"never a trace of them has there been since they were released from prison, never a trace. out of the country they both went, so we think, and that's as far as we know. it was the death-blow to squire, it was; but he died trusting in master derrick. left him all his money too, did squire; 'as a proof,' so squire said. yes, the chase went to your father, the major, master robin, him being eldest son, my dear, but the money's waiting for master derrick when he comes home."
the old woman's voice ceased, and there was silence. in the little room dusk had fallen while she had been speaking, for her story had been a long one. the firelight lit up the white faces of the four listeners, but none of them spoke: even peter for once had nothing to say. jan slipped her hand into robin's, and he held it fast. "poor uncle derrick!" said the little girl in a quivering voice, after a few minutes had passed.
"and sure, why poor?" brownie's voice was husky but it was firm still. "'twas naught of wrong that he did; nor hooker, neither, for we know. they'll be coming back, an' wrongful punishment cannot smirch the innocent, my dears. please god, i shall see them, too; please god they'll come in my time; but that they will come back, i know." there was silence again for a minute or two, and then the spell that seemed laid on the little group by the telling of the old woman's story was suddenly broken by a sound outside. old brown clamped noisily into the kitchen, kicking the earth from his boots on the step outside. "i've been down to th' hut, wife," said he, "but the young folks hain't thereabouts. happen ye know where they'll be?"
"we're here!" the four came out of the shadows, feeling glad in a way of the interruption, for the story was too dreadfully sad to them to be thought of too long. "d'you want us, brown?" asked robin.
"aye, sir, 'tis a message. there's a telegraft come this night. your mother, sir, would have spoke to you herself, she bid me say, but she's right-down busy. the major's expecting leave, and——"
"dad!" three voices were raised in excited chorus.
"aye, my dears, 'tis good news, that's certain. he's hoping to be home come saturday. your mother, sir, she was fair set about at first on account of the scarlet fever, but she's talked it over with the doctor. they've arranged to move the young gentleman into the old wing. 'we'll disinfect the rest of the house for three whole days,' so madam said, and doctor, he agreed; 'and then 'twill be right enow,' said madam, 'what wi' sulphur-burning, and such like.' aye, they've fires lighted, and 'tis all under way, and they're moving master dick this night." the old man hobbled to his favourite chair.
"hurrah, but it's late!" robin got up and shook himself. "we must go back to camp and see that the fire hasn't burned too low. we'll soon boil up a dixie and get some supper ready. coming?" he called to the others.
but as the four made their way across the island to the camp in the dusk they spoke not at all. brownie's story had made such a deep impression on every one of them that they hardly knew how to mention it even to each other. even after jan had been escorted home, and supper was over, and the boys lay stretched in the blue-darkness of the summer night, the topic upper-most in their minds was not touched upon between them.
"jolly ripping that dad's coming home, anyway," said peter at last.
"rather," said robin. then a silence fell. the three boys lay under the stars and thought before finally they fell asleep; each one was thinking too of the same thing, of uncle derrick's story.
"i saw my light again last night," announced jan next morning as she fried up the remains of some cold potatoes for a breakfast dish, wielding the frying-pan with dexterous hand.
"you did?" all the boys were eagerly listening.
"in exactly the same place, but a brighter light this time; and it lasted longer, too. it didn't come and go like before; it stayed alight till ten o'clock, and then went out, for i timed it by my watch."
"show us whereabouts," suggested peter.
"i can, for i looked particularly. it was a pretty dark night, but the moon came out from behind a cloud once, and i could make out the outline of the chase. the light was from the last window of the east wing. i'm going when breakfast's done, to look at the place again."
but when at last breakfast was over the results of the investigation seemed to be rather disappointing, considered in the light of a possible mystery. the window in question looked over the river, and could plainly be seen from the island. a white curtain stretched across the panes, and a fern plant stood on a table in the window. "i don't think there's much reason why there shouldn't be a light from that room every night of the year without causing mysteries," announced donald. "it's plainly a bedroom, or something!"
but the three vaughans were staring open-mouthed. "it's—why it must be the room they've moved dick into!" remarked peter at last. "it looks as though it's come alive in the night, doesn't it? it gave me quite a shock; that's why you saw the light last night, jan—no mystery at all!"
"but," jan was persistent, "even if that does explain last night's light—and i suppose it
