be served by your intellect, as well as your instincts. Trust them, and me. Good luck. I love you all very much, Richard Romarin
Natalie could barely read these last words from her beloved guardian. Calvin and Uncle Julien both wiped away tears. “Well, there it is, in his own words,” said Calvin. “There doesn’t seem any question now. It’s too late to know for sure how he died, because he was cremated, but it must have been poison. I know his heart was in good condition because he was bragging about it after his last checkup.”
“Yes, our family has never had a history of heart disease,” added Uncle Julien. “We Romarins generally die of old age … either that or from accidents. We’ve always been inveterate travelers. I suppose we must look at the other letter, if we are to know what danger we’re in.”
“I’ll read this one,” Calvin said, and unfolded the letter grimly. It was typewritten and very short.
If you value your life, and that of your family, you will bring the manuscript of John Milton to Temple Bar at precisely noon, three days from today. If you involve the police or anyone else, we will know. We are watching you at all times. If you fail to bring the manuscript, you and your entire family will die.
“Poor Uncle Richard!” Natalie shook her head disbelievingly. “He must have been so afraid. Oh, why didn’t he get help?” she wailed.
“To protect us,” answered Calvin, standing up and looking around the room. “We have to search this office, and fast. I think he wants us to find something in here. It was also part of the will, remember? We had to clean out the library to find the manuscript. Maybe we have to clean out the office to find something else.”
“Just so.” Uncle Julien rose from his chair and headed for a file cabinet. “Seth said no one has been in here since Richard, so maybe the murderers are still on the false trail that my brother set up, but I’m sure our grace period is fast ending. It’s been over a month now since Richard—” He stopped, unable to complete his thought.
They began searching the office with a new sense of urgency. Calvin rummaged through the desk while Uncle Julien looked through the file cabinet. Natalie started removing books from the shelves, in hopes that another secret compartment could be found behind them. “I wonder what kind of wild-goose chase he invented,” she said. “I bet it was something really clever. He must have convinced them that it wasn’t possible for him to retrieve it himself, and even devised some proof that it was hidden elsewhere, somewhere far away from his own home.”
“That sounds logical. And maybe they killed him as soon as he revealed the hiding place,” Julian added. “The blackguards! I’m glad Richard triumphed over them in the end. They didn’t get what they wanted.”
“Yet,” Natalie added ominously. “And we better make damn sure they never do.” She jingled the iron keys in her pocket. “I wonder,” she muttered, and pulled them out, examining them closely. There were four keys on the ring. One of the keys unlocked the library at home, and another the desk in the library. The largest key opened his office, but there was a very small key for which the will didn’t explain the purpose. “This little key must open something in here,” she said, and examined it more closely. “This reminds me of the type of key that came with the diary I got for my thirteenth birthday,” she mused.
“I remember that diary.” Calvin looked at the key. “Ethan was always trying to pick the lock on it.” Jake Zinman was Calvin’s best friend from childhood, and always found it great fun to irritate Natalie as often as possible.
Uncle Julien came over to where they stood and examined the key. “Tres curieux!” he declared. “This does look like it belongs to a diary or journal of some kind.”
Natalie was deep in thought, chewing on her nail, which is what she always did when trying to sort something out in her head. “There’s a black veil over their faces …” she whispered quietly. Suddenly she ran to the bookshelf and pulled out a slim volume, a collection of short stories by Nathaniel Hawthorne. “The Minister’s Black Veil!” she cried. “I thought it was an oddly poetic thing for Uncle Richard to write in his letter, and he had underlined the words, too. He was trying to give us a clue!” She opened the book and gave a triumphant smile. “This book has a stash box inside!”
“Well, it certainly is a fitting story in which my brother would hide something. The black veil has long been a symbol of man’s sinful nature. A very Puritan, and therefore Miltonian, concept.”
To all appearances, the book was like any other, with several stories printed inside; but instead of the story “The Minister’s Black Veil,” there was a very slim box, just thick enough for a few sheets of paper. The box had a minute lock attached and Natalie’s little key fit snugly into it. She turned the key in the lock and it clicked open easily. A small bundle of papers was inside, tied with a thin black ribbon.
Uncle Julien took one look at the book’s contents and made a pronouncement. “We must depart from here immediately! And take this book with us. We’ve found what we were meant to find.”
~
They emerged from Richard’s office and found Seth standing guard outside. He looked a little sheepishly at them. “I thought it might be prudent to stand watch for you,” he said.
“Thank you, Seth. I’m grateful our Uncle had such a friend in you.” Natalie smiled and touched his arm. She felt badly now about her earlier suspicion that he was somehow trying to make fools of them.
The young man blushed deeply and handed her uncle a card. “If you should need me further, this is my contact information. I want to repeat my offer of assistance.”
Julien thanked him and tucked the card into the inner pocket of his coat, assuring Seth that they would call him if needed. They made their farewells and walked quickly back in the direction of Natalie’s Triumph. As they approched the corner where they had left it, however, Calvin brought them to an abrupt halt. “Step back around the corner,” he commanded them urgently, pulling them back from Holywell Street. “What are you doing?” asked his sister. “What’s the matter?”
“There are a couple of men at the car,” he hissed. “Didn’t you see them?”
“No, I was looking at some students I recognized.”
“I saw them,” Julien said. “Two men, and one was examining your license plate. They most certainly did not look like parking officers. They were too well dressed for that.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Calvin urged. “We’ve got to leave the car.”
Natalie looked pained. “Very well, but if anything happens to it I shall be very put out.”
They turned back down Catte Street and hurried onto New College Lane. “We’ve got to get out of sight,” advised Uncle Julien. “Let’s wait in the bridge,” he suggested, pointing towards the Venetian-styled structure they had derided earlier. “We can observe Catte Street from its windows.” They entered one of the buildings of Hertford College that connected with the Bridge of Sighs and climbed the steps, huddling together at one of the bridge’s arched windows.
After a few minutes of watching the corner, they saw the two well-dressed gentlemen pass. They appeared to be in a great hurry and were headed straight for Radcliffe Camera.
“There they are,” Calvin said, frowning.
Natalie
