The next Saturday morning John spent in hunting that library from floor to ceiling. Caliban, sitting on a corner of the mantelpiece, watched him gravely during the whole operation, but offered no suggestions. John poked behind the books, in every corner, under every rug. He even ripped open a bit of the cover on the old sofa. But nothing interesting could he find. “I say, Caliban, can’t you help me?” he said once, to the watching cat. But Caliban only blinked, and gave his tail a little switch. “I’ll give it up!” growled John at last, disgustedly, when Mary came to call him to dinner. “I guess you’ve got about all you are ever going to get out of Aunt Nan’s legacy. If Caliban knows anything more about it he won’t tell _me_. Anyway, I’ve got my two thousand, and that’s best of all.” “All right, John,” retorted Mary good-naturedly. “I’ve got my two thousand books, anyway, and Caliban. So I am not complaining.” She did not tell John that she still hoped to solve the mystery of the key on the green silk cord; not to solve it by hunting or by hurrying, but in Aunt Nan’s own way, whatever that might be. And Caliban, looking up at her, switched his tail and gave a wise, solemn wink. CHAPTER IX THE ATTIC The Corliss family were sadly in need of funds. There were the butcher and the baker and the candlestick-maker politely presenting their bills to the family recently arrived in Crowfield, suggesting in print and in writing and by word of mouth that “bills are payable monthly.” Now it was the end of the month, and there was no money to pay these same bills; for the expense of moving and settling in a new place had been heavy, and their small income had already disappeared. “How much money is it that we need for immediate bills, Mother?” asked Dr. Corliss wearily. It always tired him to talk about money. “Just about a hundred dollars would bridge us over nicely,” said his wife, with an anxious pucker in her forehead. “But I don’t see any sign of our getting that hundred dollars for a month to come. And then it will be needed for fresh bills.” “Why, of course, you must take my hundred dollars that I found in Aunt Nan’s book,” said Mary cheerfully, though it cost her a pang to think of using up her wonder-gift so soon in this way. “I’ll just take it out of the bank next Saturday morning.” “I hate to touch that money of yours, Mary, even if we put it back for you when we can,” sighed her mother. “I hoped we could save that for your nest-egg toward a college fund. Let me think it over a bit longer. Perhaps something will happen to help us. Or I may think of some way to earn the money.” They left discussion of the matter for that time. But they all took the troublesome problem away with them into their daily tasks.