his ten years far behind him.’
Edred had a queerer feeling in his head than you can imagine; his hands got hot and dry, and then cold and damp.
‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to be Lord Arden? It wouldn’t do if you were just plain John or James or Edred Arden? Because my name’s Arden, and I would like to have a try?’
The old man stooped, caught Edred by the arm, pulled him up, and stood him between his knees.
‘Let’s have a look at you, sonny,’ he said; and had a look. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘you’re an Arden, for sure. To think of me not seeing that. I might have seen your long nose and your chin that sticks out like a spur. I ought to have known it anywhere. But my eyes ain’t what they was. If you was Lord Arden – What’s your father’s name – his chrissened name, I mean?’
‘Edred, the same as mine. But Father’s dead,’ said Edred gravely.
‘And your grandf’er’s name? It wasn’t George, was it – George William?’
‘Yes, it was,’ said Edred. ‘How did you know?’
The old man let go Edred’s arms and stood up. Then he touched his forehead and said:
‘I’ve worked on the land ’ere man and boy, and I’m proud I’ve lived to see another Lord Arden take the place of him as is gone. Lauk-alive, boy, don’t garp like that,’ he added sharply. ‘You’re Lord Arden right enough.’
‘I – I can’t be,’ gasped Edred.
‘Auntie said Lord Arden was a relation of ours – a sort of great-uncle – cousin.’
‘That’s it, missy,’ the old man nodded. ‘Lord Arden – chrissen name James—’e was first cousin to Mr. George as was your grandf’er. His son was Mr. Edred, as is your father. The late lord not ’avin’ any sons – nor daughters neither for the matter of that – the title comes to your branch of the family. I’ve heard Snigsworthy, the lawyer’s apprentice from Lewis, tell it over fifty times this last three weeks. You’re Lord Arden, I tell you.’
‘If I am,’ said Edred, ‘I shall say the spell and find the treasure.’
‘You’ll have to be quick about it,’ said Elfrida. ‘You’ll be over ten the day after tomorrow.’
‘So I shall,’ said Edred.
‘When you’re Lord Arden,’ said the old man very seriously, – ‘I mean, when you grow up to enjoy the title – as, please God, you may – you remember the poor and needy, young master – that’s what you do.’
‘If I find the treasure I will,’ said Edred.
‘You do it whether or no,’ said the old man. ‘I must be getting along home. You’d like to play about a bit, eh? Well, bring me the keys when you’ve done. I can trust you not to hurt your own place, that’s been in the family all these hundreds of years.’
‘I should think you could!’ said Edred proudly. ‘Goodbye, and thank you.’
‘Goodbye, my lord,’ said the old man, and went.
‘I say,’ said Edred, with the big bunch of keys in his hand, – ‘if I am Lord Arden!’
‘You are! you are!’ said Elfrida. ‘I am perfectly certain you are. And I suppose I’m Lady Arden. How perfectly ripping! We can shut up those lodging-children now, anyhow. What’s up?’
Edred was frowning and pulling the velvet covering of moss off the big stone on which he had absently sat down.
‘Do you think it’s burglarish,’ he said slowly, ‘to go into your own house without leave?’
‘Not if it is your own house. Of course not,’ said Elfrida.
‘But suppose it isn’t? They might put you in prison for it.’
‘You could tell the policeman you thought it was yours. I say, Edred, let’s!’
‘It’s not vulgar curiosity, like auntie says; it’s the spell I want,’ said the boy.
‘As if I didn’t know that,’ said the girl contemptuously. ‘But where’s the house?’
She might well ask, for there was no house to be seen – only the great grey walls of the castle, with their fine fringe of flowers and grass showing feathery against the pale blue of the June sky. Here and there, though, there were grey wooden doors set in the grey of the stone.
‘It must be one of those,’ Edred said. ‘We’ll try all the keys and all the doors till we find it.’
So they tried all the keys and all the doors. One door led to a loft where apples were stored. Another to a cellar, where brooms and spades and picks leaned against the damp wall, and there were baskets and piles of sacks. A third opened into a tower that seemed to be used as a pigeon-cote. It was the very last door they tried that led into the long garden between two high walls, where already the weeds had grown high among the forget-me-nots and pansies. And at the end of this garden was a narrow house with a red roof, wedged tightly in between two high grey walls that belonged to the castle.
All the blinds were down; the garden was chill and quiet, and smelt of damp earth and dead leaves.
‘Oh, Edred, do you think we ought?’ Elfrida said, shivering.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Edred; ‘and you’re not being good, whatever you may think. You’re only being frightened.’
Elfrida naturally replied, ‘I’m not. Come on.’
But it was very slowly, and with a feeling of being on tiptoe and holding their breaths, that they went up to those blinded windows that looked like sightless eyes.
The front door was locked, and none of the keys would fit it.
‘I don’t care,’ said Edred. ‘If I am Lord Arden I’ve got a right to get in, and if I’m not I don’t care about anything, so here goes.’
Elfrida almost screamed, half with horror and half with admiration of his daring, when he climbed up to a little window by means of an elder-tree that grew close to it, tried to open the window, and when he found it fast deliberately pushed his elbow through the glass.
‘Thus,’ he said rather unsteadily, ‘the heir of Arden Castle re-enters his estates.’
He got the window open and disappeared through it. Elfrida stood clasping and unclasping her hands, and in her mind trying to get rid of the idea of a very large and sudden policeman appearing in the garden door and saying, in that deep voice so much admired in our village constables, ‘Where’s your brother?’
No policeman came, fortunately, and presently a blind went up, a French window opened, and there was Edred beckoning her with the air of a conspirator.
It needed an effort to obey his signal, but she
