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to…night with some of your adventuressomething told SERIOUSLY；
you know； as if you really were in earnestI'd be awfully obliged
to you。 The fact is；you'll excuse me；but they think you don't
come up to your reputation。〃
〃They want a story？〃
〃Yes；one of your experiences。〃
〃I'll give them one。 Ta…ta！〃
For the rest of the day Uncle Sylvester was invisible； although his
active presence in his room was betrayed by the sound of hammering
and moving of furniture。 As the remainder of the party were
skating on the lake； this eccentricity was not remarked except by
one；Marie du Page；who on pretense of a slight cold had stayed
at home。 But with her suspicions of the former night； she had
determined to watch the singular relative of her friend。 Added
to a natural loyalty to the Lanes； she was moved by a certain
curiosity and fascination towards this incomprehensible man。
The house was very quiet when she stole out of her room and passed
softly along the corridor； she examined the wall carefully to
discover anything that might have excited the visitor's attention。
There were a few large engravings hanging there； could he have
designed to replace them by some others？ Suddenly she was struck
with the distinct conviction that the wall of the corridor did not
coincide with the wall of his room as represented by the line of
the door。 There was certainly a space between the two walls
unaccounted for。 This was undoubtedly what had attracted HIS
attention； but what BUSINESS was it of his？
She reflected that she had seen in the wall of the conservatory an
old closed staircase； now used as shelves for dried herbs and
seeds； which she had been told was the old…time communication
between the garden and Grandfather Lane's study；the room now
occupied by the stranger。 Perhaps it led still farther； and thus
accounted for the space。 Determined to satisfy herself； she
noiselessly descended to the conservatory。 There； surely； was the
staircase；a narrow flight of wooden steps encumbered with
packages of herbs；losing itself in upper darkness。 By the aid of
a candle she managed to grope and pick her way up step by step。
Then she paused。 The staircase had abruptly ended on the level of
the study； now cut off from it by the new partition。 She was in a
stifling inclosure； formed by the walls； scarcely eighteen inches
wide。 It was made narrower by a singular excrescence on the old
wall； which seemed to have been a bricked closet； now half
destroyed and in ruins。 She turned to descend； when a strange
sound from Uncle Sylvester's room struck her ear。 It was the sound
of tapping on the floor close to the partition； within a foot of
where she was standing。 At the same moment there was a decided
movement of the plank of the flooring beneath the partition： it
began to slide slowly； and then was gradually withdrawn into the
room。 With prompt presence of mind； she instantly extinguished her
candle and drew herself breathlessly against the partition。
When the plank was entirely withdrawn； a ray of light slipped
through the opening； revealing the bare rafters of the floor； and a
hand and arm inserted under the partition； groping as if towards
the bricked closet。 As the fingers of the exploring hand were
widely extended； Marie had no difficulty in recognizing on one of
them a peculiar signet ring which Uncle Sylvester wore。 A swift
impulse seized her。 To the audacious Marie impulse and action were
the same thing。 Bending stealthily over the aperture； she suddenly
snatched the ring from the extended finger。 The hand was quickly
withdrawn with a start and uncontrolled exclamation； and she
availed herself of that instant to glide rapidly down the stairs。
She regained her room stealthily； having the satisfaction a moment
later of hearing Uncle Sylvester's door open and the sound of his
footsteps in the corridor。 But he was evidently unable to discover
any outer ingress to the inclosure； or believed the loss of his
ring an accident； for he presently returned。 Meantime； what was
she to do？
Tell Kitty of her discovery； and show the ring？ Nonot yet！
Oddly enough； now that she had the ring； taken from his wicked
finger in the very act； she found it as difficult as ever to
believe in his burglarious design。 She must wait。 The mischief
if there had been mischiefwas done； the breaking in of the
bricked closet was； from the appearance of the ruins； a bygone act。
Could it have been some youthful escapade of Uncle Sylvester's； the
scene of which he was revisiting as criminals are compelled to do？
And had there been anything taken from the closetor was its
destruction a part of the changes in the old house？ How could she
find out without asking Kitty？ There was one way。 She remembered
that Mr。 Gunn had once shown a great deal of interest to Kitty
about the old homestead； and even of old Mr。 Lane's woodland cabin。
She would ask HIM。 It was a friendly act； for Kitty had not of
late been very kind to him。
The opportunity presented itself at dusk； as Mr。 Gunn； somewhat
abstracted； stood apart at the drawing…room window。 Marie hoped
he had enjoyed himself while skating； her stupid cold had kept her
indoors。 She had amused herself rambling about the old homestead；
it was such a queer place； so full of old nooks and corners and
unaccountable spaces。 Just the place； she would think； where old
treasures might have been stored。 Eh？
Mr。 Gunn had not spokenhe had only coughed。 But in the darkness
his eyes were fixed angrily on her face。 Without observing it； she
went on。 She knew he was interested in the old house； she had
heard him talk to Kitty about it： had Kitty ever said anything
about some old secret hoarding place？
No； certainly not！ And she was mistaken； he never was interested
in the house！ He could not understand what had put that idea in
her head！ Unless it was this ridiculous； shady stranger in the
guise of an uncle whom they had got there。 It was like his
affectation！
〃Oh； dear； no；〃 said Marie； with unmistakable truthfulness； 〃HE did
not say anything。 But；〃 with sudden inconsistent aggression； 〃is
THAT the way you speak to Kitty of her uncle？〃
Really he didn't knowhe was joking only； and he was afraid he
must just now ask her to excuse him。 He had received letters that
made it possible that he might be called suddenly to New York at
any moment。 Marie stared。 It was evident that he had proposed to
Kitty and been rejected！ But she was no nearer her discovery。
Nor was there the least revelation in the calm； half…bored；
yet good…humored presence of the wicked uncle at dinner。 So
indifferent did he seem； not only to his own villainy but even to
the loss it had entailed； that she had a wild impulse to take the
ring from her pocket and display it on her own finger before him
then and there。 But the conviction that he would in some way be
equal to the occasion prevented her。 The dinner passed off with
some constraint； no doubt emanating from the conscious Kitty and
Gunn。 Nevertheless； when they had returned to the drawing…room；
Gabriel rubbed his hands expectantly。
〃I prevailed on Sylvester this morning to promise to tell us some
of his experiencessomething COMPLETE and satisfactory this time。
Eh？〃
Uncle Sylvester； warming his cold blood before the fire； looked
momentarily forgetful anddisappointing。 Cousins Jane and Emma
shrugged their shoulders。
〃Eh；〃 said Uncle Sylvester absently； 〃ereroh yes！ Well〃 （more
cheerfully）； 〃about what； eh？〃
〃Let it be；〃 said Marie pointedly； fixing her black magnetic eyes
on the wicked stranger； 〃let it be something about the DISCOVERY of
gold； or a buried TREASURE HOARD； or a robbery。〃
To her intense disgust Uncle Sylvester； far from being discomfited
or confused； actually looked pleased； and his gray eyes thawed
slightly。
〃Certainly；〃 he said。 〃Well； then！ Down on the San Joaquin River
there was an old chapone of the earliest settlersin fact； he'd
come on from Oregon before the gold discovery。 His name； dear
me！〃continued Uncle Sylvester； with an effort of memory and
apparently beginning already to lose his interest in the story
〃waserFlint。〃
As Uncle Sylvester paused here； Cousin Jane broke in impatiently。
〃Well； that's not an uncommon name。 There was an old carpenter
here in your father's time who was called Flint。〃
〃Yes；〃 said Uncle Sylvester languidly。 〃But there is； or was；
something uncommon about itand that's the point of the story； for
in the old time Flint and Gunn were of the same stock。〃
〃Is this a Californian joke？〃 said Gunn； with a forced smile on his
flushed face。 〃If so； spare me； for it's an old one。〃
〃It's much older HISTORY； Mr。 Gunn；〃 said Uncle Sylvester blandly；
〃which I remember from a boy。 When the first Flint traded near
Sault Sainte Marie； the Canadian voyageurs literally translated his
name into Pierre a Fusil； and he went by that name always。 But
when the English superseded the French in numbers and language the
name was literally translated back again into 'Peter Gunn；' which
his descendants bear。〃
〃A labored form of the old joke；〃 said Gunn； turning contemptuously
away。
〃But the sto