THE others received the astonishing pronouncement of Billy Walker with varying emotions, of which the chief was a candid incredulity. “How in the world do you justify that remarkable statement?” Roy demanded, breaking the silence of surprise, which had at first held the three.
For a moment, Billy showed traces of embarrassment. Then, swiftly, an expression of relief showed on his heavy face, and he spoke glibly enough:
“The conclusion to which I have come,” he declared ponderously, “is compelled by exact reasoning from all the facts in our possession. The late Mr. Abernethey unquestionably left for his heir some sort of clue as to the hiding-place of the money. Having in mind the whimsical nature of the man, we may well believe that, in a case such as this, the clue would be of an especially curious kind. Next, we have the fact that Mr. Abernethey[132] was a musician. He was devoted to that art beyond anything else, excepting only his passion as a miser. Now, our search through his effects and his house has discovered only a single thing having a real, vital bearing on his personality, and—more than that—on the very object of our quest here, money. In consequence of all these facts, I am led to the conclusion that this page of manuscript offers us the clue for which we have hitherto been hunting in vain.” The speaker paused, to stare from one to another of his auditors triumphantly.
Roy uttered an ejaculation of impatience.
“Reason is a good thing sometimes, and sometimes it isn’t. This, I’m thinking, is one of the times when it isn’t. The trouble with your whole argument, Billy, lies in an additional fact; that a sheet of music can’t tell you where a certain hole in the ground may chance to be.”
“Why not?” Billy’s question came tartly.
Roy replied with a hint of disdain in his voice, such as is often characteristic of the musical person in speaking of his art to one unlearned.
[133]“The reason would be obvious to you, if you knew anything of music,” he declared.
“Then, it’s lucky I don’t,” was the other’s retort; “because, in some way that we don’t know yet, the clue we need is set down on that manuscript. It is logically certain, and, if you musical sharps can’t guess as much, it’s fortunate I’m along to give you the pointer.”
David, also, expressed himself as skeptical of the announcement made by Billy:
“If it had been anybody except Billy who had been hit by this idea, I should feel quite differently about it,” he asserted, chuckling in response to the glare of indignation with which the oracle received the words. “Of course, you know my feeling in the matter. I’m expecting some sort of inspiration to hit us; I have been, ever since Roy had his hunch. But Billy isn’t of the sensitive temperament, which is receptive to impressions of a psychic sort. If Roy had received this idea, without a bit of reason to back it up, I should have had high hopes—or if it had come to Saxe even, because he has the sensitiveness of the artistic temperament.”
[134]“Or even if it had come to your delicately susceptible self, I suppose,” Billy suggested, acrimoniously.
David nodded assent.
“With all humility, yes,” he answered, unabashed. “And you needn’t be peevish, Billy, for the simple reason that you’d be furious if anyone were to accuse you of being a psychic subject. Eh, wouldn’t you?”
Billy growled assent.
“That sort of thing’s all rot,” he affirmed, with emphasis. “I arrived at the fact easily and sanely by the exercise of a rationalizing intelligence.”
“Precisely!” David agreed. “And that’s why I don’t attach the slightest importance to your statement.” At this heterodox confession, Billy was too overwhelmed with disgust to pursue the argument farther.
Saxe did not share in the avowed disbelief of Roy and David. While the others were engaged in disputation, he had gone to the stack of music, and had looked through it until he came upon the sheet of manuscript. Then, he returned to his seat on the stool, placed the music on the rack, and devoted[135] himself to scrutiny of the writing. He felt, somehow, that he dared not reject the suggestion that here was the very thing he sought as the guide to fortune. Nevertheless, though he studied the page with anxious intensity, he could perceive no possibility of any hint to be derived from the simple score of notes. There was nothing set down in the way of diagram, or combination of letters which by twist of ingenuity might be made to suit his need. Nothing showed beyond the phrases of a composition naked in its simplicity. Reason told him that any trust in this manuscript were delusion. Yet, he hung over it, absorbed, even while he chided himself for his interest in a thing plainly worthless to the purpose.
It was Billy Walker, turning in disgust from the debate with David, who first observed Saxe’s absorption in the manuscript, and his vanity was at once consoled by this mute support. He got up lumberingly, and crossed over to the piano, where he stood looking down at the music. His action caused David and Roy to perceive what Saxe was doing, and forthwith, despite[136] their skepticism, they, too, rose and went to the piano, there to stare down curiously at the manuscript on the rack.
Here is a copy of the sheet on which the four adventurers were looking down:
 
[Listen]
[137]The four stood in silence for a long minute, gazing down at the manuscript page with keen discouragement. Saxe was the first to speak, shaking his head dispiritedly:
“It means nothing,” he said, with melancholy certainty in his voice. “There is no possibility of its meaning anything. For a moment, I was foolish enough to hope that Billy had really got the right idea, but he hasn’t. This is a plain bit of music, nothing more.”
“Of course!” Roy agreed, with a contemptuous inflection. “My personal opinion is that the power of ratiocination is not always what it’s cracked up to be, Billy.”
David, once again, shared the general disbelief.
“No,” he declared, “the idea won’t hold water. There is no way to convey meaning by the score of a musical composition except the emotion that the author has experienced himself, and wishes thus to interpret to his hearers. The old man meant in this case to tell us of the spell that the love of gold lays on the miser. He has done that. Billy was the one who called our attention to the fact.[138] He must be content with that much glory. His other idea was just poppycock.”
Billy Walker was unconvinced.
“I know nothing about music,” he conceded. “But I have the God-given gift of reason, which is not vouchsafed to the brutes—or to all human beings, I regret to say. Reason convinces me that the clue lies somewhere on this sheet. I reaffirm my conclusion. Since I know nothing of music, the remainder of the work must be done by you. It has now become your responsibility. I have done my part.”
The dignity and the earnestness with which this declaration was made impressed the doubters in spite of themselves. When Billy had ceased speaking, they remained silent, vaguely hesitant, though quite unconvinced. Saxe, perhaps, more than either of the others was desirous of accepting Billy’s idea as true, but he was unable to justify it by anything tangible. His was, after all, the chief interest in the issue, and he was eager to seize on even the most meager possibility that offered hope of success. So now, he was anxious to believe, and racked his[139] brain to find some character of subtle significance on the page before him. It was in vain. He could discern nothing beyond the obvious meaning of the score as the symbol of a musical composition.
Thus the matter remained for a week. Billy Walker retained certainty as to the correctness of his judgment; David and Ro............