"So you thought that because we were having such a good time in Bermuda, we had forgotten all about the mystery!" laughed Margaret, the next afternoon, at the grand assembly of the Antiquarian Club. They were all gathered in the Charlton Street parlor—all but Mr. Cameron. He had, indeed, fully expected to be present, not intending to go to his office till the following day. But unexpected business had called him there, after all, so he could only send his hearty regrets to the meeting of the club. It seemed like old times for the young folks to be together again in this familiar room. The only wonderful difference was in Margaret. No longer was she ensconced in her accustomed wheel-chair, but in a big "comfy" armchair, with her cherished256 crutches leaning against its arm. No longer did she seem a wan, frail, delicate little invalid, but a brown, rosy, plump, and increasingly energetic young person. But the sweetness of her smile and the shy, trusting expression of her big gray eyes had not changed.

"Yes, I know you all must have thought we'd forgotten it," she went on; "but we hadn't—not for a minute! Only, for several weeks, we didn't seem to make any progress with it at all. We used to inquire of every native Bermudian we met if he or she had ever heard of any one living there by the name of Trenham; but no one seemed to have any ideas at all about it. They'd say they hadn't heard of the name themselves, but would always refer you to some one else, who would turn out to know as little as they did! It was awfully discouraging! Finally, Mr. Cameron suggested that the only way would probably be to go around to all the different parish churches and consult the old parish registers for the lists of births and marriages and deaths. He thought the name had probably257 died out long ago, and perhaps no relatives or descendants remained, or were even remembered.

"Well, this seemed a big piece of work, of course, and none of us felt quite like attempting it just then, for Mr. Cameron wasn't yet a bit well himself, and I was having treatments every day with the big doctor in Hamilton. So we decided to put it off for a while. And then—meantime—a very unexpected thing happened!

"You know, we were staying at a big hotel about four miles from Hamilton, near Harrington Sound. Mr. Cameron likes it there because it's out of the city, well away from everything distracting, like the things going on in Hamilton. Part of this hotel is big and new, but another section, where the dining-room is, has been standing for over two hundred years. You can see how old it is by its very looks, and we heard that it was really the old homestead of the proprietor's ancestors.

"The housekeeper is a dear, kindly lady,258 and we got rather well acquainted with her, because often we had to ask her for different and rather unusual things for me. She was just lovely to me, always, and after a while we had some long, interesting talks with her about Bermuda and the different families living there. And once she took us up to her own apartments, in the old part of the house, and showed us a collection of the most wonderful old furniture and antiques that had been in her own and her husband's families since way, way back. Corinne and her father went just wild over them, for you know how they love antiques!

"Well, one day we thought we'd ask her if she'd ever heard of any one on the island by the name of Trenham. She said no, she hadn't, but, if we were interested to find out, she'd take us over to the South Shore to see a very old lady there who knew lots and lots about Bermuda history and former people. She said she was driving to Hamilton that morning on some business, but would first take us over to the Jewell Farm, introduce us to259 old Mrs. Jewell, go on to Hamilton, and come back to get us later. She declared that the old lady would be delighted to have us come, because she was blind now and had very little to entertain her, and she loved to talk to people.

"This seemed too good a chance to lose, and Corinne and I accepted at once. Mr. Cameron had gone off on a fishing-trip, so he couldn't be included. We piled into the big, comfy carriage, and you ought to see that great, strapping driver lift me in and out and carry me around! Well, we got to the Jewell Farm over on the South Shore, and, oh, folks! how I wish you could all see that place! It's simply the most charming old house—two hundred and fifty years old!—set high on a hill overlooking that marvelous blue ocean, with a garden all around it that is like the things you dream about! We took some pictures of the house and garden which I'll show you later, but they don't do it anything like justice. You can only get a faint idea of its real beauty!

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"And the whole house, inside, was filled with the dearest old-time furniture! It nearly set Corinne crazy! But never mind about all that now—we must come to the best part! The driver carried me in, and we were introduced to the sweetest old lady you ever saw! She was nearly ninety-five, with snow-white hair; and a dainty lace cap over it. Her eyes were pretty and blue, and you'd hardly guess, to look at her, that she couldn't see a thing. If she'd known us all her life, she couldn't have received us more cordially, or seemed less surprised to have complete strangers landed on her without any warning. She made us feel at home and acquainted right away, and after a few moments the housekeeper left us alone with her and went on to Hamilton.

"We didn't like to introduce the subject we were most interested in right away, so we chatted with her about her lovely old home, and the furniture in it, and its history. After a while, though, when we could bring it in naturally, we asked her if she had ever known any one by the name of Trenham in Bermuda.261 She gave the most curious little start, but only said very quietly:

"'I would like to know why you ask? Whom do you know of that name?' Well, Corinne and I looked at each other and I saw we were agreed that it was time to make a bold move, so I said right out that we were very much interested in some one who lived in Bermuda a long while ago and whose name was Alison Trenham.

"Folks, if I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget the strange expression that came over that old lady's face when I spoke that name! For a minute or two she didn't answer—just sat quietly thinking. Then at last she said, still very quietly:

"'Yes, I know the name! I have heard of only one Alison Trenham in my life, and that was—my grandmother!'"

There was a gasp and a start from her listeners, and Margaret laughed as she continued:

"You'd just better believe we jumped, too! And I thought Corinne's eyes would pop out262 of her head—she looked so startled! I just couldn't help smiling to myself at her expression, though I was so deep in other things. Then I said:

"'Well, Mrs. Jewell, since you do know an Alison Trenham, and she was your own grandmother, I guess we'd just better tell you our whole story. For the two Alisons may turn out to be the same!' Then, as quickly as I could, I told her all about finding the trunk and the journal, and our Antiquarian Club, and all the discoveries we made afterward, and how we'd come to a snag and could get no further. I even told her how Sarah had burned the original journal. But I didn't say a word about the sapphire signet—just then. I wish you could have seen the expression on her face all the time I was talking! It was as though she were listening to a story so strange that she couldn't believe a word of it! I ended by begging her, please, if she could throw the least light on our mystery, to oblige us by doing so, as it was the chief aim of our Antiquarian Club to find the key to the riddle!

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"She was silent a long time after I had finished—so long that we were beginning to think she must have fallen asleep, for she had covered her eyes with her hand, and was leaning her elbow on the arm of the chair. But suddenly she spoke, saying very low:

"'All this seems like a dream to me! You children have stumbled upon a secret that I supposed no mortal would ever discover in this world! The ways of chance are very mysterious! Yes, it is the same Alison; and since you know so much, I am going to tell you the rest of the story, though she made me solemnly promise, when I was a young girl, that I would never tell a soul. That is why I was hesitating. But I feel certain that, were she to know these circumstances, she would have no real objection to your knowing the whole story. It can harm no one now—least of all herself!

"'As I told you, she was my grandmother. I was born in 1820, and she was then a woman sixty years old. My own mother and father died in my infancy, and left me to her care. This was her home, this same old farm, and I264–266 came here to live with her. We are a long-lived race, here in Bermuda, and she lived on to be almost ninety-five, as I myself am doing! A few years before she died she told me that she had something on her conscience that she would like to tell me, because she felt that she would die happier, knowing that she had not kept the secret unconfessed to the end. She made me promise I would never disclose it, as some of it had once been of political consequence, and she had always feared its discovery.'

"And now, folks, I'm going to tell you the story of Alison in my own words, because I can't remember all of hers!" ended Margaret. Then she re-settled herself in her big chair and began anew, very much flattered by the breathless attention of her auditors.
Slow to answer
"For a minute or two she didn't answer"

"Alison Trenham lived on this same old farm with her grandfather, Archibald Trenham. Her parents had both been lost at sea when she was little, and that's why she was living with him. He was a queer, crabby sort of an old man, and had never loved Alison267 because he was so disappointed she hadn't been a boy. She was a big, beautiful-looking, athletic girl, and he had had her taught to ride, and swim, and sail a boat, and do most of the things boys generally do, besides learning to read and write and some Latin and French. It was his whim that she should be educated like a boy, even if she wasn't one.

"But she was restless and discontented and headstrong, and hated her life there with her grandfather, and wanted the worst way to go away from Bermuda altogether and see some of the world. She had an aunt, a Madame Pennington, living down at Flatts (that's right where our hotel was), and a cousin Betty, and she was very fond of them both. The aunt was like a mother to her, and spoiled her a lot. Well, Alison confided to her aunt that she wanted to go away from Bermuda, but that her grandfather wouldn't hear of it. And she said she was so crazy to go that sometime she was going to run away!

"The aunt was very much shocked, but268 finally Alison begged her so hard that she consented to write to a friend of hers in New York, a Madame Mortier, and get her to invite Alison up there for a long visit. Madame Mortier wrote back that she would be delighted to have Alison come, especially as her husband had just lately died and she was very lonely. So that much was arranged, and Alison was delighted. But the difficulty was to get away from Bermuda without her grandfather knowing, for he would never have consented. Alison discovered a way out of this herself, and here comes the exciting part! Alexander, you were right, after all, as you'll see in a moment!"

"Oh, your Uncle Dudley's right sometimes," grumbled that irrepressible youngster, trying to conceal his satisfaction.

"Now, to go on. One day Alison happened to meet, quite unexpectedly, a neighbor of theirs, a young fellow named Harrington Ord—"

"'H'!" shouted the listening ones, simultaneously.

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"Yes, you're right! that was 'H'! He had been away on a cruise with his uncle, George Ord, in his uncle's ship, the Lady. Harrington said they had only touched at St. George's for a day or so to take on a cargo of salt, and would then be off again for America. Then Alison saw her chance. She begged Harrington to ask his uncle if she might be taken aboard to go with them without letting her grandfather know. She knew the uncle and her grandfather had some standing quarrel between them, and that George Ord would not be sorry to do anything to get the best of the old man. Harrington hesitated about it, then finally confided to her the news that his uncle was engaged in a strange plot—"

"The gunpowder!" exclaimed the audience.

"Yes, the very thing! Alexander was exactly right in his guess! George Ord was planning to steal the gunpowder the very next night, and all the details were arranged except one thing, and that was puzzling them all dreadfully. It was this: the governor slept with270 the keys of the magazine under his pillow, and how to get at them without disturbing him, nobody could think. Some one had suggested putting a heavy sleeping-powder in his food, but that was all but impossible, as no one knew any of his servants or could get into his kitchen. Harrington had the powder in his pocket, and, at his wits' end, he showed it to Alison. She had an idea right away. She told him to give it to her, and she would see that it got to its proper destination all right, if, in return, his uncle would take her secretly to America.

"He declared that his uncle would be only too delighted to reward her in that way, and everything was arranged. She was to go next day to her aunt's as if for a week's visit. That same afternoon she would take a little cat-boat and sail by herself up to St. George's, and be taken aboard the Lady at sundown, as she was setting sail, and when no one was observing. But first she intended to stop at the governor's mansion and make a call on his niece, whom she knew rather well.

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"Everything went off like clockwork! Her grandfather suspected nothing. She got to her aunt's and bade her good-by, sailed up to St. George's in her little dinghy, called on the governor's niece, and, before she left, went down to the kitchen to see the colored cook Dinah, who was a sister of her grandfather's cook and was rather fond of Alison. She found, just as she had expected, that Dinah was preparing the governor's little afternoon snack of cake and a glass of wine. When Dinah wasn't looking, she quietly dropped the powder in the wine, and the game was won! Later, as she went out, she saw him drinking it.

"Well, the governor slept like a log that night, and you all know how successful the rest of the scheme was! Captain Ord was so grateful to Alison that he couldn't do enough for her. He landed in New York, and Harrington escorted her to Richmond Hill, the home of Madame Mortier. The old song, 'The Lass of Richmond Hill,' was very popular just then, and Harrington kept teasing Alison272 by whistling and singing it constantly, and saying she was now that 'lass'!

"Madame Mortier was lovely to her at first, and seemed delighted to have her there. But Alison didn't have a very lively time, because Madame Mortier lived a very secluded and quiet life, and her house was way off from the city, and she never went anywhere. And Alison found out, too, that she was a strict Tory, and hated Washington and the rebels, and felt very bitter about the war that was just commencing. Now, Alison had heard a lot about Washington from Captain Ord and Harrington, who both admired him terrifically, and she herself had begun to feel a great respect for the rebel leader. But when she spoke in praise of him, one day, Madame Mortier just 'jumped on her,' as Alexander would say, and almost went crazy denouncing him.

"Well, by and by Alison began to feel dreadfully lonely and homesick, and just longed to go back to Bermuda, and wished she'd never come away! But getting back was more difficult than coming to New York. She didn't273 like to tell Madame Mortier she was tired of her and wanted to leave, for she had been invited to stay a year, at least, as a companion to the old lady. Then something happened that changed the whole face of affairs for her—two things, in fact!

"A sailor from Captain Ord's ship turned traitor some months after the gunpowder affair, and in Corbie's tavern let it all out and told how Alison had been mixed up in the plot,—or at least, that he suspected she was, for he didn't actually know about her drugging the governor. This got round to the steward, whom we all know about, and finally was hinted at by him to Madame Mortier. She began to treat poor Alison very coldly and suspiciously, without, however, telling her the real reason. She evidently thought Alison was some kind of a spy! And Alison never guessed the reason till Harrington gave her the hint that night under her window.

"Anyhow, that was when she first began to feel uneasy, a............