The Secret of the Sundial Part 11

It was the tone of Miss Swenster's voice that told Madge and Cara exactly how deep was her feeling for the old mansion. She had arranged her sale with business-like indifference to sentiment, but underneath, it hurt.

Madge made a silent resolution that she would never give up until the pearls were found. Surely, the old diary would furnish the clue she needed!

The girls helped with the dishes. The instant they had stacked them away, they hurried back to the study, burying themselves again in the diary.

"We're nearly at the end," Madge warned. "Hold your breath and hope."

She turned several blank pages, and then in an awed voice read aloud:

"'It was unfair of my father to will the pearls to Rose, though the action did not surprise me greatly. I am determined she never shall wear them! If I cannot have them myself, then I shall hide them where they never will be found.'"

"Oh!" Cara breathed. "How mean!"

"Listen!" Madge commanded, reading on: "'I have taken only old Uncle George into my confidence and he has sworn that he will never tell. Last night, when everyone was abed we hid the pearls in the-'"

"Go on! Go on!"

"That's the end of the page."

In her eagerness, Madge fumbled the sheets. At last she managed to get the page turned over, but as she stared down, she uttered a startled gasp.

"It's missing! The page that told about the pearls has been torn out!"

CHAPTER XI The Torn Page

"If that isn't the last straw!" Cara exclaimed indignantly. She permitted herself one glance at the place where the page had been torn from the diary and sank limply back against the settee. "After keying myself up to hear the grand solution, the whole thing falls flat!"

"I feel like wilted spinach myself," Madge admitted. She closed the diary with an impatient snap, placing it on the table. "Well, we're at the end.

The page that was torn out, was the last one."

"It would be," Cara groaned. "Our chance of helping Miss Swenster has gone glimmering."

"What do you guess became of the missing page?"

"Probably Florence tore it out herself and burned it up."

Madge agreed that the theory was a likely one. However, she suggested that some other person might have taken the page. The thought left her even more depressed, for in that case, it was likely that whoever had learned the hiding place, had long ago taken the pearls.

The girls were so thoroughly disheartened that it was some time before they summoned courage to report their failure to Miss Swenster. Her face fell at the news but she tried not to show how keen was her disappointment.

"At any rate, I owe you both a great deal for your interest in the matter."

Before leaving the mansion, Madge asked permission to take the diary home for a few days. In their haste to reach the end, the girls had not read every paragraph but had skipped those that looked uninteresting. Madge had little hope that she would find any new material, but at least thought it would do no harm to reread the diary at her leisure.

"You never admit defeat, do you?" Cara asked as they walked home together. "As far as I'm concerned, I consider the adventure washed-up."

"I haven't completely given up," Madge returned. "But I must confess I haven't a tangible clue."

She did not have time to reread the diary that night, and in truth, she rather dreaded the ordeal. It was a long tedious task, one that offered slight hope of success. Nevertheless, Madge continued to think of the Swenster pearls and to wonder if she had not overlooked some hitherto unimportant clue.

"In the diary Florence said that she had taken old Uncle George Jackson into her confidence. Why didn't I think to ask Miss Swenster who she meant?"

This seemed such an oversight that Sunday afternoon she dropped around at the mansion.

"Uncle George?" Miss Swenster repeated, in response to her question.

"Why, he was the old Negro caretaker I told you about. You can't hope to learn anything from him for he has been dead years and years. In fact, his son is an old man now. Or was the last time I heard. He too may be dead by this time."

Madge came to life at this sc.r.a.p of information. Instantly it flashed through her mind that possibly Uncle George Jackson's son might know something of the pearls.

"Can you tell me his name?" she questioned eagerly.

"Uncle George's son? Why, it must have been Ross. Yes, that was it. Ross Jackson."

Miss Swenster knew very little concerning either the old caretaker or his son. When she had left Claymore eight years before, Ross Jackson had been living in a shack down by the railroad tracks but she did not know what had become of him.

"I should have looked after him," she said regretfully. "I always intended to, but I have had very little ready money. Now that he is an old man it must be difficult for him to find work. I wish I could afford to employ him."

Madge went away with the avowed intention of discovering what had become of old Uncle Ross Jackson. His name was not in the telephone or city directories. She inquired of any number of persons without success.

Then Jane Allen came to the rescue. Among others, Madge had asked her if she had ever heard of the old Negro. At the time, Jane could not help her, but she had inquired of their negress wash woman and had learned the location of Uncle Ross' cabin.

"You're welcome to the information, but I'd not advise you to be going down there by the tracks alone," Jane warned. "I can't imagine what's gotten into you lately. You're so quiet and secretive. Always wanting to know such odd things too!"

Madge did not enlighten her as to what had caused the change, though she was tempted to disclose everything. She knew that Jane and Enid both were somewhat hurt because they felt they were being excluded from something.

She must make it up to them later.

Madge had no intention of venturing alone down into the slum district of Claymore. She broached the subject of the trip with Cara who was willing to accompany her when she comprehended that the visit might have an important bearing on the missing pearls.

Monday night after school, Madge borrowed her uncle's car and they set forth upon their quest. The house they sought was set well back from the road. They parked the car and walked toward a dilapidated shack with a caved-in roof. The place seemed deserted save for a Plymouth Rock hen which fussed busily over her downy brood and a lank, hungry-looking hound that lay on the door-step with eyes half closed as if he were dreaming of some exciting c.o.o.n hunt of a long departed day when both he and his master were younger.

Cara was afraid of the hound and though he scarcely looked in her direction, held timidly back. Madge went boldly to the door and knocked.

There were stirrings within and presently Uncle Ross came to the door, knuckling his eyes as if he had been aroused from a nap, which indeed he had.

"Howdy, Miss, howdy," he said to Madge and smiled at Cara. "Won't you step right in-dat is, if you can find a groove to walk in with all this dishevelment."

The girls returned the greeting, suggesting that they all sit under a tree in the front yard where Uncle Ross had provided a bench for smoking and resting purposes.

"Uncle," Madge began when they were seated, "I have been told that your father was a caretaker at the old Swenster place years ago."

"'Deed he was, chile. He's tole me dat many a time. 'Sides dat, I used to live dere myself when I was a boy."

"Do you remember that your father ever mentioned anything about the family pearls?" Madge inquired, watching him closely. "I mean the ones that were lost."

"Oh, dem pearls! I used to hear heaps about 'em but dey just faded out wid de years. Sometimes I thinks dey neveh was any pearls-just ghost pearls dat went up in smoke if dey eveh was any such-like jewels in de family."