CHAPTER VII The Inside Story

In the end Madge decided that the easiest way to help Miss Swenster would be to disregard propriety and descend boldly upon her. Accordingly, the next morning, which was a school holiday, she and Cara Wayne dressed in their old clothes and armed with brooms and dust cloths, presented themselves at the back door of the mansion.

“We’re here to help,” they announced blithely. “Please say we may, for we want an excuse to see your dishes and the lovely heirlooms.”

They were not certain how this blunt approach would be received, but after the first look of astonishment, Miss Swenster smiled.

“Why, how very thoughtful of you both. I’ll be delighted to have you help. Goodness knows there is enough to be done.”

They followed her inside. Miss Swenster had straightened the living room but had made no attempt to put other rooms to rights. The girls attacked the work with vigor. It progressed slowly for there was a great deal to be done and they frequently stopped to examine some object which struck their fancy.

“It’s a shame this house has to be sold,” Cara declared to her chum. “Miss Swenster doesn’t say much about it but you can tell it makes her fairly sick to think of it.”

“I know,” Madge agreed in an undertone. “I wish we could really do something for her, but I’m afraid we can’t.”

It was impossible for the girls to work side by side with Miss Swenster and not learn more of her fine character and interesting history. Soon they caught themselves telling her about Skull and Crossbones and Cara’s weird experience in connection with the midnight initiation. Miss Swenster expressed an interest in the secret society and did not appear in the least annoyed because they had trespassed. Nor did she seem disturbed to learn of the stranger who prowled about the garden.

“I have no idea who it could have been,” she declared. “Perhaps it was only a tramp.”

“He was much too well dressed for that,” Madge returned. “We thought possibly he might be digging for some treasure that had been hidden on the estate.”

Miss Swenster studied the girls quizzically. Her eyes twinkled.

“Dear me, I only wish there were a lost treasure! I am afraid you girls have been listening to wild stories. The Swensters were never as wealthy as townfolks thought.”

“Then it wasn’t true about the pearl necklace?” Cara asked in disappointment.

“I’m not sure. I never saw the pearls myself, but according to the family legend, they did exist. I suppose you know the story?”

The girls shook their heads, waiting eagerly. At last they were to hear the true account of what became of the famous pearls!

“I’m not sure that I believe this myself,” Miss Swenster warned, “but at least the story was handed down to me. As you may know, the pearls were willed to my mother, Rose Swenster. That was her maiden name, of course. She married young and was divorced soon after my birth. She took back her maiden name and I always used it too.

“But to return to the pearls. My mother never had them. Her sister, Florence, felt that she had been cheated in the will. She was so beside herself that she actually hid the pearls, saying that if she could not have them, they should never be worn by my mother.”

“How mean!” Cara exclaimed.

“Perhaps the story isn’t true,” Miss Swenster smiled. “My mother never mentioned the pearls to me. I learned the tale from the nursemaid who cared for me after Mother’s death.”

“And Florence never told where she hid the pearls?” Madge probed.

“No, a short time later she fell ill. When she realized she could not get well, she tried to tell what she had done with the pearls, but failed.”

“No one had the slightest hint what became of them?” Cara questioned.

“According to the story, I believe an old Negro caretaker was supposed to know something about it. His name was George Andrew Jackson. He must have been seventy at the time Florence died. At any rate he was very forgetful and either would not or could not tell what became of the pearls.”

“Was a search never made?” Madge inquired.

“Oh, dear me, yes. Every inch of the house was gone over and the grounds were carefully searched. As a child, I used to think perhaps I could restore the Swenster fortunes. ‘Hunt the pearls’ was our favorite game.”

It struck Madge and Cara that their interest in the lost necklace was not very original. They harbored secret hopes of locating the pearls and had even been guilty of trying to connect Miss Swenster’s loss with the mysterious excavations of the midnight prowler. They were unwilling to believe that the story was pure legend. And the fact that two generations of Swensters had failed to recover the pearls, could not entirely daunt them.

“I had forgotten the matter until you girls reminded me of it,” Miss Swenster remarked. “Years ago, when my John was a little boy—”

She broke off, coloring. Then, apparently thinking that some explanation was expected, she finished lamely:

“John was my adopted son. As a boy, he was interested in the pearls too.”

It was the first time she had mentioned the name of her son. The girls realized that Miss Swenster had not intended to speak of him. The words had slipped out unbidden. Even to think of him seemed to distress her, for she quickly changed the subject.

The girls remained for luncheon, helping Miss Swenster prepare it. They worked through to four o’clock and as they left for their homes, asked if they might come again.

“Of course,” she assured them, “although I can’t see what fun you get out of working. If I could pay you—”

The girls hastily explained that they did not want pay. They really had enjoyed the day for it was fun to browse about the old mansion.

“And do you mind if we look around for those pearls?” Madge inquired. “In sorting out things we might stumble upon them.”

Miss Swenster smiled at her enthusiasm.

“Search anywhere you wish, but don’t be too disappointed if you fail.”

The girls had a great deal to talk over as they walked slowly toward their homes. They were very tired but the day had been a highly satisfactory one. The prospect of roaming over the old mansion at will was very alluring. Already Madge had several places in mind where she thought possibly they might find the missing pearls.

“How fine it would be if we could find the necklace before the mansion is sold,” Cara mused. “Then Miss Swenster could go on living there.”

“Perhaps she wouldn’t care to. When she left here eight years ago, she must have had a reason other than financial for closing up the house. I suppose it was on account of her adopted son.”

“What do you imagine he did that turned her against him?”

“I have no idea. He must have done something disgraceful. I’d like to know what it was, but of course, we must never ask.”

The girls had every intention of returning to the old mansion the next night after school. In planning their search for the missing pearls, they did not overlook the garden.

“I feel there’s something valuable buried near the fountain, or the sundial,” Madge declared. “It may not be the pearls but at least it’s worth investigating. So tomorrow bring your father’s spade and we’ll do a little digging of our own!”

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