Free The Mystery Of An Old Murder by Laura Brett Page B

was not to be disregarded. And Tregelles, after a last sulky look at the trap, tramped on, half resolved to draw out his savings and put them back under the hearthstone, where he could watch over them himself.
    The girls thoroughly enjoyed the long drive. The horse was a good one, and though they stopped for more than an hour in Bodmin, they were home before one o'clock. It was the day the post went out, and after dinner Kitty sat down to write her weekly letter to her mother.
    Marjorie's letters had been written the night before, and were safely in Mr. Drew's pocket. As he was only going to stop a night at Plymouth, her mother and Aunt Nell would get them more quickly from him than if she had sent them by post.
    While Kitty wrote her letter, Marjorie sat on the window-seat with the Milton book Mrs. Trelawny had given her on her lap. It was open, and now and then she knit her pretty brows and read a line or two, dutifully trying to follow her father's advice. But her eyes constantly wandered away to the cheerful scene without; and presently the book slipped to the floor, as she leant forward to watch a chubby little lad in a Holland smock, who had evidently been down to the harbour with his father's dinner, and was proudly swinging the tin can that had contained it. Marjorie had a healthy interest in her fellow-creatures, young and old, and she watched the happy little chap out of sight with a smile on her lips. Then she picked up the Milton, scolding herself for her laziness. She opened it at the title-page, and the next moment she put the book hastily down again and ran out of the room.
    "What did you forget?" asked Kitty, as she came flying back again. She put her pen down, studying Marjorie with a critical eye. "Was it your necklace? But you had it on."
    "I went to get this," Marjorie said, showing the lid of the snuff-box. "Yes, it is exactly the same. I wonder what those figures mean."
    Kitty came to her side and leaned over her shoulder "What funny spelling, Marjorie! But it is a very old book, isn't it?"
    "More than a hundred years old. It belonged to the Jasper Vyvyan whose portrait we saw yesterday. Not Black Jasper, Kitty; he lived long before. But it is this drawing I am looking at. It is meant for the Vyvyan dragon, of course."
    "It might be meant for anything," said Kitty, looking at the snuff-box and then at the rough pen-and-ink drawing. "It is as much like a pig as a dragon."
    "No, it is the dragon. That couldn't be the tail of a pig, and here is his forked tongue. I wonder what those figures mean."
    Kitty yawned a little. "What is the use of bothering about it, Marjorie? I dare say they don't mean anything at all. And I must finish my letter."
    She went back to her desk, but Marjorie remained intent on the figures. There were five of them in a row—1607 + 3. What connection could they have with that queer caricature of the Vyvyan dragon?
    She was still bending over the book with the lid of the snuff-box by her side, when Mr. Bulteel came upstairs. He looked sharply at the little golden lid. "Marjorie, put that away," he said, in a voice so different from his ordinary one that she looked up in surprise. "I thought you had given it to your father. It belongs to your cousin Robert Carew. Let me have it, my dear. He is coming to St. Mawan next week, and I will see that he gets it." He patted her shoulder. "Does it seem too bad to take it away from you, little girl? You shall have something else instead of it."
    Marjorie felt a little hurt. "I don't want anything instead of it, sir. But did it really belong to cousin Robert? I am glad I found it."
    "It is his now, my dear. It was his grandfather's. And—" Mr. Bulteel checked himself. "But what have you there? Is that the old Milton Mrs. Trelawny gave you?"
    "Yes, sir. I was trying to imagine what these figures and the dragon could mean. Mr. Bulteel, do you think Captain O'Brien knew Mr. Vyvyan?"
    "Why, my dear?" he asked sharply.
    "I fancied he might have known