XXIV
The Discovery
“Do you think we’ll find it, Frank?” asked Joe Hardy.
“I shouldn’t be surprised. If there is anything hidden in that chimney, the banging-up it got just now should reveal it.”
They peered into the fireplace. It was choked with rubbish.
“Better clear some of this away.”
They began moving away the stones and rocks that blocked the entrance. Chet and Biff, after watching the Hardy boys for a few moments from the kitchen, came over to help. They forgot their fears in the eagerness of the search.
Once, while moving away a large stone, Frank dislodged some others that came down with a rush. He jumped back just in time.
“This business isn’t safe yet,” muttered Chet dubiously.
However, the boys went on with the work, and soon cleared out the fireplace, with no further mishap. Frank entered the opening and peered up.
“Clear daylight ahead!” he called.
The tall chimney having collapsed, he could see the white snow swirling just a few yards above. He switched on his flashlight and examined the interior.
Then he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
“It’s all cracked and broken,” he reported. “I’m going up.”
“Be careful,” advised Biff nervously.
But Frank was already scrambling up into the fireplace. The others waited. They jumped apprehensively when his struggling feet kicked loose some more stones that came plunging down into the rest of the debris.
For a while, there was silence.
Suddenly, there was a muffled shout from the chimney.
“I have it!” yelled Frank, in excitement. “It’s here!”
The others heard him struggling for a moment; then came a further shower of stones and mortar.
“Got it!” shouted Frank triumphantly.
Then he came scrambling down into the fireplace again. His hands and face were black with soot, his clothes were ruined, but he bore in his hands an object that brought shouts of delight from the boys.
“The rosewood box!” declared Joe.
Frank nodded.
“Elroy Jefferson’s stamp collection!”
The others crowded around him. Frank held the box up. It was a beautiful object, and although it had been hidden in the chimney for many years, its rosewood surface was almost as lustrous as on the day it was first concealed. Great excitement prevailed. The mystery of the chimney had been solved. The boys all talked at once. All clamored that the box be opened.
Frank undid the catch. They looked inside.
There, neatly arranged on sheets, were the rare stamps that had been Elroy Jefferson’s pride—the stamps that were worth a fortune!
“Hurrah!” shouted Biff. Chet and Joe did a dance of joy. Frank closed the lid of the rosewood box.
“I found it right at the place mentioned in the cipher,” he said. “We didn’t discover it before, because the box had been hidden in a hollow right in the middle of one of the stones, and it had been mortared up when they were building the chimney. The shaking-up the chimney got a little while ago had broken the mortar and dislodged the stone. When I turned the flashlight on it I could plainly see the hollow and I knew something was hidden there. I dusted away the mortar, pried the stone up a little—and there was the box!”
A harsh voice interrupted him.
“What’s that? You found it? Give it here! That box is mine!”
Hanleigh was standing in the kitchen doorway. His face was livid with rage.
“It belongs to Elroy Jefferson,” returned Frank, “and we are going to return it to him.”
Hanleigh tried to hobble over toward them, but his ankle gave him such pain that he abandoned the attempt and clung to the wall for support.
“I tell you, it’s mine!” he screamed. “You have no right to take it! My uncle left that box to me in his will.”
“He left it to you on condition that you return it to Mr. Jefferson, from whom he stole it,” snapped Frank. “You haven’t a chance to claim it, Hanleigh. We have the box and we intend to give it back to its owner.”
Hanleigh glared at them. Then he shrugged.
“If only this ankle of mine was better, I’d show you!” he rasped. “It’s downright robbery, that’s what it is. I’ll take this matter into the courts and make you give it up to me.”
Frank laughed.
“You won’t go into any court over this affair, Hanleigh. You know it would be the worse for you. We saw the letter you got from the lawyers, telling you that the box must be returned to Mr. Jefferson. Wait until we tell our story. You’ll be lucky if you aren’t arrested. You never intended to live up to those instructions at all.”
This threat frightened Hanleigh. His face was pale.
“I did,” he whined. “I meant to give it back to Mr. Jefferson. Let me have the box, boys, and I’ll see that he gets it.”
“No chance! The box is a lot safer with us than it is with you. We found it and we’re going to give it back. You’d better sit down, Hanleigh, and tell us all about it.”
Hanleigh hesitated. Then he hobbled over to one of the beds and sat down.
“I guess the game is up,” he admitted heavily.
“Tell us what you know about this affair, and we’ll let the whole business drop, as far as you are concerned,” Frank promised. “If you don’t tell us we’ll simply let the police take action—and you know what that will mean,” he added significantly.
“Well,” said Hanleigh, at last, “I suppose there is nothing else for me to do. With any luck at all, I might have had that box, and I would have been miles away by this time.”
“How did it get here, in the first place?”
Hanleigh began his story.
“My uncle, John Sparewell,” he said, “was a servant in the home of Elroy Jefferson for many years. He was in financial difficulties at one time and when he learned about the valuable stamp collection he thought that if he stole it and sold it he might be able to realize enough money to pay off his debts. He knew that the collection was kept in a small safe in the house, so he watched his chance. He was highly trusted by Mr. Jefferson, so it was not long before he had the opportunity he was waiting for. The safe was left unlocked one afternoon, so my uncle slipped into the study, took the box, put on his hat and coat and left the house.”
“And never went back,” said Joe.
“He never returned. He had laid his plans very carefully, and he knew he might have to wait until the hue and cry died down before he would be able to dispose of the stamps, so he fled to a little village down on the seacoast, and he stayed in hiding there for several months. He learned that the police were looking for him and then he found that a full description of the stamps had been circulated and that he would certainly be arrested if he ever tried to get rid of them to any recognized dealer. As a matter of fact, when he left the village where he had been hiding and went to New York, he narrowly escaped being arrested merely because he went to one of the dealers in that city and asked him what the stamps would be worth. The dealer became suspicious and notified the police, but my uncle saw his danger in time and cleared out.”
“And he never sold the stamps.”
“He couldn’t. It was too dangerous. He made up his mind to return them to Elroy Jefferson. So he took the rosewood box and came back to Bayport.”
“Why didn’t he return them?” asked Frank, in surprise.
“Mr. Jefferson was away. He had gone to Europe on one of his periodical collecting trips. Then my uncle was afraid he might be recognized around Bayport and he knew that if he were arrested and the stamps found on him, no one would believe that he had meant to give them back. So he determined to hide them until he would have a chance to see Mr. Jefferson. At this time, Cabin Island had been purchased, and the cabin was being built. One day, my uncle was prowling about the Jefferson place, wondering if he could steal into the house and return the box without being seen, when Mrs. Jefferson saw him. He did not know if he had been recognized, but he went away. A little while later, he saw her leave the house with the gardener, and he saw them looking for him. He became frightened, and he hired a boat and went out into the bay. But evidently they traced him, for in a little while Mrs. Jefferson and the gardener set out in their own boat.”
Hanleigh looked gloomily at the floor.
“My uncle was afraid that they would turn him over to the police if they caught him with the rosewood box. He wanted to talk to Elroy Jefferson and have the charge against him withdrawn. So he decided to flee, but the only place he could think of just then was Cabin Island. So he went there in the boat. The cabin was just being built at this time, as I said, and the fireplace and chimney had not been finished. The masons had the chimney just about half completed. As it was a Sunday, the island was deserted that day. Fearing that he might be trapped on the island, with the box in his possession, he hid it in a hollow of one of the stones and covered it over with mortar, intending to come back for it later. Then he got away from the island before Mrs. Jefferson overtook him.”
“Didn’t he go back later?” asked Chet.
Hanleigh nodded. “He went back next day. But the masons were back at work, completing the chimney. He did not have a chance to get near the place. He remained hidden on the island all day until they went home that night. Then he went up to the cabin to recover the box. He found that more stones had been placed over the stone where he had hidden the box. They had been securely mortared. The box was sealed up. In spite of all he could do, he could not get the box again. He came back to the island several times that week but he had no success. Every day, the masons did more work on the chimney, and every day his chances grew less. So he left Bayport and went to a little village in Maine, where he lived for a number of years. He did not try to get in touch with Elroy Jefferson again. Then, about five years ago, he determined to make another effort to recover the box and he came back, making several trips to the island, but although he tried to get at the box from inside the chimney, he failed. When he died, the box had not been recovered, although my uncle had repented bitterly of his foolish crime. In his will, he left his property to me and he also left a sealed letter containing the confession I have just told you.”
“And he asked you to recover the box.”
“Yes. But I wanted it for myself. I had become acquainted with a man who said he could dispose of it for me. He offered me fifty thousand dollars for the collection.”
“Fifty thousand dollars!” exclaimed the boys.
“It is worth even more than that, for many of the stamps have increased in value since the year they disappeared. I don’t suppose Elroy Jefferson would sell it at any price. My uncle was dead, I was the only person who knew where the stamps were hidden, so I made up my mind to get them for myself. I came to the island, but I soon saw that the only way I could get at the box would be to wreck the chimney. I went to Elroy Jefferson and made him an offer for the cabin. I did not have the eight thousand dollars I offered him, but I thought that if he accepted, I could give him a small cash payment, occupy the island long enough to get possession of the stamps, and then I would clear out. But he wouldn’t sell. So then I determined to get the stamps by hook or by crook—”
“Mostly crook!” interrupted Chet.
Hanleigh flashed him a glance of hatred.
“You boys spoiled my game!”
“We were almost ready to give up,” Frank told him. “If you hadn’t been so persistent we might have left the island and you might have got the stamps after all.”
“I was afraid you would find them first,” said Hanleigh. “When I lost that notebook, I was afraid you would solve the cipher and get the box before I had a chance. Well, I took a long chance, and I lost. That’s the whole story. Now what are you going to do?”
He glared at them defiantly.
“First of all,” Frank decided. “We are going to wait until this storm dies down. Then we are going to take you back to Bayport.”
“Not to the police!” shouted Hanleigh, in terror.
“No—not to the police. I imagine Mr. Jefferson will be content with getting the stamps back. We promised not to turn you over to the police if you confessed, and we’ll keep our promise. But you must get out of Bayport.”
“I never want to see the place again,” groaned Hanleigh.
“We are going to explain the whole affair to Mr. Jefferson and return the stamps to him. It will be a return for his kindness in letting us have the island for our outing.”
“I guess our outing is finished,” remarked Chet regretfully, with a glance at the ruined roof.
“We didn’t have many more days to stay, anyway,” consoled Frank. “And I’d rather get to the bottom of a mystery like this than have all the outings in the world.”
“That’s right,” agreed his brother.