The bonds were not to be found, either in
that room or in any place near. They ransacked, they rummaged; they went
upstairs, they went down; they searched every likely and every unlikely
place of concealment, but without avail. They failed to come upon the
place where he had hidden them; nor did Miss Thankful or her sister ever
see them again from that day to this.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed; “and the nephew? the nurse?”
“Both went away disappointed; he to face his disgrace about which his
aunts were very reticent, and she to seek work which was all the more
necessary to her, since she had lost her pay, with the disappearance of
these bonds, whose value I have no doubt she knew and calculated on.”
“And the aunts, the two poor old creatures who stare all day out of
their upper window at these walls, still believe that money to be here,”
I cried.
“Yes, that is their mania. Several tenants have occupied these
premises--tenants who have not stayed long, but who certainly filled
all the rooms, and must have penetrated every secret spot the house
contains, but it has made no difference to them. They believe the bonds
to be still lying in some out-of-the-way place in these old walls, and
are jealous of any one who comes in here. This you can understand better
when I tell you that one feature of their mania is this: they have lost
all sense of time. It is two years since their brother died, yet to them
it is an affair of yesterday. They showed this when they talked to me.
What they wanted was for me to give up these bonds to them as soon as
I found them. They seemed to think that I might run across them in
settling, and made me promise to wake them day or night if I came across
them unexpectedly.”
“How pathetic!” I exclaimed. “Do you suppose they have appealed in the
same way to every one who has come in here?”
“No, or some whisper of this lost money would have become current in
the neighborhood. And it never has. The traditions associated with the
house,” here her manner changed a little, “are of quite another nature.
I suppose the old gentleman has walked--looking, possibly, for his lost
bonds.”
“That would be only natural,” I smiled, for her mood was far from
serious. “But,” I quietly pursued, “how much of this old woman’s story
do you believe? Can not she have been deceived as to what she saw?
You say she is more or less demented. Perhaps there never was any old
wallet, and possibly never any money.”
“I have seen the wallet. They brought it in to show me. Not that that
proves anything; but somehow I do believe in the money, and, what is
more, that it is still in this house. You will think me as demented as
they.”
“No, no,” I smiled, “for I am inclined to think the same; it lends such
an interest to the place. I wouldn’t disbelieve it now for anything.”
“Nor I,” she cried, taking up her work. “But we shall never find it. The
house was all redecorated when we came in. Not one of the workmen has
become suddenly wealthy.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account