CHAPTER XII Uncle Ross’ Hint

Cara and Madge questioned Uncle Ross further, trying ineffectually to bring out additional information. The old Negro had scraped his memory bare and could recall nothing more concerning the pearls. The girls presently thanked him and in turning to leave, Madge handed him a dollar bill.

“Thank you, Miss, thank you,” he beamed and bowed.

The girls walked back to the parked car, only moderately pleased at the outcome of the interview.

“Do you think there really is a connection between the pearls and the sundial?” Cara asked somewhat skeptically as they drove away.

“Yes I do,” Madge returned. “Unless Uncle Ross’ memory played him false. It’s a pretty vague hint, but perhaps we can make something of it.”

“Perhaps you can,” Cara corrected. “I’m no good at puzzles and this one takes the prize.”

Madge soon reached the edge of darktown, taking a main street which led to the better section of Claymore. She drove like an expert automaton, her eyes glued on the road but her thoughts many miles away. She came to life with a start as the car wheels struck a hole in the pavement.

“Cara, I was just thinking—”

“Please don’t or we may end up in a ditch,” Cara laughed. “What were you saying?”

Madge scarcely knew how to tell what was in her mind. It seemed reasonable to her that the Swenster pearls might have been hidden in the garden near the sundial. In digging about, the girls had not paid particular attention to the old sundial, but had confined themselves to the general locality disturbed by the prowler. Madge was convinced too that the man they had seen was after the same thing—the Swenster pearls. How he had learned of them she could not imagine.

“Of course, we did do some of our digging near the sundial,” she said to Cara, “but at the time we never dreamed there was any connection. Now my idea is to go back there and look over the situation again. It may be that at a certain hour the gnomon casts a shadow at the designated place. I’ve read of such things in story books.”

“But this isn’t a story book,” Cara protested in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s my personal opinion that the pearls are gone. If they were ever hidden in the garden, that prowler has them by this time! Otherwise, why hasn’t he been back?”

“Perhaps he’s been afraid. And he did return one night, for Miss Swenster heard him. I wish we could catch him at it and turn him over to the police for questioning.”

Although Cara was reluctant to resume excavation activities, she agreed to make one more attempt when Madge promised to do most of the digging. It was too late to go to the Swenster mansion that evening but the following afternoon they went there directly after school.

They set to work with high hopes and soon had excavated a complete circle around the sundial. Dusk found them still digging. Finally, with an exclamation of disgust, Madge threw down her spade.

“I’ve had enough. As far as I’m concerned, the pearls may stay hidden until the end of time!”

“Amen,” Cara added fervently. “Just look at the blisters on my hands. And my shoulder muscles are sore already. What will they be like tomorrow?”

“If the way I feel is any indication, we’ll both be in the hospital. The next time I get one of my so-called brilliant ideas, I hope you choke me.”

“I will,” Cara promised gravely.

They filled in the earth they had disturbed and went home in a very ill temper. A hot bath and a warm supper cheered Madge considerably, causing her to forget her resolution to think no more of the pearls. That very evening she settled herself in an easy chair, determined to reread Florence Swenster’s diary.

It was a tiresome ordeal now that the material was no longer novel. Several times Madge yawned wearily and was tempted to switch to a popular magazine.

“This is absolutely our last hope,” she told herself, gazing thoughtfully at the little leather book in her hand. “Miss Swenster’s auction sale will be held in a few days now, and after the place is sold, it will be too late to help her. I suppose I’m crazy to keep kidding myself we may find the pearls—especially, after our experience today. Just the same I can’t help feeling that I’ve overlooked some important clue.”

She yawned again and went back to her reading.

“This will never do!” she chided herself. “My mind isn’t on it at all.”

She turned another page, read a few paragraphs which she remembered perfectly. Then, unexpectedly, her eye fastened upon a notation which she and Cara had skipped during the first reading of the diary. It was not particularly startling, merely reading:

“Uncle George is to mix cement for the new sundial tomorrow.”

Madge stared at it long and thoughtfully. She felt it must have more significance than was apparent. She began to recall scraps of information, previously gleaned. Why had Florence Swenster taken Uncle George into her confidence in regard to the hiding of the pearls? It was unlikely that she would trust such knowledge to him unless she had need of his help.

She looked at the date of the notation to compare it with the day Florence had recorded that she had hidden the pearls.

“According to this diary, Uncle George must have been making the sundial on the very day that the pearls were disposed of!” she thought, with growing excitement. “And Uncle Ross said his father mentioned the sundial. Oh, there’s a very significant connection!”

Madge knew that she was on the verge of making an important deduction, but try as she would she could not solve the enigma. For fifteen minutes she sat staring thoughtfully into space, trying to work her way through the maze.

Then like a flash, the answer came. She sprang to her feet, her face jubilant.

“How stupid of me not to think of it before! We’ve had the clue all the time and didn’t know it! Tomorrow, if I can convince Miss Swenster to my way of reasoning, I’ll lead her to the pearls!”