The Antiquarian Club continued to meet two or three times a week, but for some time the meetings were not enlivened with any further discoveries. Corinne grew quieter and more uncommunicative, Margaret restless and discontented. And as for the twins, now that the excitement had subsided and nothing further on that order appeared to be forthcoming, they became frankly bored with the proceedings of their society and were claimed once more by their basket-ball and tennis-playing companions.

Several afternoons Corinne went alone to the Charlton Street house and sat long with Margaret, going over and over the old account-book story. For neither of them did interest in the matter ever wane. And even though they appeared to have reached an insurmountable115 barrier, it did not utterly discourage them. The mystery was always there, and the unsolved riddle proved a constant lure.

Then one day Corinne came in, accompanied by the twins, and all seemed in rather high spirits.

"What's the news?" demanded Margaret at once. "Have you discovered something, Corinne?"

"Yes, I have. And while it may not be of any great help, at least it's another link in the chain."

The twins, once more condescending to interest themselves in the affair, exclaimed: "Do tell us about it! We cut a basket-ball match to come home this afternoon!"

"Well, as I said, it isn't much, but it's something. Yesterday I was up at the Forty-second Street Library, browsing around among the old reference-books on New York City history, when I suddenly came across this. You remember, several times Alison spoke about the housekeeper, 'Mistress Ph?be'? Well, I've found out who she is!"

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"You have!" they chorused.

"Yes, and I guess it's positive, for two books mention it. She was Ph?be Fraunces, the daughter of Sam Fraunces who kept the famous 'Fraunces' Tavern.' The building, by the way, is still in existence down on Pearl and Broad Streets. It has been restored to look just the way it used to, and is the headquarters of the Sons of the Revolution. Sam Fraunces was a fine man and a great admirer of Washington—"

"Yes, Alison said so!" interposed Margaret, half under breath.

"—and he was afterward the household steward for Washington when he lived in New York as President. One book says Ph?be played quite a part in the plot—preventing it, that is! That's all I found out, but it's interesting."

"It certainly is!" assented Bess, after a moment's thought, "and it's just one more proof that we're on the right track. But still I don't see that it helps very much in finding out what became of Alison, or anything about her!"

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"No, it doesn't!" agreed Corinne ruefully. "And that's just where it's so disappointing. But there's this about it. In a puzzle like this, every little bit helps along. Sometimes, what really doesn't seem to amount to anything at all, leads at last to the most important discovery. For instance, that song—'The Lass of Richmond Hill.' That didn't impress us so much when we came across it, yet it really led to all the discoveries we've made. I propose that this afternoon we go over the whole thing again, just as carefully as we can, and see if there isn't some little clue that we may have constantly overlooked. Of course, I've done that by myself dozens of times, and so has Margaret. But four heads are better than one! Who knows but this time we may light on the very thing?"

She was so hopeful and enthusiastic about it that they all settled down to the work, reading over the old diary very slowly and discussing every point that seemed to offer the least suggestion of a clue. They had reached the entry which announced Washington's arrival, and118 were hotly debating the question whether or not Madame Mortier could be concerned in the plot against him, when suddenly they were electrified by hearing the loud crow of a rooster, coming apparently from the darkness at the far end of the room. (They had been talking and reading by the light of the open fire only.) Every one jumped, and Margaret caught her hand to her heart. But Bess instantly recovered herself, darted across the room, dived behind the curtains, and returned dragging into the circle a grinning, giggling small boy.

"It's Alexander, of course!" was her brief remark. Her captive was certainly an extraordinary-looking youngster! Wiry, and undersized for his age (he was thirteen), he possessed a snub-nose, a shock of brilliant red hair, and a quantity of freckles that literally "snowed under" his grinning countenance. His appearance was rendered all the more remarkable by the fact that he had cut a series of holes in an old, round, soft hat, and his brilliant hair stuck straight up through these in119 astonishing red bunches. Not one whit did he seem to resent the publicity into which his recent exploit had brought him! Rather did he appear to glory in the situation.

"Aren't you ashamed to be eavesdropping behind the curtains?" demanded Bess, shaking him by his collar, of which she still retained her hold.

Alexander straightened himself and made this cryptic reply:

"I don't get yer! But if yer mean piking off this chinning contest,—no, I ain't!"

At the foregoing remarkable explosion of slang, Corinne suddenly went off into a peal of laughter.

"Oh, Alexander, you're rich!" she exclaimed. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance. Teach me some of that, will you!"

The boy turned to her with an appreciative and understanding twinkle in his eye: "Sure thing! I'll put you wise, any old time!"

But Jess suddenly broke into this exchange of amenities. "Do you girls realize what has happened? Alexander Corwin has been listening120 to all the proceedings of our secret society, and now he knows just as much as we do! Oh, I could scalp you!" she e............