"Come on, Gracie! We gotta be brave!" Timothy said, standing up tall and straight.
They stared down the long hallway, tingling with excitement and fear. Things looked much different in the daylight, but it was still the darkest place in the house. Everything looked gloomy, and the air was thick with dust. Izzy never bothered to clean that hall very often. It was part of the servants' wing, and few of the guests ventured that far.
"What do you suppose the butler was doing down here?" Grace whispered, glancing around nervously as they crept into the shadowy passageway.
"I dunno. But he weren't alone! I'm almost sure he weren't! I 'eard another bloke's voice first, an' it didn't sound like Mr. S'bastian."
"What did the voice say?" Gracie squeezed the little boy's hand tighter and tighter as they moved step by step.
"It said, 'So now I know. You're there, always watchin' an' listenin'. An' then he said somefing about a secret."
"But who do you think the voice was speaking to? The butler?" Grace asked.
Timothy frowned in confusion. If the first voice had been speaking to Sebastian, then it seemed most likely that Sebastian would have been in front of Timothy. But when the butler had seized the child, he had grabbed him from behind.
"I...dunno," Timothy admitted at length. "What I can't understand is 'ow the fellow got away! I know I was right on his trail. An' as soon as I got t' the end o' the hall, he weren't nowhere t' be seen."
Further down the corridor, the children saw something that made them pause. It was a faint glow of light which shined around a corner, breaking the dusky shadows. Grace's heart gave a bound as one hopeful idea came into her head.
"In darkness thou shalt find an end," she quoted. Then, brightening, she gasped, "Timothy, we are in darkness right now! And there is the end of it right there where the light is shining. Do you suppose that is what Lady Denzell meant?"
"I 'oped ya might fink so," the little boy answered. "The thought did cross me mind a few times. An' ya can't come t' much more of an end than this place 'cause there ain't goin' no further once yer 'ere. Right around this corner, the hall dead ends."
They peeked timidly around the corner, and their hearts jumped into their throats as they saw two pale-gray eyes staring back at them. Both of the children gave a start and jumped back, but Tim forced himself to stay calm.
"It's a statue, Grace!" he said. "Just an awful, ugly statue. That's all!"
"Oh!" the girl cried. "I thought that we had been caught!" She laughed nervously, and again they stole a timid peep around the corner. This time, they looked the statue right in the face and studied him for a minute. There he stood on a stone platform holding a spear in one hand while the other hand pointed straight ahead of him. The odd thing was that the statue wasn't facing straight down the hall. It had been positioned so that the figure was looking a little to the left.
"What's the ol' blighter s'posed t' be, anyway?" Timothy asked, rubbing his goose-bumped arms.
"He is a knight!" Grace answered. "Don't you see all of his armor and the big sword hanging at his side?"
"What's a knight do, Gracie?" the little boy asked.
Without answering, Grace's pretty eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Her clever mind was hard at work, and missing puzzle pieces were beginning to fit into place. Slowly, she walked forward to meet this unfriendly-looking figure. She studied him from head to toe, and then a smile spread over her face.
"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.
"Letters?" the girl gasped. "What do they say?"
"I dunno! I can't read 'em. But you can! Come on, go down in there an' take a look!"
Grace didn't even hesitate. She forgot all about the scariness of that cramped space and the fear of spiders. In a moment, she was lying on her back, trying to pick out the old-fashioned words carved into the stone. In a slow, pondering voice, she finally read them aloud.
"Thou hast reached the end. But it is not true. It is not what it seems. Take heart. Push through."
The girl got up with a thoughtful look. "What is not what it seems?" she asked. "I can't understand it."
Timothy thought hard. All the while, his mind flashed back to memories from the night before. It always baffled him; he knew he had been following close behind a man. Then, out of thin air, that man had disappeared. He knew Sebastian had something to do with all of this. But he was also pretty sure that the old man hadn't been the only one there.
"Well..." the boy began, "We've reached the end. No doubt about that. The end o' darkness. The end o' everyfing. Ya can't get no further than this hall; it's a dead end. But...if it ain't what it seems, an' if that fellow last night got away from me, then there's gotta be someplace you can get to. There's gotta be a door or somefing that leads to somewhere. An' I'm almost sure it's gotta do wiv that there nook. It's the only place the sentinel's guardin'!"
The search began again. Both of the children got down on their hands and knees, looking at every stone in the arched alcove. When they began to search the wall at the very back of the recess, a curious thing caught their attention. It wasn't made of stone like the rest of the space. The smooth masonry had been replaced by a piece of wood. It was so dark that, from a distance, the shadows kept it from seeming out of place. But up close, the children could see the difference.
As Grace let her hand slide over the plank, she could feel the slightest draft of air drifting through a thin crack around the wood. She could hardly contain her excitement. "It's a false wall, Timothy!" she gasped. "I know it is! And that means there is something beyond this alcove, perhaps a secret room which no one else knows about!" With gleeful haste, she searched high and low for another clue. "It must open somehow. Perhaps all we have to do is push!" Her heart jumped. As she put a little pressure on the flimsy wall, she felt the whole thing move away from her. A quiet clicking noise met the children's ears as the latch opened. Then a pitch-black hole opened up before them.
"Oh Timothy!" Gracie cried, almost screaming the words in her excitement. "I've done it!"
"Shhh! Not so loud! You'll 'ave everyone crowdin' 'round us!" Tim warned. But even he was having trouble keeping his voice down as he giggled in delight.
Too thrilled to feel afraid of the dark, and too excited to think about what he was doing, Timothy fit himself easily through the small opening, feeling his way through the darkness like a blind man. He expected to find a small cupboard-like space. Perhaps there would be another box inside with a letter from Lady Denzell. But the space was larger than that. Reaching left and right, he found a wall on either side of him, about four feet apart. But as far as he could reach, there was no ceiling above him and no wall ahead. When he inched his way forward, he felt his hand slide down over a smooth ledge which leveled out into the first step of a staircase. His joyful laughter echoed down a long corridor.
"Gracie, what's the next line o' poetry we read in yer bedroom? The one after the sentinel an' all that?" he asked. Grace had been staying safely within the alcove, slightly afraid to venture into the thick blackness.
"It said, 'And down again thou shalt descend, thou whose breaking heart is marred'," she answered.
"Then that's just where we've gotta go: down!" Tim said excitedly.
"Down? Down where?" the girl asked nervously.
"Who knows? There's a staircase what goes down somewheres. But brrr! It's awful cold an' dark in 'ere! I ain't goin' wivout a glim."
"A what?" the girl asked. Her friend crawled out of the darkness, and both of them rose to their feet.
"Ya know. A candle!" the boy answered. "It's pitchy black in there. We need a bit o' light!"
For a minute, Timothy faced a dilemma. He had a candle in his bedroom, but he had used his last match two days ago, and every night, he forgot to ask Hannover for another one. He felt shy and nervous when he thought about asking the man for help now, but he knew he had to. He had to ask Hannover for a match, and he had to tell the man everything he had found. That was the only right thing to do. After all, this was Hannover's house they were plundering in.
Hastily, Timothy told Grace that he would be back in a moment. Then he dashed away to his master's office. He burst in without knocking and ran forward, leaning over his master's desk.
"Mr. Hannover! Ya won't b'lieve it!" the boy burst breathlessly.
At the sudden outburst, Hannover gave a terrible start, throwing papers in every direction and splattering ink on his desk. "Timothy, what madness is this?" he cried.
"Sir, it's the treasure! I fink I know just where it is! Ya see, I found a little nook in the wall, an' it's too dark t' see, but I'm sure it's there! Please, may I 'ave a matchstick t' light me glim?" The little boy talked as fast as he possibly could, hardly pausing to breathe.
Nook? Treasure? Matchstick? the stunned man repeated to himself. In a second, things started to come clear. Oh, good grief! A silly game. Is that what he's come in here to tell me about? Treasure indeed! In a little nook? Bah! That treasure had better be too big to fit in a common alcove, or I will be gravely disappointed! He gave an irritated grunt and started wiping ink off of his desk. "Timothy, I have no time for this," he said shortly. "If you want another matchstick, go and buy one for yourself! You have your own money, and you know where it is kept! Now be off with you! I am very busy!"
"But don't ya wanna come an' see the nook I found?" Tim asked.
"No. I have no interest in a boring, silly nook! There can be nothing of importance in it! Now go away! Don't bother me again. And you had better not break anything while you are plundering about! If you do, I will not only dismiss you without notice, I will require every penny you have earned and every penny you make thereafter!"
Timothy laughed merrily, and somehow it didn't displease Hannover in the least.
"I won't break nuffin', sir! I promise ya that!" the lad said cheerfully.
Hannover must have believed it or he wouldn't have smirked as he watched the little boy bound out of his office.
Ridiculous, fanciful boy! he thought in growing amusement. He really thinks he is going to find that treasure? In a nook of all places? How absurd!
Timothy formed another plan within seconds. If Hannover wouldn't give him a matchstick, he knew someone else who would. With a light heart and swift steps, he ran through the house, peeking into every open door until he saw the one man whom he was looking for. Thankfully, his friend was all alone in a room which was called The Smoke Room. It was properly named. As Tim reached the place, he almost choked on the smell of alcohol and tobacco smoke. But still, he ran in without hesitating.
"Mr. Bently, can I 'ave a match t' light?" the little boy asked.
Bently's face lit up with amusement. "You want a match to light, do you?" he asked. His white smile shined brightly, and his eyes sparkled with mischievous delight. "Save yourself the hassle and take a puff of my cigar!"
Timothy shrank away in disgust as the man held it teasingly toward him. "Mr. Bently, don't be wicked!" he scolded. "I likes ya very much, but I don't like yer smelly smoke. May I please 'ave a matchstick so's I can light me glim?"
Bently's smile grew kinder and fonder as he pressed the glowing end of his cigar into a tray of ashes and set the offensive thing aside.
"A glim, is it?" he laughed. "I would gladly give you anything your heart desired, dear conscientious friend. But now, I am terribly curious. What do you want with a candle in the broad daylight?"
The little boy's cheeks glowed with rosy excitement. "'Cause I found some place that's awful dark, sir, an' I need a candle or I'll trip an' fall."
"Perish the thought! In that case, here, I shall give you two matchsticks just in case the first one fails."
"Thanks ever so much!" the child giggled, snatching the matches from Bently's hand. He was off like a shot, running just as hard as he could. A few minutes later, he was back at the alcove with his matchsticks and his little candle in hand.
With hands that shook with excitement, Tim struck his match and held it to the candle's wick. Then he and Grace squeezed through the narrow entrance, and the flame threw a short beam of light down the staircase.
Gracie carefully closed the secret door behind them. There was a little latch inside which could easily be fastened and opened again. Then she grabbed Timothy's free hand and squeezed it nervously as they walked further and further down the stairs. At the bottom, a very small room was revealed. There were no windows, but the candle was enough to show them a very old table at the furthest end. Sitting on that table, there was a beautiful little box.
"There it is!" Gracie cried. "It is the treasure! Timothy, we have found it!" She sprang forward and grabbed the box, giggling as she turned it all around. "Do we dare look?" she asked in a jittery voice.
Timothy was right beside her as she carefully lifted the box's lid. But once again, there was no sparkle of gold or shimmer of diamonds; there was only a piece of old, yellow paper.
Grace's heart sank a little. But her disappointment didn't last for long. "Oh well," she sighed. "Perhaps it is not the treasure, but we must be getting close! Bring the candle nearer so I can read this, Tim!"
With dexterous fingers, the girl lifted the paper out. But unlike the other note they had found in her bedroom, this one didn't have to be unfolded. She could see where the paper had been crimped years ago, and she could tell that it had remained folded for a very long time. But at some point in time, it had been carefully laid open.
A chill ran down Gracie's spine. "Timothy," she whispered. "I don't think we are the only ones who have found this note. Somebody else unfolded it."
Her frightened tone made Tim shiver and throw a wary glance over his shoulder. "It was that flashman I was followin' last night," he quavered. "That's why I couldn't never find 'im. He'd already discovered this place, an' he squeezed through afore I got to 'im! I sure 'ope he ain't still around."
Grace felt pressed for time. She grabbed the candle from her friend and then looked down at the letter, straining her eyes to see the faded ink. Sounding rushed, she started to read aloud.
"So here you stand in the darkest room of my house. If ye tremble in fear, thou doest well, for here a guarded prisoner was once chained to the wall, unable to see the light of day, unable to feel a breath of wind. Thank goodness it is no more than an empty chamber now, an unused space shut up to conceal its dreadful history.
"Dearest soul, I hope thou hast never been deserving of such a punishment. I hope thou art free from all blame. But hast thou never felt trapped? Hast thou ever found thyself in bondage deep within thy soul? I would rather be a captive on earth than to be a captive in my heart; for that which binds our souls in chains is the sin which we allow and Satan whom sinners choose to serve.
"Take heed, child, that thine heart doth not become thine own dungeon. Take care that thy soul doth not become the bondservant of sin. For Satan is the father of sin, whether that sin be small or great, and he is an unmerciful master. He shall keep you separated from the light of God, all the while convincing you that thou hast chosen thine own path to success. But in the end, thou shalt lose both thy success and thy soul. In darkness thou shalt remain for eternity. Do not, I pray thee, slip into everlasting condemnation. But be ye freed from the chains of sin and death, knowing that nothing here on Earth (whether it be a treasure or your own mortal life) is worth forfeiting eternal life with God and the salvation Jesus offers us.
"Oh child, ye seek a treasure; but I tell you, the one I give cannot compare to the worth of thy eternal spirit. Value money above the wealth of a righteous heart and the hope of Heaven, and it shall drag thee lower than this prison cell. Do not allow my temporal gift to become thy condemning sin. Thou hast received my warning.
"Now think upon your life and recall every blemish of thine heart. If God was to shine his light upon thee now and know all of thy deeds both past and present, would ye tremble in shame? Or would ye rejoice to see his face? If thou canst not look upon him with praise and exultation, then thou art in bondage indeed. But do not be dismayed, for the gospel standeth sure. Christ died for the ungodly that thou whose heart is marred with sin mayest be cleansed by his holy blood and be set free through his infinite mercy. Thus, I beseech thee, precious soul, repent and be made new."
Gracie paused for a second to ponder the words she had read. "Do you think that I am in bondage to sin?" she asked.
"'Ave ya asked Jesus t' forgive you when ya sinned?" her friend replied.
"Oh yes! I asked him just yesterday because I knew I had not been very good to Auntie during my lessons. And I became so angry that I lost my temper with her!" The girl's cheeks blanched white as she remembered the moment. "Arthur must have thought me very wicked indeed," she lamented
"But you said you was sorry, didn't ya?"
"Yes! I said it immediately. And then I prayed and told God I was sorry too!"
"Then you couldn't be bound by sin 'cause the Bible says Jesus is faithful an' just t' forgive us when we confess our sins. If he's forgiven you, you're free as can be!"
Gracie sighed in relief and then went on to read the last bit of Lady Denzell's letter.
"The woman carries her urn on her shoulder,
Her soul is bemired in shame and regret,
In need of hope and a Heavenly helper,
She looks up, and lo, there her master is set."
Grace had only just finished reading those words when something echoed high above them. The children gave a wild start. In a frantic instant, Grace put the letter away and blew out the candle. Then the two stood in a dark corner, clinging to each other and waiting in fear.
Nothing came. Their pounding hearts finally settled down. Then Tim used his second match on the candle, and they crept out of hiding, closing the alcove's door behind them and slipping away without being seen.
Thank you so much for reading! If you're enjoying this book, please consider supporting my work on my Buy Me a Coffee page https://www.buymeacoffee.com/theresa29s1. It would mean so much to me!