The young master of Hyson Hall

The moon had risen quite high by the time the man with the black straw hat had entered the grounds of Hyson Hall, but the roadway near the house was overshadowed by large trees, making the light very dim and uncertain.

As the man walked up this dusky avenue, he was revolving in his mind various ways of opening his intended interview with Phil. He did not care to explain his business to a boy, and in fact it was only with Mr. Godfrey Berkeley that he could take any decisive steps in the matter, but he thought it was of no use for him to stay any longer in that part of the country, unless he could find out something in regard to the business on which he came.

He had heard that Phil was a very sensible, straightforward fellow, who frequently did business for his uncle. Such a boy could certainly give him some points which would be of service in the future.

The revolutions in the man’s mind, as well as his onward progress, were suddenly arrested by the appearance of a tall person, who stepped out from behind a tree, and who, holding a large stick in front of him in his right hand, cried, peremptorily,—

“Halt!”

The man halted as promptly as if he had run against a fence.

Chap stood squarely up before him, his legs spread out a little, and his knotty stick resting carelessly on his left arm.

“Well,” said he, “here you are again.”

When Chap spoke, the man knew him to be a boy, and supposed him to be Phil, of whom he had not taken any particular notice on the evening he saw him.

“Yes,” he answered, “I am here again. How are you to-night?”

“Now, look here!” said Chap. “I rather suspected you’d be along again, and I came out to have a word with you. I want you to understand one thing. This is a free and open country, and when a man has anything to say he ought to come out boldly and say it in broad daylight, and not glide in under cover of the night.”

The man was about to speak here, but Chap did not allow himself to be interrupted, and went on,—

“As I said before, this is a free country, and if a person has anything to say, he has a right to be heard. Now, have you anything to say? If so, I am ready to hear it. There’s no need of any mystery, or darkness, or unusual clothes. All you have to do is to stand right up and speak out.”

The man did not like Chap’s manner at all, but he was a prudent person, and had taken a long walk in order to get some information that might be of advantage to him, so he resolved not to get angry, and answered, very politely,—

“Yes, there are some things I’d like to speak to you about.”

“All right,” said Chap; “just step with me a little farther down the road, so as to be out of ear-shot of the house, and then you can unload your mind.”

“That suits me,” said the man, with a smile, “but it does not agree with what you just now said about having everything free and open, you know.”

“Oh, what I meant,” said Chap, “was that a person should be free and open to the one he is talking to. There is no use shouting private affairs into servants’ ears, and having them tooted all over the country through a horn.”

The man smiled, but made no answer. He followed his companion down the roadway, thinking that this Philip Berkeley was certainly a very curious fellow.

Pausing at a wooden bench, between two trees, Chap remarked,—

“We can sit down here, and if you notice any listeners, just you give a low whistle, and I’ll pounce on them with this club. I’ll keep a lookout, too. Now you can begin to unveil your secret mission. My friend Phil has commissioned me to attend to you and find out the meaning of your nocturnal errands to this place.”

“You don’t mean to say,” said the man, in surprise, “that you are not young Philip Berkeley?”

“I mean to say that very thing,” replied Chap. “But you can tell your secret just as freely to me as to him. I am Chapman Webster, his particular friend. He’s pretty heavily loaded down with responsibilities and bothers just now, and I’m taking part of them off his shoulders.”

“And I suppose my affairs fall to your share,” said the man.

“Yes,” replied Chap, “we divided things up, and I took you. I have the greatest fancy for working out hidden clues, and all that sort of thing. It’s something connected with the Berkeley family you came about, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said the other, “it is.”

“Well, then,” said Chap, “just begin at the very beginning of your story, and tell it straight through; and don’t leave out any of the points. I’m just the fellow to help you straighten out things, if you’ve got them a little crooked.”

The man reflected a few moments. He had nothing on earth to say to Chap Webster; and yet he thought this boy might be as able to answer the few questions he wished to put as Philip Berkeley would be, and it was likely that he would be much more willing to do so. But Chap had evidently prepared himself for some business of thrilling interest, and it would not do to put him off with a few apparently unimportant remarks.

The man took off his black straw hat, looked at it, then put it on again. Then he began:

“About the close of the war of 1812——”

“By Jupiter!” cried Chap. “Was it about a ship?”

“Yes,” said the other, “it was a ship.”

“You don’t mean this river?” asked Chap, getting very much excited.

“Yes, I do,” said the man, “this very river. Perhaps you know the story yourself?”

“No, I don’t,” said the boy. “At least, only part of it. All I know is that a British ship was chased up this river, and ran aground right down there on this bank; and that all the people on board got ashore, and scattered, nobody knows where; and that there’s a lot of treasure on board of her,—at least, there’s every reason to believe there is,—and that nobody has ever come to claim it or dig it up.”

“Yes, that is the very ship,” said the man. “I see you are pretty good in following out a clue.”

“I’ve practised it,” said Chap, with much satisfaction. “There’s nothing like practice in these things.”

“But perhaps you did not know,” said the other, “that there were three brothers on board.”

“No, I did not know that,” said Chap.

“Well, there were,” continued the man. “They came over from England to found a family. You know that each of our distinguished families were founded by three brothers, who came over from England.”

“Yes,” said Chap, “I’ve heard that; but they generally came over sooner,—in the last century, anyway.”

“Yes,” said his companion, “but these three brothers couldn’t come any sooner. They weren’t born early enough, for one thing, and there were other reasons for delay. But they came as soon as they could, and they brought with them all the wealth they possessed.”

“And did they scuttle out of that ship and leave it there?” cried Chap.

“You must have heard this story before,” said the man.

“Never,” replied Chap. “But now tell me one thing. Was one of these brothers the ancestor of this Berkeley family?”

“Certainly he was; and not very far removed, either.”

“Why, just think of it!” cried Chap. “That treasure, or part of it, which we have been talking about so much, actually belongs to the Berkeleys. Why, I sometimes used to think that if we got it out, the British crown or our government might claim it. But here it is really the property of Phil and his uncle. This is the most splendid thing I ever heard of! And isn’t it strange, too, that the ship should have run ashore on the very land the Berkeleys were afterwards to own?”

“Perhaps,” said the man, in a half-whisper, “the land was bought because the ship was known to be there.”

“Look here,” cried Chap, springing to his feet, “if you can get some dynamite and an electric battery, I’ll go into this thing with you, and we’ll get that money. We won’t wait for anybody else. Phil doesn’t warm up a bit about it,—though I don’t mind his coming in if he’ll take hold lively,—and there’s no knowing when his uncle is coming back. I don’t want anything but the fun for my share, but I know the family will be willing to pay you well for your secret.”

The man smiled.

“We must not be too hasty,” he said. “I shall be willing to do nothing in this matter without the co-operation of the family.”

“You mean you want to wait till Mr. Godfrey Berkeley comes back?” said Chap.

“Yes, I mean that,” replied the other. “You are acquainted with Mr. Berkeley, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes,” said Chap, “I know him very well. He’s a tip-top fellow.”

“He is of a free and generous disposition, isn’t he?” asked the man.

“Yes, indeed!” replied Chap; “our folks say too much so.”

“He must possess a handsome property,” said the other.

“I expect he’s as rich as blazes,” replied Chap. “At any rate, he buys everything he wants.”

“And yet I suppose he’d like to make more money,” said the man.

“Oh, yes,” said Chap; “I know he’s all the time trying to make more money with improved stock and lots of other things which a good many people laugh at. And I can tell you this, if he knew there was treasure belonging to him in that old wreck, he’d just spend any amount of money to get it out.”

“Now, then, Mr. Webster,” said the man, rising, “we know each other. Do not reveal what I have told you, and when the proper moment arrives, count on me. In the mean time, I have one thing to ask of you. As soon as Mr. Berkeley arrives, let me know of it. Here is a postal-card with my name and address on it. All you have to do is to write on the other side the words, ‘He has come,’ and then mail it. Will you do this?”

“Certainly I will,” said Chap, putting the card in his pocket.

“Now we understand each other perfectly?” said the man with the black straw hat, extending his hand.

“Perfectly,” said Chap, giving the hand a vigorous shake.

“Now good-by for the present!” said the other.

And he walked rapidly away.