The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 24

"In darkness thou shalt find an end. The ancient sentinel standeth guard..." The sound of his own mumbling voice woke Timothy from a restless dream. He lifted his heavy eyelids, feeling groggy-headed. It seemed as if he had only blinked, and now it was time to wake up. He could hear a distant clock chiming five in the morning. But how could he force himself to get up when he was too sleepy to move?

"Do you read poetry?" his comforter asked.

The little boy looked across a beautiful room and saw the man sitting by a window. It was the first time he had been able to look at the fellow's features. When he met his gaze, a kind, sorrowful smile spread over the gentleman's handsome face.

Timothy forced himself to sit up and rub his bleary eyes. "I dunno, sir," he yawned. "I can't 'ardly read a word o' anyfing. But I've listened to a bit of it 'ere an' there."

"Then you must have an excellent memory. You have been saying riddles in your sleep."

The confusing rhyme ran through Timothy's mind one more time. Darkness, he pondered. An end in the darkness. Like the dead end of a path. Or pr'aps a passageway. He felt himself nodding off to sleep again, and he shook his head to wake himself.

His friend let out a quiet laugh. "Lie back down, lad. You are too weary to rise yet."

"But I gotta get t' work," the little boy moaned. "Mr. Hannover'll 'ave his letters ready by six."

With gathered determination, he threw off his blanket and took a few steps across the room. But he was so unsteady that he stumbled and almost fell. He felt his helper's arm catch and steady his wobbly frame.

"Six is still nearly an hour away," the man noted. "There is plenty of time." Still holding the child close to his side, he rang the bell for breakfast and then sat down in a big armchair, setting the lad close beside him. In a short amount of time, a maid carried coffee and rolls into the room. The man poured a cup full for his little friend with more cream and sugar than coffee.

"That ought to wake you up a little," he said with a friendly smile. "But I would rather see you go back to bed. You only slept for three hours. And half the time, you were mumbling something to yourself."

Who knew how many hours the young man had slept or if he had slept at all. His dark blue eyes looked tired enough to convince Timothy that he had probably stayed awake through the whole night.

The little boy took a sip of the reviving coffee and then smiled up at his friend. "Who're you?" he asked. He knew that the man was a gentleman, but he was sure he couldn't have been any more well-to-do than Hannover. He was dressed in a nice but simple suit which had been wrinkled out of shape through the restless night.

"Most people call me Dr. Lansbury," the man answered. "But you may call me Arthur."

The little boy's eyes widened in recognition. Arthur Lansbury? he thought in astonishment. This was Gracie's brother? The dismal man who acted so cold and distant to the rest of the world? He didn't seem cold at all now. He might have been somber, but he was so kind. Timothy wondered how Grace could feel less fond of him than he did now.

"What about you, lad?" Arthur asked after a moment. "Who are you?"

The boy blushed humbly. He felt a little shy as he thought about his answer. He was standing before a famous doctor, a grand gentleman, someone wealthy and important. "Me?" he laughed at last. "I ain't nobody, sir. Just an errand boy. Me name's Timothy."