking about?"she demanded. "My lady, your thoughts, like little white birds--" "Oh, go to bed, Val. When you get poetical I know you need sleep. Justthe same, " she hesitated with one foot on the first tread of the stair, "I wonder. " CHAPTER III THE RALESTONES ENTERTAIN AN UNOBTRUSIVE VISITOR Val lay trapped in an underground cavern, chained to the floor. Anunseen monster was creeping up his prostrate body. He could feel its hotbreath on his cheek. With a mighty effort he broke his bonds and threwout his arms in an attempt to fight off his tormentor. The morning sun was warm across his pillow, making him blink. On hischest stood Satan, kneading the bedclothes with his front paws andpurring gently. From the open window came a fresh, rain-washed breeze. Having aroused the sleeper, Satan deserted his post to hang half-way outthe window, intent upon the housekeeping arrangements of several birdswho had built in the hedges below. A moment later Val elbowed him asideto look out upon the morning. It was a fine one. Wisps of mist from the bayou still hung about thelower garden, but the sun had already dried the brick-paved paths. A beeblundered past Val's nose, and he realized that it might be well toclose the screen hanging shutter-like outside. From the direction of the hidden water came the faint _putt-putt_ of amotor-boat, but inside Pirate's Haven there was utter silence. As yetthe rest of the family were not abroad. Val dropped his pajamas in ahuddle by the bed and dressed leisurely, feeling very much at peace withthis new world. Perhaps that was the last time he was to feel so formany days to come. He stole cautiously out of his room and tiptoed downhalls and dark stairs, wanting to be alone while he discovered Pirate'sHaven for himself. The Long Hall looked chilly and bleak, even though patches of sunlightwere fighting the usual gloom. On the hearth-stone lay a scrap of white, doubtless Ricky's handkerchief. Val flung open the front door andstepped out on the terrace, drawing deep lungfuls of the morning air. The blossoms on the morning-glory vines which wreathed the edge of theterrace were open to the sun, and the birds sang in the bushes below. Satan streaked by and disappeared into the tangle. It was suddenly verygood to be alive. The boy stretched luxuriously and started to explore, choosing the nearest of the crazy, wandering paths which began at thecircle of the old carriage drive. Here was evidence of last night's storm. Wisps of Spanish moss, tornfrom the great live-oaks of the avenue and looking like tufts of coarsegray horsehair, lay in water-logged mats here and there. And in the openplaces, the grass, beaten flat, was just beginning to rise again. A rabbit scuttled across the path as it went down four steps of brokenstone into a sort of glen. Here some early owner of the plantation hadmade an irregular pool of stone to be fed by the trickle of a tinyspring. Frogs the size of postage-stamps leaped panic-stricken for thewater when Val's shadow fell across its rim. A leaden statue of the boyPan danced joyously on a pedestal above. Ricky would love this, thoughther brother as he dabbled his fingers in the chill water trying to catchthe stem of the single lily bud. Out of nowhere came a turtle to slide into the depths of the pool. Thesun was very warm across Val's bowed shoulders. He liked the garden, liked the plantation, even liked the circumstances which had broughtthem there. Lazily he arose and turned. By the steps down which he had come stood a slight figure in a fadedflannel shirt and mud-streaked overalls. His bare brown feet gripped thestones as if to get purchase for instant flight. "Hello, " Val said questioningly. The new-comer eyed young Ralestone warily and then his gaze shifted tothe bushes beyond. "I'm Val Ralestone. " Val held out his hand. To his astonishment thestranger's mobile lips twisted in a snarl and he edged crabwise towardthe bushes bordering the glen. "Who are you?" Val demanded sharply. "Ah has got as much right heah as yo' all, " the boy answered angrily. And with that he turned and slipped into a path at the far end of theglen. Aroused, Val hurried after him to reach the bayou levee. The quarry wasalready in midstream, wielding an efficient canoe paddle. On impulse Valshouted after him, but he never turned. A rifle lay across his knees andthere were some rusty traps in the bottom of the flimsy canoe. Then Valremembered that Pirate's Haven lay upon the fringe of the muskrat swampswhere Cajun and American squatters still carried on the fur trade oftheir ancestors. But as Val stood speeding the departure of the uninvited guest, anothercanoe put off from the opposite shore of the bayou and came swingingacross toward the rough wooden landing which served the plantation. Around brown face grinned up at Val as a powerful negro clambered ashore. "Is dey up at de big house now?" he asked cheerily as he came up. "If you mean the Ralestones, why, we got here last night, " Val answered. "Yo'all is Mistuh Ralestone, suh?" He took off his wide-brimmed strawhat and twisted it in his oversized hands. "I'm Valerius Ralestone. My brother Rupert is the owner. " "Well, Mistuh Ralestone, suh, I'se yo'all's fahmah from 'cross wata. Mistuh LeFleah, he says dat yo'all is come to live heah agin. So mahwoman, she says dat Ah should see if yo'all is heah yet and does yo'allwant anythin'. Lucy, she's bin a-livin' heah, dat is, her mammy andpappy and her pappy's mammy and pappy has bin heah since befo' old MassaRalestone done gone 'way. So Lucy, she jest nachely am oneasy 'boutyo'all not gettin' things comfo'ble. " "That is kind of her, " Val answered heartily. "My brother said somethinglast night about wanting to see you today, so if you'll come up to thehouse--" "I'se Sam, Mistuh Ralestone, suh. Ah done work heah quite a spell now. " "By the way, " Val asked as they went up toward the house, "did you seethat boy in the canoe going downstream as you crossed? I found him inthe garden and the only answer he would give to my questions was that hehad as much right there as I had. Who is he?" The wide smile faded from Sam's face. "Mistuh Ralestone, suh, effen datno-'count trash comes 'round heah agin, yo'all bettah jest call depolicemans. Dey's nothin' but poah white trash livin' down in de swampplaces an' dey steals whatevah dey kin lay han' on. Was dis boy big likeyo'all, wi' black hair an' a thin face?" "Yes. " "Dat's de Jeems boy. He ain't got no mammy nor pappy. He lives jest likede wil' man wi' a li'l huntin' an' a big lot stealin'. He talk big. Sayhe belongs in de big house, not wi' swamp folks. But jest yo'all pay no'tenshun to him nohow. " "Val! Val Ralestone! Where are you?" Ricky's voice sounded clear throughthe morning air. "Coming!" he shouted back. "Well, make it snappy!" she shrilled. "The toast has been burnt twiceand--" But what further catastrophe had occurred her brother could nothear. "Yo'all wants to git to de back do', Mistuh Ralestone, suh? Dere's asho't-cut 'cross dis-a-way. " Sam turned into a side path and Valfollowed. Ricky was at the stove gingerly shifting a coffee-pot as her brotherstepped into the kitchen. "Well, " she snapped as he entered, "it's abouttime you were showing up. I've simply cracked my voice trying to callyou, and Rupert's been talking about having the bayou dragged orsomething of the kind. Where have you been, anyway?" "Getting acquainted with our neighbors. Ricky, " he called her attentionto the smiling face just outside the door, "this is Sam. He runs thehome farm for us. And his wife is a descendant of the Ralestone housefolks. " "Yassuh, dat's right. We's Ralestone folks, Miss 'Chanda. Mah Lucy donesen' me ovah to fin' out what yo'all is a-needin' done 'bout de place. She was in yisteday afo' yo'all come an' seed to de dustin' an' sich--" "So that's why everything was so clean! That was nice of her--" "Yo'all is Ralestones, Miss 'Chanda. An' Lucy say dat de Ralestones ama-goin' to fin' dis place jest ready for dem when dey come. " He beamedupon them proudly. "Lucy, she am a-goin' be heah jest as soon as shegits de chillens set for de day. I'se come fust so's Ah kin see watMistuh Ralestone done wan' done wi dem rivah fiel's--" "Where is Rupert?" Val broke in. "Went out to see about the car. The storm last night wrecked the door ofthe carriage house--" "Zat so?" Sam's eyes went round. "Den Ah bettah be a-gittin' out an' see'bout it. 'Scuse me, suh. 'Scuse me, Miss 'Chanda. " With a jerk of hishead he left them. Val turned to Ricky. "We seem to have fallen into good hands. " "It's my guess that his Lucy is a manager. He just does what she tellshim to. I wonder how he knew my name?" "LeFleur probably told them all about us. " "Isn't it odd--" she turned off the gas, "'Ralestone folks. '" "Loyalty to the Big House, " her brother answered slowly. "I neverthought that it really existed out of books. " "It makes me feel positively feudal. Val, I was born about a hundredyears too late. I'd like to have been the mistress here when I couldhave ridden out in a victoria behind two matched bays, with a coachmanand a footman up in front and my maid on the little seat facing me. " "And with a Dalmatian coach-hound running behind and at leastthree-fourths of the young bloods of the neighborhood as a mountedescort. I know. But those days are gone forever. Which leads me toanother subject. What are we going to do today?" "The dishes, for one thing, " Ricky began ticking the items off on herfingers, "and then the beds. This afternoon Rupert wants us--that is, you and me--to drive to town and do some errands. " "Oh, yes, the list you two made out last night. Well, now that that'sall settled, suppose we have some breakfast. Has Rupert been fed or ishe thinking of going on a diet?" "He'll be in--" "Said she with perfect faith. All of which does not satisfy the pangs ofhunger. " "Where's Lovey?" "If you are using that sickening name to refer to Satan--he'sout--hunting, probably. The last I saw of him he was shooting head firstfor a sort of bird apartment house over to the left of the front door. Here's Rupert. Now maybe we may eat. " "I've got something to tell you, " hissed Ricky as the missing member ofthe clan banged the screen door behind him. Having so aroused Val'scuriosity, she demurely went around the table to pour the coffee. "How's the carriage house?" Val asked. "Sam thinks he can fix it with some of that lumber piled out back of theold smoke-house. " Rupert reached for a piece of toast. "What do youthink of our family retainer?" "Seems a good chap. " "LeFleur says one of the best. Possesses a spark of ambition and isreally trying to make a go of the farm, which is more than most of themdo around here. His wife, by all accounts, is a wonder. Used to be thecook-housekeeper here when the Rafaels had the place. LeFleur stilltalks about the two meals he ate here then. Sam tells me that she isplanning to take us in hand. " "But we can't afford--" began Ricky. "I gathered that money does not come into the question. The lady israther strong-willed. So, Ricky, " he laughed, "we'll leave you two tofight it out. But Lucy may be able to find us a laundress. " "Which reminds me, " Ricky took a crumpled piece of white cloth from herpocket, "if this is yours, Rupert, you deserve to do your own washing. Idon't know what you've got on it; looks like oil. " He took it from her and straightened out a handkerchief. "Not guilty this time. Ask little brother here. " He passed over thedirty linen square. It was plain white--or it had been white beforethree large black splotches had colored it--without an initial orcolored edge. "I think he's prevaricating, Ricky, " Val protested. "This isn't mine. I'm down to one thin dozen and those are the ones you gave me lastChristmas. They have my initials on. " Ricky took back the disputed square. "That's funny. It certainly isn'tmine. I'm sure one of you must be mistaken. " "Why?" asked Rupert. "Because I found it on the hearth-stone in the hall this morning. Itwasn't there last night or one of us would have seen it and picked itup, 'cause it was right there in plain sight. " "Sure it isn't yours, Val?" He shook his head. "Positive. " "Queer, " murmured Rupert and reached for it again. "It's a good qualityof linen and it's almost new. " He held it to his nose. "That's oil onit. But how--?" "I wonder--" Val mused. "What do you know?" asked Ricky. "Well--Oh, it isn't possible. He wouldn't carry a handkerchief, " herbrother said half to himself. "Who wouldn't?" asked Rupert. Then Val told them of his meeting with theboy Jeems and what Sam had had to say of him. "Don't know whether I exactly like this. " Rupert folded the mysterioussquare of stained linen. "As you say, Val, a boy like that would hardlycarry a handkerchief. Also, you met him in the garden, while--" "The person who left that was in this house last night!" finished Ricky. "And I don't like that!" "The door was locked and bolted when I came down this morning, " Valobserved. Rupert nodded. "Yes, I distinctly remember doing that before I went upto bed last night. But when I was going around the house this morning Idiscovered that there are French doors opening from the old ball-room tothe terrace, and I didn't inspect their fastening last night. " "But who would want to come in here? There are no valuables left exceptfurniture. And it would take three or four men and a truck to collectthat. I don't see what he was after, " puzzled Ricky. Rupert arose from the table. "We have, it seems, a mystery on our hands. If you want to amuse yourselves, my children, here's the first clue. I've got to get back to the carriage house and my labors there. " He dropped the handkerchief on the table and left. Ricky reached for the"clue. " "Awfully casual about it, isn't he?" she said. "Just the same, Ibelieve that this is a clue and I know what our visitor was after, too, "she finished triumphantly. "What?" "The treasure Richard Ralestone hid when the Yankee raiders came. " "Well, if our unknown visitor has as little in the way of clues as wehave, he'll be a long time finding it. " "And we're going to beat him to it! It's somewhere in the Hall, and thesecret--" "See here, " Val interrupted her, "what were you about to tell me whenRupert came in?" She put the handkerchief in the breast pocket of her sport dress, buttoning the flap over it. "Rupert's got a secret. " "What kind?" "It has to do with those two brief-cases of his. You know, the ones hewas so particular about all the way down here?" Val nodded. Those bulging brief-cases had apparently contained thedearest of his roving brother's possessions, judging from the way Ruperthad fussed if they were a second out of his sight. "This morning when I came downstairs, " Ricky continued, "he was sneakingthem into that little side room off the dining-room corridor, the onewhich used to be the old plantation office. And when he came out and sawme standing there, he deliberately turned around and locked the door!" "Whew!" Val commented. "Yes, I felt that way too. So I simply asked him what he was doing andhe made some silly remark about Bluebeard's chamber. He means to keephis old secret, too, 'cause he put the key on his key-ring when hedidn't know I was watching him. " "This is not the place for a rest cure, " her brother observed as hestarted to scrape and stack the dishes. "First someone unknown leaveshis handkerchief for a calling card and then Rupert goes Fu Manchu onus. To say nothing of the rugged and unfriendly son of the soil whom Ifound bumping around the garden where he had no business to be. " "What was he like anyway?" asked his sister as she dipped soap flakesinto the dish-water with a liberal hand. "Oh, thin, and awfully brown. But not bad looking if it weren't for hismouth and that scowl of his. And he very distinctly doesn't like us. About my build, but quicker on his feet, tough looking. I wouldn't careto try to stop him doing anything he wanted to do. " "My dear, are you describing Clark Gable or someone you met in ourgarden this morning?" she demanded sweetly. "Very well, " Val retorted huffily into the depths of the oatmeal pan hewas wiping, "you catch him next time. " "I will, " was her serene answer as she wrung out the dish-cloth. They went on to the upstairs work and Val received his first lesson inthe art of bed-making under his sister's extremely critical tuition. Itseemed that corners must be square and that dreadful things were likelyto happen when wrinkles were not smoothed out. This exercise led themnaturally to unpacking the remainder of the hand baggage and puttingthings away. It was after ten before Val came downstairs crab-fashion, wiping off each step behind him as he came with one of Ricky's threedust-cloths. He paused on the landing to pull back the tapestry curtain and open thewindows above the alcove seat, letting in the freshness of the morningto rout some of the dank chill of the hall. Kneeling there, he watchedRupert come around the house. Rupert had shed his coat and his sleeveswere rolled up almost to his shoulders. There was a streak of blackacross his cheek and a large rip almost separated the collar from hisshirt. Although he looked hot, cross, and tired, more like a day-laborerthan a gentleman plantation owner whose ancestors had always "plantedfrom the saddle, " his stride had a certain buoyancy which it had lackedthe day before. With an idea of escaping Ricky by joining his brother, Val hurrieddownstairs and headed kitchenward. But his sister was there before himlooking over a collection of knives of various lengths. "Preparing for a little murder or two?" Val asked casually. She jumped and dropped a paring knife. "Val, don't do that! I wish you'd whistle or something while you'rewalking around in those tennis shoes. I can't hear you move. I'm lookingfor something to cut flowers with. There don't seem to be any scissorsexcept mine and I'm not going to use those. " "Take dat, Miss 'Chanda. " A fat black hand motioned toward the paringknife. Just within the kitchen door stood a wide, a very wide, Negro woman. Herneat print dress was stiff with starch from a recent washing, and roundgold hoops swung proudly from her ears. Her black hair, straightened bymain force of arm, had been set again in stiff, corrugated waves ofextreme fashion, but her broad placid face was both kind and serene. "I'se Lucy, " she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An' dis, " she reachedan arm behind her, pulling forth a girl at least ten shades lighter andthirty-five shades thinner, "is mah sistah's onliest gal-chil', Letty-Lou. Mak' yo' mannahs, Letty. Does yo' wan' Miss 'Chanda to thinkyo' is a know-nothin' outa de swamp?" [Illustration: "_I'se Lucy, " she stated, thoroughly at her ease. "An'dis is Letty-Lou. _"] Thus sternly admonished, Letty-Lou ducked her head shyly and murmuredsomething in a die-away voice. "Letty-Lou, " announced her aunt, "is com' to do fo' yo'all, Miss'Chanda. I'se larn'd her good how to do fo' ladies. She is good atscrubbin' an' cleanin' an sich. Ah done train'd her mahse'f. " Letty-Lou looked at the floor and twisted her thin hands behind herback. "But, " protested Ricky, "we're not planning to have anyone do for us, Lucy. " "Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda. Yo'all's not gittin' a know-nothin'. Letty-Lou, she knows her work. She kin cook right good. " "We can't take her, " Val backed up Ricky. "You must understand, Lucy, that we don't have much money and we can't pay for--" "Pay fo'!" Lucy's indignant sniff reduced him to his extremelyunimportant place. "We's not talkin' 'bout pay workin', MistuhRalestone. Letty-Lou don' git no pay but her eatments. 'Co'se, effenMiss 'Chanda wanna give her some ole clo's now an' den, she kin tak'dem. Letty-Lou, she don' hav' to git her a pay-work job, her pappy mak'shim a good livin'. But Miss 'Chanda ain' a-goin' to tak' keer dis bighous' all by herself wit' her lil' han's dere. We's Ralestone folks. Letty-Lou, yo' gits on youah ap'on an' gits to work. " "But we can't let her, " Ricky raised her last protest. "Miss 'Chanda, we's Ralestone folks. Mah gran' pappy Bob was own man toMassa Miles Ralestone. He fit in de wah longside o' Massa Miles. An' wende wah was done finish'd, dem two com' home to-gethah. Den Massa Miles, he call mah gran'pappy in an' say, 'Bob, yo'all is free an' I'se aruinated man. Heah is fiv' dollahs gol' money an' yo' kin hav' youahhoss. ' An' Bob, he say, 'Cap'n Miles, dese heah Yankees done said I'sefree but dey ain't done said dat I ain't a Ralestone man. W'at time doesyo'all wan' breakfas' in de mornin'?' An' wen Massa Miles wen' no'th tomak' his fo'tune, he told Bob, 'Bob, I'se leavin' dis heah hous' inyouah keer. ' An', Miss 'Chanda, we done look aftah Pirate's Haven evahsince, mah gran'pappy, mah pappy, Sam an' me. " Ricky held out her hand. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You see, we don't understandvery well, we've been away so long. " Lucy touched Ricky's hand and then, for all her weight, bobbed a curtsy. "Dat's all right, Miss 'Chanda, yo' is ouah folks. " Letty-Lou stayed. CHAPTER IV PISTOLS FOR TWO--COFFEE FOR ONE Val braced himself against the back of the roadster's seat and struggledto hold the car to a road which was hardly more than a cart track. Twicesince Ricky and he had left Pirate's Haven they had narrowly escapedbeing bogged in the mud which had worked up through the thin crust ofgravel on the surface. To the south lay the old cypress swamps, dark glens of rotting wood andsprawling vines. A spur of this unsavory no-man's land ran close alongthe road, and looking into it one could almost believe, fancied Val, inthe legends told by the early French explorers concerning the giantmonsters who were supposed to haunt the swamps and wild lands at themouth of the Mississippi. He would not have been surprised to see abrontosaurus peeking coyly down at him from twenty feet or so of neck. It was just the sort of place any self-respecting brontosaurus wouldhave wallowed in. But at last they won free from that place of cold and dank odors. Passing through Chalmette, they struck the main highway. From then on itwas simple enough. St. Bernard Highway led into St. Claude Avenue andthat melted into North Rampart street, one of the boundaries of the oldFrench city. "Can't we go slower?" complained Ricky. "I'd like to see some of thecity without getting a crick in my neck from looking over my shoulder. Watch out for St. Anne Street. That's one corner of Beauregarde Square, the old Congo Square--" "Where the slaves used to dance on Sundays before the war. I know; I'veread just as many guide-books as you have. But there is such a thing asobstructing traffic. Also we have about a million and one things to dothis afternoon. We can explore later. Here we are; Bienville Avenue. No, I will _not_ stop so that you can see that antique store. Six blocks tothe right, " Val reminded himself. "Val, that was the Absinthe House we just passed!" "Yes? Well, it would have been better for a certain ancestor of ours ifhe had passed it, too. That was Jean Lafitte's headquarters at one time. Exchange Street--the next is ours. " They turned into Chartres Street and pulled up in the next block at thecorner of Iberville. A four-story house coated with grayish plaster, itswindows framed with faded green shutters and its door painted the samemisty color, confronted them. There was a tiny shop on the first floor. A weathered sign over the door announced that Bonfils et Cie. Didbusiness within, behind the streaked and bluish glass of the smallcurved window-panes. But what business Bonfils and Company conducted wasleft entirely to the imagination of the passer-by. Val locked theroadster and took from Ricky the long legal-looking envelope whichRupert had given them to deliver to Mr. LeFleur. Ricky was staring in a puzzled manner at the shop when her brother tookher by the arm. "Are you sure that you have the right place? Thisdoesn't look like an office to me. " "We have to go around to the courtyard entrance. LeFleur occupies thesecond floor. " A small wooden door, reinforced with hinges of hand-wrought iron, openedbefore them, making them free of a courtyard paved with flagstones. Inthe center a tall tree shaded the flower bed at its foot and threwshadows upon the first of the steps leading to the upper floors. TheRalestones frankly stared about them. This was the first house of theFrench Quarter they had seen, although their name might have admittedthem to several closely guarded Creole strongholds. LeFleur's housefollowed a pattern common to the old city. The lower floor fronting onthe street was in use only as a shop or store-room. In the early dayseach shopkeeper lived above his place of business and rented the thirdand fourth floors to aristocrats in from their plantations for thefashionable season. A long, narrow ell ran back from the main part of the house to form oneside of the courtyard. The ground floor of this contained the old slavequarters and kitchens, while the second was cut into bedrooms which hadhoused the young men of the family so that they could come and go atwill without disturbing the more sedate members of the household. Thesesmall rooms were now in use as the offices of Mr. LeFleur. From thebalcony, running along the ell, onto which each room opened, one couldlook down into the courtyard. It was on this balcony that the lawyer metthem with outstretched hands after they had given their names to hisdark, languid young clerk. "But this is good of you!" René LeFleur beamed on them impartially. Hewas a small, plumpish, round-faced man in his early forties, who spokein perpetual italics. His eyebrows, arched over-generously by Nature, gave him a look of never-ending astonishment at the world and all itsworks. But his genial smile was kindness itself. Unaccustomed as Val wasto sudden enthusiasms, he found himself liking René LeFleur almostbefore his hand gripped Val's. "Miss Ralestone, it is a pleasure, a very great pleasure, to see youhere! And this, " he turned to Val, "this must be that brother Valeriusboth you and Mr. Ralestone spoke so much of during our meeting in NewYork. You have safely recovered from that most unfortunate accident, Mr. Ralestone? But of course, your presence here is my answer. And how doyou like Louisiana, Miss Ralestone?" His eyes behind his gold-rimmedeyeglasses sparkled as he tilted his head a fraction toward Ricky as ifto hear the clearer. "Well enough. Though we've seen very little of it yet, Mr. LeFleur. " "When you have seen Pirate's Haven, " he replied, "you have seen much ofLouisiana. " "But we're forgetting our manners!" exclaimed the girl. "We want tothank you for everything you've done for us. Rupert said to tell youthat while he doesn't care for beans as a rule, the beans we found inour cupboard were very superior beans. " Mr. LeFleur hooted with laughter like a small boy. "He is droll, is thatbrother of yours. And has Sam been to see you?" "Sam and--Lucy, " answered Ricky with emphasis. "Lucy has decided to takeus in hand. She has installed Letty-Lou over our protests. " The little lawyer nodded complacently. "Yes, Lucy will take care of you. She is a master housekeeper and cook--ah!" His eyes rolled upward. "AndMr. Ralestone, how is he?" "All right. He's going over the farm with Sam this afternoon. We weresent in his place to give you the papers he spoke to you about. " At Ricky's answer, Val held out the envelope he had carried. To theirjoint surprise, LeFleur pounced upon it and withdrew to the window ofthe room into which he had conducted them. There he spread out the foursheets of yellowed paper which the envelope had contained. "What were we carrying?" whispered Ricky. "Part of Rupert's deep, darksecret?" "No, " her brother hissed back, "those are the plans of the Patagonianfort which were stolen from the Russian Embassy last Thursday by thebeautiful woman spy disguised with a long green beard. You know, theproper first chapter of an international espionage thriller. You are thedumb but beautiful newspaper reporter on the scent, and I--" "The even dumber G-man who spends most of his time running three stepsahead of Fu Chew Chow and his gang of oriental demons. In the secondchapter--" But a glance at Mr. LeFleur's face as he turned away from the window putan end to their nonsense. Gone was his smile, his beaming good-willtoward the world. He seemed a little tired, a trifle stooped. "Not herethen, " he said slowly to himself as he slipped the papers back into theenvelope. "Mr. Valerius, " he looked up at the boy very seriously, "the LeFleurshave served the Ralestones, acting as their men of business, for over ahundred years. We owe your family a great debt. When young Denys LeFleurwas shipped over here to New Orleans under false accusation of hisenemies, the first Richard Ralestone became his patron. He helped theboy salvage something from the wreck of the LeFleur fortunes in Franceto start anew in a decent profession under tolerable surroundings, whenothers of his kind died miserably as beggars on the mud flats. Twicebefore have we been forced to be the bearers of ill news, but--" heshrugged, "that was in the past. This lies in the future. " "What does?" asked Ricky. "It is such a tangle, " he said, running his hand through his short, gray-streaked hair. "A tangle such as lawyers are supposed to delightin. But they don't, I assure you that they don't, Miss Ralestone. Not ifthey have their client's interest at heart. You know, of course, of themissing Ralestone--Roderick?" Ricky and Val both nodded. Mr. LeFleur spread out his plump hands in aqueer little gesture as if he were pushing something away. "This wholeunfortunate business begins with him. As far as we know today, he andhis brother were co-owners of Pirate's Haven. When young Roderickdisappeared, he was still part owner. Although he was presumed dead, hewas never lawfully declared so. Pirate's Haven was simply assumed to bethe property of your branch of the family. " "Our branch of the family?" Val echoed him. "Do you mean that somedescendant of Roderick has appeared to put in a claim?" "That is the problem. Three days ago a man came to my office. He saidthat he is the direct descendant of Roderick Ralestone and that he canproduce proof of that fact. " "And he wants his share of the estate?" asked Ricky shrewdly. "Yes. " "He can keep on wanting, " Val said shortly. "We've nothing to give. " "There's Pirate's Haven, " pointed out Mr. LeFleur. "But he can't--" Ricky's hand closed about her brother's wrist. "Naturally he can't take it, " Val assured her hotly. "Pirate's Haven isours. This looks to me like blackmail. He'll threaten to stir up a lotof trouble unless we buy him off. " Mr. LeFleur nodded. "That is perhaps the motive behind it all. " "Well, " Val forced a laugh, "then he loses. We haven't the money to buyhim off. " "Neither have you the money to fight a case through the courts, Mr. Valerius, " answered the lawyer soberly. "But there is some chance, there must be!" urged Ricky. "I submitted the full case to Mr. John Stanton yesterday--Mr. Stanton isour local authority on cases of this type. He has informed me that thereis a single ray of hope. Frankly, I find this claimant a dubious person, but a shrewd one. He knows that he has the advantage now, but should wegain the upper hand, we could, I believe, rid ourselves of him. Ourchance lies in the past. This was first a French and then a Spanishcolony. Under both rules the law of primogeniture sometimes held force. That is, an estate passed to the eldest son of a family. Your estate wassuch a one. In fact, we possess in this very office old charters andpapers which state that the property was entailed after the Europeancustom. If that were so, the courts might declare that the elder of thetwins born in 1788 was the sole owner of Pirate's Haven. "But which of the twin brothers was the elder? You will say at once, Richard. But your rival will say Roderick. And there is no proof. For inthe spring, two months after the birth of the boys, most of the familypapers were destroyed in the great fire which almost wiped out the cityand burned the Ralestone town house. There is no birth record inexistence. I appealed to your brother to return to me these papers whichMiles Ralestone took north with him after the war. You returned themtoday but there was nothing in them of any value to this case. "However, if you can find such proof, that Richard Ralestone was theelder and thus the legal heir under the laws of Spain, then we shallhave a solid fact upon which to base our fight. " "There is such a proof, " began Ricky slowly. "What? Where?" demanded Mr. LeFleur. "Don't you remember, Val, " she turned to him, "what Rupert said aboutthe Luck last night--that the names of the heirs were engraved upon itsblade? We'll have to find the Luck! We'll just have to!" "But Roderick took the Luck with him. And if it's still in existence, this rival will have it now, " her brother reminded her. "Yes, of course, I was forgetting--" her voice trailed off into silenceand Val stared at her with a dropped jaw. Such a quick change of mannerwas totally unlike Ricky. "Yes, " she repeated slowly and distinctly, "Iguess we're the losers--" "For Pete's sake--" he began hotly and then he saw her hand makingfurious motions in his direction from behind the screen of her largepurse. "Well, I suppose we are in a hole. " He managed to mend his tone afraction. "Rupert will probably be in to see you tomorrow, Mr. LeFleur. " "It would be well for him to become acquainted with the whole matter asquickly as possible, " agreed the unhappy Creole. "You may tell Mr. Ralestone that I am, of course, having this claimant thoroughlyinvestigated. We shall have to wait and see. Time is a big factor, " hemurmured as if to himself. Ricky smiled brightly. There was a sort of eagerness about her, as ifshe were wild to be off. "Then we'll say good-bye for the present, Mr. LeFleur. And may I mention again how much we have appreciated yourthoughtfulness?" René LeFleur aroused himself. "But it was a pleasure, a very greatpleasure, Miss Ralestone. You are returning to Pirate's Haven now?" "Well--" she hesitated. Mystified at what lay behind her unexplainableactions, Val could only stand and listen. "We did have some errands. Ofcourse, this news--" LeFleur gestured widely. "But it will come all right. It must. There arepapers somewhere. " Firmly Ricky broke away from more protracted farewells. As theRalestones turned out of the courtyard into which their host hadconducted them, Val matched his step with hers. "Well? What's the matter?" he demanded. "We had an eavesdropper. " Val stopped short. "What do you mean?" "I was facing the door to the balcony. There was the shadow of a head onthe floor. When you spoke about Rick having the sword, it went away--theshadow, I mean. But someone had been listening and now he knows aboutthe Luck and what it means to us. " Aiming a kick at the nearest tire of the roadster, Val regarded themud-stained rubber moodily. "Fine mess!" "Yes, isn't it? And there seems to be no loose end to the thing, " Rickyprotested. "It's like holding a big tangle of wool and being told tohave it all straightened out before night--the plot of a fairy-tale. Wehave so many odd sections but no ends. There's that boy in the gardenthis morning who said that he has as much right at Pirate's Haven as wehave, and then there's that handkerchief, and now this man who claimshalf the estate--" "And our mysterious listener, " finished her brother. "What shall we donow? Go home?" "No. We might as well do the errands. " She seated herself in the car. "Val--" "Yes?" "I know one thing. " She leaned toward him and her eyes shone green asthey did when she was excited or greatly troubled. "We aren't going tolet go of our tangle until we do find an end. We _are_ the Ralestones ofPirate's Haven and we are going to continue to be the Ralestones ofPirate's Haven. " "In spite of the enemy? I agree. " Val stepped on the starter. "You know, a hundred years ago there would have been a very simple remedy for thisrival-claimant business. " "What?" "Pistols for two--coffee for one. Rupert or I would have met him out atthe dueling oaks and that would have been the end of him. " "Or you. But dueling--here!" "Very common. The finest fencing masters on the North American continentplied their trade here. Why, one, Pepe Llula, the most famous duelist ofhis time, became the guardian of a cemetery just so, as gossip rumored, he could have some place to bury his opponents. "Then on the other hand, if dueling were too risky, we might have hadhim voodooed, had we lived back in the good old days. Paid that voodooqueen--what was her name? Marie something or other--to put a curse onhim so he'd just wither away. " "And serve him right, too. " Ricky stared straight before her. "I don'tknow how you feel about it, but I'm not going to give up Pirate's Havenwithout a fight. It's--it's the first real home we've ever had. Rupert'solder; he's spent his time traveling and seeing the world; it may notmean so much to him. But you and I, Val--You know what it's been like!Schools, and spending the holidays with aunts or in those frightfulcamps, never getting a chance to be together. We can't--we just can'thave this only to lose it again. We can't!" her voice broke. "So we won't. " "Val, when you say things like that, I can almost believe them. If--ifwe do lose, let's stick together this time. Promise?" her voice liftedin an effort toward lightness. "I promise. After this it will be the two of us together. Do you know, I've never really had a chance to get acquainted with my verygood-looking sister. " She laughed. "I can't very well curtsy while sitting down in here, but'thank yuh for them purty words, stranger. ' And now for the expressstation. Then you are to stop at the Southeastern News Associationheadquarters for something of Rupert's and--" The afternoon went quickly enough. They despatched the rest of theirpossessions from the express station to Pirate's Haven, went on a roundof miscellaneous shopping, picked up a weighty box at the NewsAssociation, and ended up at five o'clock by visiting that institutionof New Orleans, a coffee-house. Ricky was earnestly peeking into one ofher ten or so small bags. They had parked the car and Val complainedthat he had become a sort of packhorse, and anything but patient one. "What if your feet do hurt, " his sister said wearily as she closed thebag and reached for another. "So do mine. These sidewalks feel likered-hot iron. I'll bet I could do one of those fakir tricks where you'resupposed to walk over red-hot plowshares. " "Not only my feet but also my backbone is protesting. Whether you havereached the end of that _Anthony Adverse_ of a shopping list or not, we're going home! And what _are_ you looking for? You've opened allthose bags at least twice and dropped no less than three on the flooreach time, " he snapped irritably. "My pralines. I'm sure I gave them to you to carry. I've heard of NewOrleans pralines all my life, so I got some today and now they'vedisappeared. " "They were probably included in that last arm-load of parcels I stowedin the car. Are you through?" Ricky looked into her coffee-cup. "It's empty, so I guess I am. Where isthe car? I'm so lost I don't know where we are now. " "We left it about three blocks away on the sunny side of the street, "Val informed her with the relish of one who is thoroughly tired of hispresent existence. "If this is your usual behavior on a shopping trip, Rupert may bring you in the next time. Half an hour to choose atoothbrush-mug in the ten-cent store!" "For a person who spends a good fifteen minutes matching a tie and ahandkerchief, " sniffed Ricky as she rose, "you're in a hurry tocriticize others. " "Come _on_!" her brother almost howled as he scooped up the packages. "Anyway, we won't have to get supper or wash the dishes or anything. "She pulled off her hat as she settled herself in the car. "It's sobeastly hot, but it'll be cooler at home. Do you suppose we could goswimming in the bayou?" "I don't see why not. " Val guided the roadster into a side street. "Where's that map of the city? We've got to see how to get back on toNorth Rampart from here. " "I'll look. " Ricky bent her head and so she did not see the two figureswalking close together and so rapt in conversation that the one on thecurb side brushed against a lamp-post. Now just what, considered Val, was the slim young clerk from Mr. LeFleur's office telling that red-faced man in the too-snug suit? Hewould have liked to have overheard a word or two. Perhaps he had becomeunduly suspicious but--he had his doubts. "We turn left at the next corner, " said Ricky. Val changed gears and drove on. CHAPTER V THEIR TENANT DISCOVERS THE RALESTONES Val stood on the small ornamental bridge pitching twigs down into thetiny garden brook. A moody frown creased his forehead. Under his feetlay a pair of pruning-shears he had borrowed from Sam with the intentionof doing something about the jungle which surrounded Pirate's Haven onthree sides. That is, he had intended doing something, but now-- "Penny for your thoughts. " "Lady, " he answered dismally without turning around, "you can have abushel of them for less than that. " "There is a neat expression which describes you beautifully at thismoment, " commented Ricky as she came up beside her brother. "Have youever heard of a 'sour puss?" "Several times. Oh, what's the use!" Val kicked at a long twig. A warmwind brought in its hold the heavy scent of flowering bushes and trees. His shirt clung to his shoulders damply. It was hot even in the shade ofthe oaks. Rupert had gone to town to see LeFleur and hear the worst, sothat Pirate's Haven, save for themselves and Letty-Lou, was deserted. "Come on, " Ricky's arm slid through his, "let's explore. Think ofit--we've been here two whole days and we don't know yet what our backyard looks like. Rupert says that our land runs clear down into theswamp. Let's go see. " "But I was going to--" He made a feeble beginning toward stooping forthe pruning-shears. "Val Ralestone, nobody can work outdoors in this heat, and you know it. Now come on. Bring those with you and we'll leave them in the carriagehouse as we pass it. You know, " she continued as they went along thepath, "the trouble with us is that we haven't enough to do. What we needis a good old-fashioned job. " "I thought we were going to be treasure hunters, " he protestedlaughingly. "That's merely a side-line. I'm talking about the real thing, somethingwhich will pay us cash money on Saturday nights or thereabout. " "Well, we can both use a typewriter fairly satisfactorily, " Val offered. "But as you are the world's worst speller and I am apt to becomeentangled in my commas, I can't see us the shining lights of anyefficient office. And while we've had expensive educations, we haven'thad practical ones. So what do we do now?" "We sit down and think of one thing we're really good at doing andthen--Val, what is that?" She pointed dramatically at a mound of brickovergrown with vines. To their right and left stretched a row oftumble-down cabins, some with the roofs totally gone and the doorsfallen from the hinges. "The old plantation bake oven, I should say. This must be what's left ofthe slave quarters. But where's the carriage house?" "It must be around the other side of the big house. Let's try thatdirection anyway. But I think you'd better go first and do somechopping. This dress may be a poor thing but it's my own and likely tobe for some time to come. And short of doing a sort of snake act, Idon't see how we're going to get through there. " Val applied the shears ruthlessly to vine and bush alike, glad to findsomething to attack. The weight of his depression was still upon him. Itwas all very well for Ricky to talk so lightly of getting a job, buttalk would never put butter on their bread--if they could afford bread. "You certainly have done a fine job of ruining that!" Val surpassed Ricky's jump by a good inch. By the old bake oven stood awoman. A disreputable straw hat with a raveled brim was pulled down overher untidy honey-colored hair and she was rolling up the sleeves of astained smock to bare round brown arms. "It's very plain to the eye that you're no gardener, " she continuedpleasantly. "And may I ask who you are and what you are doing here? Thisplace is not open to trespassers, you know. " "We did think we would explore, " answered Ricky meekly. "You see, thisall belongs to my brother. " She swept her hand about in a wide circle. "And just who is he?" "Rupert Ralestone of Pirate's Haven. " "Good--!" Their questioner's hand flew to cover her mouth, and at thecomic look of dismay which appeared on her face, Ricky's laugh sounded. A moment later the stranger joined in her mirth. "And here I thought that I was being oh so helpful to an absentlandlord, " she chuckled. "And this brother of yours is _my_ landlord!" "How--? Why, we didn't know that. " "I've rented your old overseer's house and am using it for my studio. Bythe way, introductions are in order, I believe. I am Charity Biglow, from Boston as you might guess. Only beans and the Bunker Hill Monumentare more Boston than the Biglows. " "I'm Richanda Ralestone and this is my brother Valerius. " Miss Biglow grinned cheerfully at Val. "That won't do, you know; tooromantic by far. I once read a sword-and-cloak romance in which the heroanswered to the name of Valerius. " "I haven't a cloak nor a sword and my friends generally call me Val, soI hope I'm acceptable, " he grinned back at her. "Indeed you are--both of you. And what are you doing now?" "Trying to find a building known as the carriage house. I'm beginning tobelieve that its existence is wholly mythical, " Val replied. "It's over there, simply yards from the direction in which you'reheading. But suppose you come and visit me instead. Really, as partlandlords, you should be looking into the condition of your rentableproperty. " She turned briskly to the left down the lane on which were located theslave cabins and guided the Ralestones along a brick-paved path into aclearing where stood a small house of typical plantation style. Thelower story was of stone with steep steps leading to a balcony which rancompletely around the second floor of the house. As they reached the balcony she pulled off her hat and threw it in thegeneral direction of a cane settee. Without that wreck of a hat, withthe curls of her long bob flowing free, she looked years younger. "Make yourselves thoroughly at home. After all, this is your house, youknow. " "But we didn't, " protested Ricky. "Mr. LeFleur didn't tell us a thingabout you. " "Perhaps he didn't know. " Charity Biglow was pinning back her curls. "Irented from Harrison. " "Like the bathroom, " Val murmured and looked up to find them staring athim. "Oh, I just meant that you were another improvement that he hadinstalled, " he stammered. Miss Biglow nodded in a satisfied sort of way. "Spoken like a true southern gentleman, though I don't think in the olddays that bathrooms would have crept into a compliment paid to a lady. Now I did have some lemonade--if you will excuse me, " and she was goneinto the house. Ricky smiled. "I like our tenant, " she said softly. "You don't expect me to disagree with that, do you?" her brother hadjust time enough to ask before their hostess appeared again completewith tray, glasses, and a filled pitcher which gave forth the refreshingsound of clinking ice. And after her paraded an old friend of theirs, tail proudly erect. "There's our cat!" cried Ricky. Val snapped his fingers. "Here, Satan. " After staring round-eyed at both of them, the cat crossed casually tothe settee and proceeded to sharpen his claws. "Well, I like that! After I shared my bed with the brute, even though Ididn't know it until the next morning, " Val exploded. "Why, where did you meet Cinders?" asked Miss Biglow as she put down thetray. "He came to us the first night we were at Pirate's Haven, " explainedRicky. "I thought he was a ghost or something when he scratched at theback door. " "So that's where he was. He used to go over to the Harrisons' for mealsa lot. When I'm working I don't keep very regular hours and he doesn'tlike to be neglected. Come here, Cinders, and make your manners. " Replying to her invitation with an insolent flirt of his tail, Cinders, whom Val continued obstinately to regard as "Satan, " disappeared aroundthe corner of the balcony. Charity Biglow looked at them solemnly. "Soobedient, " she observed; "just like a child. " "Are you an artist, too?" Ricky asked as she put down her glass. Miss Biglow's face wrinkled into a grimace. "My critics say not. Imanage to provide daily bread and sometimes a slice of cake by doingillustrations for action stories. And then once in a while I labor forthe good of my soul and try to produce something my more charitablefriends advise me to send to a show. " "May--may we see some of them--the pictures, I mean?" inquired Rickytimidly. "If you can bear it. I use the side balcony for a workshop in this kindof weather. I'm working on a picture now, something more ambitious thanI usually attempt in heat of this sort. But my model didn't show up thismorning so I'm at a loose end. " She led them around the corner where Satan had disappeared and pointedto a table with a sketching board at one end, several canvases leaningface against the house, and an easel covered with a clean strip oflinen. "My workshop. A trifle untidy, but then I am an untidy person. I'm expecting an order so I'm just whiling away my time working on anidea of my own until it comes. " Ricky touched the strip of covering across the canvas on the easel. "MayI?" she asked. "Yes. It might be a help, getting some other person's reaction to thething. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do when I started but Idon't think it's turning out to be what I planned. " Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas. [Illustration: _Ricky lifted off the cover. Val stared at the canvas. _] "But that is he!" he exclaimed. Charity Biglow turned to the boy. "And what do you mean--" "That's the boy I found in the garden, Ricky!" "Is it?" She stared, fascinated, at the lean brown face, the untidyblack hair, the bitter mouth, which their hostess had so skilfullycaught in her unfinished drawing. "So you've met Jeems. " Miss Biglow looked at Val thoughtfully. "And whatdid you think of him?" "It's rather--what did he think of me. He seemed to hate me. I don'tknow why. All I ever said to him was 'Hello. '" "Jeems is a queer person--" "Sam says that he is none too honest, " observed Ricky, her attentionstill held by the picture. Miss Biglow shook her head. "There is a sort of feud between the swamppeople and the farmers around here. And neither side is wholly to bebelieved in their estimation of the other. Jeems isn't dishonest, andneither are a great many of the muskrat hunters. In the early days allkinds of outlaws and wanted men fled into the swamps and lived therewith the hunters. One or two desperate men gave the whole of the swamppeople a bad name and it has stuck. They are a strange folk back therein the fur country. "Some are Cajuns, descendants of exiles from Evangeline's country; someare Creoles who took to that way of life after the Civil War ruinedthem. There's many a barefooted boy or girl of the swamps who bears aname that was once honored at the Court of France or Spain. And thereare Americans of the old frontier stock who came down river with AndrewJackson's army from the wilds of Tennessee and the Indian country. It'sa strange mixture, and once in a while you find a person like Jeems. Hespeaks the uneducated jargon of his people but he reads and writesFrench and English perfectly. He has studied under Père Armand until hehas a classical education such as was popular for Creole boys of goodfamily some fifty years ago. Père Armand is an old man now, but he is asgood an instructor as he is a priest. "Jeems wants to make something of himself. He argues logically that theswamp has undeveloped resources which might save its inhabitants fromthe grinding poverty which is slowly destroying them. And it is Jeems'hope that he can discover some of the swamp secrets when he is fitted bytraining to do so. " "Who is he?" Val asked. "Is Jeems his first or last name?" "His last. I have never heard his given name. He is very reticent abouthis past, though I do know that he is an orphan. But he is of Creoledescent and he does have breeding as well as ambition. Unfortunately hehad quite an unpleasant experience with a boy who was visiting theHarrisons last summer. The visitor accused Jeems of taking a fine riflewhich was later discovered right where the boy had left it in his owncanoe. Jeems has a certain pride and he was turned against all theplantation people. His attitude is unfortunate because he longs so for adifferent sort of life and yet has no contact with young people exceptthose of the swamp. I think he is beginning to trust me, for he willcome in the mornings to pose for my picture of the swamp hunter. Do youknow, " she hesitated, "I think that you would find a real friend inJeems if you could overcome his hatred of plantation people. You wouldgain as much as he from such an association. He can tell you thingsabout the swamp--stories which go back to the old pirate days. Perhaps--" Ricky looked up from the uncompleted picture. "I think he'd be nice toknow. But why does he look so--so sort of starved?" "Probably because the bill of fare in a swamp cabin is not as varied asit might be, " answered Charity Biglow. "But you can't offer himanything, of course. I don't even know where he lives. And now, tell meabout yourselves. Are you planning to live here?" Her frank interest seemed perfectly natural. One simply couldn't resentCharity Biglow. "Well, " Ricky laughed ruefully, "we can't very well live anywhere else. I think Rupert still has ten dollars--" "After his expedition this morning, I would have my doubts of that, " Valcut in. "You see, Miss Biglow, we are back to the soil now. " "Charity is the name, " she corrected him. "So you're down--" "But not out!" Ricky hastened to assure her. "But we might be that. " Andthen and there she told their tenant of the rival claimant. Charity listened closely, absent-mindedly sucking the wooden shaft ofone of her brushes. When Ricky had done, she nodded. "Nice mess you've dropped into. But I think that your lawyer has theright idea. This is a neat piece of blackmail and your claimant willdisappear into thin air if you have a few concrete facts to face himdown with. Are you sure you've looked through all the family papers? Nohiding-places or safes--" "One, " said Ricky calmly, "but we don't know where that is. In the CivilWar days, after General Butler took over New Orleans, some familypossessions were hidden somewhere in the Long Hall, but we don't knowwhere. The secret was lost when Richard Ralestone was shot by Yankeeraiders. " "Is he the ghost?" asked Charity. "No. You ask that as if you know something, " Val observed. "Nothing but talk. There have been lights seen, white ones. And a whileback my maid Rose left because she saw something in the garden onenight. " "Jeems, probably, " the boy commented. "He seems to like the place. " "No, not Jeems. He was sitting right on that railing when we both heardRose scream. " "Val, the handkerchief!" Ricky's hand arose to her buttoned pocket. "Then there _was_ someone inside the house that night. But why--unlessthey were after the treasure!" "The quickest way to find out, " her brother got up from the edge of thetable where he had perched, "is to go and do a little probing of ourown. We have a good two hours until lunch. Will you join us?" he askedCharity. "You tempt me, but I've got to get in as much work on this as I can, "she indicated her canvas. "And Jeems may show up even if it is late. Somy conscience says 'No. ' Unfortunately I do possess a regularrock-ribbed New England conscience. " "Rupert will be back by four, " said Ricky. "Will your conscience let youcome over for coffee with us then? You see how quickly we have adoptedthe native customs--coffee at four. " "Ricky, " her brother explained, "desires to become that figure ofRomance--the southern belle. " "Then we must do what we can to help her create the proper atmosphere, "urged Charity solemnly. "Even to the victoria and the coach-hound?" Val demanded in dismay. "Well, perhaps not that far, " she laughed. "Anyway, I accept your kindinvitation with pleasure. I shall be there at four--if I can find apresentable dress. Now clear out, you two, and see what secrets of thepast you can uncover before lunch time. " But their explorations resulted in nothing except slightly frayedtempers. Val had sounded what paneling there was, but as he had no ideawhat a hollow panel should sound like if rapped, he inwardly decidedthat he was not exactly fitted for such investigations. Ricky broke two fingernails pressing the carving about the fireplace andsat down on the couch to state in no uncertain terms what she thought ofthe house, and of their ancestor who had been so misguided as to gethimself shot after hiding the stuff. She ended with a brilliant butshort description of Val's present habits and vices--which she addedbecause he happened to have said meekly enough that if she would onlytrim her nails to a reasonable length, such accidents could be avoided. When she had done, her brother sat back on the lowest step of the stairsand wiped his hands on his handkerchief. "Seeing that I have been crawling about on my hands and knees inspectingcracks in the floor, I think I have as much right to lose my temper asyou have. Short of tearing the house down, I don't see how we are goingto find anything without directions. And I am _not_ in favor of takingsuch a drastic step as yet. " "It's around here somewhere, I know it!" She kicked petulantly at thehearth-stone. "That statement is certainly a big help, " Val commented. "Several yardsacross and I don't know how many up and down--and you just know it'sthere somewhere. Well, you can keep on pressing until you wear yourfingers out, but I'm calling it a day right now. " She did not answer, and he got stiffly to his feet. He was hot and moretired than he had been since he had left the hospital. Because he wasjust as sure as Ricky that the key to their riddle must be directlybefore them at that moment, he was thoroughly disgusted. A strange sound from his sister brought him around. Ricky was not prettywhen she cried. No pearly drops slipped down white cheeks. Her noseshone red and she sniffed. But Ricky did not cry often. Only when shewas discouraged, or when she was really hurt. "Why, Ricky--" Val began uncertainly. "Go 'way, " she hiccupped. "You don't care--you don't care 'boutanything. If we have to lose this--" "We won't! We'll find a way!" he assured her hurriedly. "I'm sorry Isnapped at you. I'm just tired and hot, and so are you. Let's goupstairs and freshen up. Lunch will be ready--" "I kno-o-ow--" her sob deepened into a wail. "Then Rupert will laugh atus and--" "Ricky! For goodness sake, pull yourself together!" She looked up at him, round-mouthed in surprise at his sharpness. Andthen to his amazement she began to giggle, her giggles mixed with hersobs. "You do look so funny, " she gasped, "like the stern father of afamily. Why don't you fight back always when I get mean, Val?" He grinned back at her. "I don't know. Shall I, next time?" She rubbed her face with a businesslike air and tucked her handkerchiefaway. "There isn't going to be any next time, " she announced briskly. "If there is--well--" "Yes?" Val prompted. "Then you can just spank me or something drastic. Come on, I must look asight. And goodness knows, you're no beauty with that black mark acrossyour chin and your slacks all grimy at the knees. We've got to clean upbefore lunch or Letty-Lou will think we're some sort of heathen. " With that she turned and led the way upstairs, totally recovered andherself again in spite of a red nose and suspiciously moist eyelashes. CHAPTER VI SATAN GOES A-HUNTING AND FINDS WORK FOR IDLE HANDS "Val, did that cat go upstairs?" Ricky stood at the foot of the hallstaircase frowning crossly. "If he did, you'll just have to go up andget him. I will not have him walking on the beds with muddy feet. There's enough to do here without cleaning up after a lazy cat. Where'sRupert?" Her brother put aside his note-book and got up from the couch with alazy stretch. Ricky's early-morning energy was apt to be a littleirksome and Val had not had a good night. When one lies and stares up ata ceiling, one sometimes hears strange noises which cannot be accountedfor by wind or creaking boards. "He retired into Bluebeard's den right after breakfast and he hasn'tappeared since. " "I should think that after what he heard yesterday he'd be doingsomething, " she protested. "And what is there for him to do? You know just how far we got with ourinvestigations yesterday. Go rap on his door if you like and stir himup. But I don't think his welcome will be a cordial one. " Ricky sat down on the bottom step and pushed the hair back from herforehead. Suddenly she looked very small and faintly forlorn with allthat expanse of age-blackened wood behind her. "I can't understand you two at all. One would think you would be just aswell pleased if that Beezel the rival walked off with this place. Youaren't even trying to fight!" "Listen, Ricky, how can we fight when we have nothing solid to fightwith? LeFleur is doing all he can, we have explored every possibilityhere--" "Val, don't you _want_ to stay here?" she interrupted him. He looked around at stone and wood. Did he really want to? His instanthot anger at the thought of another owner there was his answer. Why, this house was a part of them, as much as if they had laid itsfoundation stones with their own hands. They had been brought up on itsblood-stained legends, and on the one or two happier tales which hadbeen lived within its walls. If they had to leave, they would regret itall their lives. And yet--Rupert seemed to take no interest in theclaims of the rival, and only Ricky wanted to fight. Ricky got up from the stairs. "We might as well go up and catch that cat, " she said. At the top of the stairs Satan sat, his eyes upon the landing windows. Val reached out his hands for him, but in that single instant Satan wasgone. A black tail disappeared around the door of the Jackson room. "Oh, dear, I hope he isn't going to get on that bed. " Ricky opened thedoor wider. "No, there he goes under instead of on it. Can you see him, Val?" Her brother crouched and lifted the edge of the brocaded cover whichswept to the floor. To Val's surprise a thin line of light showed alongthe wall at the head of the bed. "Ricky, look behind the head of the bed! Is it fast against the wall?" She started to the tall canopied head and pulled the faded fabrics awayfrom the paneling. "No, there's about two feet here at the bottom. Itdoesn't show because the canopy covers it. And, Val, there's an openinghere! Satan's trying to get through!" "We need a flashlight. " "I'll get Rupert's. Val, promise not to go in--if it _is_ a door--untilI come back!" "Of course; but hurry. " The flashlight revealed a wide panel which slid upward. Time and damphad warped the wood so that it no longer fitted snugly to the floor asthe builder had intended. But the same warping made the door defy theirefforts to raise it any higher. At last, by prying and pounding, theygot it up perhaps a yard from the floor. Satan slipped through and theyfollowed on hands and knees. They crawled into a small room lighted by two round windows set likeeyes in the side wall. More than three-quarters of the space was filledwith furniture and boxes wrapped in tarred canvas. The choking dust andgeneral mustiness of the long-closed apartment drove Val to investigatethe window fastenings and throw them open to the morning air. "There must be another door somewhere, " he said, calling Ricky away froma box where she was picking at the knotted rope which bound it. "Allthese things couldn't have been brought through that hole behind thebed. " "Here it is, " she said a moment later, pointing to an oblong set flushwith the wall. "It's bolted on this side. " "Let me open it and see where we are. " Val fumbled at the rusty latch, but he had to use an iron poker from a discarded fire stand in thecorner before he could hammer it back. Again the door resisted theirefforts to push it open until Val flung his full weight against it. Witha snapping report it swung open and he sprawled forward into the shorthall which had once led into the garden wing, an ell of the housedestroyed by roving British raiders during the days of 1815. The onlywholly wooden portion of the house, it had been burnt and never rebuilt. "Come on, " Ricky pulled at Val's sleeve, "let's explore. " He looked at his black hands. "I would suggest some soap and water, several brooms, and some dusting cloths if we're going to do it right. Better make a regular house-cleaning party of it. " "Goodness, what have I strayed into?" Charity Biglow stood in the lowerhall staring at the younger Ralestones as they came through from thekitchen. They had both changed into their oldest and least respectableclothes. Ricky, in fact, was wearing a pair of Val's slacks and one ofRupert's shirts, and they were burdened with a broom which was long pastits youth, several smaller brushes, and a great bundle of floor-cloths. "We've found a secret room--" began Ricky. "As one door has been in plain sight since the building of this house, it could hardly be called a secret room, " Val objected. "Well, we didn't know it was there until Satan found the back entrancefor us. And now we're going to clean it out. It's full of furniture andboxes and things. " "Don't!" Charity held up a paint-streaked hand. "You will have medrooling in a moment. I don't suppose you could use another assistant?After all, it was my cat who found it for you. If you can provide mewith a set of those weird coverings which seem to be your house-cleaninguniforms, I would just love to wield a broom in your company. " "The more the merrier, " laughed Ricky. "I think Val has another pair ofslacks--" "That's right, dispose of my wardrobe before my face, " he commented, balancing his load more carefully in preparation for climbing thestairs. "Only spare my white flannels, please. I'm saving those for theoccasion when I can play the country gentleman in style. " Upstairs he braced open the hall door of the storage-room. The openwindows had cleared the air within but they were too high and too smallto admit enough light to reach the far corners. It would be best, theydecided, to carry each box and piece of furniture to the hall forexamination. With the zeal of treasure hunters they set to work. Some time later, when Val was coaxing the second box through the door, they were interrupted. "And just what is going on here?" Rupert stood at the end of the hall. "Oh, " Ricky smiled sweetly, "did we really disturb you?" "Well, I did think that there was a troop of elephants doing tap dancingup here. But that isn't the point--just _what_ are you doing?" "Cleaning house. " Ricky flicked a gray rag in his direction freeing acloud of dust. "Don't you think it needs it?" Rupert sneezed. "It seems so. But why--? Miss Biglow!" Charity, extremely dirty--she had apparently run dusty hands across herforehead several times--had come to the door of the storage-room. At thesight of Rupert she flushed and made a hurried attempt at smoothing herhair. "I--" she began, when Ricky interrupted her. "Charity is helping us, which is more than we can say of you. Go back toyour old den and hibernate. And then you can't look down that long noseof yours when we turn up the papers that'll save us from the poorhouse. " "That's telling him, " Val murmured approvingly as he fanned himself withone of the cleaner cloths. "But perhaps we had better explain. You see, Satan went hunting and found work for idle hands, " and he told the taleof the sliding panel behind the bed. When he had finished, Rupert laughed. "So you are still determined ontreasure hunting, are you? Well, if it will keep you out of mischief, goto it. " "Rupert, " Ricky faced him squarely, "don't be utterly insufferable. If you had one drop of hot blood in you, you'd be just as thrilledas we are. Just because you've been around and around the world untilyou got dizzy or something, you needn't stand there with that'See-the-little-children-play' smirk on your face. You don't really carewhether we lose Pirate's Haven or not, do you?" Rupert straightened and the color crept up across his high cheek-bones. His mouth opened and then he closed it again without speaking the wordshe had intended, closed with a firmness which tightened his lips into astraight line. "Don't stand there and glower at me, " Ricky went on. "Why don't you saywhat you were going to? I'm just about tired of this world-wearyattitude--" "Ricky!" Val clapped his black hand over her mouth and turned toCharity. "Please excuse the fireworks. They are not usual, I assureyou. " "Let me go!" Ricky twisted out of his grip. "I don't care if Charitydoes hear. She ought to know what we're really like!" "Speak for yourself, my pet. " The red had faded from Rupert's face. "Youdo have a nice little habit of speaking your mind, don't you? But onthis occasion I believe you're at least eight-tenths right. I have beenneglecting my opportunities. Suppose you let me get at that box, Val. And look here, if you are going to unpack these, why not move them downto the end of the hall and turn them out on a sheet?" Charity and Ricky suddenly disappeared back into the room and were verybusy whenever Rupert crossed their line of vision, but Val was heartilyglad of his brother's help in lifting and pulling. "Better not try to take this bedstead and stuff out, " Rupert advisedwhen they had the three boxes out in the hall. "We have no need for itnow, anyway. " "I believe--yes, it is! A real Sergnoret piece!" Charity wasindustriously rubbing away at the head of the bed. Rupert knelt downbeside her. "And just what is a Sergnoret piece?" "A collector's item nowadays. François Sergnoret was one of the greatestcabinet-makers of New Orleans. See that 'S'--that's the way he alwayssigned his work. " "Treasure trove!" cried Ricky. "I wonder how much it's worth?" "Exactly nothing to us. " Rupert was running his hands across themahogany. "We couldn't sell anything from this house until the title iscleared. " As Val moved around to the opposite side to see better, his foot struckagainst something on the floor. He stooped and picked up a box with aslanting cover, the whole black and smooth with age and the rubbing ofcountless hands. "What's this?" He had crossed to the door and was examining his find inthe light. Rupert's hand fell upon his shoulder. "Val, be careful of that. Charity, he's got something here!" He pulled her up beside him, not noting in hisexcitement that he had broken out of the formal shell which seemed towall him in whenever she was around. "A Bible box! And an authentic one, too!" She drew her fingers down theslope of the lid. "And just what is it?" Val asked for the second time. "These boxes were used in the seventeenth century for writing-desks andlater to keep the large family Bibles in. But this is the first one I'veever seen outside of a museum. What's this on the lid?" She traced aworn outline. Val studied the design. "Why, it's Joe! You know, that grinning skull we have stuck up all overthe place to bolster up our superiority complex. That proves that thisis ours, all right. " "Perhaps--" Ricky's eyes were round with excitement, "perhaps itbelonged to Pirate Dick himself!" "Perhaps it did, " her younger brother agreed. "Lift the lid. " She was almost hopping on one foot in her impatience. "Let's see what's inside. " "No gold or jewels, I'll wager. How do you get the thing undone?" "Here, let me try. " Rupert took it from Val's hands and put it down onone of the chests, squatting on the floor before it. With the smallestblade of his penknife he delicately probed the fastening sunken in thewood. "I could do a faster job, " he remarked, "if you didn't all breathe downthe back of my neck. " They retreated two inches or so and waitedimpatiently. With a satisfied grunt he dropped his knife and pulled thelid up. "Why, there's nothing in it!" Ricky's cry of disappointment was almost awail. "Nothing but that old torn lining. " Val was as disgusted as she. Rupert closed it again. "I'll rub this up some and put in anotherlining. This is too good a piece to hide away up here, " and he put itcarefully aside at the end of the hall. Their investigations yielded nothing more except great quantities ofdust, a mummified rat which even Satan refused to sniff at, and a largecollection of spider webs. Having swept out the room, they went to washtheir hands before unpacking the well-wrapped boxes. When their swathing canvas and sacking was thrown aside, the boxes stoodrevealed as stout chests banded with iron. Charity paused before one. "This is a marriage chest, late seventeenth century, I would judge. Lookthere, under that carved leaf--isn't that a date?" "Sixteen hundred ninety-three, " Rupert deciphered. "That crest above itlooks familiar. I know, it belonged to that French lady who married ourpirate ancestor. " "The first Lady Richanda!" Ricky touched the chest lovingly. "Then thisis mine, Rupert. Can't it be mine?" she coaxed. "Of course. But it's locked, and as we don't have any keys which wouldfit the lock, you'll have to wait until we can get a locksmith out towork on it before you will know what's inside. " "I don't care. No, " she corrected herself, "that's wrong; I do care. Butanyway its mine!" She caressed the stiff carving with her fingers. "What's this one?" Val turned to the second box. It, too, was fashionedof wood, but it was plain where the other was carved, and the iron bandsacross it were pitted with rust. "A sea chest, I would say. " Rupert touched the top gingerly. "By thefeel, it's locked too. And I don't care to play around with it. The menwho made things like these were too fond of having little poisoned fangsrun into your hand when you tried to force the chest without knowing thetrick. We'll have to leave this for an expert, too. " "What about the third?" Charity laughed. "After your two treasures I'm afraid that this will bea disappointment. " She indicated a small humpbacked trunk covered withmoth-eaten horsehair. "No romance here. But the key is tied to the claspbeside the lock. " "Then open it before I expire of pure unsatisfied curiosity, " Rickybegged. "Go on, Rupert. Hurry. " "Oh, " she said a moment later, "it's full of nothing but a lot ofbooks. " "What did you expect, " Val asked her, "a skeleton? Do you know, I thinkthat Rick's ghost, or whatever influence presides over this house, has asense of humor. You find a room, or a trunk, or something which makesyou feel that you are on the verge of getting what you want, and then itall fades into just nothing again. Now, by rights, that writing-deskshould have contained the secret message which would have told us whereto find a hidden passage or something. But what is in it? A couple ofpieces of lining almost completely torn from the bottom. I'll wager thatwhen you open those chests you'll find nothing but a brick or 'AprilFool' scrawled across the inside. This isn't true to any fiction I everread, " he ended plaintively. "Good Heavens!" Charity was staring down at what lay within a portfolioshe had opened. "Don't tell me you have really found something!" Val exclaimed. "It can't be true!" She still stared at what she held. Ricky looked over her shoulder. "Why, it's nothing but a picture of abird, " she observed. "It's a genuine Audubon, " Charity corrected her. [Illustration: _"It's a genuine Audubon, " Charity said. _] "What!" With little regard for manners, Rupert snatched the portfoliofrom her hands. "Are you sure?" "Yes. But you must take it in to the museum and get an expert opinion. It's wonderful!" "Here's another. " Reverently Rupert raised the first sketch and then thesecond. "Three, four, five, six, " he counted. "Was Audubon ever here?" Charity looked about the hall, a sort of awecoloring her voice. "He might easily have been when he lived in New Orleans. Though we haveno record of it, " answered Rupert. "But these, " he closed the portfoliocarefully and knotted its strings, "speak for themselves. I'll take themto LeFleur tomorrow. We can't allow them to lie about here. " "I should hope not!" Charity eyed the portfolio wistfully. "Imagineactually owning six of those--" "They won't pay our bills, " said Ricky, practical for once in her life. Treasure to Ricky was not half a dozen sketches on yellowed paper butgood old-fashioned gold with a few jewels thrown in for her own privatesatisfaction. The portfolio and its contents left her unmoved. Valadmitted to himself that he, too, was disappointed. After all--well, treasure should be treasure. Rupert carried the portfolio into his bedroom and locked it in one ofhis mysterious brief-cases which had somehow found its way upstairs. The two chests they moved out farther into the hall and the trunk wasplaced back against the wall, ready for further investigation. "Mistuh Ralestone, suh, " Letty-Lou, standing half-way up the backstairs, addressed Rupert, "lunch am on de table. Effen yo'all doan comenow, de eatments will be spiled. " "All right, " he answered. "Letty-Lou, " called Ricky, "put on another plate. Miss Charity isstaying to lunch. " "Dat's all ri', Miss 'Chanda. I'se done done dat. Yo'all comin' now?" "You see how we are bullied, " Ricky appealed to Charity. "Of courseyou're going to stay, " she swept aside the other's protests. "What'sfood for, if not to feed your friends? Val, go wash up; your hands arefrightful. I don't care if you did wash once; go and--" "This is her little-mother-of-the-family mood, " her younger brotherexplained to Charity. "It wears off after a while if you just don'tnotice it. But I will wash though, " he looked at his hands, "I seem toneed it. " "And don't use the guest towels, " Ricky called after him. "You know thatthey're only to look at. " When Val emerged from the bathroom he found the hall deserted. Soundsfrom below suggested that his family had basely left him for food. Hestarted along the passage. Not far from the stairs was the writing-deskwhere Rupert had left it. Val picked it up, thinking that he might aswell take it along down with him. CHAPTER VII BY OUR LUCK! Depositing the desk on the seat of one of the hall chairs, Val startedtoward the dining-room, a grim hole which Lucy had calmly forced thefamily to use but which they all cordially disliked. Its paneled walls, crystal-hung chandelier, marble-fronted fireplace, and inlaid floor gaveit the appearance of one of the less cozy rooms in a small palace. Therewere also two tasteful portraits of dead ducks which had been added as afinishing touch by some tenant during the eighties and which stillremained upon the walls to Ricky's unholy joy. But the long table, the high-backed chairs, the side serving-table, andthe two tall cabinets of china were fine enough pieces if one cared forthe massive. Ricky's table-cloth of violent-hued peasant linen was notin keeping with the china and glassware Letty-Lou had set out upon it. Charity was commenting upon this ensemble as Val entered. "Doesn't this red and green plaid seem a bit--well, bright?" The cornersof her mouth twitched betrayingly. "No, " Ricky returned firmly. "This cloth matches the ducks. " "Oh, yes, the ducks, " Charity eyed them. "So you consider that the ducksare the note you wish to emphasize?" "Certainly. " Ricky surveyed the picture hanging opposite her. "Iconsider them unique. Not everyone can have ducks in the dining-roomnowadays. " "For which they should be eternally thankful, " observed Rupert. "Theyare rather gaudy, aren't they?" "Oh, but I like the expression in this one's glassy eye, " Ricky pointedout. "You might call this study 'Gone But Not Forgotten. '" "Corn-bread, please, " Val asked, thus attempting to put an end to theart-appreciation class. "I think, " continued Ricky, undisturbed as she passed him the plateheaped with golden squares, "that they are slightly surrealist. Theydistinctly resemble the sort of things one is often pursued by in one'sbrighter nightmares. " "Do you have any really good pictures?" asked Charity, resolutelyaverting her gaze from the ducks. "Three, but they've been loaned to the museum, " answered Rupert. "Not bywell-known painters, but they're historically interesting. There's oneof the first Lady Richanda, and one of the missing Rick. That's the bestof the lot, according to LeFleur. I saw a photograph of it once. Come tothink about it, Val looks a lot like the boy in the picture. He mighthave sat for it. " They all turned to eye Val. He arose and bowed. "I find thesecompliments too overwhelming, " he murmured. Rupert grinned. "And how do you know that that remark was intended as acompliment?" "Naturally I assumed so, " his brother retorted with a dignity whichdisappeared as the piece of corn-bread in his hand broke in two, thelarger and more liberally buttered portion falling butter side down onthe table. Ricky smiled in a pained sort of way as she attempted tojudge from her side of the table just how much damage Val's awkwardnesshad done. "If you were the graceful hostess, " he informed her severely, "you wouldnow throw your piece in the middle to show that anyone could suffer alike mishap. " Ricky changed the subject hurriedly by passing beans to Charity. "So Val looks like the ghost, " Charity said a moment later. "Now I willhave to go to town and see that portrait. Just where is it?" Rupert shook his head. "I don't know. But it's listed in the catalogueas 'Portrait of Roderick Ralestone, Aged Eighteen. '" "Just Val's age, then. " Ricky spooned some watermelon pickles onto herplate. "But he was older than that when he left here. " "Let's see. He was born in February, 1788, which would make him fourteenwhen his parents died in 1802. Then he disappeared in 1814, twelve yearslater. Just twenty-six when he went, " computed Rupert. "A year younger than you are now, " observed Ricky. "And nine years older than yourself at this present date, " Val addedpleasantly. "Why this sudden interest in mathematics?" "Oh, I don't know. Only somehow I always thought Rick was younger whenhe went away. I've always felt sorry for him. Wonder what happened tohim afterwards?" "According to our rival, " Rupert pulled his coffee-cup before him asLetty-Lou took away their plates, "he just went quietly away, married, lived soberly, and brought up a son, who in turn fathered a son, and soon to the present day. A tame enough ending for our wild privateersman. " "I'll bet it isn't true. Rick wouldn't end like that. He probably wentoff down south and got mixed up in some of the revolutions they werehaving at the time, " suggested Ricky. "He couldn't just settle down anddie in bed. I could imagine him scuttling a ship but not being a quietbusiness man. " "He was one of Lafitte's men, wasn't he?" asked Charity. At theiranswering nods, she went on: "Lafitte was a business man, you know. Oh, I don't mean that forge he ran in town, but his establishment at GrandeTerre. He was more smuggler than pirate, that's why he lasted so long. Even the most respected tradesmen had dealings with him. Why, he used topost notices right in town when he held auctions at Barataria, listingwhat he had to sell, mostly smuggled Negroes and a few cargoes ofluxuries from Europe. He was a privateer under the rules of war, but hewas never a real pirate. At least, that's the belief held nowadays. " "We can't turn up our noses at pirates, " laughed Ricky. "This house wasbuilt by pirate gold. We only wish--" From the hall came a dull thump. Ricky's napkin dropped from her handinto her coffee-cup. Rupert laid down his spoon deliberately enough, butthere was a certain tension in his movements. Val felt a sudden chill. For Letty-Lou was in the kitchen, the family were in the dining-room. There should be no one in the hall. Rupert pushed back his chair. But Val was already half-way to the doorwhen his brother joined him. And Ricky, suddenly sober, was at theirheels. _Zzzzzrupp!_ The slitting sound was clear as they burst into the hall. On the fur rug by the couch lay the writing-desk. Its lid was thrownback and by it crouched Satan industriously ripping the remnants oflining from its interior. As Rupert came up, the cat drew back, his earsflattened and his lips a-snarl. [Illustration: Zzzzzrupp! _Satan was industriously ripping the remnantsof lining from its interior. _] "Cinders! What has he done?" demanded Charity, swooping down upon herpet. At her coming, he fled under the couch out of reach. Rupert picked up the desk. "Nothing much, " he laughed. "Just torn allthat lining loose, as I had planned to do. " "What is this?" Ricky disentangled a small slip of white from the tornand musty velvet. "Why, it's a piece of paper, " she answered her ownquestion. "It must have been under the lining and Satan pulled it outwith the cloth. " "Here, " Rupert took it from her, "let me see it. " He scanned the faded lines of writing. "Val! Ricky!" He looked up, hisface flushed with excitement. "Listen!" "Gatty has returned from the city. The raiders calling themselves the 'Buck Boys' are headed this way. Gatty tells me that Alexander is with them, having deserted the plantation a week ago. Since his malice towards us is well known, it is easy to believe that he means us open harm. I am making my preparations accordingly. The valuables now under this roof, together with the proceeds from the last voyage of the blockade runner, _Red Bird_, I am putting in that safe place discovered by me in childhood, of which I have sometimes spoken. Remember the hint I once gave you--By Our Luck. Having written this in haste, I shall intrust it to Gatty--" "That's the end; the rest is gone. " Rupert stared down at the scrap ofpaper in his hand as if he simply could not believe in its reality. "Richard wrote that. " Ricky touched the note in awe. "But why didn'tGatty give it to Miles when he came?" "Gatty was probably a slave who ran when the raiders appeared, "suggested Rupert. "He or she must have hidden this in here beforeleaving. We'll never know. " "But we've got our clue!" cried Ricky. "We knew that the hiding-placewas in this hall, and now we have the clue. " "'By our Luck. '" Rupert looked about him thoughtfully. "That's not themost helpful--" "Rupert!" Ricky seized him by the arm. "There's only one thing in thisroom that will answer that. Can't you see? The niche of the Luck!" Their gaze followed her pointing finger to the mantel above their heads. "I believe she's right! Wait until I get the step-ladder from thekitchen. " Rupert was gone almost before he had finished speaking. "Oh, if it's only true!" Ricky stared up like one hypnotized. "Thenwe'll be rich and--" "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched, " Val reminded her, but he didn't think that she heard him. Then Rupert was back with the ladder. He climbed up, leaving the threeof them clustered about its foot. "Nothing here but two stone studs to hold the Luck in place, " he said amoment later. "Why not try pressing those?" suggested Charity. "All right, here goes. " He placed his thumbs in the corners of the nicheand threw his weight upon them. "Nothing happened. " Ricky's voice was deep with disappointment. "Look!" Val pointed over her shoulder. To the left of the fireplace were five panels of oak, to balance thoseon the other side about the door of the unused drawing-room. The centerone of these now gaped open, showing a dark cavity. "It worked!" Ricky was already heading for the opening. There behind the paneling was a shallow closet which ran the full lengthof the five panels. It was filled with a collection of bags and smallchests, a collection which appeared much larger when it lay in the gloomwithin than when they dragged it out. Then, when they had time toexamine it carefully, they discovered that their booty consisted of twosmall wooden boxes or chests, one fancifully carved and evidentlyintended for jewels, the other plain but locked; a felt bag and anotherof canvas, and a package hurriedly done up in cloth. Rupert spread itall out on the floor. "Well, " he hesitated, "where shall we begin?" "Charity thought about how to open it, and it was her cat that found usthe clue--let her choose, " Val suggested. "Good, " agreed Rupert. "And what's your choice, m'lady?" "What woman could resist this?" She laid her hand upon the jewel box. "Then that it is. " He reached for it. It opened readily enough to show a shallow tray divided intocompartments, all of them empty. "Sold again, " Val commented dryly. Carefully Rupert lifted out the top tray to disclose another on whichrested three small leather bags. He loosened the draw-string of thenearest and shook out into his palm a pair of earrings of a quaintpattern in twisted gold set with dull red stones. Charity pronouncedthem garnets. Though they were not of great value, they were precious inRicky's eyes, and even Charity exclaimed over them. The second bag yielded a carnelian seal on a wide chain of gold mesh, the sort of ornament a dandy wore dangling from his watch pocket in thedays of the Regency. And the third bag contained a cross of silver, blackened by time, set with amethysts. This was accompanied by a chainof the same dull metal. Putting these into the girls' hands, Rupert lifted the second tray tolay bare the bottom of the chest. Here again were several small bags. There was another cross, this time of jet inlaid with gold and attachedto a short necklace of jet beads; a wide bracelet of coral and turquoisewhich was crudely made and might have been native work of some sort. Then there was a tiny jewel-set bottle, about which, Ricky declared, there still lingered some faint trace of the fragrance it had once held. And most interesting to Charity was a fan, the sticks carved of ivory sointricately that they resembled lacework stiffened into slender ribs. The covering between them was fashioned of layers of silk painted with ascene of the bayou country, with the moss-grown oaks and encroachingswamp all carefully depicted. Charity declared that she had never seen its equal and that some greatartist must have decorated the dainty trifle. She closed it carefullyand slipped it back into its covering, and Rupert took out the last ofthe bags. From its depths rolled a ring. It was plain enough, a simple band of gold so deep in shade as to bealmost red. Nearly an inch in width, there was no ornamentation of anysort on its broad, smooth surface. "Do you know what this is?" Rupert turned the circlet around in hisfingers. "No. " Ricky was still dangling the earrings before her eyes. "It is the wedding-ring of the Bride of the Luck. " "What!" Val leaned forward to look down at the plain circle of gold. Even Ricky gave her brother her full attention now. Rupert turned toCharity. "You probably know the story of our Luck?" he asked. She nodded. "When the Luck was brought from Palestine, it was decided that it mustbe given into the hands of a guardian who would be responsible for itwith his or her life. Because the men of the house were always at warduring those troublesome times, the guardianship went to the eldestdaughter if she were a maiden. By high and solemn ceremony she wasmarried to the Luck in the chapel of Lorne. And she was the Bride of theLuck until death or a unanimous consent from the family released her. Nor could she marry a mortal husband during the time she wore this. " Hetouched the ring he held. "This must be very old. It's the red gold which came into Ireland andEngland before the Romans conquered the land. Perhaps this was found insome old barrow on Lorne lands. But it no longer means anything withoutthe Luck. " He held it out to Ricky. "By tradition this is yours. " She shook her head. "I don't think I want that, Rupert. It's tooold--too strange. Now these, " she held up the earrings, "you canunderstand. The girls who wore them were like me, and they wore thembecause they were pretty. But that--" she looked at the Bride's ringwith distaste--"that must have been a burden to its wearer. Didn't youtell us once of the Lady Iseult, who killed herself when they would notrelease her from her vows to the Luck? I don't want to wear that, ever. " "Very well. " He dropped it back into its bag. "We'll send it to LeFleurfor safe-keeping. Any scruples about the rest of this stuff?" "Of course not! And none of it is worth much. May I keep it?" "If you wish. Now let's see what is in here. " He drew the second boxtoward him and forced it open. "Money!" Charity was staring at it with wide eyes. Within, in neat bundles, lay packages of paper notes. Even Rupert wasshaken from his calm as he reached for one. Outside of a bank none ofthem had ever seen such a display of wealth. But after he studied thetop note, the master of Pirate's Haven laughed thinly. "This may be worth ten cents to some collector if we're lucky--" "Rupert! That's real money, " began Ricky. But Val, too, had seen the print. "Confederate money, child. As uselessnow as our pretty oil stock. I told you that things always turn outwrong in this house. If we do find treasure, it's worthless. How much isthere, anyway?" Rupert picked up a slip of paper tucked under the tape fastening thefirst bundle. "This says thirty-five thousand--profit from a blockaderunner's trip. " "Thirty-five thousand! Well, I think that that is just too much, " Rickysaid defiantly. "Why didn't they get paid in real money?" "Being loyal to the South, the Ralestones probably would not take whatyou call 'real money, '" replied Charity. "It's nice to know how wealthy we once were, " Val observed. "What areyou going to do with that wall-paper, Rupert?" "Oh, chuck it in my desk. I'll get someone to look it over; there mightbe a collector's item among these bills. Now let's have the joker out of_this_ bundle. " He plucked at the fastenings of the felt bag. When he had pulled off its wrappings, a silver tray with coffee- andchocolate-pot, cream pitcher and sugar bowl stood, tarnished and dingy, on the floor. "That's more like it. " Ricky picked up the chocolate-pot. "Do yousuppose it will ever be possible to get these clean again?" "With a lot of will power and some good hard rubbing it can be done, "Val assured her. "Well, I'll supply the will power and you may do the rubbing, " sheannounced pleasantly. Rupert had opened the remaining packages to display a set of twelvesilver goblets, one with a dented edge, and a queerly shaped vessel notunlike an old-fashioned gravy-boat. Charity picked this up and examinedit gravely. "I'm afraid that this is pirate loot. " She tapped the lip of the pieceshe held. The metal gave off a clear ringing sound. "If I'm notmistaken, this was stolen from a church. Yes, I'm right; see this crossunder the leaves?" She pointed out the bit of engraving. "Black Dick's work, " agreed Ricky complacently. "But after almost threehundred years I'm afraid we can't return it. Especially since we don'tknow where it came from in the first place. " Val looked about at what they had uncovered. "If you are going to takeall of this in to LeFleur, you'll have to get a truck. D'you know, Ithink this place might turn out to be a gold-mine if one knew just whereto dig. " "We haven't found the Luck yet, " reminded Ricky. Val got clumsily to his feet and then gave Charity a hand up, beatingRupert to it by about three seconds. "As we don't even know whether itis still in existence, there's no use in hunting for it, " Val retorted. Ricky smiled, that set little smile which usually meant that she neitheragreed with nor approved of the speaker. She got up from the floor andshook out her skirt purposefully. "I'll remind you of that some day, " she promised. "I suppose, " Rupert glanced at the silver, "this ought to be taken totown as soon as possible. This house is too isolated to harbor both usand the silverware at the same time. What do you think?" Ignoring bothRicky and Val, he turned to Charity. "You are right. But it seems a pity to send it all away before we have achance to rub it up and see what it really looks like!" "By all means, take it at once!" Val urged promptly. "We can alwaysclean it later. " Rupert grinned. "Now that might be a protest against the suggestionRicky made a few minutes ago. But I'll save you some honest labor thistime, Val; I'll take it to town this afternoon. " Ricky laughed softly. "And why the merriment?" her younger brother inquired suspiciously. "I was just thinking what a surprise the visitor who dropped hishandkerchief here is going to get when he finds the cupboard bare, " sheexplained. Rupert rubbed his palm across his chin. "Of course. I had almostforgotten that. " "Well, I haven't! And I wonder if we have found what he--or they--werehunting, " Val mused as he helped Rupert wrap up the spoil again. CHAPTER VIII GREAT-UNCLE RICK WALKS THE HALL Sam had produced a horse complete with saddle and a reputedskittishness. That horse was the pride of Sam's big heart. It had oncewon a small purse at some country fair or something of the sort, andsince then it had been kept only to wear the saddle at rare intervals. Not that Sam ever rode. He drove a spring-board behind a thin, sorrowfulmule called "Suggah. " But the saddle horse was rented at times to whitefolk of whom Sam approved. Soon after the arrival of the Ralestones at Pirate's Haven, Sam hadbrought this four-footed prodigy to their attention. But claiming thatthe family were his "folks, " he indignantly refused to accept hire andwas hurt if one of them did not ride at least once a day. Ricky haddeveloped an interest in the garden and had accepted the loan of Sam'seldest son, an earth-brown child about as tall as the spade, to help hermess about. Rupert spent the largest part of his days shut up inBluebeard's chamber. Which of course left the horse to Val. And Val was becoming slightly bored with Louisiana, at least with thatportion of it which immediately surrounded them. Charity was hard atwork on her picture of the swamp hunter, for Jeems had come back withoutwarning from his mysterious concerns in the swamp. There was no one totalk to and nowhere to go. LeFleur had notified them that he believed he was on the track of somediscreditable incident in the past of their rival which would banish himfrom their path. And no more handkerchiefs had been found, ownerless, intheir hall. It was a serene morning. But, Val thought long afterwards, he should have been warned by thatvery serenity and remembered the old saying, that it was always calmestbefore a storm. On the contrary, he was riding Sam's horse along theedge of that swamp, wondering what lay hidden back in that dark jungle. Some day, he determined, he would do a little exploring in thatdirection. A heron arose from the bayou and streaked across the metallic blue ofthe sky. Another was wading along, intent upon its fishing. Sam's yellowdog, which had followed horse and rider, set up a barking, annoyed atthe haughty carriage of the bird. He scrambled down the steep bank, drove it into flight after its fellow. Val pulled his shirt away from his sticky skin and wondered if he wouldever feel really cool again. There was something about this damp heatwhich seemed to remove all ambition. He marveled how Ricky could eventhink of trimming roses that morning. Sam's dog began to bark deafeningly again, and Val looked around for theheron which must have aroused his displeasure. There was none. Butacross the swamp crawled an ungainly monster. Four great rubber-tired wheels, ten feet high, as he later learned, supported a metal framework upon which squatted two men and the driverof the monstrosity. With the ponderous solemnity of a tank it came on tothe bayou. Val's mount snorted and his ears pricked back. He began to have verydefinite ideas about what he saw. The thing slipped down the marshy bankand took to the water with ease, turning its square nose downstream andsending waves shoreward. "Ride 'em, cowboy!" yelled one of the men derisively as Sam's horsedecided to stand on his hind legs and wave at the strange apparition asit went by. Val brought him down upon four feet again, and he stoodsweating, his ears still back. "What do you call that?" the boy shouted back. "Prospecting engine for swamp use, " answered the driver. "Don't youswampers ever get the news?" The car, or whatever it was, moved on downstream and so out of sight. "Now I wonder what that was, " Val said aloud as his mount sidled towardthe center of the road. The hound-dog came up and sat down to kick apatch of flea-invaded territory which lay behind his left ear. Again themorning was quiet. But not for long. A mud-spattered car came around the bend in the roadand headed at Val, going a good pace for the dirt surfacing. Before itquite reached him it stopped and the driver stuck his head out of thewindow. "Hey, you, move over! Whatya tryin' to do--break somebody's neck?" Val surveyed him with interest. The man was, perhaps, Rupert's age, asmall, thin fellow with thick black hair and the white seam of an oldscar beneath his left eye. "This is, " the boy replied, "a private road. " "Yeah, " he snarled, "I know. And I'm the owner. So get your hobby-horsegoing and beat it, kid. " Val shifted in the saddle and stared down at him. "And what might your name be?" he asked softly. "What d'yuh think it is? Hitler? I'm Ralestone, the owner of this place. On your way, kid, on your way. " "So? Well, good morning, cousin. " Val tightened rein. The invader eyed him cautiously. "What d'yuh mean--cousin?" "I happen to be a Ralestone also, " the boy answered grimly. "Huh? You the guy who thinks he owns this?" he asked aggressively. "My brother is the present master of Pirate's Haven--" "That's what _he_ thinks, " replied the rival with a relish. "Well, heisn't. That is, not until he pays me for my half. And if he wants to gettough, I'll take it all, " he ended, and withdrew into the car like alizard into its rock den. Val sat by the side of the road and watched the car slide along towardthe plantation. As it passed him he caught a glimpse of a secondpassenger in the back seat. It was the red-faced man he had seen withLeFleur's clerk on the street in New Orleans. Resolutely Val turned backand started for the house in the wake of the rival. By making use of a short-cut, he reached the front of the house almostas soon as the car. Ricky had been working with the morning-glory vinesabout the terrace steps, young Sam standing attendance with a rustytrowel and one of the kitchen forks. At the sound of the car she stood up and tried to brush a smear ofsticky earth from the front of her checked-gingham dress. When the rivalgot out she smiled at him. "Hello, sister, " he smirked. She stood still for a moment and her smile faded. When she answered, hervoice was chill. "You wished to see Mr. Ralestone?" she asked distantly. "Sure. But not just yet, sister. You better be pleasant, you know. I'mthe new owner here--" Val rode out of the bushes and swung out of the saddle, coming up behindhim. Although the boy was one of the smaller "Black" Ralestones, hetopped the invader by a good two inches, and he noted this with delightas he came up to him. "Ricky, " he said briefly, "go in. And send Sam for Rupert. " She nodded and was gone. The man turned to face Val. "You again, huh?"he demanded. "Yes. And Ralestone or no Ralestone, I would advise you to keep a civiltongue in your head, " he began hotly, when Rupert appeared at the door. "Well, Val, " he asked, a frown creasing his forehead, "what is it?" The rival advanced a short step and looked up. "So this is the guy who'strying to do me out of my rights?" Rupert reached behind him and closed the screen before coming to thehead of the terrace steps. "I presume that you are Mr. Ralestone?" heasked quietly. "'Course I'm Ralestone, " asserted the other. "And I'm part owner of thisplace. " "That has not yet been decided, " answered Rupert calmly. "But supposeyou tell me to what we owe the honor of this visit?" Now, however, the passenger took a hand in the game. He crawled out ofthe car, taking off his soiled panama to wipe his bald head with a gaudysilk handkerchief. "Here, here, Mr. Ralestone, " he addressed his companion, "let us have nounpleasantness. We have merely come here today, sir, " he explained toRupert, "to see if matters could not be settled amicably without havingto take recourse to a court of law. Your Mr. LeFleur will give us verylittle satisfaction, you see. I am a plain and honest man, sir, and Ibelieve an affair of this kind may be best agreed upon betweenprincipals. My client, Mr. Ralestone, is a reasonable man; he will bemoderate in his demands. It will be to your advantage to listen to ourproposal. After all, you cannot contest his rights--" "But that is just what I am going to do. " Rupert smiled down at them, ifa slight twist of the lips may be called a smile. "Have you ever heardthat old saying that 'possession is nine points of the law'? I am theRalestone in residence, and I shall continue to be the Ralestone inresidence until after this case is heard. Now, as I am a busy man andthis is the middle of the morning, I shall have to say good-bye--" "So that's the way you're going to take it?" The visiting Ralestoneglared at Rupert. "All right. Play it that way and you won't be here amonth from now. Nor, " he turned on Val, "this kid brother of yours, either. You can't pull this lord-of-the-land stuff on me and get awaywith it. I'll--" But he did not finish his threat. Instead, his jawsclamped shut on mid-word. In silence he turned and got into the car towhich his counselor had already withdrawn. The car leaped forward into a rose bush. With a savage twist of thewheel the driver brought it back to the drive, leaving deep prints inthe front lawn. Then it was gone, down the drive, as they stood staringafter it. "So that's that, " Val commented. "Well, all I've got to say is thatRick's branch of the family has sadly gone to seed--" "Being a southern gentleman has made you slightly snobbish. " Ricky cameout from her lurking place behind the door. "Snobbish!" her brother choked at the injustice. "I suppose that that isyour idea of a perfect gentleman, a diamond in the rough--" He pointed down the drive. Ricky laughed. "It's so easy to tease you, Val. Of course he is a--awart of the first class. But Rupert will fix him--won't you?" Her older brother grinned. "After that example of your trust in me, I'llhave to. I agree, he is not the sort you would care to introduce to yourmore particular friends. But this visit seems to suggest something--" "That he has the wind up?" Val asked. "There are indications of that, I think. Something LeFleur has done hasstirred our friends into direct action. We shall probably have more ofit within the immediate future. So I want you, Ricky, to go to town. Madame LeFleur has very kindly offered to put you up--" Each tiny curl on Ricky's head seemed to bristle with indignation. "Oh, no you don't, Rupert Ralestone! You don't get me away from here whenthere are exciting things going on. I hardly think that our friend withthe slimy manner will use machine-guns to blast us out. And if hedoes--well, it wouldn't be the first time that this house was used as afortress. I'm not going one step out of here unless you two come withme. " Rupert shrugged. "As I can't very well hog-tie you to get you to town, Isuppose you will have to stay. But I _am_ going to send for Lucy. " Withthat parting shot he turned and went in. Lucy arrived shortly before noon. She was accompanied by a portion ofher large family--four, Val counted, including that Sam who had becomeRicky's faithful shadow. "What's all dis Ah heah 'bout some mans sayin' he am de Ralestone?" shedemanded of Ricky. "De policemans oughta lock him up. Effen he comesbotherin' 'roun' heah agin I'll ten' to him!" With that she marched majestically into the kitchen, elbowed Letty-Louout of her way, and proceeded to stir up a batch of brown molassescookies. "'Cause dey is fillin' fo' boys. An' Mistuh Val, heah, he needssome moah fat 'crost dose skinny ribs. Letty-Lou, yo'all ain't feedin'dese men-folks ri'. Now yo' chillens, " she swooped down upon her ownfamily, "yo'all gits outa heah an' don't fuss me. " "They can come with me, " offered Ricky. "I'm trying to find that mazewhich is marked on the garden plans. " "Miss 'Chanda, yo'all ain't a'goin' 'way 'afo' yoah brothah gits throughhis wo'k. He done tol' me to keep an eye on yo'all. Why don't yo'all govisit wi' Miss Charity?" Ricky looked at her watch. "All right. She'll be through her morningwork by now. I'll take the children, Lucy. " To Val's open surprise, she obeyed Lucy, meekly moving off without asingle protest. One of the boys remained behind and offered shyly totake the horse back to Sam's place. When Lucy agreed that it would beall right, Val boosted him into the saddle where he clung like a jockey. "An' wheah is yo'all goin', Mistuh Val?" asked Lucy, cutting out roundcookies with a downward stroke of the drinking glass she had pressedinto service. The regular cutter was, in her opinion, too small. "Down toward the bayou. I'll be back before lunch, " he said, and hurriedout before she could as definitely dispose of him as she had of Ricky. Val struck off into the bushes until he came to one of the paths thatcrossed the wilderness. As it ran in the direction of the bayou, heturned into it. Then for the second time he came into the glen of thepool and passed along the path Jeems had known. So somehow Val was notsurprised, when he came out upon the edge of the bayou levee, to seeJeems sitting there. "Hello!" The swamper looked up at Val's hail but this time he did not leave. "Hullo, " he answered sullenly. Val stood there, ill at ease, while the swamper eyed him composedly. What could he say now? Val's embarrassment must have been very apparent, for after a long moment Jeems smiled derisively. "Yo' goin' ridin' in them funny pants?" he asked, pointing to theother's breeches. "Well, that's what they are intended for, " Val replied. "Wheah's youah hoss?" "I sent him back to Sam's. " Val was beginning to feel slightly warm. Hedecided that Jeems' manners were not all that they might be. "Sam!" the swamp boy spat into the water. "He's a--" But what Sam was, in the opinion of the swamper, Val never learned, forat that moment Ricky burst from between two bushes. "Well, at last, " she panted, "I've gotten rid of my army. Val, do youthink that Lucy is going to be like this all the time--order us about, Imean?" "Who's that?" Jeems was on his feet looking at Ricky. "Ricky, " her brother said, "this is Jeems. My sister Richanda. " "Yo' one of the folks up at the big house?" he asked her directly. "Why, yes, " she answered simply. "Yo' don' act like yo' was. " He stabbed his finger at both of them. "Yo'don't walk with youah noses in the air looking down at us--" "Of course we don't!" interrupted Ricky. "Why should we, when you knowmore about this place than we do?" "What do yo' mean by that?" he flashed out at her, his sullen facesuddenly dark. "Why--why--" Ricky faltered, "Charity Biglow said that you knew allabout the swamp--" His tense position relaxed a fraction. "Oh, yo' know Miss Charity?" "Yes. She showed us the picture she is painting, the one you are posingfor, " Ricky went on. "Miss Charity is a fine lady, " he returned with conviction. He shiftedfrom one bare foot to the other. "Ah'll be goin' now. " With no otherfarewell he slipped over the side of the levee into his canoe and headedout into midstream. Nor did he look back. Lucy departed after dinner that evening to bed down her family beforereturning with Letty-Lou to occupy one of the servant's rooms over theside wing. Rupert had gone with her to interview Sam. Val gathered thatSam had some notion of trying to reintroduce the growing of indigo, acrop which had been forsaken for sugar-cane at the beginning of thenineteenth century when a pest had destroyed the entire indigo crop ofthat year all over Louisiana. "Let's go out in the garden, " suggested Ricky. "What for?" asked her brother. "To provide a free banquet formosquitoes? No, thank you, let's stay here. " "You're lazy, " she countered. "You may call it laziness; I call it prudence, " he answered. "Well, I'm going anyway, " she made a decision which brought Valreluctantly to his feet. For mosquitoes or no mosquitoes, he was notgoing to allow Ricky to be outside alone. They followed the path which led around the side of the house until itneared the kitchen door. When they reached that point Ricky halted. "Listen!" A plaintive miaow sounded from the kitchen. "Oh, bother! Satan's been left inside. Go and let him out. " "Will you stay right here?" Val asked. "Of course. Though I don't see why you and Rupert have taken to actingas if Fu Manchu were loose in our yard. Now hurry up before he claws thescreen to pieces. Satan, I mean, not the worthy Chinese gentleman. " But Satan did not meet Val at the door. Apparently, having received noimmediate answer to his plea, he had withdrawn into the bulk of thehouse. Speaking unkind things about him under his breath, Val startedacross the dark kitchen. Suddenly he stopped. He felt the solid edge of the table against histhigh. When he put out his hand he touched the reassuring everyday formof Lucy's stone cooky jar. He was in their own pleasant everydaykitchen. But-- He was not alone in that house! There had been the faintest of sounds from the forepart of the mainsection, a sound such as Satan might have caused. But Val knew--knewpositively--that Satan was guiltless. Someone or something was in theLong Hall. He crept by the table, hoping that he could find his way without runninginto anything. His hand closed upon the knob of the door opening uponthe back stairs used by Letty-Lou. If he could get up them and acrossthe upper hall, he could come down the front stairs and catch theintruder. It took Val perhaps two minutes to reach the head of the front stairs, and each minute seemed a half-hour in length. From below he could hear aregular _pad, pad_, as if from stocking feet on the stone floor. He drewa deep breath and started down. When he reached the landing he looked over the rail. Upright before thefireplace was a dim white blur. As he watched, it moved forward. Therewas something uncanny about that almost noiseless movement. The blur became a thin figure clad in baggy white breeches and looseshirt. Below the knees the legs seemed to fade into the darkness of thehall and there was something strange about the outlines of the head. Again the thing resumed its padding and Val saw now that it was pacingthe hall in a regular pattern. Which suggested that it was human and wasthere with a very definite purpose. He edged farther down the stairs. "And just what are you doing?" If his voice quavered upon the last word, it was hardly his fault. Forwhen the thing turned, Val saw-- It had no face! With a startled cry he lunged forward, clutching at the banister tosteady his blundering descent. The thing backed away; already it wasfading into the darkness beside the stairs. As Val's feet touched thefloor of the hall he caught his last glimpse of it, a thin white patchagainst the solid paneling of the stairway's broad side. Then it wasgone. When Rupert and Ricky came in a few minutes later and turned onthe lights, Val was still staring at that blank wall, with Satan rubbingagainst his ankles. CHAPTER IX PORTRAIT OF A LADY AND A GENTLEMAN Rupert had dismissed Val's story of what he had seen in the hall in avery lofty manner. When his brother had persisted in it, Rupertsuggested that Val had better keep out of the sun in the morning. For notrace of the thing which had troubled the house remained. Ricky hesitated between believing wholly in Val's tale or just in hispowers of imagination. And between them his family drove him sulky tobed. He was still frowning, or maybe it was a new frown, when he lookedinto the bathroom mirror the next morning as he dressed. For Val knewthat he _had_ seen something in the hall, something monstrous which hadno right to be there. What had their rival said before he left? "Play it that way and youwon't be here a month from now. " It was just possible--Val paused, halfin, half out of, his shirt. Could last night's adventure have hadanything to do with that threat? Two or three episodes of that sortmight unsettle the strongest nerves and drive the occupants from a housewhere such a shadow walked. Something else nagged at the boy's memory. Slowly he traced back overthe events of the day before, from the moment when he had watched thatqueer swamp car crawl downstream. After the visit of the rival, Lucy hadcome to stay. And then Ricky had started for Charity's while he had gonedown to the bayou where he met Jeems. That was it. Jeems! When Ricky had hinted that he knew more of the swamp than the Ralestonesdid, why had he been so quick to resent that remark? Could it be becausehe understood her to mean that he knew more of Pirate's Haven than theydid? And the thing in the Long Hall last night had known of some exit in thewall that the Ralestones did not know of. It had faded into the base ofthe staircase. And yet, when Val had gone over the paneling there inchby inch, he had gained nothing but sore finger tips. He tucked his shirt under his belt and looked down to see if Sam Juniorhad polished his boots as Lucy had ordered her son to do. Save for atrace of mud by the right heel, they had the proper mirror-like surface. "Mistuh Val, " Lucy's penetrating voice made him start guiltily, "is yo'or is yo' not comin' to brekfas'?" "I am, " he answered and started downstairs at his swiftest pace. The new ruler of their household was standing at the foot of the stairs, her knuckles resting on her broad hips. She eyed the boy sternly. Lucyeyed one, Val thought, much as a Scotch nurse Ricky and he had once had. They had never dared question any of Annie's decrees, and one look fromher had been enough to reduce them to instant order. Lucy's eye had thesame power. And now as she herded Val into the dining-room he felt likea six-year-old with an uneasy conscience. Rupert and Ricky were already seated and eating. That is, Ricky waseating, but Rupert was reading his morning mail. "Yo'all sits down, " said Lucy firmly, "an' yo'all eats what's on youahplate. Yo'all ain' much fattah nor a jay-bird. " "I don't see why she keeps comparing me to a living skeleton all thetime, " Val complained as she departed kitchenward. "She told Letty-Lou yesterday, " supplied Ricky through a mouthful ofpopover, "that you are 'peaked lookin'. " "Why doesn't she start in on Rupert? He needs another ten pounds or so. "Val reached for the butter. "And he hasn't got a very good color, either. " Val surveyed his brother professionally. "Doesn't get outdoorsenough. " "No, " Ricky's voice sounded aggrieved, "he's too busy having secrets--" "Hmm, " Rupert murmured, more interested in his letter than in theconversation. "The trouble is that we are not Chinese bandits, Malay pirates, or Arabfreebooters. We don't possess color, life, enough--enough--" "Sugar, " Rupert interrupted Val, pushing his coffee-cup in the generaldirection of Ricky without raising his eyes from the page in his hand. She giggled. "So that's what we lack. Well, now we know. How much sugar should wehave, Rupert? Rupert--Mr. Rupert Ralestone--Mr. Rupert Ralestone ofPirate's Haven!" Her voice grew louder and shriller until he did laydown his reading matter and really looked at them for the first time. "What do you want?" "A little attention, " answered Ricky sweetly. "We aren't Chinese, Arabs, or Malays, but we are kind of nice to know, aren't we, Val? If you'donly come out of your subconscious, or wherever you are most of thetime, you'd find that out without being told. " Rupert laughed and pushed away his letters. "Sorry. I picked up the badhabit of reading at breakfast when I didn't have my table brightened byyour presence. I know, " he became serious, "that I haven't been much ofa family man. But there are reasons--" "Which, of course, you can not tell _us_, " flashed Ricky. His face lengthened ruefully. He pulled at his tie with an embarrassedfrown. "Not yet, anyway. I--" He fumbled with his napkin. "Oh, well, letme see how it comes out first. " Ricky opened her eyes to their widest extent and leaned forward, everyinch of her expressing awe. "Rupert, don't tell me that you are an_inventor_!" she cried. "Now I know that we'll end in the poorhouse, " Val observed. Rupert had recovered his composure. "'I yam what I yam, '" he quoted. "Very well. Keep it to yourself then, " pouted Ricky. "We can havesecrets too. " "I don't doubt it. " He glanced at Val. "Unfortunately you always tellthem. See any more bogies last night, Val? Did a big, black, formlesssomething reach out from under the bed and clutch at you?" But his brother refused to be drawn. "No, but when it does I'll sic itonto you. A big, black, formless something is just what you need. AndI'll--" "Am I interrupting?" Charity stood in the door. "Goodness! Haven't youfinished breakfast yet? Do you people know that it is almost ten?" "Madam, we have banished time. " Rupert drew out the chair at his left. "Will you favor us with your company?" "I thought you were going to be busy today, " said Ricky as she rang forLetty-Lou and a fresh cup of coffee for their guest. "So did I, " sighed Charity. "And I should be. I've got this order, youknow, and now I can't get any models. Why there should be a suddendearth of them right now, I can't imagine. I thought I could use Jeemsagain, but somehow he isn't the type. " She raised her cup to her lips. "Are you doing story illustrations?" asked Rupert, more alive now thanhe had been all morning. "Yes. A historical thriller for a magazine. They want a full-page cutfor the first chapter and a half-page to illustrate the most excitingscene. Then there're innumerable smaller ones. But the two large onesare what I'm worrying about. I like to get the important stuff finishedfirst, and now I simply can't get models who are the right types. " "What's the story about?" demanded Ricky. "It's laid in Haiti during the French invasion led by Napoleon'sbrother-in-law, the one who married Pauline. All voodoo and aristocraticyoung hero and beautiful maiden pursued by an officer of the blackrebels. And, " she almost wailed, "here I am with the clothes spread allover my bed--the right costumes, you know--with no one to wear them. Iwent over to the Corners this morning and called Johnson--he runs aregistration office for models--but he couldn't promise me anyone. " Shebit absent-mindedly into a round spiced roll Ricky had placed beforeher. "Wait!" She laid down the roll in a preoccupied fashion and staredacross the table. "Val, stand up. " Wondering, he pushed back his chair and arose obediently. "Turn your head a little more to the right, " Charity ordered. "There, that's it! Now try to look as if there were something all ready tospring at you from that corner over there. " For one angry moment he thought that she had been told of what hadhappened the night before and was baiting him, as the others had done. But a sidewise glance showed him that her interest lay elsewhere. So hescrewed up his features into what he fondly hoped was a grim and deadlysmile. "For goodness sake, don't look as if you had eaten green apples, " Rickyshot at him. "Just put on that face you wear when I show you a new hat. No, not that sneering one; the other. " Rupert threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Better let him alone, Ricky. After all, it's _his_ face. " "I'm glad that someone has pointed out that fact, " Val said stiffly, "because--" "Oh, be quiet!" Charity leaned forward across the table. "Yes, " shenodded, "you'll do. " "For what?" Val asked, slightly apprehensive. "For my hero. Of course your hair is too short and you are rather tooyouthful, but I can disguise those points. And, " she turned upon Ricky, "you can be the lady in distress. Which gives me another idea. Do yousuppose that I might use your terrace for a background and have that bigchair, the one with the high back?" she asked Rupert. "You may have anything you want within these walls, " he answered lightlyenough, but it was clear that he really meant it. "What am I supposed to do?" Val asked. Charity considered. "I think I'll try the action one first, " she saidhalf to herself. "That's going to be the most difficult. Ricky, will yousend one of Lucy's children over with me to help carry back the costumesand my material--" She was already at the door. "Val and I will go instead, " Ricky replied. Some twenty minutes later Val was handed a suitcase and told to use thecontents to cover his back. Having doubts of the wisdom of the wholeaffair, he went reluctantly upstairs to obey. But the result was not sobad. The broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted coat did not fit him ill, though the shiny boots were at least a size too large. Timidly he wentdown. Ricky was the first to see him. "Val! You look like something out of _Lloyds of London_. Rupert, look atVal. Doesn't he look wonderful?" Having thus made public his embarrassment, she ran to the mirror tofinish her own prinking. The high-waisted Empire gown of soft greenvoile made her appear taller than usual. But she walked with a littleshuffle which suggested that her ribbon-strapped slippers fitted her nobetter than Val's boots did him. Charity was coaxing Ricky's tightfashionable curls into a looser arrangement and tying a green ribbonabout them. This done, she turned to survey Val. "I thought so, " she said with satisfaction. "You are just what I want. But, " the tiny lines about her eyes crinkled in amusement, "at presentyou are just a little too perfect. Do you realize that you have justfought off an attack, led by a witch doctor, in which you were wounded;that you have struggled through a jungle for seven hours in order toreach your betrothed; and that you are now facing death by torture? Ihardly think that you should look as if you had just stepped out of thetailor's--" "I've done all that?" Val demanded, somewhat staggered. "Well, the author says you have, so you've got to look it. We'd bettermuss you up a bit. Let's see. " She tapped her fingernail against herteeth as she looked him up and down. "Off with that coat first. " He wriggled out of the coat and stood with the glories of his ruffledshirt fully displayed. "Now what?" he asked. "This, " she reached forward and ripped his left sleeve to the shoulder. "Untie that cravat and take it off. Roll up your other sleeve above theelbow. That's right. Ricky, you muss up his hair. Let a lock of it fallacross his forehead. No, not there--there. Good. Now he's ready for thefinal touches. " She went to the table where her paints had been left. "Let's see--carmine, that ought to be right. This is water-color, Val, it'll all wash off in a minute. " Across his smooth tanned cheek she dribbled a jagged line of scarlet. Then instructing Ricky to bind the torn edge of his sleeve above hiselbow, she also stained the bandage. "Well?" she turned to Rupert. "He looks as though he had been through the wars all right, " he agreed. "But what about the costume?" "Oh, we needn't worry about that. They knew I'd have to do this, so theyduplicated everything. Now for you, Ricky. Pull your sleeve down offyour shoulder and see if you can tear the skirt up from the hem on thatside--about as far as your knee. Yes, that's fine. You're ready now. " Rupert picked up from the table a sword and a long-barrelled duelingpistol and led the way out onto the terrace. Charity pointed to the bigchair in the sunlight. "This will probably be hard for you two, " she warned them frankly. "Ifyou get tired, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll give you a rest every tenminutes. Val, you sit down in the chair. Slump over toward that arm asif you were about finished. No, more limp than that. Now look straightahead. You are on the terrace of Beauvallet. Beside you is the girl youlove. You are all that stands between her and the black rebels. Now takethis sword in your right hand and the pistol in your left. Lean forwarda little. There! Now don't move; you've got just the pose I want. Ricky, crouch down by the side of his chair with your arm up so that you cantouch his hand. You're terrified. There's death, horrible death, beforeyou!" Val could feel Ricky's hand quiver against his. Charity had made themboth see and feel what she wanted them to. They weren't in the peacefulsunlight on the terrace of Pirate's Haven; they were miles farther southin the dark land of Haiti, the Haiti of more than a hundred years ago. Before them was a semitropical forest from which at any moment mightcrawl--death. Val's hand tightened on the sword hilt; the pistol buttwas clammy in his grip. Rupert had put up the easel and laid out the paints. And now, taking upher charcoal, Charity began to sketch with clear, clean strokes. Her models' unaccustomed muscles cramped so that when they shiftedduring their rest periods they grimaced with pain. Ricky whispered thatshe did not wonder models were hard to get. After a while Rupert wentaway without Charity noticing his leaving. The sun burned Val's cheekwhere the paint had dried and he felt a trickle of moisture edge downhis spine. But Charity worked on, thoroughly intent upon what wasgrowing under her brushes. It must have been close to noon when she was at last interrupted. "Hello there, Miss Biglow!" Two men stood below the terrace on a garden path. One of them waved hishat as Charity looked around. And behind them stood Jeems. "Go away, " said the worker, "go away, Judson Holmes. I haven't any timefor you today. " "Not after I've come all the way from New York to see you?" he askedreproachfully. "Why, Charity!" He had the reddest hair Val had everseen--and the homeliest face--but his small-boy grin was friendlinessitself. "Go away, " she repeated stubbornly. "Nope!" He shook his head firmly. "I'm staying right here until youforget that for at least a minute. " He motioned toward the picture. With a sigh she put down her brush. "I suppose I'll have to humor you. " "Miss Charity, " Jeems had not taken his eyes from the two models sincehe had arrived and he did not move them now, "what're they all fixed uplike that fur?" "It's a picture for a story, " she explained. "A story about Haiti in theold days--" "Ah reckon Ah know, " he nodded eagerly, his face suddenly alight. "That's wheah th' blacks kilt th' French back in history times. Ah gotme a book 'bout it. A book in handwritin', not printin'. Père Armandlarned me to read it. " Judson Holmes' companion moved forward. "A book in handwriting, " he saidslowly. "Could that possibly mean a diary?" Charity was wiping her hands on a paint rag. "It might. New Orleans wasa port of refuge for a great many of the French who fled the islandduring the slave uprising. It is not impossible. " "I've got to see it! Here, boy, what's your name?" He pounced uponJeems. "Can you get that book here this afternoon?" Jeems drew back. "Ah ain't gonna bring no book heah. That's mine an' youain't gonna set eye on it!" With that parting shot he was gone. "But--but--" protested the other, "I've got to see it. Why, such a findmight be priceless. " Mr. Holmes laughed. "Curb your hunting instincts for once, Creighton. You can't handle a swamper that way. Let's go and see Charity'smasterpiece instead. " "I don't remember having asked you to, " she observed. "Oh, see here now, wasn't I the one who got you this commission? AndCreighton here is that strange animal known as a publisher's scout. Andpublishers sometimes desire the services of illustrators, so you hadbetter impress Creighton as soon as possible. Well, " he looked at thepicture, "you have done it!" Even Creighton, who had been inclined to stare back over his shoulder atthe point where Jeems disappeared, now gave it more than half hisattention. "Is that for _Drums of Doom_?" he asked becoming suddenly crisp andprofessional. "Yes. " "Might do for the jacket of the book. Have Mr. Richards see this. Marvelous types, where did you get them?" he continued, looking from thecanvas to Ricky and Val. "Oh, I am sorry. Miss Ralestone, may I present Mr. Creighton, and Mr. Holmes, both of New York. And this, " she smiled at Val, "is Mr. ValeriusRalestone, the brother of the owner of this plantation. The family, Ibelieve, has lived here for about two hundred and fifty years. " Creighton's manner became a shade less brusque as he took the hand Rickyheld out to him. "I might have known that no professional could get thatlook, " he said. "Then this isn't your place?" Mr. Holmes said to Charity after he hadgreeted the Ralestones. "Mine? Goodness no! I rent the old overseer's house. Pirate's Haven isRalestone property. " "Pirate's Haven. " Judson Holmes' infectious grin reappeared. "A rathersuggestive name. " "The builder intended to name it 'King's Acres' because it was a royalgrant, " Val informed him. "But he was a pirate, so the other name wasgiven it by the country folk and he adopted it. And he was right indoing so because there were other freebooters in the family after histime. " "Yes, we are even equipped with a pirate ghost, " contributed Ricky witha mischievous glance in her brother's direction. Holmes fanned himself with his hat. "So romance isn't dead after all. Well, Charity, shall we stay--in town I mean?" "Why?" a thin line appeared between her eyes as if she had little likingfor such a plan. "Well, Creighton is here on the track of a mysterious new writer who isthreatening to produce a second _Gone with the Wind_. And I--well, Ilike the climate. " "We'll see, " muttered Charity. CHAPTER X INTO THE SWAMP In spite of the fact that they received but lukewarm encouragement fromCharity, both Holmes and Creighton lingered on in New Orleans. Mr. Creighton made several attempts to get in touch with Jeems, whom heseemed to suspect of concealing vast literary treasures. And he spentone hot morning going through the trunk of papers which the Ralestoneshad found in the storage-room. Ricky commented upon the fact that beinga publisher's scout was almost like being an antique buyer. Holmes was a perfect foil for his laboring friend. He lounged away hisdays draped across the settee on Charity's gallery or sitting down onthe bayou levee--after she had chased him away--pitching pebbles intothe water. He told all of them that it was his vacation, the first onehe had had in five years, and that he was going to make the most of it. Companioned by Creighton, he usually enlarged the family circle in theevenings. And the tales he could tell about the far corners of the earthwere as wildly romantic as Rupert's--though he did assure his listenersthat even Tibet was very tame and well behaved nowadays. Charity had finished the first illustration and had started another. This time Ricky and Val appeared polished and combed as if they had juststepped out of a ball-room of a governor's palace--which they had, according to the story. It was during her second morning's work uponthis that she threw down her brush with a snort of disgust. "It's no use, " she told her models, "I simply can't work on this now. All I can see is that scene where the hero's mulatto half-brotherwatches the ball from the underbrush. I've got to do that one first. " "Why don't you then?" Ricky stretched to relieve cramped muscles. "I would if I could get Jeems. He's my model for the brother. He'senough like you, Val, for the resemblance, and his darker tan is justright for color. But he won't come back while Creighton's here. I couldwring that man's neck!" "But Creighton left for Milneburg this morning, " Val reminded her. "Rupert told him about the old voodoo rites which used to be celebratedthere on June 24th, St. John's Eve, and he wanted to see if there wereany records--" "Yes. But Jeems doesn't know he's gone. If we could only get in touchwith him--Jeems, I mean. " "Miss 'Chanda!" Sam Two, as they had come to call Sam's eldest son and heir, wasstanding on the lowest step of the terrace, holding a small coveredbasket in his hands. "Yes?" "Letty-Lou done say dis am fo' yo'all, Miss 'Chanda. " "For me?" Ricky looked at the offering in surprise. "But what in theworld--Bring it here, Sam. " "Yas'm. " He laid the basket in Ricky's outstretched hands. "I've never seen anything like this before. " She turned it around. "Itseems to be woven of some awfully fine grass--" "That's swamp work. " Charity was peering over Ricky's shoulder. "Openit. " Inside on a nest of raw wild cotton lay a bracelet of polished woodcarved with an odd design of curling lines which reminded Val of Spanishmoss. And with the circlet was a small purse of scaled hide. "Swamp oak and baby alligator, " burst out Charity. "Aren't theybeauties?" "But who--" began Ricky. Val picked up a scrap of paper which had fluttered to the floor. It wascheap stuff, ruled with faint blue lines, but the writing was bold andclear: "Miss Richanda Ralestone. " "It's yours all right. " He handed her the paper. "I know. " She tucked the note away with the gifts. "It was Jeems. " "Jeems? But why?" her brother protested. "Well, yesterday when I was down by the levee he was coming in and Iknew that Mr. Creighton was here and I told him. So, " she coloredfaintly, "then he took me across the bayou and I got some of those bigswamp lilies that I've always wanted. And we had a long talk. Val, Jeemsknows the most wonderful things about the swamps. Do you know that theystill have voodoo meetings sometimes--way back in there, " she swept herhand southward. "And the fur trappers live on house-boats, renting theirhunting rights. But Jeems owns his own land. Now some northerners areprospecting for oil. They have a queer sort of car which can traveleither on land or water. And Père Armand has church records that dateback to the middle of the eighteenth century. And--" "So that's where you were from four until almost six, " Val laughed. "Idon't know that I approve of this riotous living. Will Jeems take me topick the lilies too?" "Maybe. He wanted to know why you always moved so carefully. And I toldhim about the accident. Then he said the oddest thing--" She was staringpast Val at the oaks. "He said that to fly was worth being smashed upfor and that he envied you. " "Then he's a fool!" her brother said promptly. "Nothing is worth--" Valstopped abruptly. Five months before he had made a bargain with himself;he was not going to break it now. "Do you know, " Ricky said to Charity, "if you really need Jeems thismorning, I think I can get him for you. He told me yesterday how to findhis cabin. " "But why--" The objection came almost at once from Charity. Val thoughtshe was more than a little surprised that Jeems, who had steadfastlyrefused to give her the same information, had supplied it so readily toRicky whom he hardly knew at all. "I don't know, " answered Ricky frankly. "He was rather queer about it. Kept saying that the time might come when I would need help, and thingslike that. " "Charity, " Val was putting her brushes straight, "I learned long agothat nothing can be kept from Ricky. Sooner or later one spills out hissecrets. " "Except Rupert!" Ricky aired her old grievance. "Perhaps Rupert, " her brother agreed. "Anyway, I do know where Jeems lives. Do you want me to get him for you, Charity?" "Certainly not, child! Do you think that I'd let you go into the swamp?Why, even men who know something of woodcraft think twice beforeattempting such a trip without a guide. Of course you're not going! Ithink, " she put her paint-stained hand to her head, "that I'm going tohave one of my sick headaches. I'll have to go home and lie down for anhour or two. " "I'm sorry. " Ricky's sympathy was quick and warm. "Is there anything Ican do?" Charity shook her head with a rueful smile. "Time is the only medicinefor one of these. I'll see you later. " "Just the same, " Ricky stood looking after her, "I'd like to know justwhat is going on in the swamp right now. " "Why?" Val asked lightly. "Because--well, just because, " was her provoking answer. "Jeems was soodd yesterday. He talked as if--as if there were some threat to us orhim. I wonder if there is something wrong. " She frowned. "Of course not!" her brother made prompt answer. "He's merely gone offon one of those mysterious trips of his. " "Just the same, what if there were something wrong? We might go andsee. " "Nonsense!" Val snapped. "You heard what Charity said about going intothe swamp alone. And there is nothing to worry about anyway. Come on, let's change. And then I have something to show you. " "What?" she demanded. "Wait and see. " His ruse had succeeded. She was no longer lookingswampward with that gleam of purpose in her eye. "Come on then, " she said, prodding him into action. Val changed slowly. If one didn't care about mucking around in thegarden, as Ricky seemed to delight in doing, there was so little in theway of occupation. He thought of the days as they spread before him. Alittle riding, a great amount of casual reading and--what else? Was theSouth "getting" him as the tropics are supposed to "get" theNortherners? That unlucky meeting with a mountaintop had effectively despoiled him ofhis one ambition. Soldiers with game legs are not wanted. He couldn'tpaint like Charity, he couldn't spin yarns like Rupert, he possessed amind too inaccurate to cope with the intricacies of any science. And asa business man he would probably be a good street cleaner. What was left? Well, the surprise he had promised Ricky might cover theproblem. As he reached for a certain black note-book, someone knocked onhis door. "Mistuh Val, wheah's Miss 'Chanda? She ain't up heah an' Ah wan's to--" Lucy stood in the hall. The light from the round window was reflectedfrom every corrugated wave of her painfully marcelled hair. Her vastflowered dress had been thriftily covered with a dull-green bib-apronand she had changed her smart slippers for the shapeless gray relics shewore indoors. Just now she looked warm and tired. After all, running twohouseholds was something of a task even for Lucy. "Why, she should be in her room. We came up to change. Miss Charity'sgone home with a headache. What was it you wanted her for?" "Dese heah cu'ta'ns, Mistuh Val"--she thrust a mound of snowy andberuffled white stuff at him--"dey has got to be hung. An' does Miss'Chanda wan' dem in her room or does she not?" "Better put them up. I'll tell her about it. Here wait, let me open thatdoor. " Val looked into Ricky's room. As usual, it appeared as though awhirlwind, a small whirlwind but a thorough one, had passed through it. Her discarded costume lay tumbled across the bed and her slippers lay onthe floor, one upside down. He stooped to set them straight. "It do beat all, " Lucy said frankly as she put her burden down on achair, "how dat chile do mak' a mess. Now yo', Mistuh Val, jest puteberythin' jest so. But Miss 'Chanda leave eberythin' which way aforeSunday! Looka dat now. " She pointed to the half-open door of the closet. A slip lay on the floor. Ricky must have been in a hurry; that was alittle too untidy even for her. A sudden suspicion sent Val into the closet to investigate. Ricky'swardrobe was not so extensive that he did not know every dress andarticle in it very well. It did not take him more than a moment to seewhat was missing. "Did Ricky go riding?" Val asked. "Her habit is gone. " "She ain' gone 'cross de bayo' fo' de hoss, " answered Lucy, reaching forthe curtain rod. "An' anyway, Sam done took dat critter down de road fo'to be shoed. " "Then where--" But Val knew his Ricky only too well. She had a certain stubborn will of her own. Sometimes opposition merelydrove her into doing the forbidden thing. And the swamp had beenforbidden. But could even Ricky be such a fool? Certain memories of thepast testified that she could. But how? Unless she had taken Sam'sboat-- Without a word of explanation to Lucy, he dashed out of the room anddownstairs at his best pace. As he left the house Val broke into astumbling run. There was just a chance that she had not yet left theplantation. But the bayou levee was deserted. And the post where Sam's boat wasusually moored was bare of rope; the boat was gone. Of course Sam Twomight have taken it across the stream to the farm. That hope was extinguished as the small brown boy came out of the bushesalong the stream side. "Sam, have you seen Miss 'Chanda?" Val demanded. "Yessuh. " "Where?" Carrying on a conversation with Sam Two was like pryingdiamonds out of a rock. He possessed a rooted distaste for talking. "Heah, suh. " "When?" "Jest a li'l bitty 'go. " "Where did she go?" Sam pointed downstream. "Did she take the boat?" "Yessuh. " And then for the first time since Val had known him Samvolunteered a piece of information. "She done say she a-goin' in deswamp. " Val leaned back against the hole of one of the willows. Then she haddone it! And what could he do? If he had any idea of her path, he couldfollow her while Sam aroused Rupert and the house. "If I only knew where--" he mused aloud. "She a-goin' to see dat swamper Jeems, " Sam continued. "Heh, heh, " asudden cackle of laughter rippled across his lips. "Dat ole swamperthink he so sma't. Think no one fin' he house--" "Sam!" Val rounded upon him. "Do you know where Jeems lives?" "Yessuh. " He twisted the one shoulder-strap of his overalls and Valguessed that his knowledge was something he was either ashamed of orafraid to tell. "Can you take me there?" He shook his head. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere, Ah ain'!" "But, Sam, you've got to! Miss 'Chanda is in there. She may be lost. We've got to find her!" Val insisted. Sam's thin shoulders shook and he slid backward as if to avoid the whiteboy's reach. "Ah ain' a-goin' in dere, " he repeated stubbornly. "Effenyo'all wants to go in dere--Looky, Mistuh Val, Ah tells yo'all de wayan' yo'all goes. " He brightened at this solution. "Yo'all kin takepappy's othah boat; it am downstream dere, behin' dem willows. Denyo'all goes down to de secon' big pile o' willows. Behin' dem is a li'lbitty bayo' goin' back. Yo'all goes up dat 'til yo'all comes to a furrack. Den dat Jeems got de way marked on de trees. " With that he turned and ran as if all the terrors of the night were onhis trail. There was nothing for Val to do but to follow his directions. And the longer he lingered before setting out the bigger lead Ricky wasgetting. He found the canoe behind the willows as Sam had said. Awkwardly hepushed off, hoping that Lucy would pry the whole story out of her sonand put Rupert on their track as soon as possible. The second clump of willows was something of a landmark, a huge mattedmass of sucker and branch, the lower tips of the long, frond-like twigssweeping the murky water. A snake swimming with its head just above thesurface wriggled to the bank as Val cut into the small hidden stream Samhad told him of. Vines and water plants had almost choked this, but there was a passagethrough the center. And one tough spike of vegetation which snapped backinto his face bore a deep cut from which the sap was still oozing. Thesmall stinging flies and mosquitoes followed and hung over him like afog of discomfort. His skin was swollen and rough, irritated anditching. And in this green-covered way the heat seemed almost solid. Drops of moisture dripped from forehead and chin, and his hair wasplastered tight to his skull. Frogs leaped from the bank into the water at the sound of his coming. Inthe shallows near the bank, crawfish scuttled under water-logged leavesand stones at this disturbance of their world. Twice the bayou widenedout into a sort of pool where the trees grew out of the muddy water andall sorts of lilies and bulb plants blossomed in riotous confusion. Once a muskrat waddled into the protection of the bushes. And Val sawsomething like a small cat drinking at a pool. But that faint shadowdisappeared noiselessly almost before the water trickled from hisupraised paddle. Clumps of wild rice were the meeting grounds for flocks of screamingbirds. A snow-white egret waded solemnly across a mud-rimmed pocket. Andonce a snake, more dangerous than the swimmer Val had first encountered, betrayed its presence by the flicker of its tongue. The smell of the steaming mud, the decaying vegetation, and the namelessevils hidden deeper in this water-rotted land was an added torment. Theboy shook a large red ant from its grip in the flesh of his hand andwiped the streaming perspiration from his face. It was then that the canoe floated almost of its own volition into adead and distorted strip of country. Black water which gave off an evilodor covered almost half an acre of ground. From this arose the twisted, gaunt gray skeletons of dead oaks. To complete the drear picture a rowof rusty-black vultures sat along the broad naked limb of the nearest ofthese hulks, their red-raw heads upraised as they croaked and sidled upand down. [Illustration: _The canoe floated almost of its own volition into a deadand distorted strip of country. _] But the bayou Val was following merely skirted this region, and in a fewmoments he was again within the shelter of flower-grown banks. Then hecame upon a structure which must have been the fur rack Sam Two hadalluded to, for here was their other boat moored to a convenient willow. Val fastened the canoe beside it. The turf seemed springy, though hereand there it gave way to patches of dark mud. It was on one of thesethat Ricky had left her mark in the clean-cut outline of the sole of herriding-boot. With a last desperate slap at a mosquito Val headed inland, followingwith ease that trail of footprints. Ricky was suffering, too, for herrashness he noted with satisfaction when he discovered a long curly hairfast in the grip of a thorny branch he scraped under. But the path was not a bad one. And the farther he went the more solidand the dryer it became. Once he passed through a small clearing, man-made, where three or four cotton bushes huddled together forlornlyin company with a luxuriant melon patch. And the melon patch was separated by only a few feet of underbrush fromJeems' domain. In the middle of a clearing was a sturdy platform, reinforced with upright posts and standing about four feet from thesurface of the ground. On this was a small cabin constructed of slabs ofbark-covered wood. As a dwelling it might be crude, but it had an air ofscrupulous neatness. A short distance to one side of the platform was awell-built chicken-run, now inhabited by five hens and a ragged-tailedcock. The door of the cabin was shut and there were no signs of life save thechickens. But as Val lowered himself painfully onto the second step ofthe ladder-like stairs leading up to the cabin, he thought he heardsomeone moving around. Glancing up, he saw Ricky staring down at him, open-mouthed. "Hello, " she called, for one of the few times in her life reallyastounded. "Hello, " Val answered shortly and shifted his weight to try to relievethe ache in his knee. "Nice day, isn't it?" CHAPTER XI RALESTONES TO THE RESCUE! "Val! What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Following you. Good grief, girl, " he exploded, "haven't you any bettersense than to come into the swamp this way?" Ricky's mouth lost its laughing curve and her eyes seemed to narrow. Shewas, by all the signs, distinctly annoyed. "It's perfectly safe. I knew what I was doing. " "Yes? Well, I will enjoy hearing Rupert's remarks on that subject whenhe catches up with us, " snapped her brother. "Val!" She lost something of her defiant attitude. He guessed that forall her boasted independence his sister was slightly afraid of Mr. Rupert Ralestone. "Val, he isn't coming, too, is he?" "He is if he got my message. " Val stretched his leg cautiously. Thecramp was slowly leaving the muscles and he felt as if he could standthe remaining ache without wincing. "I sent Sam Two back to tell Rupertwhere his family had eloped to. Frankly, Ricky, this wasn't such a smarttrick. You know what Charity said about the swamps. Even the little I'veseen of them has given me ideas. " "But there was nothing to it at all, " she protested. "Jeems told me justhow to get here and I only followed directions. " Val chose to ignore this, being hot, tired, and in no mood for one ofthose long arguments such as Ricky enjoyed. "By the way, where isJeems?" He looked about him as if he expected the swamper to materializeout of thin air. Ricky sat down on the edge of the platform and dangled her booted feet. "Don't know. But he'll be here sooner or later. And I don't feel likegoing back through the swamp just yet. The flies are awful. And did yousee those dreadful vultures on that dead tree? What a place! But theflowers are wonderful and I saw a real live alligator, even if it was asmall one. " She rubbed her scarf across her forehead. "Whew! It seemshotter here than it does at home. " "This outing was all your idea, " Val reminded her. "And we'd better begetting back before Rupert calls out the Marines or the State Troopersor something to track us down. " Ricky pouted. "Not going until I'm ready. And you can't drag me if I digmy heels in. " "I have no desire to be embroiled in such an undignified struggle as yousuggest, " he told her loftily. "But neither do I yearn to spend the dayhere. I'm hungry. I wonder if our absent host possesses a larder?" "If he does, you can't raid it, " Ricky answered. "The door's locked, andthat lock, " she pointed to the bright disk of brass on the solid cabindoor, "is a good one. I've already tried a hairpin on it, " she addedshamelessly. They sat awhile in silence. A wandering breeze had found its way intothe clearing, and with it came the fragrance of flowers blossoming underthe sun. The chicken family were pursuing a worm with more energy thanVal decided he would have cared to expend in that heat, and a heavilyladen bee rested on the lip of a sunflower to brush its legs. Val'seyelids drooped and he found himself thinking dreamily of a hammockunder the trees, a pillow, and long hours of lazy dozing. At the sametime a corner of his brain was sending forth nagging messages that theyshould be up and off, back to their own proper world. But he simply didnot have the will power to get up and go. "Nice place, " he murmured, looking about with more approbation than hewould have granted the clearing some ten minutes earlier. "Yes, " answered Ricky. "It would be nice to live here. " Val was beginning to say something about "no bathtubs" when a soundaroused them from their lethargy. Someone was coming down the path. Ricky's hand fell upon her brother's shoulder. "Quick! Up here and behind the house, " she urged him. Not knowing just why he obeyed, Val scrambled up on the tiny platformand scuttled around behind the cabin. Why they should hide thus fromJeems who had given Ricky directions for reaching the place and hadasked her to come, was more than he could understand. But he had afaint, uneasy feeling of mistrust, as if they had been caught off guardat a critical moment. "This the place, Red?" The clipped words sounded clear above the murmursof life from swamp and woods. "Yeah. Bum-lookin' joint, ain't it? These guys ain't got no brains; theylike to live like this. " The contempt of the second speaker was onlysurpassed by the stridency of his voice. "What about this boy?" asked the first. "Dumb kid. Don't know yet who his friends is. " There was a satisfiedgrunt as the speaker sat down on the step Val had so lately vacated. Ricky pressed closer to her brother. "What about the cabin?" "He ain't here. And it's locked, see? Yuh'd think he kept the crownjewels there. " The tickling scent of a cigarette drifted back to the twoin hiding. "Beats me how he slipped away this morning without Pittscatching on. For two cents I'd spring that lock of his--" "Isn't worth the trouble, " replied the other decisively. "These trappershave no money except at the end of the fur season, and then most of themare in debt to the storekeepers. " "Then why--" "I sometimes wonder, " the voice was coldly cutting, "why I continue toemploy you, Red. What profit would I find in a cabin like this? I wantwhat he knows, not what he has. " Having thus reduced his henchman to silence, the speaker went onsmoothly, as if he were thinking aloud. "With Simpson doing so well intown, we're close to the finish. This swamper must tell us--" His voicetrailed away. Except for the creaking of wood when the sitter shiftedhis position, there was no other sound. Then Red must have grown restless, for someone stamped up to theplatform and rattled the chain on the cabin door aggressively. Valflattened back against the wall. What if the fellow took it into hishead to walk around? "Gonna wait here all day?" demanded Red. "As it is necessary for me to have a word with him, we will. This wasteof time is the product of Pitts' stupidity. I shall remember that. It isentirely needless to use force except as a last resource. Now that thisswamper's suspicions are aroused, we may have trouble. " "Yeah? Well, we can handle that. But how do yuh know that this guy hasthe stuff?" "I can at least believe the evidence of my own eyes, " the other repliedwith bored contempt. "I came down river alone the night of the storm andsaw him on the levee. He has a way of getting into the house all right. I saw him in there. And he doesn't go through any of the doors, either. I must know how he does it. " "All right, Boss. And what if you do get in? What are we supposed to belookin' for?" "What those bright boys up there found a few days ago. That clerk toldus that they'd discovered whatever the girl was talking about in theoffice that day. And we've got to get that before Simpson comes intocourt with his suit. I'm not going to lose fifty grand. " The lastsentence ended abruptly as if the speaker had snapped his teeth shutupon a word like a dog upon its quarry. "What does this guy Jeems go to the house for?" asked Red. "Who knows? He seems to be hunting something too. But that's not ourworry. If it's necessary, we can play ghost also. I've got to get intothat house. If I can do it the way this Jeems does, without having tobreak in--so much the better. We don't want the police ambling aroundhere just now. " Val stiffened. It didn't require a Sherlock Holmes to get the kernel oftruth out of the conversation he had overheard. "Night of the storm, ""play ghost, " were enough. So Jeems had been the ghost. And the swamperknew a secret way into the house! "Wait, " Ricky's lips formed the words by his ear as Val stirredrestlessly. "Someone else is coming. " "I don't like the set-up in town, " Red was saying peevishly. "Thatsmooth mouthpiece is asking too darn many questions. He's always askingSimpson about things in the past. If you hadn't got Sim that familyhistory to study, he'd been behind bars a dozen times by now. " "And he had better study it, " commented the other dryly, "because he isgoing to be word perfect before the case comes to court, if it everdoes. There are not going to be any slip-ups in this deal. " "'Nother thing I don't like, " broke in the other, "is this Waverly guy. I don't like his face. " "No? Well, doubtless he would change it if you asked him to. And I donot think it is wise of you to be too critical of plans which were madeby deeper thinkers than yourself. Sometimes, Red, you weary me. " There was no reply to that harsh judgment. And now Val could hear whatRicky had heard earlier--a faint swish as of a paddle through water. Again Ricky's lips shaped words he could barely hear. "Spur of bayou runs along here in back. Someone coming up from there. " "Jeems?" "Maybe. " "We'd better--" Val motioned toward the front of the cabin. Ricky shookher head. Jeems was to be allowed to meet the intruders unwarned. "This swamper may be tough, " ventured Red. "We've met hard cases before, " answered the other significantly. Red moved again, as if flexing his muscles. "One boy, and a small one at that, shouldn't force you to undergo allthat preparation, " goaded the Boss. Ricky must get away at once, her brother decided. Stubbornness or nostubbornness, she must go this time. Why he didn't think of goinghimself Val never afterwards knew. Perhaps he possessed a spark of thefamily love of danger, after all, but mostly he clung to his perchbecause of that last threat. Whoever Jeems was or whatever he had done, he was one and alone. And he might relish another player on his side. But Ricky must go. He said as much in a fierce whisper, only to have her grin recklesslyback at him. In pantomime she gestured that he might try to make her. Val decided that he should have known the result of his efforts. Rickywas a Ralestone, too. And short of throwing her off the platform and sounmasking themselves completely, he could not move her against her will. "No, " she whispered. "They're planning trouble for Jeems. He'll probablyneed us. " "Well, " Val cautioned her, "if it gets too rough, you've got to promiseto cut downstream for help. We'll be able to use it. " She nodded. "It's a promise. But we've got to stand by Jeems if he needsus. " "If he does--" Val was still suspicious. "He may fall in with theirsuggestions. " Ricky shook her head. "He isn't that kind. I don't care if he _has_ beenplaying ghost. " Someone was walking along the path among the bushes bordering the backof the clearing. Although they could hear no sound, they could mark thepassing of a body by the swish of the foliage. Val lay, face down, onthe platform and reached for a stick of wood lying on the ground below. Somehow he did not like to think of being caught empty-handed when theexcitement began. "Hello. " It was Red, suddenly genial. The Ralestones could almost feelthe radiance of the smile which must have split his face. "Whatta yo' doin' heah?" That was Jeems, and his demand was sharplyhostile. "Now, bub, don't get us wrong. " That was Red, still genial. "I know mypal sorta flew off his base this mornin'. But it was all in fun, see? Sowe kinda wanted yuh to stick around till he came and not do the run-outon us. And now the Boss has come down here so we can talk business allfriendly like. " "Shut up, Red!" Having so bottled his companion's flow of words, theother spoke directly to Jeems. "My men made a mistake. All right. That'sover and done with; they'll get theirs. Now let's get down to business. What do you know about that big plantation up river, the one called'Pirate's Haven'?" "Nothin'. " Jeems' answer was clear. The hostility was gone from hisvoice; nothing remained but an even tonelessness. "Come now, I know you have reason to be hot. But this is business. I'llmake it worth your while--" "Nothin', " answered Jeems as concisely as before. "You can't expect us to believe that. I followed you one night. " "Yo' did?" The challenge was unmistakable. "I did. So you see I know something of you. Something which even thepresent owner does not. Say the ghost in the hall, for example. " There was the sound of a deeply drawn breath. "So you see it is to your advantage to listen to us, " continued the Bosssmoothly. "What do you want?" Val knew disappointment at that question. Would Jeems surrender aseasily as that? "Just an explanation of how you get into the house unseen. " "Yo'll nevah know!" The swamper's reply came swift and clear. "No? Well, I'd think twice before I held to that answer if I were you, "purred the other softly. "A word to the Ralestones about those nightlywalks of yours--" "Won't give yo' what yo' want, " replied Jeems shrewdly. "I see. Perhaps I have been using the wrong approach, " observed the Bosscomposedly. "You work for a living, don't you?" "Yes. " "Then you know the value of money. What is your price? Come on, we won'thaggle. " The Boss' impatience colored his tone. "How much do you want for thisinformation?" "Nothin'!" "Nothing?" "Ah ain't said nothin' an' Ah ain't a-goin' to say nothin'. An' yo'bettah be a-gittin' offen this heah land of mine afo'--" "Before what, swamper?" Red was taking a hand in the game. "Yo' can't fright'n me with that gun, " came calmly enough from Jeems. "Yo' ain't a-goin' to risk shootin'--" "There ain't no witnesses here, kid. And there ain't no law back inthese swamps. Yuh're gonna tell the Boss what he wants to know an'yuh're gonna spill it quick, see? I know some ways of making guyssqueal--" At that suggestion Val's fingers tightened on his club and Ricky chokedback a cry as her brother crept toward the corner of the cabin. Theirmelodrama was fast taking on the color of tragedy. "So yuh better speak up. " Red was still encouraging Jeems. There was no immediate answer from the swamper, but Ricky touched Val'sarm and nodded toward the bushes. She had decided that it was time forher to leave. He agreed eagerly. She dropped lightly to the ground andhe watched her crawl away unnoticed by those in front who were so intentupon the baiting of their quarry. "Three minutes, swamper!" Ricky was gone, free from whatever might develop. Val edged forward andfor the first time peered around the corner of the cabin. The twoassailants were still only voices, but he could see Jeems. The swamper'sface was bruised and there was a smear of dried blood across one cheekas if he had already been roughly handled. But he stood at ease, facingthe cabin. His hands were hanging loosely at his sides and he wasseemingly unconcerned by what confronted him. Suddenly his eyesflickered to the bushes at one side. Had Ricky betrayed herself, Valwondered breathlessly. Clear now of the cabin, Val wriggled his way around the platform. In aminute he would be able to see the Boss and Red. He gripped the club. Then Jeems stared straight into his face. But the swamper gave no signof seeing Val. And that, to the boy's mind, was the greatest feat of allthat afternoon. For Val knew that if he had been in Jeems' place hewould have betrayed them both in his surprise. The others were at last visible, their backs to Val. Nervously he sizedthem up. The Boss was tall and thin, but his movements suggestedpossession of wiry strength. Red, his brick-colored hair making him easyto identify, was shorter and thick across the shoulders, but hiswaistline was also thick and the boy thought that his wind was bad. Ofthe two, the Boss was the more dangerous. Red might lose his head in asudden attack, but not the Boss. Val decided to tackle the latter. Slowly he got from his knees to his feet. After the first quick glance, Jeems hadn't looked at him, but Val knew that the swamper was ready andwaiting to take advantage of any diversion he might make. "Three minutes are up, swamper. So yuh've decided to be tough, eh?" "Whatta yo' wanna know?" Jeems' question was silly but it held theirattention. "We have told you several times, " answered the Boss, his temperbeginning to fray visibly. "What is the trick of getting into thathouse?" "Well, " Jeems raised his hand to rub his ear, "yo' turn to the left--" So he agreed with the listener. Val was to take the Boss on his left. Hegathered his feet under him for the leap which he hoped would land himfull upon the invader. "Yes?" prompted the man impatiently as Jeems hesitated. At that momentVal sprang. But his game leg betrayed him again. Instead of landing cleanly upon theother, he came down draggingly across the Boss' shoulders. The gunroared and then the attacked man lashed back a vicious blow which splitthe skin over Val's cheek-bone. For the next three minutes Val was more than occupied. His opponent wasa dirty fighter, and when he had recovered from his surprise he was morethan the boy could handle. Val's club was twisted out of his hands, andhe found himself fighting wildly to keep the man's clawing fingers fromhis eyes. They were both rolling on the ground, flailing out at eachother. Twice Val tasted his own blood when one of the enemy's viciousjabs glanced along his face. Either blow would have finished Val had itlanded clean. Then in a sudden turn the Boss caught him in a deadly body-lock whichleft him half-stunned and panting, at his mercy. And there was no mercyin the man. When Val looked up into that flushed, snarling face, he knewthat he was as hopeless as a trapped animal. The man could--andwould--finish him at his leisure. "This way, Rupert! Sam!" the cry reached even Val's dulled ears. The man above him stirred. The boy saw the blood-lust fade from his eyesand apprehension take its place. He got to his feet, launching a lastbruising kick at Val's ribs before he limped across the clearing. On hisway he hauled Red to his feet. They were going, not toward the path fromthe bayou, but around the house on the trail that Jeems had followed. Val struggled up and looked around. The turf was torn and gouged. In thedust lay his club and Red's revolver. And by the steps lay something else, a slight brown figure. Painfullythe boy got to his feet and lurched across to Jeems. CHAPTER XII THE RALESTONES BRING HOME A RELUCTANT GUEST The swamper was lying on his back, his eyes closed. From a great purplewelt across his forehead the blood oozed sluggishly. When Val touchedhim he moaned faintly. "Val! Are you hurt? What's the matter?" Ricky was upon them like awhirlwind out of the bush. "Jeems stopped a nasty one, " her brother panted. "Is he--" She dropped down in the dust beside them. "He's knocked out, and he'll have a bad headache for some time, but Idon't think it's any worse than that. " Ricky had pulled out a microscopic bit of handkerchief and was dabbingat the blood in an amateurish way. Jeems moaned and turned his head asif to get away from her ministrations. "Where's Rupert--and Sam?" Val looked toward the path. "They were withyou, weren't they?" Ricky shook her head. "No. That was just what you call creating adiversion. For all I know, they're busy at home. " Her brother straightened. "Then we've got to get out of here--fast. Those two left because they were rattled, but when they have had achance to cool off they'll be back. " "What about Jeems?" "Take him with us, of course. We won't be able to manage the canoe. Butyou brought the outboard, so we'll go in that and tow the canoe. Weought to have something to cover his head. " Val regarded the bleedingwound doubtfully. Without answering, Ricky leaned forward and began systematically goingthrough Jeems' pockets. In the second she found a key. Val took it fromher and hobbled up the cabin steps. For a wonder, he thought thankfully, the key was the right one. The lock clicked and he went in. Like the clearing, the interior of the one-room shack was neat, a placefor everything and everything in its place. Under the window in the farwall was a small chest of some dark polished wood. Save for its size, itwas not unlike the chests the Ralestones had found in their store-room. Opposite it was a wooden cot, the covers smoothly spread. A stool, ablackened cook stove, and a solid table with an oil lamp were the extentof the furnishings. Lines of traps hung on the walls, along with thewooden boards for the stretching of drying skins, and there was ahalf-finished grass basket lying on top of the chest. Val hefted a stoneware jug. They had no time to hunt for a spring. Andif this contained water, they would need it. At the resulting gurglefrom within, he set it by the door and returned to rob the cot of pillowand the single coarse but clean sheet. Ricky tore the sheet and made a creditable job of washing and bandagingthe ugly bruise. Jeems drank greedily when they offered him water but hedid not seem to recognize them. In answer to Ricky's question of how hefelt, he muttered something in the swamp French of the Cajuns. But hewas uneasy until Val locked the cabin door and put the key in his hand. "How are we going to get him to the boat?" asked Ricky suddenly. "Carry him. " "But, Val--" for the first time she looked at her brother as if shereally saw him--"Val, you're hurt!" "Just a little stiff, " he hastened to assure her. "Our late visitorsplay rather rough. We'll manage all right. I'll take his shoulders andyou his feet. " They wavered drunkenly along the path. Twice Val stumbled and regainedhis balance just in time. Ricky had laid the pillow across theirburden's feet, declaring that she would need it when they got to theboat. Val passed the point of aching misery--when he thought that hecould not shuffle forward another step--and now he came into what he hadheard called "second wind. " By fixing his eyes on a tree or a bush astep or two ahead and concentrating only upon passing that one, and thenthat, and that, he got through without disgracing himself. At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly into the boat. Valhad no doubt that a woodsman might have done the whole job better inmuch less time and without a tenth of the effort they had expended. Butall he ever wondered afterward was how they ever did it at all. [Illustration: _At the bayou at last, they wriggled Jeems awkwardly intothe boat. _] It was when Ricky had made their passenger as comfortable as she couldin the bottom of the boat, steadying his head across her knees, that herbrother partially relaxed. "Val, you run the engine, " she said without looking up. He dragged himself toward the stern of the boat, remembering too late, when he had cast off, that he had not taken the canoe in tow. The enginecoughed, sputtered, and then settled down to a steady _putt-putt_. Theywere off. "Val, do you--do you think he is badly hurt?" He dared not look down; it required all his powers of concentration onwhat lay before them to keep his hand steady. "No. We'll get a doctor when we get back. He'll come around again in notime--Jeems, I mean. " But would he? Head injuries were sometimes more serious than theyseemed, Val remembered dismally. It was not until they came out into the main bayou that Jeems rousedagain. He looked up at Ricky in a sort of dull surprise, and then hisgaze shifted to Val. "What--" "We won the war, " Val tried to grin, an operation which tore his mask ofdried blood, "thanks to Ricky. And now we're going home. " At that, Jeems made a violent effort to sit up. "_Non_!" his English deserted him and he broke into impassioned French. "Yes, " Val replied firmly as Ricky pushed the swamper down. "Of courseyou're coming with us. You've had a nasty knock on the head that needsattention. " "Ah'm not a-goin' to no hospital!" His eyes burned into Val's. "Certainly not!" cried Ricky. "You're bound for our guest-room. Now keepquiet. We'll be there soon. " "Ah ain't a-goin', " he declared mutinously. "Don't be silly, " Ricky scolded him; "we're taking you. Does Val have tocome and hold you down?" "Ah can't!" His eyes flickered from Val's face to hers. There wassomething more than independence behind that firm refusal. "Ah ain'ta-goin' theah. " "Why not?" He seemed to shrink from her. "It ain't fitten, " he murmured. "How perfectly silly, " laughed Ricky. But Val thought that heunderstood. "Because of the secret you know?" he asked quietly. The pallor beneath Jeems' heavy tan vanished in a flush of slow-burningred. "Ah reckon so, " he muttered, but he met Val's eyes squarely. "Let's leave all explanations until later, " Val suggested. "Ah played haunt!" the confession came out of the swamper in a rush. "Then you _were_ my faceless ghost?" Jeems tried to nod and the action printed a frown of pain between hiseyes. "Why? Didn't you want us to live there?" asked Ricky gently. "Ah was huntin'--" "What for?" The frown became one of puzzlement. "Ah don't know--" His voice trailedoff into a thin whisper as his eyes closed wearily. Val signaled Rickyto keep quiet. "Ahoy there!" Along the bank toward them came Rupert and after him Sam. Beyond them lay the Ralestone landing. Val headed inshore. "Just what does this mean--Val! Has there been an accident?" Theirritation in Rupert's voice became hot concern. "An intended one, " his brother replied. "We've got the real victim herewith us. " They tied up to the landing and Sam came down to hand out Jeems whoapparently had lapsed into unconsciousness again. "You'd better call a doctor, " Val told Rupert. "Jeems has a head wound. " But Rupert had already taken charge of affairs with an efficiency whichleft Val humbly grateful. The boy didn't even move to leave the boat. Itwas better just to sit and watch other people scurry about. Sam hadstarted for the house, carrying Jeems as if the long-legged swamper wasthe same age and size as his own small son. Ricky dashed on ahead towarn Lucy. Rupert had Sam Two by the collar and was giving himinstructions for catching Dr. LeFrode, who was probably making hismorning rounds and might be found at the sugar-mill where one of thefeeders had injured his hand. Sam Two's sister had seen the doctor onhis way there a scant ten minutes earlier. Val watched all this activity dreamily. Everything would be all rightnow that Rupert was in charge. He could relax-- "Now, " his brother turned upon Val, "just what did--What's the matterwith you?" "Tired, I guess, " Val said ruefully. But Rupert was already in the boat, getting the younger boy to his unsteady feet. "Can you make it to the house?" he asked anxiously. "Sure. Just give me an arm till I get on the landing. " But when Val had crawled up on the levee he did not feel at all likewalking to the house. Then Rupert's arm was about his thin shoulders andhe thought that he could make it if he really tried. The garden path seemed miles long, and it was not until Val had the softcushions of the hall couch under him that he felt able to tell hisstory. But at that moment the short, stout doctor came through the doorin a rush. Sam Two had led him to believe that half the household hadbeen murdered. At first Dr. LeFrode started toward Val, until in alarmthe boy swung his feet to the floor and sat up, waving the man to thestairway where Ricky hovered to act as guide. Then Val was alone, even Sam Two having edged upstairs to share in theexcitement. The boy sank back on his pillows and wondered where theirlate assailants were now, and why they had been so determined to learnJeems' secret. As Ricky had said once before, the Ralestones seemed tohave been handed a gigantic tangle without ends, only middle sections, and had been told to unravel it. Boot heels clicked on the stone flooring. Val turned his head cautiouslyand tried not to wince. Rupert was coming in with a bowl of water, fromwhich steam still arose. Across his arm lay a towel and in his otherhand was their small first-aid kit. "Suppose we do a little patching, " he suggested. "Your face at presentis not all it might be. What did you and your swamp friend do--run intoa mowing machine?" He swabbed delicately at the cut the Boss had openedacross Val's cheek-bone, and at another by his mouth. "I thought it might be that for a moment--a mowing machine, I mean. No, we just met a couple of gentlemen--enterprising fellows who wanted tosee more of this commodious mansion of ours--" Val's words faded into asharp hiss as Rupert applied iodine with a liberal hand. "They seemed tothink that Jeems knew a lot about Pirate's Haven and they were going topersuade him to tell all. Only it didn't turn out the way they hadplanned. " "Due to you?" Rupert eyed his brother intently. The boy's face wasswollen almost out of recognition and he didn't like this suddentalkativeness. "Due partly to me, but mostly to Ricky. She--ah--created the necessarydiversion. I had sort of lost interest at the time. I know so littleabout gouging and biting in clinches. " "Dirty fighters?" "Well, soiled anyway. But if the Boss isn't nursing a cracked wrist, itisn't my fault. I don't know what Jeems did to Red, but he, too, departed in a damaged condition. Do you have to do that?" Val demandedtestily, squirming as Rupert ran his hands lightly over the boy'sshoulders and down his ribs, touching every bruise to tingling life. "Just seeing the extent of the damage, " he explained. "You don't have to see, I can feel!" Val snapped pettishly. Rupert got to his feet. "Come on. " "Where?" "Oh, a hot bath and then bed. You'll be taking an interest in life againabout this time tomorrow. I think LeFrode had better see you too. " "No, " Val objected. "I'm not a child. " Rupert grinned. "If you'd rather I carried you--" There was no opposing Rupert when he was in that mood, as his brotherwell knew. Val got up slowly. The program that Rupert had outlined was faithfully carried out. Half anhour later Val found himself between sheets, blinking at the ceilingdrowsily. When two cracks overhead wavered together of their own accord, his eyes closed. "--still sleeping?" whispered someone at his side much later. "Yes, best thing for him. " "Was he badly hurt?" "No, just banged around more than was good for him. " Val opened his eyes. It must have been close to dusk, for the sunlightwas red across the bedclothes. Rupert stood by the window and Ricky wasin the doorway, a tray of covered dishes in her hands. "Hello!" Val sat up, grimacing at the twinge of pain across his back. "What day is this?" Rupert laughed. "Still Tuesday. " "How's Jeems?" "Doing very well. I've had to have Rupert in to frighten him intostaying in bed, " Ricky said. "The doctor thinks he ought to be there acouple of days at least. But Jeems doesn't agree with him. Betweenkeeping Jeems in bed and keeping Rupert out of the swamp I've had a fullday. " Rupert sat down on the foot of the bed. "You'd know this Boss and Redagain, wouldn't you?" "Of course. " "Then you'll probably have a chance to identify them. " There was a grimlook about Rupert's jaw. "Ricky's told me all that you overheard. Idon't know what it means but I've heard enough for me to get in touchwith LeFleur. He'll be out tomorrow morning. And once we get somethingto work on--" "I'm beginning to feel sorry for our swamp visitors, " Val interrupted. "They'll be sorry, " hinted Rupert darkly. "How about you, Val, beginningto feel hungry?" "Now that you mention it, I _am_ discovering a rather hollow ache in mycenter section. Supper ready?" "Half an hour. I'll bring you up a tray--" began Ricky. But Val had thrown back the sheet and was sitting on the side of thebed. "Oh, no, you don't! I'm not an invalid yet. " Ricky glanced at Rupert and then left. Val reached for his shirtdefiantly. But his brother raised no objection. The painful stiffnessVal had felt at first wore off and he was able to move without feelingas if each muscle were tied in cramping knots. "May I pay Jeems a visit?" he asked as they went out into the hall. Rupert nodded toward a door across the corridor. "In there. He's a stubborn piece of goods. Reminds me of you at times. If he'd ever get rid of that scowl of his, he'd be even more like you. He warms to Ricky, but you'd think I was a Chinese torturer the way heacts when I go in. " There was a shade of irritation in Rupert's voice. "Maybe he's afraid of you. " "But what for?" Rupert stared at the boy in open surprise. "Well, you do have rather a commanding air at times, " Val countered. IfRicky had told Rupert nothing of Jeems' confession, he wasn't going to. "So that's what you really think of me!" observed Rupert. "Go reasonwith that wildcat of yours if you want to. I'm beginning to believe thatyou are two of a kind. " He turned abruptly down the hall. Val opened the door of the bedroom. The sunlight was fading fast andalready the corners of the large room were filled with the gray of dusk. But light from the windows swept full across the bed and its occupant. Val hobbled stiffly toward it. "Hello. " The brown face on the pillow did not change expression as Valgreeted the swamper. "How do you feel now?" "Bettah, " Jeems answered shortly. "Ah'm good but they won't le' me up. " "The Doc says you're in for a couple of days, " Val told him. Somehow Jeems looked smaller, shrunken, as he lay in that oversized bed. And he had lost that air of indolent arrogance which had made him seemso independent in their swamp and garden meetings. It was as if Val werelooking down upon a younger and less confident edition of the swamper hehad known. "What does he think?" There was urgency in that question. "Who's he?" "Yo' brothah. " "Rupert? Why, he's glad to have you here, " Val answered. "Does he know 'bout--" Val shook his head. "Tell him!" ordered the swamper. "Ah ain't a-goin' to stay undah hisruff lessen he knows. 'Tain't fitten. " At this clean-cut statement of the laws of hospitality, Val nodded. "Allright. I'll tell him. But what were you after here, Jeems? I'll have totell him that, too, you know. Was it the Civil War treasure?" Jeems turned his head slowly. "No. " Again the puzzled frown twisted hisstraight, finely marked brows. "What do Ah want wi' treasure? Ah don'tknow what Ah was lookin' fo'. Mah grandpappy--" "Val, supper's ready, " came Rupert's voice from the hall. Val half turned to go. "I've got to go now. But I'll be back later, " hepromised. "Yo'll tell him?" Jeems stabbed a finger at the door. "Yes; after supper. I promise. " With a little sigh Jeems relaxed and burrowed down into the softness ofthe pillow. "Ah'll be awaitin', " he said. CHAPTER XIII ON SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS-- It had been on of those dull, weepy days when a sullen drizzle cloudedsky and earth. In consequence, the walls and floors of Pirate's Havenseemed to exude chill. Rupert built a fire in the hall fireplace, butnone of the family could say that it was a successful one. It made anice show of leaping flame accompanied by fancy lighting effects butgave forth absolutely no heat. "Val?" The boy started guiltily and thrust his note-book under the couchcushion as Charity came in. Tiny drops of rain were strung along thehairs which had blown free of her rain-cape hood like steel beads alonga golden wire. "Yes? Don't come here expecting to get warm, " he warned her bitterly. "We are very willing but the fire is weak. Looks pretty, doesn't it?" Hekicked at a charred end on the hearth. "Well, that's all it's good for!" "Val, what sort of a mess have you and Jeems jumped into?" she asked asshe handed him her dripping cape. "Oh, just a general sort of mess, " he answered lightly. "Jeems hadcallers who forgot their manners. So Ricky and I breezed in and broughtthe party to a sudden end--" "As I can see by your black eye, " she commented. "But what has Jeemsbeen up to?" Val was suddenly very busy holding her cape before that mockery of ablaze. "Why don't you ask him that?" "Because I'm asking you. Rupert came over last night and sat on mygallery making very roundabout inquiries concerning Jeems. I pried outof him the details of your swamp battle. But I want to know now justwhat Jeems has been doing. Your brother is so vague--" "Rupert has the gift of being exasperatingly uncommunicative, " hisbrother told her. "The story, so far as I know, is short and simple. Jeems knows a secret way into this house. In addition, his grandfathertold him that the fortune of the house of Jeems is concealedhere--having been very hazy in his description of the nature of saidfortune. Consequently, grandson has been playing haunt up and down ourhalls trying to find it. "His story is as full of holes as a sieve but somehow one can't helpbelieving it. He has explained that he has the secret of the outsideentrance only, and not the one opening from the inside. In the meantimehe is in bed--guarded from intrusion by Ricky and Lucy with the samecare as if he were the crown jewels. So matters rest at present. " "Neatly put. " She dropped down on the couch. "By the way, do you realizethat you have ruined your face for my uses?" Val fingered the crisscrossing tape on his cheek. "This is onlytemporary. " "I certainly hope so. That must have been some battle. " "One of our better efforts. " He coughed in mock modesty. "Ricky savedthe day with alarms and excursions without. Rupert probably told youthat. " "Yes, he can be persuaded to talk at times. Is he always so silent?" "Nowadays, yes, " he answered slowly. "But when we were younger--Youknow, " Val turned toward her suddenly, his brown face serious to adegree, "it isn't fair to separate the members of a family. To put onehere and one there and the third somewhere else. I was twelve whenFather died, and Ricky was eleven. They sent her off to Great-auntRogers because Uncle Fleming, who took me, didn't care for a girl--" "And Rupert?" "Rupert--well, he was grown, he could arrange his own life; so he justwent away. We got a letter now and then, or a post-card. There was moneyenough to send us to expensive schools and dress us well. It was twoyears before I really saw Ricky again. You can't call short visits onSunday afternoons seeing anyone. "Then Uncle Fleming died and I was simply parked at Great-auntRogers'. She"--Val was remembering things, a bitter look abouthis mouth--"didn't care for boys. In September I was sent to a militaryacademy. I needed discipline, it seemed. And Ricky was sent to MissSomebody's-on-the-Hudson. Rupert was in China then. I got a letter fromhim that fall. He was about to join some expedition heading into theGobi. "Ricky came down to the Christmas hop at the academy, then Aunt Rogerstook her abroad. She went to school in Switzerland a year. I passed fromschool to summer camp and then back to school. Ricky sent me somecarvings for Christmas--they arrived three days late. " He stared up at the stone mantel. "Kids feel things a lot more thanthey're given credit for. Ricky sent me a letter with some tear stainsbetween the lines when Aunt Rogers decided to stay another year. Andthat was the year I earned the reputation of being a 'hard case. ' "Then Ricky cabled me that she was coming home. I walked out of schoolthe same morning. I didn't even tell anyone where I was going. Because Ihad money enough, I thought I would fly. And that, dear lady, is the endof this very sad tale. " He grinned one-sidedly down at her. "It was then that--that--" "I was smashed up? Yes. And Rupert came home without warning to findthings very messy. I was in the hospital when I should have been in somecorrective institution, as Aunt Rogers so often told me during thosedays. Ricky was also in disgrace for speaking her mind, as she does nowand then. To make it even more interesting, our guardian had beenamusing himself by buying oil stock with our capital. Unfortunately, oildid not exist in the wells we owned. Yes, Rupert had every right to beanything but pleased with the affairs of the Ralestones. "He swept us off here where we are still under observation, I believe. " "Then you don't like it here?" "Like it? Madam, 'like' is a very pallid word. What if you were offeredeverything you ever wished for, all tied up in pink ribbons and laid onyour door-step? What would your reaction be?" "So, " she was staring into the fire, "that's the way of it?" "Yes. Or it would be if--" He stooped to reach for another piece ofwood. The fire was threatening to die again. "What is the flaw in the masterpiece?" she asked quietly. "Rupert. He's changed. In the old days he was one of us; now he's astranger. We're amusing to have around, someone to look after, but Ihave a feeling that to him we don't really exist. We aren't real--" Valfloundered trying to express that strange, walled-off emotion which sooften held him in this grown-up brother's presence. "Things like this'Bluebeard's Chamber' of his--that isn't like the Rupert we knew. " "Did you ever think that he might be shy, too?" she asked. "He left twochildren and came home to find two distrustful adults. Give him hischance--" "Charity!" Ricky ran lightly downstairs. "Why didn't Val tell me you hadcome?" "I just dropped in to inquire concerning your patient. " "He's better-tempered than Val, " declared Ricky shamelessly. "You'llstay to dinner of course. We're having some sort of crab dish that Lucyseems to think her best effort. Rupert will be back by then, I'm sure;he's out somewhere with Sam. There's been some trouble about trespasserson the swamp lands. Goodness, won't this rain ever stop?" As if in answer to her question, there came a great gust of wind andrain against the door, a blast which shook the oak, thick and solid asit was. And then came the thunder of the knocker which Letty-Lou hadpolished into shining life only the day before. Val opened the door to find Mr. Creighton and Mr. Holmes huddled on themat. They came in with an eagerness which was only surpassed by Satan, wet and displaying cold anger towards his mistress, whom he passed witha disdainful flirt of his tail as he headed for that deceptive fire. "You, again, " observed Charity resignedly as Sam Two was summoned andsent away again draped with wet coats and drenched hats. "Man"--Holmes argued with Satan for the possession of thehearth-stone--"when it rains in this country, it rains. A branch of yourcreek down there is almost over the road--" "Bayou, not creek, " corrected Charity acidly. Lately she had shown amarked preference for Holmes' absence rather than his company. "I stand corrected, " he laughed; "a branch of your bayou. " "If you found it so unpleasant, why did you--" began Charity, and thenshe flushed as if she had suddenly realized that that speech was toorude even for her recent attitude. "Why did we come?" Holmes' crooked eyebrow slid upward as his faceregistered mock reproof. "My, my, what a warm welcome, my dear. " Heshook his head and Charity laughed in spite of herself. "Don't mind my bearishness, " she made half apology. "You know whatpleasant moods I fall into while working. And this rain is depressing. " "But Miss Biglow is right. " Creighton smiled his rare, shy smile. Brusque and impatient as he was when on business bent, he was awkwardlyuncomfortable in ordinary company. The man, Val sometimes thoughtprivately, lived, ate, slept books. Save when they were the subject ofconversation, he was as out of his element as a coal-miner at theballet. "We should explain the reason for this--this rather abruptcall. " He fingered his brief-case, which he still clutched, nervously. "Down to business already. " Holmes seated himself on the arm of Ricky'schair. "Very well, out with it. " Creighton smiled again, laid the case across his knees, and lookedstraight at Ricky. For some reason he talked to her, as if she above allothers must be firmly convinced of the importance of his mission. "It is a very queer story, Miss Ralestone, a very queer--" "Said the mariner to the wedding guest. " Holmes snapped his fingers atSatan, who contemptuously ignored him. "Or am I thinking of the Whitingwho talked to the Snail?" "Perhaps I had better begin at the beginning, " continued Creighton, frowning at Holmes who refused to be so suppressed. "Why be so dramatic about it, old man? It's very simple, Miss Ricky. Creighton has lost an author and he wants you to help find him. " When Ricky's eyes involuntarily swept about the room, Val joined in thelaughter. "No, it isn't as easy as all that, I'm afraid. " Creighton hadlost his nervous shyness. "But what Holmes says is true. I have lost anauthor and do hope that you can help me locate the missing gentleman--orlady. Two months ago an agent sent a manuscript to our office forreading. It wasn't complete, but he thought it was well worth ourattention. It was. "Although there were only five chapters finished, the rest being butsynopsis and elaborated scenes, we knew that we had something--somethingbig. We delayed reporting upon it until Mr. Brewster--our seniorpartner--returned from Europe. Mr. Brewster has the final decision onall manuscripts; he was as well pleased with this offering as we were. Frankly, we saw possibilities of another great success such as those twolong historical novels which have been so popular during the past fewyears. "Queerly enough, the author's name was not upon the papers sent us bythe agent--that is, his proper name; there was a pen-name. And when weapplied to Mr. Lever, the agent, we received a most unpleasant shock. The author's real name, which had been given in the covering lettermailed with the manuscript to Mr. Lever, had most strangely disappeared, due to some carelessness in his office. "Now we have an extremely promising book and no author--" "What I can't understand, " cut in Holmes, "is the modesty of the author. Why hasn't he written to Lever?" "That is the most unfortunate part of the whole affair. " Mr. Creightonshook his head. "Lever recalled that the chap had said in the letterthat if Lever found the manuscript unsalable he should destroy it, asthe writer was moving about and had no permanent address. The fellowadded that if he didn't hear from Lever he would assume that it was notacceptable. Lever wrote to the address given in the letter toacknowledge receipt, but that was all. " "Mysterious, " Val commented, interested in spite of himself. "Just so. Lever deduced from the tone of the letter that the writer wasvery uncertain of his own powers and hesitated to submit his manuscript. And yet, what we have is a very fine piece of work, far beyond theability of the average beginner. The author must have written otherthings. "The novel is historical, with a New Orleans setting. Its treatment isso detailed that only one who had lived here or had close connectionswith this country could have produced it. Mr. Brewster, knowing that Iwas about to travel south, asked me to see if I could discover ourmissing author through his material. So far I have failed; our man isunknown to any of the writers of the city or to any of those interestedin literary matters. "Yet he knows New Orleans and its history as few do today except thoseof old family who have been born and bred here. Dr. Hanly Richardson ofTulane University has assured me that much of the material used isauthentic--historically correct to the last detail. And it was Dr. Richardson who suggested that several of the scenes must have actuallyoccurred, becoming with the passing of time part of the tradition ofsome aristocratic family. "The period of the story is that time of transition when Louisianapassed from Spain to France and then under the control of the UnitedStates. It covers the years immediately preceding the Battle of NewOrleans. Unfortunately, those were years of disturbance and change. Events which might have been the talk of the town, and so have founddescription in gossipy memoirs, were swallowed by happenings of nationalimportance. It is, I believe, in intimate family records only that I canfind the clue I seek. " "Which scenes"--Ricky's eyes shone in the firelight--"are those Dr. Richardson believes real?" "Well, he was very certain that the duel of the twin brothers must haveoccurred--Why, Mr. Ralestone, " he interrupted himself as the stick Valwas about to place on the fire fell from his hands and rolled across thefloor. "Mr. Ralestone, what is the matter?" Across his shoulder Ricky signaled her brother. And above her head Valsaw Holmes' eyes narrow shrewdly. "Nothing. I'm sorry I was so clumsy. " Val stooped hurriedly to hide hisconfusion. "A duel between twin brothers. " Ricky twisted one of the buttons whichmarched down the front of her sport dress. "That sounds exciting. " "They fought at midnight"--Creighton was enthralled by the story he wastelling--"and one was left for dead. The scene is handled with restraintand yet you'd think that the writer had been an eye-witness. Now if sucha thing ever did happen, there would have been a certain amount of talkafterwards--" Charity nodded. "The slaves would have spread the news, " she agreed, "and the person who found the wounded twin. " Val kept his eyes upon the hearth-stone. There was no stain there, buthis vivid imagination painted the gray as red as it had been that coldnight when the slave woman had come to find her master lying there, hisbrother's sword across his body. Someone had used the story of themissing Ralestone. But who today knew that story except themselves, Charity, LeFleur, and some of the negroes? "And you think that some mention of such an event might be found in thepapers of the family concerned?" asked Ricky. She was leaning forward inher chair, her lips parted eagerly. "Or in those of some other family covering the same period, " Creightonadded. "I realize that this is an impertinence on my part, but I wonderif such mention might not be found among the records of your own house. From what I have seen and heard, your family was very prominent in thecity affairs of that time--" Ricky stood up. "There is no need to ask, Mr. Creighton. My brother andI will be most willing to help you. Unfortunately, Rupert is very muchimmersed in a business matter just now, but Val and I will go throughthe papers we have. " Val choked down the protest that was on his lips just in time to nodagreement. For some reason Ricky wanted to keep the secret. Very well, he would play her game. At least he would until he knew what lay behindher desire for silence. "That is most kind. " Creighton was beaming upon both of them. "I cannottell you how much I appreciate your coöperation in this matter--" "Not at all, " answered Ricky with that deceptive softness in her voicewhich masked her rising temper. "We are only too grateful to be allowedto share a secret. " And then her brother guessed that she did not mean Creighton's secretbut some other. She crossed the room and rang the bell for Letty-Lou tobring coffee. Something triumphant in her step added to Val's suspicion. Like the Englishman of Kipling's poem, Ricky was most to be feared whenshe grew polite. He turned in time to see her wink at Charity. Rupert came in just then, wet and thoroughly out of sorts, full of theevidences he had discovered on Ralestone lands bordering the swamp thatstrangers had been camping there. Their guests all stayed to supper, lingering long about the table to discuss Rupert's find, so that Val didnot get a chance to be alone with Ricky to demand an explanation. Andfor some reason she seemed to be adroitly avoiding him. He did have heralmost cornered in the upper hall when Letty-Lou came up behind him andplucked at his sleeve. "Mistuh Val, " she said, "dat Jeems boy done wan' to see yo'all. " "Bother Jeems!" Val exploded, his eyes on Ricky's back. But he steppedinto the bedroom where the swamper was still imprisoned by Lucy'sorders. The boy was propped up on his pillows, looking out of the window. Hisbody was tense. At the sound of Val's step he turned his bandaged head. "Can't yo' git me outa heah?" he demanded. "Why?" "The watah's up!" His eyes were upon the water-filled darkness of thegarden. "But that's all right, " the other assured him. "Sam says that it won'treach the top of the levee. At the worst, only the lower part of thegarden will be flooded. " Jeems glanced at Val over his shoulder and then without a word he edgedtoward the side of the bed and tried to stand. But with a muffled gasphe sank back again, pale and weak. Awkwardly Val forced him back againsthis pillows. "It's all right, " he assured him again. But in answer the swamper shook his head violently, "It ain't all rightin the swamp. " In a flash Val caught his meaning. Swampers lived on house-boats for themost part, and the boats will outride all but unusual floods. But Jeems'cabin was built on land, land none too stable even in dry weather. Theswamp boy touched Val's hand. "It ain't safe. Two of them piles is rotted. If the watah gits that far, they'll go. " "You mean the piles holding up your cabin platform?" Val asked. He nodded. For a second Val caught a glimpse of forlorn lonelinessbeneath the sullen mask Jeems habitually wore. "But there's nothing you can do now--" "It ain't the cabin. Ah gotta git the chest--" "The one in the cabin?" His black eyes were fixed upon Val's, and then they swerved and restedupon the wall behind the young Ralestone. "Ah gotta git the chest, " he repeated simply. And Val knew that he would. He would get out of bed and go into theswamp after that treasure of his. Which left only one thing for Val todo. "I'll get the chest, Jeems. Let me have your key to the cabin. I'll takethe outboard motor and be back before I'm missed. " "Yo' don't know the swamp--" "I know how to find the cabin. Where's the key?" "In theah, " he pointed to the highboy. Val's fingers closed about the bit of metal. "Mistuh, " Jeems straightened, "Ah won't forgit this. " Val glanced toward the downpour without. "Neither will I, in all probability, " he said dryly as he went out. It had been on just such a night as this that the missing Ralestone hadgone out into the gloom. But he was coming back again, Val remindedhimself hurriedly. Of course he was. With a shake he pulled on histrench-coat and slipped out the front door unseen. CHAPTER XIV PIRATE WAYS ARE HIDDEN WAYS The rain, fine and needle-like, stung Val's face. There were ominouspools of water gathering in the garden depressions. Even the smallstream which bisected their land had grown from a shallow trickle into athick, mud-streaked roll crowned with foam. But the bayou was the worst. It had put off its everyday sleepiness witha roar. A chicken coop wallowed by as the boy struggled with the knot ofthe painter which held the outboard. And after the coop traveled a deadtree, its topmost branches bringing up against the plantation landingwith a crack. Val waited for it to whirl on before he got on board hiscraft. The adventure was more serious than he had thought. It might not be acase of merely going downstream and into the swamp to the cabin; itmight be a case of fighting the rising water in grim battle. Why he didnot turn back to the house then and there he never knew. What would havehappened if he had? he sometimes speculated afterward. If Ricky had notcome into the garden to hunt him? If together they had not-- While Val went with the current, his voyage was ease itself. But when hestrove to cut across and so reach the mouth of the hidden swamp-stream, he narrowly escaped upsetting. As it was, he fended off some dark blotbobbing through the water, his palm meeting it with a force that jarredhis bones. But he did make the mouth of the swamp-stream. Switching on the strongsearch-light in the bow, he headed on. And because he was moving nowagainst the current, it seemed that he lost two feet for every one thathe advanced. The muddy water was whipped into foam where it tore around shrub andwillow. There were no longer any confining banks, only a waste of waterglittering through the dark foliage. The drear habitat of the vultureswas being swept bare by the scouring of the incoming streams, but itsmoldy stench still arose stronger than ever, as if some foulness werebeing stirred up from its ancient bed. It was only by chance that Val found the drying rack which marked theboundary of Jeems' property. Here the land was higher than the flood, which had not yet spread inland. He tied the boat to a willow andsplashed ashore. In the lower portions of the path his feet sank intopatches of wet. Something which might have been--and probably was--asnake oozed away from the beam of his pocket torch. The clearing was much as it had been, save that the door of thechicken-run stood ajar and its feathered population was gone. But underthe cabin Val saw the betraying sparkle of water. The bayou in the rearmust have topped flood level. Someone had been there before him. The lock was battered and there hadbeen an attempt to pry loose its staples, an attempt which had leftbetraying gouges on the door frame. But misused as it had been, the lockyielded to the key and Val went in. Warned by a lapping sound frombeneath, it did not take him long to get the chest, relock the door, andhead back to the boat. He was none too soon. Already, in the few moments of his absence, therewere rills cutting across the mud, rills which were growing in strengthand size. And the flood around the drying rack was up a good threeinches. Val dumped the chest into the bow with little ceremony andclimbed in after it, his wet trousers clinging damply to his legs. Something plate-armored and possessing wicked yellow eyes swameffortlessly through the light beam--a 'gator bound for the Gulf, whether he would or no. The return as far as the bayou was easy enough, for again the boat wasborne on the current. But when Val faced the torn waters of the river heexperienced a certain tightness of throat and chill of blood. What mighthave been the roof of a small shed was passing lumpily as he hesitated. Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon which stared at the boypiteously, its eyes green in the light. An eddy sent its ship close tothe boat; the top branches clung a moment to the bow. And to Val'ssurprise, the 'coon roused itself to a mighty effort and crossed intothe egg-shell safety the boat offered. Once in the outboard, itretreated to the bow where it crouched beside the chest and kept a waryeye on Val's every movement. [Illustration: _Then came a tree burdened with a small 'coon whichstared at the boy piteously, its eyes green in the light. _] But he could not rescue the wildcat which swept by spitting at the waterfrom a log, nor the shivering doe which awaited the coming of death, marooned on an islet which was fast being cut away by the hungry waters. And all the time the stinging rain fed the flood. Val gripped the rudder until the bar was printed deep across his palm. Soon it would be too late. He must cross now, heading diagonallydownstream to escape the full fury of the current. With a deep breath heturned out into the bayou. It was like fighting some vast animated feather-bed. His greatestefforts were as nothing against the overpowering sweep seaward. Andthere was constant danger from the floating booty of the storm. Themuddy spray lashed his body, filling the bottom of his craft as if itwere a tea-cup. And once the boat was whirled almost around. Val was beginning to wonder just how long a swimmer might last in thatblack fog of rain, wind, and water when his bow eased into comparativelyquiet water. He had crossed the main current; now was the time to headupstream. Grimly he did, to begin a struggle which was to take on allthe more horrible properties of a nightmare. For this was many timesworse than his fight against the swamp-stream. Twice the engine sputtered protestingly and Val thought of trying toleap ashore. But stubbornly the outboard fought on. If there ever were asturdy ship, fit to be named with Columbus' gallant craft or Hudson'svessel, it was that frail outboard which buffeted the rising waters of aLouisiana bayou gone flood mad. It achieved the impossible; it crept upstream inch by inch, escapingdisaster after disaster by the thinness of a dime. Since he hadapparently not been born to drown, Val thought as he saw his headlighttouch the tip of the landing, he would doubtless depart this life byhanging. Then his light picked out something else which lay between him and thelanding. The sleek, knife-bowed cruiser certainly did not belong toPirate's Haven. And what neighbor would come calling by water on such anight? It was moored by two thick ropes to a sunken post, and alreadythe mooring was dragging the bow down. Val headed in toward it, runningthe outboard between the stranger and the landing. Out of the blackness ashore a shadow arose and waved at him frenziedly. Then he saw Ricky's white face above her long oil-silk cape. Her hairwas plastered tight to her skull and she was protecting her eyes fromthe fury of the rain with her hands. Val sent the boat inshore until it bit into the crumbling surface of thelevee with a shock which threatened his balance. Ricky snatched at thepainter and held steady while he jumped. They made the boat fast and Vallanded the chest. The passenger did his own disembarking, making his wayinto the garden without a backward look. Then Val demanded anexplanation. "What are you doing here?" he tried to out-screech the wind. In answer she clapped her wet, muddy hand across his mouth and pulledhim back from the levee. They reached the semi-shelter of a rotting summer-house where he putdown the chest. Ricky pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. It wasimpossible for them to hear each other without screaming madly. "Jeems told me--after you left--Val! How could you be so mad!" "I made it. " He touched the chest with his toe. "After we hadpractically kidnapped him, we couldn't let his belongings just floataway. But why are you out here? And where did that boat come from?" "I came out here after Jeems told me. I'm all right. " She laughedshakily. "I've got my oldest clothes on--and this, " she touched hercape. "I couldn't stay in there--waiting--after I knew. And I didn'twant Rupert to ask questions. So I said that I was going to bed with aheadache. Then I slipped out here to the levee. And I hadn't been heretwo minutes before that boat came downstream. There were four men in itand they got out and went into the bushes over there. And, Val, Rupertis down at the other end of the garden where they are having troublewith the levee. Holmes and Creighton went down to see if they couldhelp, too, just after you left. There's nobody but Charity up at thehouse with Lucy and Letty-Lou. Val, what are we going to do?" sheappealed to him. "First I'll investigate these visitors, " he said easily, though he feltfar from easy within. "Me too, " she said firmly if ungrammatically, and since Val could notwait to argue, she went along. They took the route she had watched the invaders follow, wrigglingthrough wet bushes and around trees. "Val, look out!" She grabbed his arm and so saved him from tumblingheadlong into a black hole in the ground. Vines and a small shrub or twohad been ruthlessly torn out to bare the opening. It was here that thevisitors must have gone to earth. And then Val had a glimmering of thetruth; the "Boss" and his friends had at last found Jeems' private door. Prudence urged that they return to the house and send Sam Two or someother messenger down to the cross-roads store to summon the police byphone. Prudence however had never successfully advised any Ralestone. They had a decided taste for fighting their own battles. So, torch inhand, Val dropped into the hole. And a moment later Ricky slid down tojoin him. They stood in a rough passage. Stout timbers banked its sides andguarded the roof. There was a damp underground smell such as Val hadnoted in the cellar of the house, but the air was fresh enough. Afterthe first hasty survey, the boy held his fingers over the bulb of theflashlight so that only the faintest glimmer escaped to light theirpath. The passage was short, ending abruptly in a low bricked room. Save forthemselves, a tangle of rotting rope in a far corner, and two livelyblack beetles, it was empty. "Val, " Ricky's throaty whisper reached him, "can't you guess what thisis? The first pirate Ralestone's storage-house!" It was a likely enough explanation--though nothing could have beenstored there very long; the place was too damp. Beads of slimy moisturefrom the walls dripped slowly down, shining like silver in the light. At the other side of the room was a corridor branching away. But thisthey barely glanced into, little knowing how that neglect was to provedisastrous in the end. It was the main door to their right whichinterested them most, for that led, so far as Val could determine, toward the house. And that must have been the one the mysteriousvisitors had followed. Thus they came into the second of their pirate ancestor's store-rooms. This one was long and narrow. Three wooden casks eaten with decay andspotted with fungus stood against the wall, testifying to the use towhich this chamber had been put, though the all-pervading damp could nothave been good for the wine. Again a dark archway tempted them on, and the third room into which theycame had a more grim reminder of the scarlet past of the house. ForRicky stumbled over something which clinked dully. And when Val used theflash they looked down upon a telltale length of chain ending in an ironring, its other end soldered into the wall. "Val, " Ricky's voice quavered, "did--did they keep people here?" "Slaves, perhaps, " her brother answered soberly and shoved the rustingmetal aside with his foot. But there were two other chains hanging fromthe wall, speaking of past horrors of which he did not care to think. And then as their light picked out these damning testimonials, Valthought that the Ralestones, for all their pride and fine, brave airs, had been only pirates after all, akin to those whom they were nowhunting through the dark. There was a low arched doorway of brick on the right side of the room, and this they passed through. Beyond were three broad stone steps, worna little on the treads, one cracked clear across. These led to a widelanding paved with brick. Here the walls were brick as well. Rickytouched one involuntarily and drew back her hand with a littleexclamation of disgust. She wiped her palm vigorously on the wet surfaceof her cape. Everywhere was the smell of rot and slow, vile decay. In spite of itshistorical associations, decided Val, this vault should be sealedforever from the daylight and left to the sole occupancy of thosenameless things which creep in its dark. The very air, in spite of itsfreshness, seemed tainted. Another flight of stairs was before them, the treads fashioned of stonebut equipped with a rotted wooden hand-rail. And above was the faintreflection of light and the sound of voices. Val hesitated and realizedfor the first time how foolhardy their expedition was. Those above would be prepared to handle interruptions. Val wasdetermined to keep Ricky out of trouble, and to go on alone was therankest folly. But, as he hesitated, the decision was taken out of hishands, for the light above suddenly became brighter. Grabbing at Ricky'sarm, he stumbled back into the shelter of the archway, pulling her afterhim. A round circle of light shone plainly at the top of the stairs. Someonewas coming down. Ricky's breath was warm on Val's cheek and she movedwith a faint crackling of her cape which sounded as loud as athunderclap in his ears. "How're we gonna do it without bustin' the wall down?" demanded anaggrieved voice from the top of the stairs. "There ain't no knob, nohandle, no nothin' to work it from this side. And these guys what storedtheir stuff here in the boot-leggin' days never got into the house. " "The boy got through, didn't he?" Val knew that voice, the Boss of theswamp meeting. "Well, if he did, we can. " "Lissen, Boss, it's a secret, ain't it? An' we gotta know how it worksbefore we can work it. An' lissen here, you swamp bum, you keep outta myway--see? I don't care if you were one of Mike Flanigan's boys; thatdon't cut no ice with me. " This truculent warning must have beenaddressed to an unseen companion on the same stair level. The listenersbelow heard a faint sound which might have marked a collision and thenthe hiss of swamp French spoken hurriedly and angrily. "What're you gonna do now, Boss?" The light half-way down the stairs paused. "There is some way of openingthat panel--" "An' we gotta find it. All right, all right. But tell me how. " "I don't know whether it will be necessary to open it--from this side. " "What d'ya mean?" "Use that thick skull of yours, Red. Doors swing two ways, don't they?They can be used either to go in or to go out. " "Got it!" The thick voice was oily with flattering approval. "We can getout this way--" "Smart work, Red. Did you think that out all by yourself?" asked theother contemptuously. "Yes, we can come out this way when"--his voicewas sharp with purpose--"we are finished. Send one of these swampersdown to the levee where the men are working. As long as this flood keepsrising we're safe. Then the other three of us will go for the house. Wemay be seen that way, but there's no use spending any more time hereplaying tick-tack-toe on that wood up there. We locate what we want, andif we're cornered we can come out through here to the bayou. Slickenough. " "Great stuff, Boss--" Red began. But the rest was muffled, for Ricky andVal drew back into the room of the chains. There was only one thing todo now--reach Rupert and the others and prepare to meet these skulkersin the open. But before they had quite crossed the room Ricky came togrief. She caught her foot in one of those gruesome chains and stumbledforward, falling on her hands and knee. The noise of her fall echoedaround the low chamber with betraying clamor. A white light beat upon them as Val stooped to aid Ricky. "Stop!" came the shout, but Val had only one thought, to dim that light. He swung back his arm and flung his own flash straight at the other. There was a grunt of pain and the light fell to the floor. With thetinkle of breaking glass it went out. Val pulled Ricky to her feet andthrew her toward the door, forgetting everything but the wild panicwhich urged him out of that place of foul darkness. They bruised theirhands against the brick as they felt for the opening, and then they wereout in the other chamber. "Val, " Ricky clung to him, "I've got that little flash I keep under mypillow at night. Wait a minute until I get it out of my pocket. We can'tfind our way out of here without a light. " Muffled sounds from behind them suggested that their pursuers were onthe trail even without light. After all, given time enough, it would beeasy for them to feel their way out of the vaults. Val hustled Ricky on, taking his direction from one of the wine-casks he had bumped into. Andbefore he allowed her to hunt for her torch they stood in the first ofthe chambers. The light she produced was poor and it flickered warningly. But it wasgood enough for them to see the dark opening which led to the outerworld. They ducked into this just as the first of the other party camecursing into the open. At Val's orders, Ricky switched off the light andthey crept along by the wall, one hand on its guiding surface. But the way seemed longer than it had upon their entering. Surely theyshould have reached the garden entrance by now. And the surfaceunderfoot remained level instead of slanting upward. Suddenly Ricky gavea little cry. "We've taken the wrong passage! There's only a blank wall in front ofus!" She was right. The torch showed a brick surface across their path, andVal remembered too late the second passage out of the first chamber. They must go back and hope to elude the others in the dark. "They may have all gone out, thinking we were still ahead of them, " hemused aloud. "Well, it's got to be done, " Ricky observed, "so we might as well doit. " Back they went along the unknown passage. This appeared to run straightout from the first chamber. But why it had been fashioned and thenwalled up they had no way of knowing. Ricky's torch picked out theentrance at last. "Wait, " Val cautioned her, "we had better see how the land lies beforewe go out in the open. " They stood listening. Save for the constant drip, drip of water, therewas no sound. "I guess it's clear, " he said. "Wonder where all the water is coming from?" Ricky shivered. "Down from the garden. Come on, I think it's safe to have a light now. " Ricky must have been holding the torch upward when she pressed thebutton, for the round circle of light appeared on the supporting timbersabove the door. They both looked up, fascinated for a moment. The oldoak had been laid in a crisscross pattern, the best support possible inthe days when the vaults had been made. "How wet--" began Ricky. Val cried out suddenly and struck at her. The blow sent her sprawlingsome three or four feet back in the passage. There might be time yet tocover her body with his own, he planned desperately, before-- The sound of slipping earth was all about them as Val flung himselftoward Ricky. As he thrust blindly at her body, rolling her back fartherinto the tunnel, he felt the first clod strike full upon his shoulder. Ricky's complaining whimper was the last thing he heard clearly. For inthe dark was the crash of breaking timber. He was felled by a stroke across the upper arm, and then came a chilldarkness in which he was utterly swallowed up. CHAPTER XV PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE! Through the dull roaring which filled his ears Val heard a sharp call: "Val! Val, where are you? Val!" He stared up into utter blackness. "Val!" "Here, Ricky!" But that thin thread of a whisper surely didn't belong tohim. He tried again and achieved a sort of croak. Something moved behindhim and there was an answering rattle of falling clods. "Val, I'm afraid to move, " her voice wavered unsteadily. "It seems to befalling yet. Where are you?" The boy tried to investigate, only to find himself more securelyfastened than if he had been scientifically bound. And now that themists had cleared from him, his spine and back felt a sharp pain towhich he was no stranger. From his breast-bone down he was held as if ina vise. "Are you hurt, Ricky?" He formed the words slowly. Every breath he drewthrust a red-hot knife between his ribs. He turned his head toward her, pillowing his cheek on the gritty clay. "No. But where are you, Val? Can't you come to me?" "Sorry. Un--unavoidably detained, " he gasped. "Don't try any crawling orthe rest may come down on us. " "Val! What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Her questions cut sharplythrough the darkness. "Banged up a little. No"--he heard the rustle which betrayed hermovements--"don't try to come to me--Please, Ricky!" But with infinite caution she came, until her brother felt the edge ofher cape against his face. Then her questing hand touched his throat andslid downward to his shoulders. "Val!" He knew what horror colored that cry as she came upon whatimprisoned him. "It's all right, Ricky. I'm just pinned in. If I don't try to move I'msafe. " Quickly he tried to reassure her. "Val, don't lie to me now--you're hurt!" "It's not bad, really, Ricky--" "Oh!" There was a single small cry and a moment of utter silence andthen a hurried rustling. "Here. " Her hand groped for his head. "I've wadded up my cape. Can Islip it under your head?" "Better not try just yet. Anything might send off the landslide again. Just--just give me a minute or two to--to sort of catch my breath. "Catch his breath, when every sobbing gasp he drew was a stab! "Can't we--can't I lift some of the stuff off?" she asked. "No. Too risky. " "But--but we can't stay here--" Her voice trailed off and it was thenthat she must have realized for the first time just what had happened tothem. "I'm afraid we'll have to, Ricky, " said her brother quietly. "But, Val--Val, what if--if--" "If we aren't found?" he put her fear into words. "But we will be. Rupert is doubtless moving a large amount of earth right now toaccomplish that. " "Rupert doesn't know where we are. " She had regained control of bothvoice and spirit. "We--we may never be found, Val. " "I was a fool, " he stated plainly a fact which he now knew to be onlytoo true. "I would have come even if you hadn't, Val, " she answered generously anduntruthfully. It was perhaps the kindest thing she had ever said. Now that the noise of the catastrophe had died away they could hearagain the drip of water. And that sound tortured Val's dry throat. Aglass of cool water--He turned his head restlessly. "If we only had a light, " came Ricky's wish. "The flash is probably buried. " "Val, will--will it be fun?" "What?" he demanded, suddenly alert at her tone. Had the dark and theirtrouble made her light-headed? "Being a ghost. We--we could walk the hall with Great-uncle Rick; hewouldn't begrudge us that. " "Ricky! Stop it!" Her answering laugh, though shaky, was sane enough. "I do pick the wrong times to display my sense of humor, don't I? Val, is it so very bad?" Something within him crumbled at that question. "Not so good, Lady, " he replied in spite of the resolutions he had made. She brushed back the hair glued by perspiration to his forehead. Rickywas not gold, he thought, for gold is a rather dirty thing. But she wasall steel, as clean and shining as a blade fresh from the hands of amaster armorer. He made a great effort and found that he could move hisright arm an inch or two. Concentrating all his strength there, hewriggled it back and forth until he could draw it free from thewreckage. But his left shoulder and side were numb save for the painwhich came and went. "Got my arm free, " Val told her exultantly and reached up to feel forher in the dark. His fingers closed upon coarse cloth. He pulled feeblyand something rolled toward him. "What's this?" Ricky's hands slid along his arm to the thing he had found. He couldhear her exploring movements. "It's some sort of a bundle. I wonder where it came from. " "Some more remains of the jolly pirate days, I suppose. " "Here's something else. A bag, I think. Ugh! It smells nasty! There's ahole in it--Oh, here's a piece of money. At least it feels like money. There's more in the bag. " She pressed a disk about as large as ahalf-dollar into Val's palm. "Pirate loot--" he began. Anything that would keep them from thinking ofwhere they were and what had happened was to be welcomed. "Val"--he could hear her move uneasily--"remember that old saying:'Pieces of eight--Ralestones' fate?" "All good families have curses, " he reminded her. "And good families can have--can have accidents, too. " There could be no answer to that. Nor did Val feel like answering. Thesavage pain in his legs and back had given way to a kind of numbness. Achill not caused by the dank air crawled up his body. What--what if hisinjuries were worse than he had thought? What if--if-- The dripping of the water seemed louder, and it no longer fell with thesame rhythm. Ricky must be counting money from the bag. He could hearthe clink of metal against stone as she dropped a piece. "Don't lose it, " he muttered foggily. "Lose what?" "Your pieces of eight. " "What do you mean?" "You just dropped a piece. " "I haven't touched--Val, do--do you feel worse?" But he had no thought now for his body. If Ricky had not dropped themoney, then what had caused the clink? He ground his cheek against theclay. _Thud, thud, clink, thud. _ That was not water dripping nor coinrattling. That was the sound of digging. And digging meant-- "Ricky! They're digging! I can hear them!" Her fingers closed about his free hand until the nails dug into theflesh. "Where?" "I don't know. Listen!" The sound had grown in strength until now, though muffled, it soundedthrough that part of the passage still remaining open. "It comes from this end. From behind that wall. But why should it comefrom there?" "Does it matter? Val, do you suppose they could hear me if I pounded onthe wall at this side?" "You haven't anything heavy enough to pound with. " "Yes, I have. This package thing that you found. It's quite heavy. Val, we've got to let them know we're here!" She crawled away, moving with caution lest she bring on another slide. That reassuring _thud, thud_ still sounded. Then, after long minutes, Val heard the answering blow from their side. Three times Ricky struckbefore the rhythm of the digging was broken. Then there was silencefollowed by three sharp blows. They had heard! Ricky beat a perfect tattoo in joy and was quickly answered. Then the_thud, thud_ began again, but this time the pace was quickened. "They've heard! They're coming!" Ricky's voice shrilled until it becamea scream. "Val, we're found!" A clod was loosened somewhere above them and crashed upon the wreckage. Would the efforts of their rescuers bring on another slide? "Be quiet, Ricky, " Val croaked a warning, "it's still moving. " Then there came the sharp clink of metal against stone. "Val, " calledRicky, "they're right against the wall now!" "Come back here, away from it. We--we don't want you caught, too, " heanswered her. Obediently she crawled back to him and again he felt her hand closeabout his. The sound of metal grating against stubborn brick filledtheir pocket of safety. But as an ominous accompaniment came the softhiss of earth sliding onto the wreckage. Which would win to them first, the rescuers or the second slide? There was a vicious grinding noise from the walled end of the passage. Amoment later a blinding ray of light swung in, to focus upon them. "Ricky! Val!" Val was blinking stupidly at the light, but Ricky had presence of mindenough to answer. "Here we are!" "Look out, " Val roused enough to warn, "the walls are unsafe!" "We're coming through, " rang the answer out of the dark. "Stand away!" Now that they could see, Val realized for the first time the danger oftheir position. A jagged, water-rotted beam half covered with clay andsand lay across him, and beyond that was a mass of splintered wood andwet earth. A little sick, he looked up at Ricky. She was staring at thewreckage. Her eyes were black in a white, mud-smeared face. "Val--Val!" His name came as the thinnest of whispers. "It isn't as bad as it looks, " he said hurriedly. "Something underneathmust be supporting most of the weight or--or I wouldn't be here at all. " "Val, " she repeated, and then, paying no heed to his frantic injunctionsto keep away, she dug at earth and rotten wood with her hands. Using thelong bundle clumsily wrapped in stained canvas, she levered a piece ofbeam out of the way so that she might get down on her knees and scoop upthe sand and clay. "Ricky! Val!" The light swung ahead as someone scrambled through thehole in the barrier wall. Then, when the ray held firm upon them, theheadlong rush was checked for a long instant. "Val!" "Get her--away, " he begged. "Another--slip--" But before he had done, a long arm gathered Ricky up as if she had beena child. "Right, " came the firm answer. "Sam, take Miss 'Chanda back. Then--" Val was watching the reflection of the flash on the broken roof abovehim. Sand slid in tiny streams down the wall, mingling with the greenishtrickles of water. There were queer blue and green arcs painted on thebrick which had something to do with the hot pain behind his eyes. Theblue turned to orange--to scarlet-- "Careful! Right here in the hall, Holmes--" The broken earth above him had somehow been changed to a high ceiling, the chill darkness to blazing light and warmth. "Ricky?" he asked. "Here, Val. " Her face was very close to his. "You--are--all--right?" "'Course!" But she was crying. "Don't try to talk, Val. You must bequiet. " He heard someone moving toward them but he kept his eyes on Ricky'sface. "We did it!" "Yes, " she answered slowly, "we did it. " "Val, don't try to talk. " Rupert's face showed above Ricky's hunchedshoulder. There was an odd, strained look about his mouth, a smear ofmud across his cheek. But the harsh tone of his voice struck his brotheras dumb as if he had slapped him. "Sorry, " Val shaped the words stiffly, "all my fault. " "Nothing's your fault, " Ricky's indignant answer cut in. "But--but justbe quiet, Val, until the doctor comes. " He turned his head slowly. On the hearth-stone stood Charity talkingquietly to Holmes. Just within the circle of the firelight lay a bundlewhich he had seen before. But of course, that was the thing they hadfound in the passage, which Ricky had used to pound out their answer toRupert. "Ricky--" Val always believed that it was some instinct out of the pastwhich forced that whisper out of him--"Ricky, open that package. " "Why--" she began, but then she got to her feet and went to the bundle, twisting the tarred rope that fastened it in a vain attempt to undo theintricate knots. It was Holmes who produced a knife and sawed throughthe tough cord. And it was Holmes who unrolled the strips of canvas, oil-silk, and greasy skins. But it was Ricky who took up what lay withinand held it out so that it reflected both red firelight and golden roomlight. Her brother's sigh was one of satisfaction. For Ricky held aloft by its ponderous hilt a great war sword. Therecould be no doubt in any of them--the Luck of Lorne had returned. [Illustration: _Ricky held aloft a great war sword. There could be nodoubt in any of them--the Luck of Lorne had returned. _] "We found it!" breathed Ricky. "Put it in its place, " Val ordered. Without a word, Rupert drew out a chair and scrambled up. Taking fromRicky's hands the ancient weapon, he slipped it into the niche theirpirate ancestor had made for it. In spite of the years underground, themetal of hilt and blade was clear. Seven hundred years of history--theirLuck! "Everything will come right again, " Val repeated as Ricky came back tohim. "You'll see. Everything--will--be--all--right. " His eyes closed in spite of his efforts. He was back in the darknesswhere he could only feel the warmth of Ricky's hands clasped about his. CHAPTER XVI RALESTONES STAND TOGETHER "I like Louisiana, " drawled Holmes lazily from his perch on thewindow-seat. "The most improbable things happen here. One finds secretpassages under houses and medieval war swords stuck in drains. Thenthere are 'things that go boomp in the night, ' too. It might be worthsettling down here--" "Not for you, " cut in Charity briskly. "Too far from the bright lightsfor you, my man. " "Just for that, " he triumphed, "I shall not return this lost propertyfound under a cushion of the couch in the hall. " At the sight of that familiar black note-book, Val shifted uneasily onhis pillows. Rupert got up. "Tired, old man?" he asked and reached to straighten one of hisbrother's feather-stuffed supports. Val shook his head. Being bandaged like a mummy was wearying, but onehad to humor two broken ribs and a fractured collar-bone. "Sometimes, " replied Charity, "you are just too clever, Mr. JudsonHolmes. That does not happen to be my property. " "No?" He flipped it open and held it up so that she might see what laywithin. "I'll admit that it isn't your usual sort of stuff, but--" She was staring at the drawings. "No, that isn't mine. But who--" Ricky got up from the end of Val's cot and went to look. Then sheturned, her eyes shining with excitement. "You're trying them again!But, Val, you said you never would. " "Give me that book!" he ordered grimly. But Rupert had calmly collectedthe trophy and was turning over the pages one by one. Val made ahorrible face at Ricky and resigned himself to the inevitable. "How long have you been doing this sort of thing?" his brother asked ashe turned the last page. "Ever so long, " Ricky answered for Val brightly. "He used to draw wholeletters of them when we were at school. There were two sets, one forgood days and the other for bad. " "And now, " Val cut in, "suppose we just forget the whole matter. Willyou please let me have that!" "Rupert, don't let him go all modest on us now, " urged the demon sister. "One retiring violet in the family is enough. " "And who is the violet? Your charming self?" inquired Holmes. "No. " Ricky smiled pleasantly. "Only Mr. Creighton might be interestedin the contents of Bluebeard's Chamber. What do you think, Rupert?" At that audacious hint, Val remembered the night of the storm andRicky's strange attitude then. "So Rupert's the missing author, " he commented lightly. "Well, well, well. " Charity's indulgent smile faded, and Holmes, suddenly alert, leanedforward. Rupert stared at Val for a long moment, his face blank. Was hegoing to retire behind his wall of reserve from which their ventureunderground had routed him? Or was he going to remain the very humanperson who had spent eight hours of every day at his brother's beck andcall for the past few weeks? "Regular Charlie Chan, aren't you?" he asked mildly. Val's sigh of relief was echoed by Ricky. "Thanks--so much, " Val repliedhumbly in the well-known manner of the famous detective Rupert hadlikened him to. "Then we are right?" asked Ricky. Rupert's eyebrows slid upward. "You seemed too sure to be in doubt, " hecommented. "Well, I was sure at times. But then no one can ever be really sure ofanything about you, " she admitted frankly. "But why--" protested Charity. "Why didn't I spread the glad tidings that I was turning out the greatAmerican novel?" he asked. "I don't know. Perhaps I am a violet--no?" Helooked pained at Ricky's snort of dissent. "Or perhaps I just don't liketo talk about things which may never come true. When I didn't hear fromLever, I thought that my worst forebodings were realized and that myscribbling was worthless. But you know, " he paused to fill his pipe, "writing is more or less like the drug habit. I've told stories all mylife, and I found myself tied to my typewriter in spite of mydisappointment. As for talking about it--well, how much has Val eversaid about these?" He ruffled the pages of the note-book provokingly. "Nothing. And you would never have seen those if I could have preventedit, " his brother replied. "Those are for my private satisfaction only. " "Two geniuses in one family. " Ricky rolled her eyes heavenward. "This isalmost too, too much!" "Jeems, " Val ordered, "you're the nearest. Can't you make her shut up?" "Just let him try, " said his sister sweetly. The swamper grinned butmade no move to stir from his chair. Jeems had become as much a part of Pirate's Haven as the Luck, which Valcould see from his cot glimmering dully in its niche in the Long Hall. The swamper's confinement in the sick-room had paled his heavy tan andhe had lost the sullen frown which had made him appear so old andbitter. Now, dressed in a pair of Val's white slacks and a shirt fromhis wardrobe, Jeems was as much at ease in his surroundings as Rupert orHolmes. It had been Jeems who had saved Ricky and Val on that night of terrorwhen they had been trapped in the secret ways of their pirate ancestors. Sam Two had trailed Ricky to the garden and had witnessed their enteringthe tunnel. But his racial fear of the dark unknown had kept him fromventuring in after them. So he had lingered there long enough to see theinvaders come out and take to the river. Catching some words of theirsabout a cave-in, he had gone pelting off to Rupert with the story. The investigating party from the levee had discovered, to their horror, the passage choked for half its length. They were making a futile anddangerous attempt to clear it when Jeems appeared on the scene. Letty-Lou having given him a garbled account of events, he had staggeredfrom his bed in an effort to reach Rupert. He alone knew the undergroundways as well as he knew the garden. And so once getting Rupert'sattention, he had set them to work in the cellar cutting through to theone passage which paralleled the foundation walls. In the weeks which followed their emergence from the threatened tomb, the swamper had unobtrusively slipped into a place in the household. While Val was frightening his family by indulging in a bout of fever tocomplicate his injuries, Jeems was proving himself a tower of strengthand a person to be relied upon. Even Lucy had once asked his opinion onthe importance of a fire in the hall, and with that his position wasassured. Of the invaders they had heard or seen no more, although the police hadvisited Pirate's Haven on two separate occasions, interviewing each andevery member of the household. They had also made a half-hearted attemptto search the swamp. But for all the evidence they found, Ricky and Valmight have been merely indulging in an over-vivid dream. Save that theLuck hung again in the Long Hall. "Seriously, though, " Holmes drew Val's thoughts out of the past, "theseare worth-while. Would you mind if I showed them to a friend of mine whomight be interested?" Since Rupert had already nodded and Charity had handed him thenote-book, Val decided that he could hardly raise a protest. "Rupert, " Charity glanced at him, "are you going to see Creighton?" "Since all has been discovered, " he misquoted, "I suppose that that isall there is left for me to do. " "Then you had better do it today; he's planning to leave for the Northtonight, " she informed him. Rupert came to life. For all his pose of unconcern, he was excited. Inthe long days Val had been tied to the cot hurriedly set up in a cornerof the drawing-room on the night of the rescue--it had been thoughtwiser to move him no farther than necessary--he had found again the realRupert they had known of old. There was little he could conceal from hisyounger brother now--or so Val thought. "Sam has the roadster, " Rupert said. "There's something wrong with thebrakes and I told him to take it to town and have it looked over. Goodness only knows what time he'll be back. " "See here, Ralestone, " Holmes looked at his wrist-watch, "I've the car Ihired here with me. Let me drive you in. Charity has to go, anyway, andsee about sending off those sketches of hers. " "Oh, but we were going together, " protested Ricky. "I have some shoppingto do. " "Very simple, " Val suggested. "Why don't you all go?" "But that would leave you alone. " Rupert shook his head. "No. There's Jeems. " "I don't know, " Rupert hesitated doubtfully. "It doesn't require more than one person to wait on me at present, " Valsaid firmly. "Now all of you go. But remember, I shall expect the Greeksto return bearing gifts. " Holmes saluted. "Right you are, my hearty. Well, ladies, the chariotawaits without. " In spite of their protests, Val at last got rid of them. Since he had aproject of his own, he was only too glad to see the last of hisoversolicitous family for awhile. Val had never been able to understand why broken ribs or a fracturedcollar-bone should chain one to the bed. And since he had recovered fromhis wrenched back he was eager to be up and around. In private, with theprotesting assistance of Sam Two, he had made a pilgrimage across theroom and back. And now it was his full intention to be seated on theterrace when the family came home. It was Lucy of all people who aided fortune to give him his opportunity. "Mistuh Val, " she announced from the doorway as the sound of the carpulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party, "dem lights is out agin. " "Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playinggames?" he asked. "Dis heah no-'count!" She dragged out of hiding from behind hervoluminous skirts her second son, a chocolate-brown infant who rejoicedin the name of Gustavus Adolphus and was generally called "Doff. " Atthat moment he was sobbing noisily and eyeing Val as if the boy were theGrand High Executioner of Tartary. "Yo'all tell Mistuh Val whats yo' bina-doin'!" commanded his mother, emphasizing her order with a shake. "Ain't done nothin', " wailed Doff. "Sam, he give me de penny an' say, 'Le's hab fun. ' Den Ah puts de penny in de lil' hole an' den Mammy cotchme. " "Doff seems to be the victim, Lucy, " Val observed. "Where's Sam?" "Ah don' know. But I'se a-goin' to fin' out!" she stated with ominousdetermination. "How's Ah a-goin' to git mah ironin' done when dere ain'tno heat fo' de iron? Ah asks yo' dat!" "There are some fuses in the pantry and Jeems will put one in for you, "Val promised. With a sniff Lucy withdrew, her fingers still hooked in the collar ofher tearful son. Jeems glanced at Val as he went by the boy's cot. AndVal didn't care for what he read into that glance. Had the swamper byany foul chance come to suspect Val's little plan? But it all turned out just as he had hoped. Val made that most momentoustrip in four easy stages, resting on the big chair where Rupert hadspent so many hours, on the bench by the window, in the first of thedeck-chairs by the side of the French doors leading to the terrace, andthen he reached the haven of the last deck-chair and settled down justwhere he had intended. And when Jeems returned there was nothing hecould do but accept the fact that Val had fled the cot. "Miss Ricky won't like this, " he prophesied darkly. "Nor Mr. Rupertneither. Yo' wouldn't've tried it if they'd been heah. " "Oh, stop worrying. If you'd been tied to that cot the way I've been, you'd be glad to get out here, too. It's great!" The sun was warm but the afternoon shadow of an oak overhung his seat sothat Val escaped the direct force of the rays. A few feet away Satansprawled full length, giving a fine imitation of a cat that had ridhimself of all nine lives, or at least of eight and a half. Never had the garden shown so rich a green. Ricky's care had sharpenedthe lines of the flower-beds and had set shrubs in their proper places. And the plants had repaid her with a riot of blossoms. A breeze set thegray moss to swaying from the branches of the oak. And a greengrasshopper crossed the terrace in four great leaps, almost scrapingSatan's ear in a fashion which might easily have been fatal to theinsect. Val sighed and slipped down lower in his chair. "It's great, " hemurmured again. "Sure is, " Jeems echoed. He dropped down cross-legged beside Val, disdaining the other chair. Satan stretched without opening his eyes and yawned, gaping to thefullest extent of his jaws and curling his tongue upward so that itseemed pointed like a snake's. Then he rolled over on his other side andcurled up with his paws under his chin. A bumblebee blundered by Val'shead on its way to visit the morning-glories. He suddenly discovered itdifficult to keep his eyes open. "Someone's comin', " observed Jeems. "Ah just heard a car turn in fromthe road. " "But the folks have been gone such a short time, " Val protested. However, the car which came almost noiselessly down the drive was notthe one in which the family had departed. It had the shape of a sleekgray beetle, rounded so that it was difficult to tell at first glancethe hood from the rear. It glided to a stop before the steps and after amoment four passengers disembarked. Val simply stared, but Jeems got to his feet in one swift movement. For, coming purposefully up the terrace steps, were four men they hadseen before and had very good cause to remember for the rest of theirlives. In the lead strutted the rival, a tight smile rendering his unlovelyfeatures yet more disagreeable. Behind him trotted the red-facedcounselor who had accompanied him on his first visit. But matching therival step for step was the "Boss, " while "Red" brought up the rear in atidy fashion. "Swell place, ain't it?" demanded the rival, taking no notice of Val orJeems. "Make yourselves to home, boys; the place is yours. " Val gripped the arm of his chair. Sam, Rupert, Holmes--they were allbeyond call. It was left to him to meet this unbelievable invasionalone. There was a stir beside him. Val glanced up to meet the slightestof reassuring nods from the swamper. Jeems was with him. "Whatcha gonna do with the joint, Brick?" asked Red, tossing hiscigarette down on the flagstones and grinding it to powder with hisheel. "I dunno yet. " The rival strode importantly toward the front door. "You might tell us when you find out, " Val suggested quietly. With an exaggerated start of surprise the rival turned toward the boy. "Oh, so it's you, kid?" "Perhaps, " Val said softly, "you had better introduce your friends. After all, I like to know the names of my guests. " The Boss smiled sardonically and Red grinned. Only the red-faced lawyershuffled his feet uneasily and looked from one to another of hiscompanions with an expression of pleading. But the rival came directlyto the point. "Where's that high and mighty brother of yours?" he demanded. "Mr. Ralestone will doubtless be very glad to see you, " Val evaded, having no desire for the visitors to discover just how slender hisresources were. "Jeems, you might go and tell him that we have visitors. Go through the Long Hall, it's nearer that way. " He dug the fingernailsof his sound hand into the soft wood of the chair arm. Could Jeemsinterpret that hint? Someone must remove and hide the Luck before thesemen saw it. "Right. " The swamper turned on his heel and padded toward the Frenchwindows. "No, you don't!" the rival snarled as he moved into line between Jeemsand his objective. "When we want that guy, we'll hunt him out ourselves. When we're good and ready!" "If you don't wish to see my brother, just why did you come?" Val askedfeverishly. He must keep them talking there until he had time to thinkof some way of getting that slender blade of steel into hiding. "We're movin' in, " Red answered casually for them all. "How interesting. I think that the police will enjoy hearing that, " Valcommented. "It's perfectly legal, " bleated the lawyer. "We possess a court order toview the place with the purpose of appraising it for sale. " He drew astiff paper from the inside pocket of his coat and waved it toward theboy. "Bunk! I don't know much about the law but I do know that you could haveobtained nothing of the kind without our being notified. And just whichone of you has been selected to do the appraising?" "Him, " answered Red laconically and jerked his thumb at the Boss. "So, " Jeems stared at him, "since yo' couldn't git what yo' want bythievin' at night, yo're goin' to try and git it by day. " "But what are you really after? I'm curious to know. You certainly don'twant a sugar plantation which hasn't been paying its way since the CivilWar. That just isn't reasonable. And you ought to know that we can'tafford to buy you off. We must be living over a gold-mine that wehaven't discovered. Come on, tell us where it is, " Val prodded. "Cut the cackle, " advised Red, "an' le's git down to it. " "I would advise you to get back in your car and drive out. " Val wonderedif his face looked as stiff as it felt. "This visit isn't going to getyou anywhere. " "We ain't goin' any place, kid, " remarked the rival. "You don't seem tounderstand. We're stayin' right here. I got rights and the judge hasrecognized them. I'm top guy here now. " "Yeah. Yuh ain't so smart as yuh think yuh are, " contributed Red, scowling at Val. "We ain't gonna leave. " It wasn't Red's speech, however, that straightened the boy's back andmade Jeems shift his position an inch or two. There was another carcoming up the drive. And since their enemies were all gathered beforethem, they could only be receiving friends, or at the worst neutrals. But the car which came from between the live-oaks to park behind thefirst contained only two passengers. LeFleur and Creighton got out, stopped in surprise to view the party on the terrace, and then came up, shoving by Red. "Quite a party, " Val observed. "But how did you manage to arrive soopportunely?" "We have made a discovery, " panted the Creole lawyer; "a very importantdiscovery. What are these men doing here?" "We got a court order to view this house for sale. " The rival wastruculent. "An' it's all legal. The mouthpiece says so, " he indicatedhis counselor. "Perhaps, " Creighton's cool tones cut through, "you had better introduceus. " There was a decided change in his manner. Gone was his shynervousness, his slightly hesitant reserve. It was a keen business manwho stood there now. Val grinned. "You see before you the family skeleton. May I introduceMr. Ralestone, who firmly believes that he is the Ralestone of Pirate'sHaven? And three other--shall we say gentlemen--whom I myself have nevermet formally. Though I did have the pleasure, I believe, " he addressedthe Boss directly, "of blackening your eye. " "Yeah, I'm Ralestone, and I'm gonna have my rights, " stated the rivalbriskly. "You are a descendant of Roderick Ralestone?" asked LeFleur. "Yuh know I am. I got proofs!" "The man is a liar, " Creighton said calmly. As they stared at him, LeFleur nodded. Val saw an ugly grin begin tocurve Red's thick lips. "Yeah? An how do yuh know that, wise guy?" he asked. "Because there is only one Roderick Ralestone in this generation and heis standing right there. Permit me to introduce Roderick St. JeanRalestone!" The person he turned to was Jeems! CHAPTER XVII THE RETURN OF RICK RALESTONE Val ventured to break the sudden silence which resulted from Creighton'sastonishing statement. "But how--why--" "Yeah, " the rival had collected a measure of his scattered wits, "whattayuh mean, wise guy?" "Just this--" LeFleur drew himself up and faced the invaders sternly--"Ihave only this very morning deposited with the probate court certaindocuments making very plain the identity of this young man. Without theshadow of a doubt he is the only living descendant of Roderick Ralestoneand his wife, Valerie St. Jean de Roche. I have also sworn out acomplaint--" Then the Boss took a hand in the game. "The boy's a minor, " he observed. "Through me, " LeFleur returned, "Mr. Rupert Ralestone as nearest of kinhas applied for guardianship and there will be no difficulty in thesettlement of that matter. " "Yeah!" The rival threw his gloves on the terrace and glared not atLeFleur but at his own backing. Having stared at the lawyer of his partyuntil that unfortunate man lost all assurance, he attacked the Boss. "So, wise guy, what now? We ain't got such a snap as yuh said we weregonna have. We were gonna move right in and take over the joint, werewe? We didn't have anything to worry about. For once we was playin' withthe law. Yeah, we were. We are nothin' but a gang of mugs. Whatta wegonna do now, huh? You oughta know. Ain't yuh been doin' our thinkin'for us all along? We can't grab the land and run. We gotta camp righthere if we're gonna git anything. And how are we gonna--" "Simpson!" the Boss's voice was sharp. "Be quiet! You are becomingwearisome. Gentlemen, " he bowed slightly toward LeFleur and Creighton, "one cannot fight bad luck, and this time Fate smiles upon you. It was agood idea if it had worked, " he added musingly. "Young Ralestone seemsto have gathered all the aces into his hand. Even, " the drawl became asneer, "even the guardianship of the missing heir, which will mean anice sum in the bank for the happy guardian, if all reports are true. " "What _did_ you want here?" Val asked for the last time. The Boss smiled. "I shall leave that mystery for you to unravel, mywounded hero. It should occupy an idle moment or two. Doubtless all willbe made clear in the fullness of time. As for you, " he turned uponLeFleur, "there is no use in your entertaining any foolish idea ofcalling the police. For our invasion today we have a court order;unhappily it is no longer of use. But we did come here in good faith, aswe are prepared to prove. And all other evidence of any lawbreaking uponour part rests, I believe, upon the word of two boys, evidence whichmight be twisted by a clever lawyer. You may prosecute Simpson forperjury, of course. But I think that Simpson will not be in this part ofthe country long. Yes, " he looked about him once more at garden andhouse, "it was a very good idea. A pity it did not work. Well, I must begoing before I begin to curse my luck. When a man does that, hesometimes loses it. You must have found yours, I think. " "We did, " Val answered, but the Boss did not hear him, for he had turnedon his heel and was striding down the terrace. For a moment hisfollowers hesitated uncertainly and then they were after him. Back intotheir sinister beetle-car went the invaders and then they were gone downthe drive, leaving the Ralestones in possession of the victorious field. "Now, " Val said plaintively, "will somebody please tell me just whatthis is all about? Who is Jeems, really?" "Just who I said, " answered Creighton promptly. "Roderick St. JeanRalestone, the only descendant of your pirate ancestor. " "Bettah tell us the story, " suggested the swamper quietly. "Yo' ain'tfoolin', are yo', Mistuh Creighton?" The New Yorker shook his head. "No, I'm not fooling. But you are not thefirst one to question my story. " He smiled reminiscently. "Judge HenryLane had to see every line of written proof this morning before he wouldadmit that the tale might be true. " "But where did you find this 'proof'?" Val demanded as Jeems pulled upchairs for the lawyer and Creighton. "In that chest of Jeems' which you brought out of the swamp on the nightof the storm, " he replied promptly. "And, young man, " he said to Jeemsindignantly, "if you had let me see those papers of yours a month ago, instead of waiting until last week, we would have had this mattercleared up then--" "But then we might never have found the Luck!" Val protested. "Humph, that piece of steel is historically interesting, no doubt, "conceded Creighton, "but hardly worth risking your life for. " "No? Well, you heard what that man said just now--that we had found ourluck. It's so; we have had good luck since. But I'm sorry; do get onwith the story of Jeems' box. " "Ah gave it to him Monday, " said the swamper slowly. "But, MistuhCreighton, there weren't nothin' in that chest but some books full ofhandwritin'--most in some funny foreign stuff--an' a Frenchprayer-book. " "Plenty to establish your right to the name and a quarter interest inthe estate, " snapped LeFleur. Val thought the lawyer rather resented thefact that it was Creighton and not he who had found the way out of theirdifficulties. "Two of those books were ships' logs, kept in the fashion of diaries, partly in Latin, " explained the New Yorker. "The log of the ship_Annette Marie_ for the years 1814 and 1815 gave us what we wanted. Themaster was Captain Roderick Ralestone, although he concealed his name ina sort of an anagram. After his quarrel with his brother he apparentlywent to Lafitte and purchased the ship which he had once commanded forthe smuggler. Then he sailed off into the Gulf to become a free-trader, with his headquarters first in Georgetown, British Guiana, then in DutchCuraçao, and finally at Port-au-Prince, Haiti. It was there that he metand fell in love with Valerie St. Jean de Roche, the only living childand heir of the Comte de Roche, who had survived the Terror of theFrench Revolution only to fall victim to the rebel slaves on his Haitianestates. "Horribly injured, the Comte de Roche had been saved from death by thedevotion of his daughter and her nurse, a free woman of color. These twowomen not only saved his life, but managed to keep him and themselvesalive through the dark years which followed the horrors of the blackuprising and the overthrow of the French rule. The courage of that ladyof France must have been very great. But she was near to the end of herstrength when she met Roderick Ralestone. "Against the direct orders of the black despots in the land, youngRalestone got de Roche and his daughter away on his ship. Her maid choseto remain among her people. Ralestone hints that she was a sort ofpriestess of Voodoo and that it had been her dark powers which hadprotected the lives of those she loved. "Ralestone took the refugees to Curaçao, but de Roche did not survive. He lived only long enough to see his daughter married to her rescuer andto persuade his son-in-law to legally adopt the name of St. Jean deRoche, that an old and honored family might not be forgotten. TheComte's only son had been killed by the blacks. "So it was as Roderick St. Jean--he dropped the 'de Roche' in time--thathe returned here in 1830. His wife was dead, worn out while yet in heryouth by the horrors of her girlhood. But Roderick brought with him aten-year-old boy who had the right to both the name of Ralestone andthat of de Roche. "Roderick himself was greatly changed. Years of free-trading, both inthe Gulf and in the South Seas, had made him wholly sailor. A cutlasscut disfigured his face and altered the line of his mouth. Anyone whohad known Roderick Ralestone would have little interest in Captain St. Jean, the merchant adventurer. He discusses this point at some length inhis log, always concealing his real name. "For the space of a year or two he was content to live quietly. He evenopened a small shop and dealt in luxuries from the south. Then thedesire to wander, which must have been the key-note of his life, drovehim out into the world again. He placed his son in the care of a certainpriest, whom he trusted, and went south to become one of the visionaryrevolutionists who were fighting their way back and across South andCentral America. In one bloody engagement he fell, as his son notes inthe old logs which he was now using to record his own dailyexperiences. " "Ricky said, " Val mused, "that Roderick Ralestone never died in his bed. What became of the son?" "Father Justinian wanted him to enter the Church, but in spite of hisstrict training he had no vocation. The money his father had left withthe priest was enough to establish him in a small coastwise tradingventure, and later he developed a flatboat freight service runningupriver to Nashville. " "But didn't he ever try to get in touch with the Ralestones?" Val asked. "No. When Roderick Ralestone sailed from New Orleans he seems to havedetermined to cut himself off from the past entirely. As I said, he usedan anagram to hide his name all the way through the log, and doubtlesshis son never knew that there was anything strange about his father'spast. Laurent St. Jean, the son, prospered. Just before the outbreak ofthe Civil War he was reckoned one of the ten wealthiest men of hisnative city. "But that wealth vanished in the war when shipping no longer went forthfrom the port. I did come across one interesting fact in Laurent's notescovering those years. In 1861 Laurent St. Jean built a blockade-runnercalled the _Red Bird_. His backer in the venture was a Mr. Ralestone ofPirate's Haven. So once Ralestone did meet Ralestone without being awareof the fact. "Laurent St. Jean was imprisoned by 'Beast' Butler, along with otherprominent men of the city, when the Yankees captured New Orleans. And hedied in 1867 from a lingering illness contracted during hisimprisonment. His son, René St. Jean, came home from war to find himselfruined. His father's shipping business existed on paper only. Having thegrit and determination of his grandfather, he struggled along for almostten years trying to get back on his feet. But those were dark years forthe whole country. "In 1876 St. Jean gave up the struggle. With his Creole wife and theirtwo sons he moved into the swamps. Working first as a guide and trapperand then as a hunter of birds, he managed to make a sparse living. Hiseldest son followed in his footsteps, but the younger took to the sea. Roderick St. Jean, the eldest son, died of yellow fever in 1890. He leftone son to the guardianship of his brother who had come home from thesea. That son came to look upon his uncle as his father and the realrelationship between them was half forgotten. "But René St. Jean the second was curious. He knew something of theworld and he was interested in the past. It was his custom to do a greatamount of reading, especially reading which concerned the history of hisown state and city. And once he was inclined to get out the old seachest which had been moved with the family for so many years. Then hemust have discovered his relationship to the Ralestones; perhaps hesolved the anagram or found the pasted pages in the prayer-book-- "He was not ambitious for himself, but he wanted a better chance for hisfoster-son and nephew than the one he had had. So he endeavored to provehis claim to this property. Unfortunately, the lawyer he trusted was ashyster of the worst sort. He himself had no belief in his client'sstory and merely bled him for small sums each month without ever reallylooking into the matter. " "Gran'pappy said he was tryin' to git his rights, " broke in Jeems. "Henevah tol' mah pappy what he knowed. An' he wouldn't let anyone see intothat chest--he kep' it undah his bed. Then aftah Pappy died of thefever--'long with mah mothah--Gran'pappy cotched it too. An' the doctahsaid that was what made him so fo'getful aftahwards. He stopped goin' intown; but he came heah--'huntin' his rights, ' he said. An' he tol' methat our fortune was hidden heah. 'Course, " Jeems looked at themapologetically, "it soun's sorta silly, but when Gran'pappy tol' yo'things yo' kinda believed 'em. So aftah he died Ah usta come huntin'heah too. An' then when Ah opened the chest and foun' these--" From hisbreast pocket he drew a wash-leather bag and opened it. He held out to Val a chain of gold mesh ending in a carnelian carvedinto a seal. "This is youah crest, " he pointed to the seal. "Ah took itin town an' a man at the museum tol' me about it. An' this heah isRalestone, too, " he indicated a small miniature painted on a slip ofyellowed ivory. Val was looking at the face of the Ralestone rebel, asnear like the water-color copy Charity had made of the museum portraitas one pea is to its pod-mate. Creighton took up the small painting. "Hm-m, " he looked from the ivory to Jeems and then to Val, "this is thefinal proof. Either one of you might have sat for this. You have thesame coloring and features. If it were not for a slight difference ofexpression you might pass for twins. At any rate, there is no denyingthat you are both Ralestones. " "I don't think that we'll ever attempt to deny it, " Val laughed. "Butyou were right, Jeems--I mean Roderick, " he said to his newly discoveredcousin, "you do have as much right here as we do. " Jeems colored. "Ah'm sorry for sayin' that, " he confessed. "Ah thoughtyo' were right smart and too good for us. An' Ah'm sorry Ah playedha'nt. But Ah didn't expec' yo' would evah see me, only the niggahs, an'I didn't care 'bout them. Ah always came when yo' were 'way or in bed. " "Well, you've explained your interest in the place, " Val assented, "butwhat about the rival? Why did he appear?" "It started in a blackmail plot. Your family have been wealthy, youknow, " explained LeFleur. "But then the scheme became more serious whenthe oil prospectors aroused interest in the swamp. Already several menwhose property bounds yours have been approached by the Central AmericanOil Company with an offer for their land. It would not at all surpriseme if you were asked to dispose of your swamp wasteland for a goodprice. And the rumor of oil is what made the rival, as you call him, tryto press his false claim instead of merely holding it over you as athreat. " "The Luck is certainly doing its stuff, " Val observed. "Here's the lostheir found, oil-wells bubbling at our back door--" "I would hardly say that, Mr. Valerius, " remonstrated LeFleur. "They may bubble yet, " the boy assured him airily. "I wouldn't put itbeyond the power of that length of Damascus steel to make wells bubble. Oil-wells bubbling, " Val continued from the point where the lawyer hadinterrupted him, "Rupert turning out to be the missing author--" "What was that?" demanded Creighton sharply. He was on the point ofhanding a small book to Jeems. "We just discovered that Rupert is your missing author, " Val explained. "Didn't you guess when you heard the story of the missing Ralestone? Thefamily went into town to tell you all about it; that's why we were alonewhen the invaders arrived. " "Mr. Ralestone my missing author! No, I didn't guess. I was toointerested in the story--but I should have! How stupid!" He looked downat the book he still held and then put it into the swamper's hand. "Between the pages of the prayer-book, covering the offices for St. Louis' Day, you'll find the birth certificate for Laurent St. Jean withhis right name, " he said. "That's a very important paper to keep, youngman. Mr. Ralestone my author. " He wiped his forehead with thehandkerchief from his breast-pocket. "How stupid of me not to have seenat once. But why--" "He had some idea that his stuff was no good when he didn't hear fromthat agent, " Val explained, "so he just tried to forget the wholematter. " "But I have to see him, I have to see him at once. " The New Yorkerlooked about him as if by will-power alone he could summon Rupert tostand before him on the terrace. "Stay to supper and you will, " Val invited. "Ricky and I discovered himfor you just as we promised we would. But then you've given us Rod inreturn. I am not, " Val told his cousin, "going to call you Rick eventhough there is a tradition for it. There are too many 'Ricks'complicating the family history now. I think you had better be 'Rod'. " "Anythin' yo' say, " he grinned. For the third time that afternoon Val heard a car coming up the drive. "If this should turn out to be the Grand Chan of Tartary or the Lama ofPeru I shall not be one iota surprised, " he announced. "After what I'vebeen through this afternoon, nothing, absolutely nothing, would surpriseme. Oh, it's only the family. " With the impatience of one who has a good earth-shaking shock ready toadminister, he watched his wandering relatives disembark. Charity andHolmes were still with them and a sort of aura of disappointment hungover the group. Then Ricky looked up and with a cry of joy came up theterrace steps in what seemed like a single leap. "Oh, Mr. Creighton, " she began when Val lifted his hand. "Let me tellit, " he begged, "I've been waiting for a chance like this for years. "Ricky was obediently silent, thinking that he wished to break themystery of the author. But Jeems and LeFleur understood that it was tothem Val appealed. "Val, what are you doing out of bed?" was Rupert's first question. "Saving the old homestead while you went joy-riding. We had visitorsthis afternoon. " "Visitors? Who?" he began when his brother silenced him with a frown. "Oh, let's not go into that now, " Val said hurriedly. "There issomething more important to be discussed. Since you left this afternoonwe have had an addition to the family. " "An addition to the family, " puzzled Ricky. "What do you mean?" "Rick Ralestone has come back, " Val announced. "Val, hadn't you better go back to bed?" suggested his sister. "Not now, " he grinned at her. "I haven't lost my mind yet, nor am Iraving. Ladies and gentlemen, " Val prepared to echo Creighton's speechof an hour before, "permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean de RocheRalestone, the missing heir!" With an impish grin Val had never seen on his face before, Jeems clickedhis heels in a creditable imitation of a court bow. CHAPTER XVIII RUPERT BRINGS HOME HIS MARCHIONESS "Such a nice domestic scene, " Val observed. Ricky looked up from the bowl into which she was shelling peas. "Nowjust what do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously. "Nothing, nothing at all. It's getting so I can't say a word around herewithout you suspecting some sort of a catch in it, " her brothercomplained. He shifted the drawing-board Rod had fixed up for him aninch or two. Although Val's arm was at last out of the sling, he was notsupposed to use it unless absolutely necessary. "Well, after that afternoon when you made the missing heir appear like arabbit out of a hat--" began his sister. "Rod, " Val called down to where their cousin was busied over thestretching of the new badminton net, "did you hear that? She referred toyou as a rabbit--deliberately. " "Hm-m, " Rod answered in absent-minded fashion. "That cat of MissCharity's just walked away with one of those feathered things yo' bat'round. " "Let us hope that he returns it in time, " Val said; "otherwise I canprophesy that you are going to spend the rest of the morning crawlingaround under hedges and things hunting for him and it. Ricky will not bebalked. If she says that we are going to play badminton--well, we aregoing to play badminton. " "I think that you might help too. " Ricky attacked a fresh pod viciouslyas their cousin came up on the terrace. He stopped for a moment byRicky's chair, long enough to gather the pods together on the paper shehad put down for them, piling them up in a more orderly fashion than shewas capable of. "Doing what?" Val inquired. "You know that Lucy has chased everyone outof the house. And now that Rod has finished setting out the lawn sports, what is there left to do? By the way, did Sam mend that croquet mallet, the one with the loose head?" "The one that you broke hitting the stone with when you aimed at yourball yesterday?" she asked sweetly. "Yes, I saw to that this morning. " "Then what more is there to worry about? Let the party begin. " Valreached for his box of pencils. That afternoon promptly at three-thirty the Ralestones of Pirate's Havenwere going to give their first party. They had lived, eaten, and sleptwith the idea of a party for the past week until Rupert rebelled anddisappeared for the morning, taking Charity with him. He declared beforehe left that the house was no longer habitable for anyone above themental level of a party-mad monomaniac, a statement with which Valprivately agreed. But Ricky did trap him before he got the roadster outand made him promise to bring home two pounds of salted nuts and somemore ice, because she simply knew that they wouldn't have enough. Ricky dropped the last of the peas into the bowl and leaned back in hercanvas deck-chair. "I'm going to wear green, " she murmured dreamily, "with that leaf thing in my hair. And Charity's going to wear her rose, the one that swishes when she walks. " "I think I'll appear in saffron, " Val announced firmly. "Somehow I feellike saffron. How about you, Rod?" The thin, efficient, brown-faced person who was Roderick St. Jean deRoche Ralestone, to grant him his full name, stretched lazily andtransferred a fistful of Ricky's peas to his mouth, a mouth which was nolonger sullen. At Val's question he raised his shoulders in one of hisFrench shrugs and considered. "Yellow, with lilies behind mah ears, " he grinned at Ricky. "Bettah givethem somethin' to stare at; they'll all be powerful interested, anyway. " "Yes, the lost viscount, " Val agreed. "Of course, you're really only aLord like me, but it sounds better to say 'the lost viscount. ' You'llshare the limelight with Rupert and the Luck, so you'd better take thatpair of my flannels which haven't turned quite yellow yet. " Rod shook his head. "This time Ah have mah own. Ah went in town shoppin'yesterday. It's mah turn to share clothes. Youah brothah told me to getyo' some shirts. So Ah did. Lucy put them in the top drawer. " "Don't tell me, " Val begged, aroused by this news, "that we are actuallyable to afford some new clothes again?" Rod nodded and Ricky sat up. "Don't be silly, " she said, "we'recomfortably well off. With Rupert writing books, and a lot of oil orsomething in the swamp, why, what have we got to worry about? And nextfall Rod's going to college and I'm taking that course in dressdesigning and Rupert's going to write another book and--and--" Herinventive powers failed as Holmes came out on the terrace. "Hello there. " Val glanced at his watch. "I don't want to seeminhospitable, but you're about four hours too early. We haven't evencrawled into our party duds. " "So I see. But this isn't a social call. By the way, where's Charity?" "Oh, she went off with Rupert this morning, " answered Ricky. "And Ithink it was mean of them, running out on us that way, when there was somuch to do. " It seemed to Val that there was a faint shadow of irritation across theopen good nature of Holmes' smile when he heard her answer. "That damselis becoming very elusive nowadays, " he observed as he sat down. "But nowfor business. " "More business? Not another oil-well!" Ricky expressed her surprisevividly with upflung hands. "Not an oil-well, no. Just this--" He pulled Val's black note-book fromhis pocket. "Now I am not going to tell you that I have shown them to apublisher and that he wants fifty thousand or so at five dollars apiece. But I did show them to that friend I spoke of. He isn't very well knownat present but he will be some day. His name is Fenly Moss and he isinterested in animated cartoons. He has some ideas that sound rather bigto me. "Fen says that these animal drawings of yours show promise and he wantsto know whether you ever thought of trying something along his line?" Val shook his head, impatient to hear the rest. "Well, he's in town right now on his vacation and he's coming out to seeyou tomorrow. I advise you, Ralestone, that if Fen makes you theproposition I think he's going to, to grab it. It'll mean hard work foryou and plenty of it, but there is a future to it. " "I don't know how to thank you, " the boy began when Holmes frowned athim half-seriously. "None of that. I was really doing Fen a favor, butyou needn't tell him that. Do you know how long Charity and your brotherare going to be gone?" "No. But they'll be back for lunch, " Ricky said. "If they rememberlunch--they're getting so vague lately. Val went out to call them todinner last night and it took him a good five minutes to get them out ofthe garden. " "Five? Nearer ten, " scoffed her brother. Holmes got up abruptly. "Well, I'll be drifting. When is this binge ofyours?" "Three-thirty, which really means four, " answered Ricky. "Aren't yougoing to stay to lunch?" The New Yorker shook his head. "Sorry, I've another engagement. Thanksjust the same. " "Thank _you_!" Val waved the note-book as he vanished. "Wonder why hehurried off that way?" "Mad to think that Miss Charity was gone, " answered Rod shrewdly. "Yo'vehad that board long enough. " He calmly possessed himself of Val'sdrawing equipment. "Time to rest. " "Yes, grandfather, " his cousin assented meekly. Ricky slapped at a fly. "It seems to get hotter and hotter, " she said. From the breast pocket of her sport dress she produced a handkerchiefand mopped her face. Then she looked at the handkerchief in surprise. "What's the matter? Some face come off along with the paint?" asked Val. "No. But I just remembered what this is--our clue!" "You mean the handkerchief we found in the hall? I wonder who--" Rod reached up and took it out of her hand. "Mine. Miss Charity gave me a dozen last Christmas. " "Then you left it there, " Ricky laughed. "Well, that solves the last ofour mysteries. " "All present or accounted for, " Val agreed as around the house cameRupert and their tenant. "So there you are, " began Ricky. "And I'd like to know what you've beendoing all morning--" "Would you really?" asked Rupert. Ricky stared at him for a long moment and then she arose beforetransferring her gaze to Charity. It might have been sunburn or the heatRicky had complained of which colored the cheeks of the Boston Biglow. "Rod! Val!" cried Ricky. "Where are your manners?" As she sank forwardin a deep and graceful curtsy she added, "Can't you see that Rupert hasbrought home his Marchioness?" "Now that, " said Val, as he held out his hand to the new mistress ofPirate's Haven, "is what I call 'Ralestone Luck. '"