Free Aunt Sophie's Diamonds by Joan Smith Page A

replied, and began kicking earth into the hole with her booted foot.
    While he gazed and listened, Sir Hillary was trying to figure out what the young ladies were wearing. Trousers it seemed. He was not surprised to discover Loo in such a prank, but it amazed him that the placid Miss Milmont should have consented to such a scheme, and to enter into the whole with such good humor. He had thought Marcia had squeezed all the life out of her; he was rapidly revising his first opinion.
    The night, already dark, cold, and windy, now took the final step and began to lash the conspirators with rain. “I wish we had another shovel!” Claudia remarked. Failing this, she began pulling the earth into the hole with her bare hands and urged Loo to do likewise, or they'd be there all night.
    Hillary then stepped forward. “Trouble?” he asked, in normal, friendly voice.
    "Uncle Hil!” Gabriel gasped and dropped the shovel.
    "Oh it's you," Luane exclaimed, and Miss Milmont just looked, quite unconcerned.
    "As you see,” Claudia answered, “we came to retrieve Miss Beresford's property but ran into a slight hitch.” The water streamed down her face, plastering a stray wisp of hair over one eye as she spoke.
    Seeing that his uncle was not angry, Gabriel rallied and said, “The worst luck, Hil, the old fool has got herself buried in a steel box, welded shut, under the wooden coffin. Did you ever hear of such a thing?"
    "I heard the whole from behind a tombstone. Take the ladies home, Gab, and I'll fill in this hole."
    "It's nearly done,” Gab pointed out.
    "Do as he says,” Loo commanded her lover. “I am freezing to death, and so is Claudia."
    "So am I if it comes to that,” Gabriel retorted. “I'm soaked clean through."
    Claudia began to sneeze, and a shudder shook her. “Go on, take them home,” Hillary repeated.
    The three prepared to leave, and as they gave Hillary the shovel, Miss Milmont turned and said, “Thank you for your help, Sir Hillary. It is very kind of you."
    "You're very welcome, Miss Milmont,” he returned with a nod that sent water cascading from the brim of his hat over his face.
    She sneezed again, and he could see she was trembling. “Better stop at Chanely and give the ladies some dry clothes,” he said to Gabriel. Chanely Hall was about half-way between the graveyard and Swallowcourt. “And something hot to drink. Go in by the library door; I left it on the latch."
    "You're a great gun, Uncle,” Gab said, and shepherded his charges off to their mounts. It was a miserable, slow walk in the rain and dark to Chanely, made no swifter nor pleasanter by a recalcitrant Casper, much inclined to dawdle.
    Between the hole being nearly filled before they left and the slow gait set by the ancient gig horse, Sir Hillary reached the stable as soon as the others, and all four went together around to the library door.
    "Now that's strange,” Hillary said to himself. “I left the door on the latch, but I'm certain I didn't leave it wide open.” It was open now about three inches, but as there was a rose trellis in the garden to break the wind, the storm was not lashing the door so violently as it might have. He opened it wide on oiled hinges and stood thinking.
    "Shall we consider the mystery indoors?" Claudia suggested, sneezing again.
    "Yes, come in, all of you. You must be freezing in those wet clothes."
    A single brace of candles was burning in a branched holder, and from them Hillary lit others to reveal a pleasant book-lined room, with a small fire burning in the screened grate. He pushed the grate aside and stoked up the fire as he suggested they all remove their wet garments. His idea was speedily carried out, and still their shirts were wet under their sodden jackets. Sir Hillary put off his hat and threw aside his cape.
    "How very elegant you are, even when you go grave-digging,” Claudia said, looking at his tidy dark sweater and unruffled hair.
    "Good lord!” he shouted, observing closely for the