The House of Arden | Page 8

unclasping her hands, and in her mind trying to get rid of
the idea of a very large and sudden policeman appearing in the garden
door and saying, in that deep voice so much admired in our village
constables, "Where's your brother?"
No policeman came, fortunately, and presently a blind went up, a
French window opened, and there was Edred beckoning her with the air

of a conspirator.
It needed an effort to obey his signal, but she did it. He closed the
French window, drew down the blind again, and--
"Oh, don't let's," said Elfrida.
"Nonsense," said Edred; "there's nothing to be frightened of. It's just
like our rooms at home."
It was. They went all over the house, and it certainly was. Some of the
upper rooms were very bare, but all the furniture was of the same kind
as Aunt Edith's, and there were the same kind of pictures. Only the
library was different. It was a very large room, and there were no
pictures at all. Nothing but books and books and books, bound in
yellowy leather. Books from ceiling to floor, shelves of books between
the windows and over the mantelpiece--hundreds and thousands of
books. Even Edred's spirits sank. "It's no go. It will take us years to
look in them all," he said.
"We may as well look at some of them," said Elfrida, always less
daring, but more persevering than her brother. She sat down on the
worn carpet. and began to read the names on the backs of the books
nearest to her. "Burton's Atomy of Melon something," she read, and
"Locke on Understanding," and many other dull and wearying titles.
But none of the books seemed at all likely to contain a spell for finding
treasure. "Burgess on the Precious Metals" beguiled her for a moment,
but she saw at once that there was no room in its closely-printed,
brown-spotted pages for anything so interesting as a spell. Time passed
by. The sunlight that came through the blinds had quite changed its
place on the carpet, and still Elfrida persevered. Edred grew more and
more restless.
"It's no use," he kept saying, and "Let's chuck it," and "I expect that old
chap was just kidding us. I don't feel a bit like I did about it," and "Do
let's get along home."
But Elfrida plodded on, though her head and her back both ached. I

wish I could say that her perseverance was rewarded. But it wasn't; and
one must keep to facts. As it happened, it was Edred who, aimlessly
running his finger along the edge of the bookshelf just for the pleasure
of looking at the soft, mouse-coloured dust that clung to the finger at
the end of each shelf, suddenly cried out, "What about this?" and pulled
out a great white book that had on its cover a shield printed in gold
with squares and little spots on it, and a gold pig standing on the top of
the shield, and on the back, "The History of the Ardens of Arden."
In an instant it was open on the floor between them, and they were
turning its pages with quick, anxious hands. But, alas! it was as empty
of spells as dull old Burgess himself.
It was only when Edred shut it with a bang and the remark that he had
had jolly well enough of it that a paper fluttered out and swept away
like a pigeon, settling on the fireless hearth. And it was the spell. There
was no doubt of that.
Written in faint ink on a square yellowed sheet of letter-paper that had
been folded once, and opened and folded again so often that the fold
was worn thin and hardly held its two parts together, the writing was
fine and pointed and ladylike. At the top was written: "The Spell Aunt
Anne Told Me.--December 24, 1793."
And then came the spell:--
"Hear, Oh badge of Arden's house,
The spell my little age allows;
Arden speaks it without fear,
Badge of Arden's house, draw near,
Make me brave and kind and wise,
And show me where the treasure lies."
"To be said," the paper went on, "at sun-setting by a Lord Arden

between the completion of his ninth and tenth years. But it is all folly
and not to be believed."
"This is it, right enough," said Edred. "Come on, let's get out of this."
They turned to go, and as they did so something moved in
the corner of the library--something little, and they could not see its
shape.
"THEY WERE TURNING ITS PAGES WITH QUICK ANXIOUS
HANDS."
Neither drew free breath again till they were out of the house, and out
of the garden, and out of the castle, and on the wide, thymy downs,