Harding’s Luck, E. Nesbit [summer reads .TXT] 📗

So Dickie went down on his hands and knees, and crept down the mole tunnel of soft, sweet-smelling earth, and then along, and then up⁠—and there they were in the courtyard. There, too, were Edred and Elfrida.

The three children hugged each other, and then turned to the Mouldiwarp.

“How can we get home?”

“The old way,” he said; and from the sky above a swan carriage suddenly swooped. “In with you,” said the Mouldiwarp; “swan carriages can take you from one time to another just as well as one place to another. But we don’t often use ’em⁠—’cause why? swans is dat contrary dey won’t go invisible not for no magic, dey won’t. So everybody can see ’em. Still we can’t pick nor choose when it’s danger like dis ’ere. In with you. Be off with you. This is the last you’ll see o’ me. Be off afore the soldiers sees you.”

They squeezed into the swan carriage, all three. The white wings spread and the whole equipage rose into the air unseen by anyone but a Roundhead sentinel, who with great presence of mind gave the alarm, and was kicked for his pains, because when the guard turned out there was nothing to be seen.

The swans flew far too fast for the children to see where they were going, and when the swans began to flap more slowly so that the children could have seen if there had been anything to see, there was nothing to be seen, because it was quite dark. And the air was very cold. But presently a light showed ahead, and next moment there they were in the cave, and stepped out of the carriage on the exact spot where Dickie had set out the moonseeds and Tinkler and the white seal.

The swan carriage went back up the cave with a swish and rustle of wings, and the children went down the hill as quickly as they could⁠—which was not very quickly because of Dickie’s poor lame foot. The boy who had killed a Cromwell’s man with his little sword had not been lame.

Arrived in the courtyard, Dickie proudly led the way and stooped to examine the stones near the ruined arch that had been the chapel door. Alas! there was not a sign of the inscription which Dickie had scratched on the stone when the Roundheads were battering at the gates of Arden Castle.

Then Edred said, “Aha!” in a tone of triumph.

“I took notice, too,” he explained. “It’s the fifth stone from the chapel door under the little window with the Arden arms carved over it. There’s no other window with that over it. I’ll get the cold chisel.”

He got it, and when he came back Dickie was on his knees by the wall, and he had dug with his hands and uncovered the stone where he had scratched with the nails. And there was the mark⁠—19. R.D. 08. Only the nail had slipped once or twice while he was doing the 9, so that it looked much more like a five⁠—15. R.D. 08.

“There,” he said, “that’s what I scratched!”

“That?” said Edred. “Why, that’s always been there. We found that when we were digging about, trying to find the treasure. Quite at the beginning, didn’t we, Elf?”

And Elfrida agreed that this was so.

“Well, I scratched it, anyway,” said Dickie. “Now, then, let me go ahead with the chisel.”

Edred let him: he knew how clever Dickie was with his hands, for had he not made a work-box for Elfrida and a tool-chest for Edred, both with lids that fitted?

Dickie got the point of the chisel between the stones and pried and pressed⁠—here and there, and at the other end⁠—till the stone moved forward a little at a time, and they were able to get hold of it, and drag it out. Behind was darkness, a hollow⁠—Dickie plunged his arm in.

“I can feel the door,” he said; “it’s all right.”

“Let’s fetch father,” suggested Elfrida; “he will enjoy it so.”

So he was fetched. Elfrida burst into the library where her father was busy with many lawyers’ letters and papers, and also with the lawyer himself, a stout, jolly-looking gentleman in a tweed suit, not a bit like the long, lean, disagreeable, black-coated lawyers you read about in books.

“Please, daddy,” she cried, “we’ve found the treasure. Come and look.”

“What treasure? and how often have I told you not to interrupt me when I am busy?”

“Oh, well,” said Elfrida, “I only thought it would amuse you, daddy. We’ve found a bricked-up place, and there’s a door behind, and I’m almost sure it’s where they hid the treasure when Cromwell’s wicked men took the Castle.”

“There is a legend to that effect,” said Elfrida’s father to the lawyer, who was looking interested. “You must forgive us if our family enthusiasms obliterate our manners. You have not said good morning to Mr. Roscoe, Elfrida.”

“Good morning, Mr. Roscoe,” said Elfrida cheerfully. “I thought it was the engineer’s day and not the lawyer’s. I beg your pardon, you wouldn’t mind me bursting in if you knew how very important the treasure is to the fortunes of our house.”

The lawyer laughed. “I am deeply interested in buried treasure. It would be a great treat to me if Lord Arden would allow me to assist in the search for it.”

“There’s no search now,” said Elfrida, “because it’s found. We’ve been searching for ages. Oh, daddy, do come⁠—you’ll be sorry afterwards if you don’t.”

“If Mr. Roscoe doesn’t mind, then,” said her father indulgently. And the two followed Elfrida, believing that they were just going to be kind and to take part in some childish game of make-believe. Their feelings were very different when they peeped through the hole, where Dickie and Edred had removed two more stones, and saw the dusty gray of the wooden door beyond. Very soon all the stones were out, and the door was disclosed.

The lock plate bore the arms of Arden, and the door was not to be shaken.

“We must get a locksmith,”