Aunt Sophie's Diamonds (8 page)

Surely he isn't letting her come all alone, he thought to himself, then slipped quietly up to Gab's room to ensure that he was in fact gone. The bed was empty, of course.
Now how the hell did he slip past me?
Going quickly to his own room, he dressed silently and swiftly in dark clothing. Knowing the night to be chilly, he threw a long black cape over the outfit, grabbed a hat, and went to the stable. He was not in the least surprised to see Gab's mount gone, but wondered whether he ought to go directly to the graveyard, or head up towards Swallow-court. Getting such a late start, be went directly to the graveyard. He tethered Lady, his bay mare, at the gate, and went silently on foot towards the east side, where Sophie had that same morning been interred.

His eyes accustomed now to the gloom, Hillary surveyed the gothic scene before him. The trees, still thinly leaved, formed a black skeleton background at the yard's edge. A wind came howling down from the north, flailing the branches. The stones and marble grave markings erupted from the earth at irregular intervals, like ghosts rising from the dead. Sir Hillary was not a fanciful man, yet the hair lifted on the back of his neck when a fox barked in the distance—three eerie howls.

He had spoken to Fletcher about a guard, but he noticed that the man had not yet assumed his duties; the grave was not guarded. Concealing himself behind the granite slab of some long-gone gentleman by the name of Alexander Coughlin, he peered over toward Sophie's last resting-place.

Then he heard the soft sound of metal being judiciously applied to loose earth. He recognized Gab instantly with the shovel, while Loo stood lookout for other comers. There was no moon, and if she had missed his own careful approach, she might have missed the captain as well. Hillary took it upon himself to help her observation. After looking around, he returned his intent gaze to the scene before him. He now saw that there was a third party present—a tall person in trousers. Surely to God they hadn't invited Jonathon and left himself out! He took an angry pace forward, then stopped as a soft, feminine voice came from the shadow he had thought to be Jonathon.

"It's my turn now, Gabriel. I wish you had brought two shovels. We shall be here half the night."

"I'm winded,” Gab replied and handed the shovel to Miss Milmont, the possessor of the soft voice. She began digging away like any man. She tired pretty soon, and Gabriel took over again. For half an hour they dug away, while Hillary watched in silence from his place of concealment. He disliked that a third party had been brought in. During his vigil, it occurred to him that Gab's questions about Miss Milmont had been because she was to join the dig. Oh, yes, and that's why he hadn't seen his nephew go up to Swallowcourt, too.

The lid of the coffin was finally unearthed. He could hear the harder slap of the shovel against the wood when this happened. There was some excited discussion among the group, and Miss Milmont handed a crowbar to Gabriel.

"I
told
you the lid would be nailed down. Now aren't you glad you asked me? Just think if you got this far and had to turn back for lack of a crowbar.” The squawk was clearly audible when Gab succeeded in prizing off the lid. Some other sound seemed to occur as well—some half-human preternatural sound, as of a banshee howling.

"Good God!” Gabriel shouted loudly.

"You cannot mean someone's beaten us to it!” Miss Milmont answered.

"No, there's a steel box welded shut under the wooden coffin. No wonder she seemed to weigh a ton."

"Oh, the wretch!” Loo complained, but Miss Milmont went into a very girlish fit of giggles, and Hillary too found himself stifling a laugh into his fist.

Getting herself under control, Miss Milmont said in a matter-of-fact voice, “What a bother! We shall have to return tomorrow night with a welding torch. I expect we should fill back in the earth, in case someone happens to come by tomorrow."

"Damnation!” Gabriel exploded, and began to shovel. “Whoever heard of such a stunt. Burying yourself in a steel box, sealed shut, I think she
was
crazy."

"It was to protect the diamonds very likely,” Miss Milmont told him.

"I don't see how we are to get a welding torch here,” Gabriel complained on. “What we ought to do is take the coffin along home, and open it there in the stables, then bring it back tomorrow night."

"That odious Sir Hillary would not let us use his stable for Aunt Sophie,” Miss Milmont answered unhesitatingly, and Thoreau's eyebrows rose in the darkness.
Odious, am I?
“But a steel coffin would be too heavy in any case,” the soft voice went on. “And we didn't think to bring a carriage—only our mounts. As I may very likely have to carry Casper home on my back, I don't see how it can be contrived.” Lord, had she pulled that sluggard of a Casper all the way from Swallowcourt?

"It can't, of course,” Gabriel agreed. “The six of us men today could hardly lift it. Well, what a waste of time!"

"I was never so gammoned in my life,” Miss Milmont agreed mildly.

"It is exactly like Aunt Sophie,” Loo told then both in an angry tone.

"She sounds a positive beast,” Claudia said, “I am becoming quite happy I never met her till she was at death's door. And the one look she cast on me was very disapproving, too, now I consider it. She would have liked to light into me for not coming sooner, I bet."

"You're lucky she was dying,” Loo replied.

"It will serve her well to have the diamonds ripped from her rotting corpse,” Claudia continued.

"Will it be decomposing already?” Gabriel asked, in a voice trying to conceal the horror he felt.

"I daresay it will have reached an advanced state of putrefaction before we get the steel box open,” Claudia answered readily and with satisfaction. “Though it is quite cold, and that preserves flesh. In fact, Loo, I don't know about you, but I'm freezing in this ventilated suit you found for me. Shall we all help replace the earth and go on home?"

"We might as well,” Loo answered, “but I'll never forgive her for this. Never."

"No more you should,” Claudia replied, and began kicking earth into the hole with her booted foot.

While he gazed and listened, Sir Hillary was trying to figure out what the young ladies were wearing. Trousers it seemed. He was not surprised to discover Loo in such a prank, but it amazed him that the placid Miss Milmont should have consented to such a scheme, and to enter into the whole with such good humor. He had thought Marcia had squeezed all the life out of her; he was rapidly revising his first opinion.

The night, already dark, cold, and windy, now took the final step and began to lash the conspirators with rain. “I wish we had another shovel!” Claudia remarked. Failing this, she began pulling the earth into the hole with her bare hands and urged Loo to do likewise, or they'd be there all night.

Hillary then stepped forward. “Trouble?” he asked, in normal, friendly voice.

"Uncle Hil!” Gabriel gasped and dropped the shovel.

"Oh it's
you,"
Luane exclaimed, and Miss Milmont just looked, quite unconcerned.

"As you see,” Claudia answered, “we came to retrieve Miss Beresford's property but ran into a slight hitch.” The water streamed down her face, plastering a stray wisp of hair over one eye as she spoke.

Seeing that his uncle was not angry, Gabriel rallied and said, “The worst luck, Hil, the old fool has got herself buried in a steel box, welded shut, under the wooden coffin. Did you ever hear of such a thing?"

"I heard the whole from behind a tombstone. Take the ladies home, Gab, and I'll fill in this hole."

"It's nearly done,” Gab pointed out.

"Do as he says,” Loo commanded her lover. “I am freezing to death, and so is Claudia."

"So am I if it comes to that,” Gabriel retorted. “I'm soaked clean through."

Claudia began to sneeze, and a shudder shook her. “Go on, take them home,” Hillary repeated.

The three prepared to leave, and as they gave Hillary the shovel, Miss Milmont turned and said, “Thank you for your help, Sir Hillary. It is very kind of you."

"You're very welcome, Miss Milmont,” he returned with a nod that sent water cascading from the brim of his hat over his face.

She sneezed again, and he could see she was trembling. “Better stop at Chanely and give the ladies some dry clothes,” he said to Gabriel. Chanely Hall was about half-way between the graveyard and Swallowcourt. “And something hot to drink. Go in by the library door; I left it on the latch."

"You're a great gun, Uncle,” Gab said, and shepherded his charges off to their mounts. It was a miserable, slow walk in the rain and dark to Chanely, made no swifter nor pleasanter by a recalcitrant Casper, much inclined to dawdle.

Between the hole being nearly filled before they left and the slow gait set by the ancient gig horse, Sir Hillary reached the stable as soon as the others, and all four went together around to the library door.

"Now that's strange,” Hillary said to himself. “I left the door on the latch, but I'm certain I didn't leave it wide open.” It was open now about three inches, but as there was a rose trellis in the garden to break the wind, the storm was not lashing the door so violently as it might have. He opened it wide on oiled hinges and stood thinking.

"Shall we consider the mystery
indoors?"
Claudia suggested, sneezing again.

"Yes, come in, all of you. You must be freezing in those wet clothes."

A single brace of candles was burning in a branched holder, and from them Hillary lit others to reveal a pleasant book-lined room, with a small fire burning in the screened grate. He pushed the grate aside and stoked up the fire as he suggested they all remove their wet garments. His idea was speedily carried out, and still their shirts were wet under their sodden jackets. Sir Hillary put off his hat and threw aside his cape.

"How very elegant you are, even when you go grave-digging,” Claudia said, looking at his tidy dark sweater and unruffled hair.

"Good lord!” he shouted, observing closely for the first time the girls, who stood revealed in the full squalor of moth-eaten trousers, well spattered with mud, once-white shirts now yellowed and frayed, for clothing even in half-repair was never discarded at Swallowcourt. Their sodden hair was flattened against their heads, their faces and hands muddy from refilling the grave without shovels. “What on earth are you girls wearing?"

"Old livery from the cedar press,” Luane told him nonchalantly. “We couldn't go there in our skirts."

"You're filthy! Go upstairs and get cleaned up at once,” he said like a father scolding a batch of naughty children. “And leave your boots here if you please. They're soaked with mud. Loo, you know where to go—take Miss Milmont.” Gabriel went along to his room, and during their absence Hillary went to order some cocoa to warm them up.

It was a little while before they felt themselves presentable, and even then they were not so much presentable as relatively clean, with their hair toweled dry, combed back, and pinned into a knot behind. When they came back to the library, hot cocoa was waiting by the kindling fire, with their jackets put to dry over chairs. An old blanket had been placed over the sofa to protect its covering from their damp trousers.

"This is more like it,” Loo said, picking up the cup of cocoa and warming her hands on the cup.

"If you haven't taken your death of cold, it's a wonder,” Hil said.

"Never mind that,” Gabriel brushed it aside. “The deuce of it is it was all for nothing. We couldn't even see the diamonds, let alone get them out. How shall we go about it, Uncle?"

Claudia cleared her throat in a meaningful way and frowned heavily at Gabriel, who ignored her. She was obliged to express herself verbally. “Am I to understand Sir Hillary is to be included in our adventure?"

"If he
wants
to...” Loo looked a question at Thoreau, whose eyes flickered to Miss Milmont.

"I cannot think he would enjoy it in the least,” Claudia objected. “A dandy cannot wish to be digging a coffin out of a..."

"A
dandy!"
he shouted.

"Out of a muddy grave,” she continued, as though he had not spoken. “It will be pea soup by tomorrow if this deluge holds up. Then, too, there is the welding torch. What we really need is a blacksmith, I think."

"No, we can't get Jed Flaro to come along—he's the smitty in the village, Claudia, and he is
not
the sort for an adventure,” Loo said sadly.

"Well, then,” she answered, “we may have to do as Gabriel suggested and take the coffin away to perform the deed."

"We can't bring it here unless Sir Hillary is one of us,” Loo pointed out.

"The
odious
Sir Hillary,” he added, but all pretended not to notice.

"And we cannot take it home to Swallowcourt because of Jonathon,” Loo continued.

"If necessary, I might cause a diversion within, while
you
are doing the deed in the stables,” Claudia considered. “I am very good at hysterics, or I could let Jonathon make love to me."

"Lucky Jonathon,” Hillary said aside and was again ignored.

"Cousin!” Loo smiled in admiration. “Didn't I tell you she was all right, Gab? Yes, let us do it at Swallowcourt. I wish I could be both places at once, to see Jonathon make love to you."

"Yes, but really, Uncle Hil could help us enormously if he would
like
to join us,” Gabriel said hopefully.

"I shouldn't like to deprive Miss Milmont of her lovemaking, or hysterics, as the case may be."

She smiled at him vaguely, unruffled, but it was Gabriel, eager for his guardian's help, who spoke up. “The thing is, even if we manage to get the coffin to Swallowcourt, and it is very heavy, we three could never lift it, I wouldn't know how to get it open."

"Would
you
know how, Sir Hillary?” Claudia asked.

"Certainly."

Luane and Claudia exchanged questioning looks. “A sign of good will is usually required before admitting a new partner to a venture,” the elder said.

"You might take my filling in the grave for good will,” Hillary mentioned.

"It was nearly filled before you came,” Loo pointed out.