The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 25

"No," she laughed with a look of revelation. "I had it wrong! He is not merely a knight. He is a guard! An ancient sentinel! That is why he stands here warding off anyone who comes around."

"Ya mean, just like the poem says?" Timothy asked, brightening with excitement. "D'ya fink this is what Lady Denzell meant?" The children's hearts were beating hard and fast.

"It has to be! It is too perfect not to be!" Gracie answered in breathless delight. "That means we are probably not far away from finding the next clue. Come, Timothy, search everywhere! Perhaps it is hidden somewhere on the guard!"

They searched high and low, studying every inch of the stone statue. He was ornately formed with many shapes and patterns. But the only letters they found on him spelled the name of the sculptor who had created that work of art a long, long time ago.

After several minutes, they paused, feeling baffled. Tim eyed the stern sentinel. "He ain't a nice lookin' chap, is he!" he laughed. "What d'ya reckon he's doin' pointin' out like that wiv his finger?"

"I don't know," Gracie answered, giving up her search with a disappointed sigh. "I suppose he is pointing at an intruder and warning the others. But it is really quite silly that he isn't facing straight down the hall. You would have to be standing right against the wall to see him pointing at you."

Timothy followed the aim of that pointing stone finger with his eyes, wondering just where he had been standing when he had seen the statue's face last night. Then his brow furrowed in quizzical thought. It was clear that this neglected space hadn't always been disregarded. The walls had once been beautiful with intricate designs on the baseboards and pretty alcoves where candles and vases of flowers had once brightened the place. Now, all of those spaces were full of spider webs, and a thick layer of dust covered the ornate moldings. But that was what drew Timothy's eyes. His attention had been caught by one out-of-place nook which looked different from all the others. Instead of making a recess in the middle of the wall, it sat at the very base, level with the floor. And, by some strange chance, there wasn't a cobweb to be seen in the space.

Once more, Tim glanced at the statue's outstretched finger and followed its direction. The tall figure seemed to be pointing straight toward that unique alcove.

"What an odd space," he mused, going closer. "Look!" he added with a giggle. "It's big enough for me to crawl into!" With childish glee, he got down on his hands and knees and squeezed himself into the recess. It was about four feet wide and just as tall, and it was deep enough to make a fine hiding place for a boy Timothy's size. Gracie cringed at the filthy, dark place.

"Oh, Tim, don't go in there!" she shuddered. "There are surely spiders!"

"But there ain't!" the little boy exclaimed in amazement. "There ain't a spider or a web t' be seen in 'ere! It's almost as if someone swept it out. It ain't even dusty!"

He curled up on the floor of the alcove, enjoying his tight shelter very much and looking up at the slightly arched stones above him. It was dusky in the nook, but the longer he stared at the darkened arch, the more his eyes began to see. Etched in the stones above him, he began to make out little shapes which turned into letters as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.

Suddenly, he gave an excited start and began sounding out the letters. "T...H...O..." He tried desperately to make sense of them, but he couldn't. Oh, I can't wait to learn 'ow to read! he thought yearningly. Why couldn't Arthur 'ave taught me right early this mornin'? Then, pr'aps I'd know what I'm lookin' at! He scrambled out of the alcove, beaming with joy. "Gracie, there's letters on the ceiling! Come an' see!" he cried, grabbing the girl's hand and hopping up and down.