CHAPTER XXII
MARION’S GHOST STORY
When Janet Ferguson arrived at the Eliot homestead that evening she was greeted by enthusiastic shouts from the younger Darings, with whom she was a great favorite. They surrounded her in a group before she could reach the house, while Phil came across the lawn to meet her and shake hands cordially.
Phœbe, glancing sharply around, saw Toby Clark leaning against a column of the dining room porch, where he was half hidden by the vines.
“Come!” she whispered, and led the way into the house. Halfway up the stairs she paused to look back, not hearing his footsteps; but he was so close behind that he startled her and soon she had ushered him into her own little room.
“Lock the door behind you,” said she, “and pay no attention if anyone knocks or tries to get in.”
Toby merely nodded as he shut himself in. Phœbe hurried down to join Janet, carrying a little handbag that contained the things she needed for the night.
“Why, Phœbe! where are you going?” asked Sue, seeing the bag.
“To stay with Janet. Where is Cousin Judith?”
“Over at the Randolphs.”
“Then let us go that way,” said Phœbe to Janet. “I must tell her my plans, for otherwise the Little Mother might worry.” Passing close to Phil she whispered: “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is right so far,” he replied. “But how is it with you, and why are you going away to-night?”
“Just for a little excitement,” she laughed.
“You seem nervous and excited, now,” said her brother, looking at her closely. “Anything new turned up to annoy you, Phœbe?”
“I’m quite contented to-night, Phil, dear.” And then she ran away before he could question her, further.
They met Cousin Judith just leaving the Randolph’s house, and Marion was with her. Miss Eliot at once approved Phœbe’s plan to stay with Janet for the night. She thought the girl had seemed unnerved and ill at ease lately and believed the change of environment would do her good.
When Judith had bade them good night and started across the street to rejoin her flock, Marion said:
“I’ll walk with you a little way, if you don’t mind. It’s such a lovely evening, and I’ve a mystery to disclose, besides.”
“A mystery – oh, Marion!” exclaimed Janet.
“Why are you so astonished?” asked Marion, as the three girls locked arms and sauntered up the street.
“Because I cannot imagine a mystery connected with such a very practical person as yourself,” returned Janet.
“Tell us what it is,” urged Phœbe, “for then it will remain a mystery no longer.”
“Oh, yes it will,” declared Marion, rather soberly. “I’ve no solution to offer. All I can do is tell you what I saw, and allow you to solve the mystery yourselves.”
“What did you see, then?” inquired Janet, curiously.
“A ghost.”
“A ghost! Why, Marion!”
“Of course, my dears, there is no such thing as a ghost, although, as I say, I saw it plainly. Otherwise I should have called it an ‘apparition’ instead of a ‘mystery’.”
“To be sure.”
“But if I saw a ghost, and ghosts are impossible, then I am in touch with a mystery,” she continued. “Do you follow my logic, girls?”
Janet gave a careless laugh.
“I thought at first you were in earnest,” she said.
But Phœbe had lived in romance during the past few days and no element of mystery now seemed absurd to her. Indeed, she began to feel slightly uneasy, without knowing why.
“Where did you see your ghost, Marion?” she asked.
“In its proper place – the graveyard.”
“Oh!” said Janet and Phœbe together, for their companion had spoken seriously and with a slight shudder. Moreover, the graveyard was at that moment a short block to their left, and twilight had already fallen. Beneath the rows of maples and chestnuts that lined the road the shadows were quite deep.
“I am troubled with insomnia,” explained Marion. “The doctors say I have studied too hard and my nerves are affected. At any rate I am very wakeful, and sometimes do not go to bed until two or three o’clock in the morning, knowing I could not sleep if I tried. Last evening I was especially restless. It was a beautiful starlit night, so after the family had all retired I slipped out of doors and started for a walk through the lanes. I have often done this before, since I came here, and it is not unusual for me to visit the old graveyard; not because I am morbid, but for the reason that it seems so restful and quiet there.”
“Naturally, dear,” murmured Janet.
“Last night my walk took me that way. I passed through the turnstile and wandered among the graves to the far end. It must have been long after midnight, but I had not a particle of fear, believe me, girls. I was not even thinking of such preposterous things as ghosts.
“By and by I retraced my steps and sat down on a fallen slab of stone to indulge in reverie. From my position I faced that ugly square mausoleum Phœbe’s grandfather once built. There is an iron grating around it, you remember, and a marble door to the tomb itself, with bronze hinges and a bronze catch. By the way, isn’t that tomb supposed to be vacant?”
“Yes,” answered Phœbe, strangely excited. “Gran’ma Eliot and my father and mother occupy graves just beside it, for gran’pa built the big tomb just for himself.”
“Not a very generous thing to do,” added Janet; “but Mr. Eliot has always been a queer man, and done queer things.”
“Well,” continued Marion, “I sat facing the tomb, as I said, when slowly and without sound the marble door opened and a ghostly figure emerged. I won’t assert it was a spirit from the other world, nor will I claim it was some person dressed in a sheet; but I am positive it was no vision of my imagination. So let us call it the Ghostly Mystery.”
“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Phœbe, breathlessly.
“It failed to disclose its sex, my dear. The door seemed to swing shut behind it; but the ghostly one was obliged to put out an arm to raise the latch of the iron gate. It passed through and I heard the click of the latch as it again fell into place. Then the apparition – ”
“The Ghostly Mystery, Marion!”
“Oh, yes; the Ghostly Mystery glided out of sight while I sat listlessly wondering what it could be. I was not frightened, but I failed to act promptly; so, when I arose to follow it, the thing or person – or whatever it was – had disappeared for good and all.”
The three strolled on in silence for a while. Then Phœbe asked:
“What time was it?”
“Perhaps one o’clock. It was nearly two when I got home; but I had walked quite a way before I decided to enter the house.”
“And have you no idea who it might be?” questioned Janet, who had now grown thoughtful.
“Not the slightest.”
“I wish I had seen it,” said Phœbe, softly.
“Oh, do you like ghosts? Well, then, I’ll take you with me on my next midnight ramble,” laughed Marion.
“Why not go to-night?” suggested Janet. “Phœbe is going to stay with me, and you may come too, Marion. Our house is even nearer to the graveyard than your own, and at dead of night we’ll all steal out and waylay his ghostship. What do you say?”
“I am willing,” declared Marion. “Are you sure you will not be frightened?”
“I may be,” admitted Janet, honestly; “but I’m willing to risk it.”
“So am I!” echoed Phœbe, eagerly.
“Then it is decided,” said Marion. “I frankly acknowledge, girls, that while we are living in an eminently practical and scientific age, these romantic adventures still prove fascinating. Let us hope we shall discover the ghost, and that the apparition will be of a quality to thrill our stagnant blood.”
“Must you go home first?” inquired Janet.
“Not if you’ll lend me a night robe. No one at home pays any attention to my wanderings, so I shall not be missed.”
They soon arrived at Judge Ferguson’s comfortable residence, which was a little beyond the outskirts of the village and delightfully situated on a slight eminence. Mrs. Ferguson, an alert, pleasant-faced little woman, welcomed the girls cordially and they passed the evening chatting together and discussing recent events in which all were alike interested. Phœbe was a bit distrait, for she could not help wondering what was happening in her room at home, where Toby Clark was keeping watch over the movements of old Elaine; but no one appeared to notice her abstraction.
Later in the evening the judge came in, and smiled cheerily upon the three young girls.
“You’ve quite a house-party to-night, Janet,” he said. “I wish you might keep this bevy with you for a month.”
Neither by glance nor word did he remind Phœbe of their conversation of the afternoon, and when they prepared to go upstairs he kissed all three impartially.
“What, to bed already?” he cried. “But run along and get your beauty sleep. Why should you wish to sit up with an old fossil like me?”
“Who has deserted us nearly the whole evening,” pouted Janet.
“True; I am to blame,” he admitted. “But a lawyer is never his own master, and to-night business kept me in the town.”
Phœbe thought she knew what had occupied him, but said nothing.
In their rooms the girls sat and discussed their plans, waiting for the judge and Mrs. Ferguson to get to bed and for the arrival of the hour when they might venture forth. It was demure little Janet who suggested they all wear sheets on their midnight stroll.
“We can carry them over our arms until we get to the graveyard,” she said, “and then wrap ourselves in the white folds. If the ghost appears we’ll show him that others are able to play the same trick.”
“But we might frighten him,” laughed Marion.
“Whoever is playing ghost must be trying to frighten others,” returned Janet; “for, as you say, actual really-truly ghosts do not exist. I think it would be fun to turn the tables on the impostor.”
“Perhaps so. What do you think, Phœbe?”
“It may be a good idea,” she said, rather reluctantly, for somehow she regarded this matter far more seriously than did the others. The ghost was using her grandfather’s tomb for its headquarters, according to Marion’s report, and that gave Phœbe a personal interest in the affair.
At last the clock warned them it was nearly twelve o’clock; so they gathered up the sheets Janet had provided and stole noiselessly from the house. The graveyard was only a short distance away and they reached it about midnight, taking their position in a dark corner near the Eliot mausoleum. They assisted one another to drape the sheets effectually and then sat down upon the ground, huddled close together, to await the advent of the ghost.
“Perhaps it won’t come to-night,” whispered Janet, with a suspicion of hopefulness in her voice.
“True; we must be prepared for that disappointment,” replied Marion, soberly.
“Do you feel at all creepy, girls?” asked Phœbe, who caught herself indulging in nervous shivers at times, despite the fact that the night was warm and sultry.
“For my part,” said Marion, “I have no silly fears when in a graveyard. I find the place serenely restful, and therefore enjoy it.”
“I wouldn’t care to be here alone,” admitted Janet; “but, as we’re all together I – I don’t – think I shall mind it – even if the Ghostly Mystery materializes.”
It was a long wait, and the three girls beguiled it at times by whispering together, more through desire to hear the sound of their own voices than because they had anything important to say. One o’clock arrived at last. Marion could read the face of her watch under the starlight. Another half hour dragged wearily away.
“I fear we shall encounter no adventure to-night,” Marion was saying, when Phœbe seized her arm and drew her back into the shadow.
“Hush!” she murmured, and pointed an arm toward the turnstile.
Two hearts, at least, were beating very fast now, for the long-expected ghost was at last in sight, gliding silently past the turnstile. Well, not exactly “gliding,” they decided, watching intently. It was not a very healthy looking ghost, and to their astonishment was entering the graveyard with shuffling, uneven steps. Of course it should have suddenly appeared from some tomb, as every well regulated ghost is supposed to do.
“The Mystery seems rather clumsy, Marion,” said Janet in an excited whisper.
“Isn’t it carrying something?” asked Phœbe.
“Yes; a weight of some sort in each hand,” was Marion’s composed reply. “The weights are as white as the ghost itself. Queer; isn’t it, girls?”
Glancing neither to right nor left the apparition slowly made its way into the graveyard and advanced to the big square mausoleum erected as the future abiding place of Jonathan Eliot. The white-robed figure seemed bent and feeble.
“Come!” said Marion; “let us surround it and play ghost ourselves.”
She glided swiftly out into the starlight, wrapping her sheet closely about her, and gained a position behind the tomb. Phœbe and Janet followed, spurred on by Marion’s fearless action. One passed to the right and the other to the left.
Singularly enough, the bent figure did not observe their presence until the tomb was nearly reached, when Marion circled around the railing and confronted the mysterious visitant. At the same time Janet and Phœbe advanced and all three slowly raised their white-draped arms above their heads.
“Woo-oo-oo!” wailed Marion.
With a shriek that pierced the night air far and wide the ghost staggered backward and toppled to the ground, lying still as death.
Startled though she was, Phœbe sprang forward and peered into the upturned face.
“Why – it’s Elaine!” she cried aloud.
“Yes,” said a quiet voice beside her. “And you’ve raised the very mischief by this mad prank, Phœbe Daring.”
It was Toby Clark, who gazed down at the still figure and wagged his tow head, mournfully.
“Is she dead, Toby?” asked Janet, in a hushed, frightened tone.
“I think not. Probably, she’s fainted.”
“And what was she carrying?” inquired Marion, seeming unmoved by the tragic occurrence.
Phœbe knew; they were two canvas bags of gold; but she said nothing.
“See here,” cried Toby abruptly, “it’s possible you crazy females have not spoiled the game, after all. Make tracks – will you, girls? – get away, out of sight; run home, so she won’t see you when she comes to.”
“But – I don’t understand,” began Janet, timidly.
“You’re not supposed to,” retorted Toby, more gruffly than he had ever spoken to her before.
“Toby is right, girls – I know he is right. Come —please come!” pleaded Phœbe, anxiously.
Thoroughly bewildered, Janet and Marion suffered her to lead them away, and when they had passed the turnstile and were out of sight Toby retreated and hid behind a gravestone.
Elaine did not recover at once, for her terror had been great and her faint was proportionately deep and lasting. But finally, when Toby was about to steal out again and see if she were dead, the old woman moved uneasily and moaned. A little later she sat up, placing her hands to her head. Then she seemed to remember the cause of her fright, for she cast fearful glances around her.
Apparently reassured, she presently tried to rise, and after several attempts regained her feet. The bags of gold still lay where she had dropped them and after another suspicious look around the graveyard she stooped and picked them up.
For several moments the woman stood motionless in that silent city of the dead, pondering on the forms she had seen and trying to decide whether her imagination had played her a trick, or she had really beheld the spirits of those gone before. The fact that she had not been robbed led her to dismiss any idea that the forms were mortal. Whatever the explanation might be, she reflected that she was now alone and had a purpose to accomplish.
She carried her load to the iron grating, unlocked the gate and passed through. The marble door of the mausoleum worked with a secret spring. Toby’s sharp eyes carefully marked the manner in which she released this spring and permitted the heavy marble block to swing noiselessly outward.
Elaine only lingered long enough to place the bags of gold inside. Then she closed the door of the tomb, let herself out at the iron gate and after one more shrewd inspection of the silent place made her way out of the graveyard and took the path that led back to her home.
Far behind her Toby followed like a shadow.
In half an hour she returned to the vault again, laden as before. For an old woman, and one who had just received a nervous shock, Elaine Halliday showed remarkable vitality. Her body appeared frail and weak, but an indomitable spirit urged it to perform its tasks.
CHAPTER XXIII
TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR
When Judge Ferguson arrived at his office the next morning he found Toby Clark awaiting him.
“What! You’ve not let Miss Halliday escape?” he exclaimed.
“Miss Phœbe is watching her,” returned Toby. “I felt it was important for me to come here to report.”
“Very well; sit down and tell me what you have to say.”
“Early last evening,” began the youth, “I heard the woman in her room. I watched her through the peephole Miss Daring had prepared. She was gathering all the money from the hiding places. The bills and small change she made into packages; the gold she left in the bags. Then she went into another room – the room occupied by Mr. Eliot – and returned with an armful of papers.”
“What sort of papers?” inquired the lawyer.
“They looked like legal documents, bonds, deeds and such things, sir. All were neatly folded and tied in packages.”
“Ah! I wonder where they could have been hidden.”
“No telling, sir. They’ve been mighty clever, haven’t they? Well, sir, she made those papers into two separate parcels. Then she wrapped herself in a sheet which she took from her bed, hid the parcels under it, and left the house.”
“She took only the papers?”
“Only the papers that time, sir. I tried to follow her, but the only way I could get out of the house without noise was through the window. I tied some sheets and blankets together and let myself down that way; but I was too late. The woman had disappeared, and I could not tell in what direction.”
“Too bad, Toby.”
“But I knew she would return, for there was the money to be lugged away. So I hid by a hedge and waited till she came back. She went into the house by the outside stair and soon brought out two bags of gold, one in each hand. This time, I followed her. She went to the graveyard, and I knew why she had draped herself in the sheet.”
“Why?”
“So, if anyone chanced to see her there, they would take her for a ghost. Some one did see her there – three girls, also dressed in sheets – your daughter, Phœbe Daring and Marion Randolph.”
“Well, I declare!” ejaculated the lawyer.
Toby told of the incident in the graveyard, and how Miss Halliday had afterward made still another trip with the balance of the money.
“Did she put it all into the vault?” asked the judge.
“Yes, sir; and so I suppose she put the papers there, too. But I cannot be positive of that.”
“But – good gracious, Toby! – what possessed the woman to hide all that plunder in a vault?”
“She is quite clever, sir. The other hiding place had been discovered by Phœbe; some of the money had been taken; it was best to hide it elsewhere. Who would ever think of searching a graveyard for it?”
“You’re right, Toby. But what happened afterward?”
“Very little, sir. Miss Halliday went to bed and slept soundly, for I heard her snore.”
“You climbed in at the window again?”
“Yes, sir; and had some sleep myself.”
“What a wonderful woman Elaine is!”
“I can’t help admiring her, sir.”
“And what about Mr. Eliot, Toby?”
“While waiting for the woman, when she escaped me the first time, I stole up the stairs and looked in. Mr. Eliot was sitting quietly in his chair, in the dark.”
“She left him there all night!” cried the judge, horrified.
“It seems so, sir.”
“That is cruelty. Even his helpless body must tire with remaining in one position so long. Usually Elaine has taken better care of him than that,” said Mr. Ferguson, indignantly.
“She was much excited last night; and the poor man can’t complain, you know,” returned Toby, with a shrug.
“What did Miss Halliday do this morning?” asked the lawyer, after a moment’s thought.
“She rose early and got her breakfast. I heard her walking around the front rooms, putting them in order and waiting on Mr. Eliot. She seemed quite composed this morning, and that may be due to the thought that her money is now safe from discovery. When Miss Phœbe came home from your house, Miss Halliday met her and handed her this note.”
Judge Ferguson took the paper. On it were scrawled the words: “At twelve o’clock I will keep my word.”
“Miss Phœbe is very anxious, sir,” continued Toby. “So I thought it best to come to you and report.”
The lawyer looked at his clerk, reflectively. Old Miss Halliday’s persistent threat to prosecute Phœbe impressed him strongly. For, had she not been able to prove her right to this secret hoard, the woman would never dare to expose the affair to public notice. Mr. Ferguson was quite positive that no such paper as Elaine had displayed to Phœbe would hold good in a court of law; but the woman might have other proofs that she was entitled to the property she claimed. In any event the judge did not wish to be forced to act hastily in so important a matter. Time was necessary.
Half an hour later he entered Mr. Spaythe’s private office at the bank and said:
“Spaythe, I want to borrow three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars – and I want the money now.”
Mr. Spaythe gave a perceptible start, passed his hand over his forehead, and cast a perplexed and annoyed glance at the lawyer.
“May I have it?” demanded the judge.
Eric had entered in time to hear this demand, and the sum mentioned sent his face white and made his knees knock together. In his hand was a paper he had intended asking his father to indorse, but it was all forgotten as the boy stared blankly at Judge Ferguson. Did the lawyer know? Then how many others knew? Eric had not yet recovered from his fright, and his great fear was of his father’s anger. Why had Mr. Spaythe said nothing to his son about the stolen money, and what punishment was he planning? The son of the strict, inflexible banker well knew the fault would not be forgiven nor condoned, and the uncertainty of his position was becoming unbearable.
“Certainly you may have the money, Judge,” was Mr. Spaythe’s slow reply. “For how long do you require the loan?”
“Perhaps only for a few days.”
“Then I’ll give you my personal check, and make no other record of the transaction.”
As he drew his check book toward him Eric slipped back into the bank and resumed his stool. He was trembling as with an ague.
Presently Mr. Ferguson came to the window and asked Mr. Boothe to give him currency for the check. He spoke loudly enough for both Eric and Phil to overhear him.
“How will you have it, sir?” asked the cashier.
“Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety in bills.”
Eric nearly fell off his stool, and Phil looked up with a start. The effect upon the two boys was entirely different, however, for Daring had nothing to fear. So Phœbe’s secret was out, thought Phil, and Judge Ferguson was the person who had given her the money. But, in that case, why was the judge now asking for a similar sum, and in the same sort of money? The mystery was certainly beyond Phil Daring’s ability to solve. He gravely continued his work, feeling certain that everything would come right in the end. It hurt him, though, to feel he was not in his twin’s confidence.
Mr. Ferguson took his money and departed. When he reached his office he said to Toby Clark:
“Go back to the Eliot house and send Phœbe to me. You must remain to watch Miss Halliday, but you can do that from the lane, or from some other point of vantage. I don’t much care what the woman does while she is at home, but if she attempts to leave the place be prepared to follow her.”
“All right, sir.”
Phœbe came for the money and found it ready for her, tied in a neat parcel.
“Don’t answer any questions during your interview with Elaine,” he advised. “And take care to ask none. Above all, don’t let her suspect you were playing ghost in the graveyard last night.”
Phœbe promised and went home again. At twelve o’clock she carried the package around to the rear stairs, which she was about to mount when Elaine appeared in the doorway above her.
“Stay where you are!” was the harsh command.
The girl resented the words and the tone, so with determination she mounted the stairs. Elaine barred her way.
“You must count the money and give me a receipt,” said Phœbe.
“I’ll count it; but you’ll get no receipt, for you gave none, you miserable little thief!” snarled the woman, rudely snatching the parcel.
“Then, I’ll wait here until you count it.”
“No you won’t. Go down – instantly! And if the money is not all here, to jail you go.”
“I think I’ll see my grandfather,” asserted the girl, more to annoy Elaine than because she wished to visit the helpless old man.
For answer Miss Halliday slammed the door in her face and locked it. Phœbe slowly retreated and descended to the yard. There the thought occurred to her that she might watch Elaine through the rear windows, for she was curious to see how she acted when she found the money all restored. So she slipped away into the lane, which being slightly elevated enabled her to peer into the second story windows. There she bumped against Toby Clark, who was standing half hidden by a clump of bushes.
“Oh! You here?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. Anything up?” he inquired.
“I’ve just given Elaine the money, and she impudently locked me out. So I thought I’d come here and watch the windows.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing. Stand back here in the shade, Miss Daring, so you won’t be seen. That’s it. Now look at that window. What do you see?”
“Only gran’pa sitting in his chair.”
“Oh. Is that your grandfather!”
“Of course,” said Phœbe. “He sits there all day long, looking over the country. Once, you know, he owned all the land as far as he can now see.”
“And does he sit there all night, too?”
“No, indeed; Elaine puts him to bed at night.”
“Last night,” said Toby, reflectively, “she left him in his chair, instead of putting him to bed. I saw him. The room was dark, but he was so close to the window that the stars showed his form distinctly.”
“Then Elaine is neglecting poor gran’pa!” cried Phœbe, indignantly. “And he is so dependent on her kindness, too!”
Toby gave a low, apologetic cough.
“Your eyes are good, Miss Daring?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Then look again, and carefully. Is that indeed your grandfather – is it really Mr. Eliot in the chair?”
Phœbe was surprised at the question, but she looked carefully.
“Of course. I’ve seen him sitting that way every day, for months past.”
“Can you see his face?”
“Not very well, from here. It is muffled up in his dressing gown, you know, so he won’t take cold.”
“It’s pretty warm to-day,” observed the lawyer’s clerk.
“But Gran’pa Eliot is paralyzed, and his blood doesn’t circulate freely. He is always well wrapped up, whatever the weather.”
Toby whistled softly and looked down at the ground, where he was digging up the earth with the toe of his shoe.
“It must be dinner time,” said Phœbe, suddenly remembering the fact. “Phil will be coming home and I must go in.”
“Will you be very busy this afternoon, Miss Daring?”
“I think not. Why?”
“Can you come here for a half hour or so?”
“Yes, Toby, if I can be of any service.”
“I think you can. This is a queer affair, isn’t it?”
“It’s very queer, Toby.”
“Then I shall expect you,” he said with a sudden change of tone.
Phœbe went in, thinking the while how odd this boy was. She wondered casually why Judge Ferguson had placed so much confidence in him. There was still a good deal of mystery about this affair and Phœbe did not yet know what the lawyer intended to do to checkmate old Elaine. However, she was content to trust her father’s friend, and greatly relieved to be able to return that dreadful money to the covetous woman.
After dinner she walked with Phil to the gate. Said he:
“Have you anything to tell me?”
“Not yet, Phil,” she answered softly. “Try to be patient, for all is well, I’m sure, and we’re going to be very happy when these troubled days are over.”
He said no more, but bent and kissed her and went on his way.
After accomplishing a few household duties and bandaging a cut on Becky’s arm – it seemed the girl was always hurting herself – and helping Don find his cap, which he always mislaid when he came in, Phœbe remembered her promise to Toby Clark and slipped away unobserved to his station in the lane.
She found the little clerk staring fixedly at the window where Gran’pa Eliot sat. He gave a start as the girl approached, and then his freckled face lit up with a smile.
“I want you to watch Miss Halliday for me, for half an hour,” he said.
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere in those upper rooms. She has just passed the window to the left. But, although I’ve watched her for hours, she has never once stopped at your grandfather’s side to do anything for him.”
“Poor gran’pa!”
“Now, listen, Miss Phœbe. The judge told me not to lose sight of that woman. If she tries to leave the house I am to follow her. But I want to get away, for just a little while, and I’d like you to watch in my place.”
“But, what shall I do if she goes away?”
“Follow her, and I’ll find you both. But she won’t leave the house to-day, I’m sure.”
“Very well; I’ll do the best I can, Toby.”
He nodded and walked away, going straight to the graveyard. When he reached there he climbed nimbly over the high iron rail, at the risk of breaking a limb, and faced the Eliot mausoleum. Pressing the spring, as he had seen Elaine do, he opened the marble door and passed into the tomb.
A few moments later he came out with a pale, startled face and closed the door. A while he stood lost in reverie; then he clambered over the railing again and went to relieve Phœbe.
“Thank you, Miss Daring,” he said quietly. “You may go, now. Anything to report?”
“Why, a minute ago Elaine came to the window where gran’pa sits, and after staring out, as if she suspected I was watching her, she turned and shook up gran’pa’s pillows, and moved his chair back a little. So you see we were wrong, and she is not really neglecting him.”