Down we plunged into the cellar, through the trap
and to the Door of Bewilderment.
"Don't expect too much," admonished Larry; "I
can't promise you a single Spanish coin."
"Perish the ambition! We have blocked Pickering's
game, and nothing else matters," I said.
We crawled through the hole in the wall and lighted
candles. The room was about seven feet square. At
the farther end was an oblong wooden door, close to the
ceiling, and Larry tugged at the fastening until it came
down, bringing with it a mass of snow and leaves.
"Gentlemen," he said, "we are at the edge of the
ravine. Do you see the blue sky? And yonder, if you
will twist your necks a bit, is the boat-house."
"Well, let the scenic effects go and show us where
you found those papers," I urged.
"Speaking of mysteries, that is where I throw up my
hands, lads. It's quickly told. Here is a table, and here
is a tin despatch box, which lies just where I found it.
It was closed and the key was in the lock. I took out
that packet-it wasn't even sealed-saw the character
of the contents, and couldn't resist the temptation to
try the effect of an announcement of its discovery on
your friend Pickering. Now that is nearly all. I found
this piece of paper under the tape with which the envelope
was tied, and I don't hesitate to say that when
I read it I laughed until I thought I should shake
down the cellar. Read it, John Glenarm!"
He handed me a sheet of legal-cap paper on which
was written these words: HE LAUGHS BEST WHO LAUGHS LAST "What do you think is so funny in this?" I demanded.
"Who wrote it, do you think?" asked Stoddard.
"Who wrote it, do you ask? Why, your grandfather
wrote it! John Marshall Glenarm, the cleverest, grandest
old man that ever lived, wrote it!" declaimed Larry,
his voice booming loudly in the room. "It's all a great
big game, fixed up to try you and Pickering,-but principally
you, you blockhead! Oh, it's grand, perfectly,
deliciously grand,-and to think it should be my good
luck to share in it!"
"Humph! I'm glad you're amused, but it doesn't
strike me as being so awfully funny. Suppose those
papers had fallen into Pickering's hands; then where
would the joke have been, I should like to know!"
"On you, my lad, to be sure! The old gentleman
wanted you to study architecture; he wanted you to
study his house; he even left a little pointer in an old
book! Oh, it's too good to be true!"
"That's all clear enough," observed Stoddard, knocking
upon the despatch box with his knuckles. "But why
do you suppose he dug this hole here with its outlet on
the ravine?"
"Oh, it was the way of him!" explained Larry. "He
liked the idea of queer corners and underground passages.
This is a bully hiding-place for man or treasure,
and that outlet into the ravine makes it possible to get
out of the house with nobody the wiser. It's in keeping
with the rest of his scheme. Be gay, comrades! To-morrow
will likely find us with plenty of business on
our hands. At present we hold the fort, and let us have
a care lest we lose it."