Candida was looking at him.
‘Did Anna ever talk to you about it?’
‘In a way. She told me about Miss Cara being so cut-up.’
‘What did she say?’
He laughed.
‘Interested, aren’t you!’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, well, why not? It’s your family! Anna came in one day when I had this stuff out and was trying to make head or tail of it. You may have noticed she likes talking. She stood the other side of the table where you are sitting and she talked quite a lot. She began about the papers – they were all lying about – and she said what did I want with them, they would be better in the kitchen fire, and hadn’t they done enough harm already.’
‘What did she mean by that?’
‘Well, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. She said, “Mr. Alan meddled with them, and look what came of it!” And I said, “What did come of it?” And she said, “God knows!” and put her hand up to her mouth and went away. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but after I found that list I wondered.’
Candida was silent. She looked down into her lap and saw the neat typing – ‘Twelve ruby buttons… ’ She pushed the list across the table and said,
‘I think you ought to show it to the Aunts.’
He shook his head with vigour.
‘Not on your life!’
‘All the papers are theirs.’
He looked at her with momentary shrewdness.
‘You mean they are Miss Cara’s. And do you suppose she wants to have the Alan Thompson affair raked up again? I gather it very nearly did for her at the time. Suppose he was up to something he shouldn’t have been. We don’t know whether he was or whether he wasn’t, but that seems to be what Miss Cara believes. Well, it would be frightfully cruel to bring it all back. As I said, she may even have given him the information in this list herself, and that would make her feel pretty bad. As far as I’m concerned it’s going back where I found it, and that’s that!’
Candida had never liked him so well. She said quickly and warmly,
‘Yes, yes, of course – you’re right. But, Derek, you don’t mean – you don’t think the treasure is still somewhere about?’
‘Why shouldn’t it be? Part of it anyhow.’
‘Well, I don’t know. There aren’t such a lot of things of that sort of date knocking about. They get sold, or broken up, or – ’
‘Stolen?’
Candida said soberly,
‘A lot of things can happen in three hundred years without putting any of them on to Alan Thompson.’
He rummaged among the papers, pulled one out, and gave it to Candida. It appeared to be an inventory of some kind – linen, curtains, silver of the homelier kind. Nothing like the splendours of the list which Alan had copied – just the ordinary furnishings of a well-to-do household, all set down on old discoloured paper in old discoloured writing. Candida stared at it, wondering why it had been given to her.
‘Well?’
He said,
‘Turn it round and look at the bottom of the left-hand corner.’
There was some writing here, running crossways to the short lines of the inventory, the hand a different one, thin and spidery. There were four lines, not very easy to read, but she made them out:
‘Touch not nor try,
Sell not nor buy,
Give not nor take,
For dear life’s sake.’
Underneath again there were two words that had been scratched out, the first lightly, but the second with many crossing strokes.
Derek said, ‘Got it?’
She read the four lines aloud in a slow bewildered voice.
‘What does it mean?’
‘I think it means the Treasure. The first of those two scratched-out words is a “the”. That’s easy. The second can’t be read – whoever did the scratching made a much better job of it. But it’s the right length to be “Treasure”, and that is what I think it is.’
‘But, Derek, what does it mean?’
He gave an uneasy laugh.
‘Well, it might mean that it wasn’t a good plan to meddle with the Treasure. Someone, I suppose Alan Thompson, has made a pencil note at the end of this paper, with a date in the eighteenth century and a query after it. Seventeen-forty, I think it is. If that’s right, it could mean that the Treasure was still going strong round about that date, and that there was some sort of family belief that it wasn’t lucky to meddle with it. It seems to me that Anna might have had the same idea.’
The door opened. Joseph stood on the threshold. He said with his usual politeness,
‘You are being asked for on the telephone, sir.’
Chapter Thirteen
It was after dinner the same evening that Miss Olivia began to talk about the Benevent Treasure. Derek was at the piano playing scraps and snatches of whatever came into his head. Miss Cara had said good night and drifted aimlessly down the long room to the door. Her feet made no sound on the carpet, the door no sound as it opened and closed again. She left a vaguely unhappy feeling behind her. The thought that came to Candida was that it was the first time she had seen her take the lead in even such a small thing as going to bed. On every evening until now it had been Miss Olivia who gathered up the embroidery or the knitting upon which she was employed and remarked upon the time. But tonight, and before it was quite ten o’clock, Miss Cara had got up, murmured an uncertain good night, and gone away.
After a short silence Miss Olivia said,
‘Cara is not as strong as I am. She has always required a good deal of care. Certain subjects agitate her and are best avoided. I should really have cautioned you on this matter before, but I thought I would wait until we knew you better. One cannot immediately confide in someone who has been brought up as a stranger to the family.’
This was rather daunting. Candida wondered what was coming next. Miss Olivia continued.
‘You will remember that I mentioned the Benevent Treasure on your first evening here. It would not have been possible to give you even the slightest sketch of the family history without touching on it, however lightly.’
Derek was playing the refrain of ‘Love’s Old Sweet Song’. There was a pile of these sugary old-fashioned ballads on the music-stand. He made fun of them to Candida, and played them as to the manner born. Miss Cara loved them, and Candida suspected that Derek had a soft corner for them himself. He might jest about them, but there was a lingering fondness in his touch. It came to her that the Aunts had had to make do with what they could get in the way of sentiment, and that it didn’t amount to very much.
Miss Olivia said in her clear, precise voice,
‘I should have spoken to you before, but no opportunity presented itself. My sister and I are so seldom apart, and the matter did not appear to be pressing. But when Joseph mentioned that he had found you and Derek at work on the family papers I thought it might be as well to touch on the subject. I do not know whether Derek has said anything or not, but we find it better not to discuss the Benevent Treasure in front of Cara. There are some superstitious tales about it, and it is apt to make her nervous.’
Miss Olivia was sitting stiffly upright in a Sheraton chair whose brocaded seat was quite hidden by the spread of her black taffeta skirt. She wore a handsome spray of diamond flowers to fasten the fine lace ruffle at her neck. Half a dozen pearl and diamond rings were crowded on to the thin bent fingers which held a tambour frame and an embroidery-needle. The embroidery on the frame was jewel-bright. Candida suspected it of being too fine for comfort. Sometimes half an hour would go by without a stitch being taken. One was taken now as Candida said,
‘What tales, Aunt Olivia?’
A second stitch was set beside the first.