It would be useless to attempt describing the mingled sensations with which the Antiquarian Club (all but Alexander) bent to examine the latest "find." The twins, however, drew back in a moment with a disappointed air and the disgusted query:

"Is that all! What in the world is it?"

It certainly was neither gold nor jewels, nor, apparently, important papers of any sort, and their interest waned at once. It was paper of some kind—dirty, mildewed, stained with time, and nibbled freely by mice. But it bore no resemblance to the state documents, laden perhaps with impressive seals, that the twins had vaguely expected to behold, if, indeed, the find took that shape at all. But Margaret and Corinne had been turning it over carefully. All of a sudden they uttered a simultaneous little cry:

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"Oh, girls! Don't you know what it is?"

"No!" declared the twins.

"Why—the other half of the diary!"

Then indeed did the twins give way to belated exultation in which Alexander joined, for of course he had already discovered this.

"Yes, it certainly is!" reasserted Corinne, examining it more closely. "The book was evidently torn in two, and this half concealed in the beam,—but for what earthly reason I can't imagine! I wonder if Alison put it there herself?"

"D'ye see anything queer about the first page?" inquired Alexander, mysteriously. They bent again to examine it. The first page was the most worn and stained and torn and least decipherable of all, because it had been unprotected. There were the same characters of the cipher, only very dimly discernible. But written diagonally across it, evidently with something black and dull, possibly a piece of charcoal or charred wood, were a few words in English. They were so faint that they might have been taken merely for the traces151 of dark stains or smudges had not one examined them closely.

"Shall I put you wise to what they say?" suggested Alexander.

"Oh, do!" they all cried.

"Well, here it is: 'I am now assured you are a spy. This proves it. I can make naught of it, but will hide it securely. Later I will denounce you.' Wouldn't that jar you, now!"

"Who do you suppose wrote it?" demanded Corinne.

"Could it have been Alison?" suggested Margaret. "Maybe she meant it about the steward."

"That's my guess!" echoed Alexander.

"But why did she write it in English, and with this charcoal or whatever it is? And why did she hide it in that beam? And why was the diary torn in two?"

"You can search me!" Alexander remarked, shrugging his shoulders.

"Wouldn't it be a good idea to find out by translating the rest?" quietly suggested Bess, the practical. "No doubt she'll say something152 in it that will put us on the right track."

"Good business!" chuckled Alexander. "You've got some sense in that bean of yours, kid!"

"I don't understand you!" retorted Bess, coldly. She thoroughly disapproved of his slang, and was never amused by it as the rest often were.

"I should worry!" he responded unconcernedly, and turned to Margaret. "Couldn't you dope out a bit of it now, kiddie? You've got the goods to do it with."

"No," interrupted Corinne, looking at her watch; "it's getting late, and I must go. Let's give Margaret a couple of days to work it out, and then we'll have a grand old meeting and solve the whole riddle—I hope!"

Much as they longed to know the whole story at once, it was obvious that Corinne's suggestion was most sensible. But before they separated, they unanimously voted "Aye!" to another matter—that the discovery of the contents of the secret beam was the most satisfactory thing that had happened so far!

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Two days later they gathered around Margaret, keen for the exciting revelations that they felt sure were awaiting them. Margaret had resumed her sphinxlike attitude of mystery and would reveal no clue to what she had discovered. When they were settled and quiet, Alexander remarked:

"Go ahead, kid! Shoot! Get it off your mind!" And smiling indulgently on him, Margaret began:

"You remember where we left off in the other half of the journal—a sentence just stopped in the middle. It was this:—'For Madame M. will accept naught from him and—' Now, on this first page, she completes it. And, by the way, I had the worst time puzzling out that first page! It was so stained and faded and torn. Sometimes I wasn't even sure I was getting it right. But I guess now I have it correct. She goes on to finish:

    "—yet I scarce could tell him so. He must have guessed my predicament, for he only smiled and said it was of no moment. An she would not care for it, I might keep it for myself. 'Twas rarely kind in154 him. I long to tell him about myself, but I dare not—not yet.

"Then comes a break. Now she says:

    "His lady did pass me to-day, walking in the garden; and since the high shrubbery screened us, I curtesied deeply to her. I scarce dare notice her when any of the household are by. She looked at me long, then spoke me fair, asking had she not met me before she came here. I answered, yes, the day her coach broke down on the road last year, and I helped to hold the frightened horses while 'twas mended. She did thank me anew, and asked me what it was I was about to tell her then, when Madame M. had dragged me suddenly away. I replied that I dared not repeat it there, but would seek some chance to speak with her alone when we did have more time and were not observed. Then I heard footsteps approaching, and I fled quickly away."

"Wonder what it could have been that she was trying so hard to tell Lady Washington!" sighed Corinne. "This doesn't grow any less mysterious, apparently! Go on, Margaret!"

"Another break, then she says:

    "I have at last learned what is this wicked plot—"

"Good business!" ejaculated Alexander.

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    "'Tis through Mistress Ph?be I found it out. She has a lover who is one of his life-guard, and this lover she has had cause to suspect is not entirely loyal to him. Last night she did ply him with overmuch good malt brew, and in his befogged state she did get him to babble the secret. Oh, it is a vile scheme! They are planning to deliver the city out of his hands. But that is not the worst. They seek first of all to murder him, and in some underhand, cowardly fashion. The manner of it is not decided yet. Ph?be tells me her lover will remember no word of what he said to her last night in his cups. But she intends to watch him right closely. When she has learned the manner of the plotted murder, he must be warned."

"Isn't this exciting!" exclaimed Corinne.

"Bully! Hot stuff!" agreed Alexander.

Margaret continued: "Now, another entry.

    "I have confided my story to Ph?be. She is well to be trusted, I feel. She has promised to help me in my need. I am becoming right fond of Ph?be. Corbie was here last night to see the steward. They are both in the plot............