The girls got together again on the following afternoon, for they could not possibly have stretched their patience to the limit of another day! Margaret had promised to work like a Trojan till they arrived and to have much to read to them. It was with breathless interest that they drew their chairs around her.

"My! I couldn't study a thing, or keep my mind off this a single minute to-day in school!" sighed Jess. "I guess I failed in every blessed recitation."

"Me too!" echoed Bess. "If this suspense doesn't come to an end soon, I'll be a failure for the term!"

"Same here!" agreed Corinne. "I do envy Margaret, for she at least can be working at it all day and satisfying her curiosity. Have you discovered much more, honey?" Margaret smiled her slow, mysterious smile. She was certainly enjoying herself, in a brand-new fashion these days. And between meetings she guarded her secrets like a veritable sphinx.

"Something's happening right along!" she answered enigmatically. "But I've rather a surprise for you to-day."

"What is it?" they demanded in one voice.

"I sha'n't tell you till we come to it!" was her maddening reply. "Shall I go on now?"

"Just a minute," said Corinne. "I want to say that I looked up that old song last night. In this collection I have, there is given a little history of each song. Now, 'The Lass of Richmond Hill' was written about a young girl, a Miss Janson, who lived on Richmond Hill, which is near the little town of Leybourne, in England. It was written way back about 1770, and the song was said to be a favorite of King George the Third. It was quite popular at the time. That's absolutely all about it. Of course, it's possible that place may be the one where Alison was, but somehow I don't feel very sure of it. I rather think that what she says about 'Richmond Hill' must have some other connection. Now go on, Margaret!"

"Very well," began Margaret. "We left off with the words, 'He has come!' He seems to be a very mysterious person, and some one of great importance evidently. She goes on to say:

"The house has been put at his disposal. Not, however, by Madame M., for she would gladly slam the door in his face were she able, but she is still in bed, ill. He is very considerate, and does naught to disturb or annoy her. His servants and men are all about, but they do not molest any of the household. Phoebe remains the housekeeper and caters for him. She adores him, as does her father, so she tells me.

"I have exchanged no words with him. I have only seen him as he sits in the library or walks about the grounds. He is absent much—away in the city, Phoebe says. He is handsome and grave and stern, but I think he is kind and gentle. I long to speak with him, but I dare not. I am too carefully watched.

"The steward is still here, and frequents much Corbie's tavern. He asked me yesterday a few questions about Bermuda. I did not care to have speech with him so I cut him short. He gave me an ugly look as he walked away."

Margaret stopped here to say, "Now comes something exciting!"

The listening three sighed ecstatically.

"There have been strange doings in this house. I have now turned spy myself. Last night at a late hour, when all the household was asleep, I heard stealthy footsteps passing my door. The sound was most unusual, for he was away in the city, and there was consequently no guard. When the footsteps were past, I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. I saw the steward. He was tiptoeing softly down the hall toward the stairs, a candle in his hand. A sudden resolve seized me. I would follow him in the dark, and see what he did. I felt sure he planned some evil. I seized a dark-colored shawl, drew it round me, and, in the shadow, crept after the light of his candle.

"Down the stairs he went, and I felt sure he would pause on the lower floor and perchance enter his room to rifle it. I crouched on the stair and held my breath, but he passed on and opened a door which gives on the stone steps leading to the wine-cellar. Once he glanced back suspiciously, then the door closed behind him. As soon as I dared, I followed. Opening the door with the greatest caution, I peered down. His back was toward me, and he was drinking from an upturned bottle. In a moment he put the bottle back on its shelf and stood long in thought.

"I was about to conclude that this was all he had come for and that my fears were for naught, when he turned aside, took a knife from his pocket, and went toward the far end of the cellar, leaving the stairway in heavy shadow. Taking advantage of this, I crept down the steps and watched him from the shelter of one of the pillars that supported the floor above. In a moment he stopped, raised his hand, and felt along the great beam above his head. I noted 'twas the second beam from the end. At a distance of about ten feet from the wall he pushed his knife-blade into the timber, and, behold! something like a small door fell open!

"Into the aperture thus left he thrust his two hands, and drew forth a small iron box. This he placed on the ground near the candle, and pressing a spring, threw back the lid. It seemed to be filled with papers, and with something else that shone in the candle-light. The latter, I soon learned, was a mass of golden coins, for he plunged in his hand, took out a fistful, and put them in a small leather bag he carried. Then he closed the box, put it back in the hollow space, and shut the door of the secret opening in the beam. I stayed to see no more, but fled hastily to my room. 'Tis all most strange. What hides he in this secret place? Whose gold is that? What evil does he plot?

"Isn't that the most exciting thing you ever heard?" demanded Margaret, breaking off.

"Frightfully exciting!" agreed every one.

"It's like an adventure in a book—only better!" added Corinne. "But, Margaret, is that the surprise you had for us?"

"No, it isn't! That's coming just a little later. The next entry says:

"She has come! He seems most glad to have his lady with him once more. I have not yet spoken with her. She has only passed me, bowing with stately courtesy. I think she has forgotten how I once spoke with her. No wonder. Her mind is filled with anxious care. Madame M. is still confined to her bed, and knows not that she is here. I think Madame M. is truly right ill."

"She must be his wife, I suppose," interrupted Bess. "I do wish Alison would call 'em by their names! This is so confusing!"

Margaret only stopped long enough to say: "Now, the surprise is coming. This is the next entry:

"He passed me in the hall to-day and wished me a good morning in his grave, courtly fashion. Then he inquired after the health of Madame M., and offered to send her up some fruit that he had just received for his table. I knew not what to say. I was right embarrassed. For Madame M. will accept naught from him, and—"

Margaret stopped short.

"Go on, go on!" they chorused.

"I can't!" she answered.

"Why not?" they inquired in wonder.

"Because that's all there is!" she replied quietly. "We've come to the end. That's the surprise I had for you!"

"Well, I never!" ejaculated Bess in disgust, picking up the old account-book and examining it curiously. The back cover was missing, and it was not difficult to conjecture that many pages might also be lacking.

"That's the queerest!" mused Corinne. "Of course, the book is rather thin, but I hadn't imagined that we'd finish it so soon. Those characters are large, and take up more room than plain writing, I suppose. But, my gracious!" She got up and began pacing around the room impatiently. "This is perfectly maddening! To have it leave off in such a place, without a sign of explanation of it all! Where's the other part of that book? Could it possibly be in the old trunk where we found this? Let's go up and see!"

"No use in doing that," said Jess, "because Sarah's done exactly what she threatened to—locked the attic door and hid the key. But anyhow, I remember distinctly that there wasn't a sign of anything else under that false bottom. It was absolutely empty after this fell out. Wherever the rest is, it isn't there!"

"Well," exclaimed Corinne, coming to an abrupt pause in her impatient tramping, "there's one thing I'm firmly determined upon! I sha'n't rest day or night till I've found some sort of an explanation for all this! Do the rest of you agree with me? It's the most fascinating mystery I ever came across, outside of a story-book, and I'm bound I'm not going to be stumped by any obstacles!"

"We surely do agree with you!" echoed Margaret. "We're just as crazy as you are to unravel it all. And what's an antiquarian club good for, I'd like to know, if not for something just like this! That's our business from now on!"

"The motion's carried!" agreed Bess. "But how in the world are we going to go about it? Somehow it seems as if we'd reached a stone wall a mile high—no getting around it or over it!"

"Then we'll tunnel under it!" laughed Corinne. "But first of all, there's a question I'd like to settle. Where did that old hair-trunk come from? How did it get in this house? Who owned it before you did?"

"I can answer that," replied Margaret, "for I asked Mother about it the other night. I did it in a roundabout sort of way, so she wouldn't suspect why I wanted to know or think it queer that I asked. She said it belonged to Father. He told her once that a friend of his, a sea-captain, had given it to him years ago. The captain said it was an heirloom that had been in the family many years. An ancestor of his had found it in a vessel that had been wrecked, and had been floating around for several months—a 'derelict,' Mother called it. This old captain said it was so handy and substantial that he had carried it with him on all his voyages. But as he wasn't going to sail any more, and hadn't any children to leave it to, he gave it to Father."

"Well, at least it explains one thing—how this strange book came to be in your house," mused Corinne. "But it doesn't help a bit about unraveling the rest of the mystery, after all. Now, the next thing is to go over all this writing carefully, and see if we can find anything we've overlooked that might be a clue. Oh, girls, I wish you'd let me show this to Father! He'd be so interested, and perhaps he could help us with it, too!"

"Well, as far is I'm concerned, you're welcome to," answered Bess, and Jess nodded her head vigorously in assent. But Margaret cried out pleadingly:

"Oh, no, no, Corinne! Don't do that yet! It would spoil all our lovely secret society to have grown folks know about it. Let's wait awhile and see what we can do ourselves. And then if we find we can't make any headway, I'll consent to telling Corinne's father."

She was so earnest and so pathetic in her appeal, that not one of the others had the heart to deny her request, knowing, as they did, what the little club and its absorbingly interesting secret meant to her shut-in, circumscribed life.

"Very well, honey! We will do just as you say!" agreed Corinne, giving her a hug. "Now let's read this whole thing over, and see if we can unearth a clue."

They started once more at the beginning, reading slowly and thoughtfully through the strange record till they came again to the allusion "The Lass of Richmond Hill." Suddenly Margaret interrupted:

"I've thought of something! I lay awake a good part of last night, because my back was hurting me, and I had a chance to think of things rather hard. And then, some things we unearthed to-day and what Corinne found out about that old song made this idea pop into my head just now. You remember she said the song was written about 1770 and was a favorite of George the Third? That made me think of the Revolution. And then I suddenly remembered what Alison had said about 'rebels.' Girls, you can take my word for it—all this thing happened right here in America, and during the Revolutionary War! Can't you see it?"

Corinne sat up very straight for a moment. Then she burst out:

"We're a pack of lunatics—all but Margaret. She's the only one that's got a grain of common sense! Of course it was during the Revolution—every other word Alison says points to it! And that being the case, the rest is easy! Good-by! I'm going straight home to look up Revolutionary history!"

And flinging on her hat and coat, without further ceremony of farewell, she was off, leaving the three staring speechlessly after her!