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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
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RGL e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
ALTHOUGH there was no sign of excitement on Dick Dunn's clear-cut face, the moment he entered the room, Helen Cornish knew there was something up. She and Dick had been engaged for a year, and when people are as fond of each other as these two they come to understand one another rather well.
She looked up with a slight smile on her pretty lips.
"Found a house at last, Dick?" she questioned.
"I don't know, Nell, but at any rate I've heard of one. Read this."
He handed her a letter, and dropping into a chair opposite, lit a cigarette.
The letter, typed on thin paper, ran as follows:
Dear Mr. Dunn,
Remember the wreck of the "Tallahassee" and the chap you pulled into the boat at the last minute? One good turn deserves another. You want a house. Three Gates, at Wilsley, is for sale. It belonged to Boyes Cunningham, who died in Vera Cruz three months ago, and is to be sold as it stands, with all furniture and curios. The sale is on the 19th, and you can inspect the place the previous day. Take a special look around the study, and, being your father's son, you'll see what I mean. I don't think you'll remember my name, but I remain,
Yours truly,
JOHN CLARE.
Hellen's delicate brows drew into a slight frown.
"What does he mean, Dick?" she asked.
"That's what I've got to find out, my dear. It looks as if there was something worthwhile, although I don't remember anyone called John Clare in connection with the Tallahassee affair."
Helen still frowned.
"It sounds to me like a trick. Suppose he has written this sort of letter to a dozen different people." She paused. "Or it might be Clive Corbett's doing," she added.
"Both are possible, of course," allowed Dick. "Still, I did pull a chap out of the sea when the Tallahassee went, down. and it can't do any harm to have a look. Incidentally, This is the 18th of the month."
"We want to rent a house, not buy one," objected Helen.
"But suppose this thing was worth a pot of money, Helen. We might get the house for nothing."
Helen laughed.
"Such things don't happen, Dick. Still, go and look if you like."
Dick went. Wilsley was only two miles away, and on his motor-cycle he covered the distance in a short time.
Three Gate was easily found, and Dick fell in love with it a once. None of your brand-new bungalows, but a nice old red-brick house with a tiled roof, and well-screened from the road by a flowering hedge. Three good rooms on the ground floor, bedrooms and a bath-room above, and an old brick-walled garden. A couple of cars were parked outside, and three or four people drifting about.
The inside pleased Dick just as much as the outside. Carpets and furniture were a bit worn, yet good of their kind, paper and fair condition.
Without appearing too eager, Dick found his way into the study, and at once pricked up his ears.
Dick's father, Professor Randall Dunn, had been one of the greatest authorities on Aztec antiquities, and Dick had been with him in Mexico and absorbed a good deal of his knowledge. He saw at once that the late Boyes Cunningham had been a connoisseur in the same line, for the walls were hung with strange carvings. There was the hideous head of the Mexican war god, near it the shield of the sun, and opposite the flower god, Quetzalcoatl.
But what at once riveted Dick's attention was the stone image of an owl standing on a carved pedestal.
"By gad, the fellow was right after all!" he muttered, as he stared at it.
An elderly man an his fat wife came in and gaped at the carvings.
"Ugly, ain't they, Sam?" said the woman. "If we bought the house I'd 'ave 'em out pretty quick."
Dick waited and waited, and at last they went. Then he jumped on a chair and lifted the owl. Its weight sent a thrill through him, but there was no chance to examine it, for there were more people coming in, and he dared not betray his intense interest.
He jumped on his machine and raced back to tell Helen, but when he reached the house the maid gave him a note:
So sorry, Dick dear. Aunt Lizzie has just rung up asking me to meet her in town, and dine and go to a theatre. I don't want to go, but I can't offend her.
Love from
Nell.
Dick bit his lip.
"Of all the rotten luck!" he muttered.
Dick Dunn. was a steady-going self-reliant young Englishman, but now he was more excited than he had ever been in his life. If the owl was what he thought it was, it was worth the house twice over; but he could not be certain without first examining it, and now there was no chance of that.
Back in his lonely rooms he spent a sleepless night, but, when morning came his resolution to buy was stronger than ever.
When he reached the sale-room he was horrified to see how many people were there. There was just one comfort. Clive Corbett, was not present. Clive, a rich man, had been his rival for Helen's affections, and had never forgiven Dick for cutting him out.
Several properties were for sale, but Three Gates came up first.
"You've all seen it," said the auctioneer. "I'm not offering a pig in a poke? The purchaser takes not only the house and the furniture, but the very interesting collection of curios which were the property of the late Mr. Cunningham. What offer do I get?"
The stout woman's husband said a thousand, but the auctioneer only smiled.
"And two hundred," said a sharp-faced young man in blue serge.
Dick said nothing. He reckoned the value of the place at fifteen hundred, and meant to wait and cap the last bid. A third bidder said thirteen, and the man in blue serge went to fourteen.
"Fifteen?" suggested the auctioneer, and the stout woman's husband nodded.
"Sixteen?" asked the auctioneer.
But now there was a pause.
Then Dick caught the auctioneer's eye and nodded.
"Sixteen I'm offered," said the auctioneer, and raised his hammer.
Dick's heart throbbed with relief. Then , to his intense disgust, the man in blue serge said:
"Seventeen."
"Seventeen—a cheap property, gentlemen. It's worth two thousand."
"And fifty," said Dick quietly; but Blue Serge went fifty better.
The other's dropped out all but Dick.
"And fifty," he repeated.
He was getting very near his limit, for his whole capital was just two thousand pounds. What would Helen say—or, rather, what would she think, for he knew she would never reproach him.
"Ninteeen hundred!" snapped the other man.
It came to Dick that this man too must know the secret of the stone owl, for otherwise why should he bid a sum obviously far above the value of the property? His jaw set stubbornly.
"Two thousand," he said, and waited.
Everyone looked at Blue Serge, but he merely smiled.
"Two thousand," repeated the auctioneer, with evident satisfaction. Down came his hammer. "Purchaser's name, if you please."
"Dunn," said Dick, and the fat woman's husband gave a nasty laugh.
"I'd say he was," he remarked in a loud whisper.
A few minutes later Dick had given his cheque for the ten percent deposit, and with the key in his pocket, was on his cycle, racing for Three Gates.
Though less than two miles, it seemed an age before he reached the house, and when he did his hand shook so that he could hardly get the key into the look.
He ran through into the study, pushed a chair into place, got on it, and lifted the stone owl from its pedestal.
He had seen the double of this figure before, two of them, indeed, set in niches on either side of the altar in an Aztec temple discovered by his father in the wilds of Western Mexico, and each of these contained within its hollow centre a golden owl with turquoise eyes. These birds, fashioned by some ancient craftsman, were of virgin gold, and Dick's father had estimated their value at two thousand pounds apiece.
Once more a thrill ran through Dick as he felt the weight of the stone owl. Jumping hastily to the ground, he began twisting its head. It yielded a little; then, as he wrenched with all his force, the head came away. He thrust his hand into the hollow interior, but, instead of the feel of metal, his fingers touched hard canvas and he drew out—a bag of shot.
The shock was so great that it almost paralysed him. The bag dropped from his nerveless fingers and dropped with a heavy thud on the floor.
A mocking laugh roused him from his trance, and, turning sharply, he saw standing in the doorway a large young man whose eyes were alight with gratified malice.
"Bit of a jar, eh, Dunn?" he sneered. "I told you I'd get square with you. Have I done it?"
Dick saw red.
"Damn you Clive!" he shouted and flung he owl with all his force straight at Corbett's head.
Corbett ducked, and lucky for him that he did, for otherwise the missile would certainly have brained him. It crashed heavily against the opposite wall of the passage and smashed to atoms,
Dick made a hasty dive after his rival, but Clive Corbett had had enough and was already half way to the gate. Dick watched him spring into his car and drive away.
"The hound!" he said. "After it's my own fault. If I'd had any sense at all I might have known that he was laying for me. Of course, he wrote the letter and fixed up the whole plot. Well, he's done the trick. Here am I landed with a house, and not even money enough to pay the rates. And Nell—"
He groaned as he thought how he would have to go to her and tell her exactly what sort of a fool he had been.
A fragment of the broken own crunched under his foot and, half mechanically, he turned to clear up the mess. It was a mess, too, and no mistake, for not only was the floor covered with broken bits, but there was a nasty hole in the plaster where the thing had hit the wall.
Among the pieces of blackish stone the light caught something like a morsel of green glass. Dick picked if, up and looked at it in some surprise. His eyes widened, and he took it to the ,door and examined it more closely. The sunlight was reflected from the facets of a flawless emerald, which, even with his small knowledge of gems, Dick realised must be worth several hundred pounds.
Flinging himself down on his knees, he hunted frantically among the rubbish, and five more stones rewarded his efforts. He straightened himself, and, leaning against the wall, gazed at the six winking beauties which almost filled the palm of his hand.
"Gosh!" he chuckled, "I'd like to see Clive's face when he realises that he actually had these in his hands and never knew it!"
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.