Mandie and the Secret Tunnel (6 page)

They could barely see the back of the house through all the trees.

“It was a secret tunnel, just like in the storybooks!” cried Polly.

“It’s amazing! I can hardly believe this is happening,” added Mandie.

“Say, I’m getting awfully hungry,” murmured Polly. “It must be close to dinnertime.”

“Yeh, me too. Come on, let’s run,” Mandie called as she bounded toward the other side of the house.

Polly caught up with her. “Let’s keep this
our
secret. Then we can explore it all over again.”

“All right. We won’t tell anyone where we’ve been,” Mandie agreed. “But I sure would like to know what was behind that curtain on that bed. Ooh, it makes me shiver just to think of it!”

“I know,” agreed Polly. “Let’s get Mr. Bond to go up there with us and see what it is.”

“That’s a good idea. Come on. Let’s hurry and eat dinner.” Mandie once again broke into a run.

As they came in the back door Aunt Lou greeted them. “Land sakes! Where you all done been? Vittles bein’ put on the table. Git a move on and git washed. Quick!” She shooed them on through the kitchen with a big grin, as they obeyed.

They washed, hurried to the dining room and slipped into their chairs just as Mr. Bond came in right behind them.

“Well, well, where have you two been for so long?” he asked.

“We’ve been looking for the will,” Polly said, quickly.

“On the third floor,” added Mandie, watching for his reaction.

“On the third floor, eh? Well, did you find anything up there?” He began slicing the ham.

“Yes,” Polly said.

“But we don’t know what it is,” Mandie reminded her.

“Well, what’s that supposed to mean? How did you find something if you don’t know what it is?”

“We found a big bedroom with ghost-white curtains and spreads over two big four-poster beds on the third floor, with white curtains all over all the windows. It makes chills run down my spine!” Mandie exaggerated.

“Mine, too! It made a noise, Mr. Bond, and made the curtains move and then it blew out our lights,” Polly told him.

“Well now, if you’ll eat up, we’ll just go back up there and see what it is.”

They were soon finished and Mr. Bond went to get some matches and an oil lamp.

Mandie absentmindedly slipped her hand into her pocket. “I still have the key to that tunnel,” she whispered.

“Listen, let’s tell Mr. Bond about it—just him—nobody else?” begged Polly.

“All right, but not till we see what the ghost is,” cautioned Mandie as Mr. Bond returned.

They followed the kind man up the stairs silently, darting glances all around. When they reached the landing where they had opened the window, he closed it, commenting that the draft might cause their lamp to go out. Arriving at the top of the stairs he opened the door into the center hall of the third floor.

“Land sakes! Gotta replace that knob,” he said, as he noticed the other side of it was missing.

The girls followed more closely behind him.

“It was in that room,” Mandie said, pointing to the door on the left.

“All right, we’ll just see what’s in there,” the caretaker told them. He walked over to the bed and the curtains moved. And there was that noise again!

As he touched the curtain a bat flew out from behind it. The girls screamed and ran into the hall. After a long chase, Mr. Bond finally ran the bat out through the window in the hall and closed it again, leaving the shutters open to allow some light from outside.

“Come on back in now and see for yourselves, girls. It’s gone,” he assured them.

The two slowly entered the room, looked cautiously around and were satisfied.

“Mr. Jason, we found a secret tunnel today
right here in this house,” Mandie blurted out.

“A secret tunnel?” the old man asked.

“Yes, come on! We’ll show you!” Mandie fairly danced about.

“It goes into the woods,” Polly said.

“I don’t know anything about a secret tunnel in this house,” Mr. Bond said.

The girls explained how they had found it. They led the way down the hall and searched for the loose panel. Instead, they found a door they hadn’t seen before, which opened to a small room containing steps which led to the attic.

“Well, reckon that’s it,” Mr. Bond said. “We’ve looked everywhere and haven’t found it yet. There’s only one more door left and it’s locked.” He indicated a door near where they were standing.

“Oh, we missed that one,” Mandie jumped.

“I’ve got the key. I know what’s in there,” Mr. Bond said.

“Here,” Mandie pulled the key from her pocket. “I have the key to the door at the other end of the tunnel. We can come in from that end.”

“Too late tonight for such things,” Mr. Bond said. “We’ll try it tomorrow in the daylight.”

“Well, if you have the key to this room, can we see what’s in there?” Polly asked.

Mr. Bond took out his keys and fumbling through them came up at last with the key that unlocked the door. The girls stepped ahead of him into the room and looked around in surprise.

There were shelves on three sides of the room
filled with books. In front of a large stained-glass window was a huge desk with papers strewn about on it. All the shutters were open, letting in the moonlight from outside. On the opposite side of the room was a beautifully carved couch with big soft cushions. On the three sides with shelves there were wall sconces holding candles, as many as could possibly be placed between the rows of books.

Mandie noticed a smaller door in one corner which she tried to open and found locked. The caretaker had no key for it. She also noticed an ashtray with ashes in it on the desk and a pen in a bottle of ink.

“Wonder what your uncle used this room for—a private library?” Polly asked.

“He did his private book work up here,” Mr. Bond told them. “None of the servants are allowed on the third floor.”

“Do you know what’s on the other side of that locked door, Mr. Jason?” Mandie wanted to know.

“Nope, can’t say I remember ever seeing it before. Believe those curtains may have been pulled over it when I’ve been in here, and that’s not been many times.”

“Can we light the candles, Mr. Bond, so we can see how they look all burning at one time?” Polly begged.

Mr. Bond struck a match, lighted one candle, and the one on either side of it automatically burst into flame. He repeated this around the room.

“You see how close they are? That’s what makes ’em all light up magic-like,” the old man told them.

The room was brilliant, and Mandie’s attention was drawn to a paper on top of the pile on the desk.

She picked it up and read aloud, “ ‘March 1st. Dear Brother Jim’—This is to my daddy!—‘I am going on vacation to Europe for the summer and since one never knows what the future on a ship can hold, I would like to make peace with you while I can. I am an old man now, fifteen years older than you, you know, and I have no one to leave my belongings to, except you. I am taking the blame entirely for the disagreement between us all these years. I want you to know that Elizabeth is still in love with you, and she says she will never love anyone else. All that matters to me now is—’ ” Mandie looked up, puzzled. “That’s all; it’s unfinished. Who is Elizabeth?”

Mr. Bond took the paper and read it over again. “I’m afraid I have no idea who Elizabeth is.”

“I wonder why it’s not finished,” Mandie mused.

“Might have been written over again on another piece of paper. See that ink blot?” He showed her a black smear of ink on the paper, which she had not noticed.

“You’re right, Mr. Jason,” Mandie’s blue eyes filled with tears. “I hope my daddy received that letter before he—passed away.”

“He probably did.” Mr. Bond put the paper back on the desk and reached for a long rod.

“What’s that?” Polly wanted to know.

“It’s a snuffer, to put out all these confounded candles,” he said, as he swung it around the room extinguishing each one as he went.

“Imagine doing this every day,” Polly remarked.

“Yeh, and I’m glad I don’t have to,” he said.

Once in her room for the night, with only Polly for company, Mandie studied the paper again, which she had taken from the library. She was glad Polly’s mother had agreed to let her stay with her until her uncle’s missing will was found.

“I hope my daddy got this,” she said again. “I have to find this Elizabeth who loved him.”

“In the meantime, tomorrow we’ll show Mr. Jason the tunnel,” Polly reminded her. “What did you do with the key?”

“I put it on the bureau over there.” Mandie pointed to it.

But, in the morning the key was gone. It was nowhere to be found.

One morning, later that week, the two girls had wandered across the road through the cemetery, reading stone markers and commenting about the names, when they perceived someone knocking at John Shaw’s front door.

They hurried across the road to find a tall young man with big hazel eyes, standing there with a black traveling bag in his hand.

He looked down at the girls, smiled, and asked, “Is this where Mr. John Shaw lived before he died abroad?”

“Yes, sir,” Mandie told him. “I’m his niece, Amanda Shaw.”

“You are?” he questioned her. “I’m his nephew. You live here?”

“Yes, come on in and sit down. I’ll get Mr. Bond.” She opened the door and met Mr. Bond in
the hallway. “Mr. Bond, this is Uncle John’s nephew.”

The old man quickly looked the young man over and said slowly, “Mr. John Shaw didn’t have any nephews.”

“Well, I’m Bayne Locke, his sister’s son. And since I
am
his nephew, I have come to claim my part of his property,” the young man told him.

“I said, Mr. Shaw did not have any nephews; in fact, no living relatives, except his brother, Jim, and his family and they live in Swain County,” Jason Bond was emphatic.

“I am John Shaw’s
nephew
,” the stranger insisted, standing there in the hallway. “My mother died when I was born and I never have seen my uncle, but I’m sure I can claim at least part of what he owned. Where’s his will?”

Mr. Bond looked puzzled, scratching his head thoughtfully. “To tell you the truth, we haven’t found the will yet. But we have received word from his lawyer concerning the property—”

The young man interrupted, “I have as much right to stay here as anyone else until the will is found, if it is ever found.” He plopped his bag on the floor.

“Oh, it’ll be found all right,” Mr. Bond told him.

“Well, until it is found, please show me my room. I’ve been traveling all the way from Richmond and I’m tired,” Bayne Locke demanded.

“I suppose you can stay here tonight, but I’ll have to have proof as to who you are,” the old man said.

“I have it right here.” Bayne pulled a paper from his inside pocket and handed it to Mr. Bond.

“All this says is that you are the son of Martha Shaw and Caro Locke. It does not prove you’re John Shaw’s nephew.”

“Anybody that knows the Shaw family knows that he had a sister who died twenty-two years ago giving birth to a son in Richmond,” Bayne told him.

Mr. Bond still stood there scratching his head. Mandie was left speechless with the matter. Then Polly suddenly looked from Bayne to Mandie and spoke up.

“Well, Mandie, you have a cousin!” she exclaimed.

“Well, sort of, I suppose I do,” Mandie agreed. Then she turned to Mr. Bond. “I’ll show my cousin to a room, Mr. Bond. Which room should I put him in?”

“Either one down the hall upstairs. I’ll get Liza to go up and get things ready.” Mr. Bond turned back down the hallway toward the kitchen.

The girls led the young man up the stairs, past Mr. Bond’s room, to an unoccupied bedroom.

Mandie pushed open the door and peered into the room. It was well furnished with heavy furniture, red rugs and gold draperies.

“This will have to do,” she said, standing aside for Bayne Locke to enter the room. “It’s on the front of the house and won’t get the afternoon sun.”

“Fine, fine,” Bayne muttered, throwing up the windows and opening the shutters.

Liza danced in with a broom and a dustmop.

“Shoo, shoo! You-alls just git out of the way now, so’s I can git this place shuck up,” the black girl ordered the girls.

Mandie turned back as she went out the door, followed by Polly.

“Dinner’s at twelve o’clock on the button. Don’t be late.”

“Never been to dinner on time in my life, but I’ll turn over a new leaf just for you,” Bayne called back to her.

As the two girls sat in the swing on the front porch, Polly asked, “What are you going to do now? That man says he’s your cousin, and he’ll take what he came after, if you ask me.”

“We’ll see about that! Just leave him to me!” Mandie teased.

“But what can you do about it?” Polly wanted to know.

“Tonight’s the night for Uncle Ned to come visit,” Mandie said.

“Uncle Ned? Who’s he?”

“He’s the Indian who brought me here. Remember I told you?”

“Yeh, but so what? What can an Indian do about this Bayne Locke?”

“I’ll ask Uncle Ned to get the Cherokees to check up on this so-called cousin. Uncle Ned has his own ways of finding out things.”

The screen door opened and Aunt Lou stuck her head out. “Got that new dress done fuh you, my child.”

Mandie quickly followed her back into the house with Polly close behind. The blue dress was finished and pressed and was hanging in the sewing room. Mandie could only stand and gasp. She had never owned such a garment in all her life.

“Well, don’t just stand there, my child. We’se got to put it on to see if it fits.” Aunt Lou smiled as she began to unbutton the dress Mandie was wearing.

The dress fit perfectly and Mandie turned and twirled in front of the long mirror with oh’s and ah’s and Polly admiring.

“It’s beautiful, Aunt Lou.” Mandie was tearful as she turned to hug the old woman tightly. “Thank you, Aunt Lou! Thank you!”

“It takes a pretty girl like you to make a dress pretty,” Aunt Lou told her. “You look mighty fine, my child.”

“Positively heavenly, Mandie,” Polly agreed.

“Will you unbutton me now, Aunt Lou?” Mandie asked.