good help from the honest folk thereabout to build the church we have planned. Friend Caran, make the name of
Chapelvale and the Church of Saint Peter resound throughout the land. Thus will it add praise to the Lord, thanks to
our King and grace to my true friend, Caran De Winn. I will send, under guard, a wagon to you, when winter's snows
are cleared. It will contain the map, deeds, and title to your land, signed and sealed by the hand of our Monarch. There
will also be gifts to grace the altar of our church, treasures that I give freely to you as a mark of my admiration and
respect. Algernon Peveril, your friend at Court.' '
Jon looked rather proud of himself. 'There now, lad, what d'ye make of that, eh?'
'That's marvelous, Jon. Where did you find the vellum?'
The carpenter pointed at the floor, which had been recently repaired. 'Under some old floorboards I was fixin'.
'Twas in an old box, heavily sealed up with beeswax. A lucky discovery, eh, lad?'
Ben nodded. 'Very lucky, mate, but will it stand up as proof of ownership? What happened to the King's signed
deeds and the treasure? Did Caran receive them?'
Swilling tea around in his mug, Jon replied. 'I don't know yet, Ben, I have been lookin' 'round for more clues.
But 'tis difficult, I can tell ye. There was only one other thing in that box 'neath the floorboards, though it don't look
very helpful. See what ye think.'
Jon took the last scrap of paper from his cigar box. 'Nought but an old torn piece o' thin paper, with two little
holes burned in it an' a half line o' writin' on the bottom.'
Jon noticed the boy's hands gripping the table edge, white-knuckled. 'What's up, mate, are you all right?'
Jonathan Preston's eyes grew wide as the boy slowly drew an identical scrap of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
'Great thunder, Ben, where did ye come by that?'
'In the spine of Cap'n Winn's family Bible!'
They stood staring at the two pieces of paper, fascinated.
Ben flourished a hand over them. 'You're the senior historian, Jon, put them together!'
Jon's big workworn hands trembled as he reunited the two scraps. They fitted perfectly. The writing along the
bottom of the piece now read:
Lord, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Keep safe for the house of De Winn thy treasure.
They stared at the writing for a long time, racking their brains at the significance of it. Jon stroked his beard.
'Trou-ble is, it don't tell us what the treasure is or where to find it, though I'll wager whatever and wherever 'tis, the
deeds will be with it, Ben. We'll seek it out together, mate, just you an' me, eh?'
Ben accepted the old man's sturdy handshake, adding, 'Well, not quite just us two, friend, there's others
interested. My two friends, Amy and Alex Somers. Then there's Aunt Winnie. I'll bet Mr. Braithwaite could be useful,
too. Oh, and one other, my dog Ned, he's a good searcher. Actually it was he who really found that paper. You'll like
him, Jon.'
The old carpenter shook his head, chuckling. 'I'm sure I will, shipmate, if he's anything like you! Alex and Amy
Somers and old Braithwaite, your aunt, too? Looks like we've got quite a crew. You sure you don't want to bring the
whole village along, Ben?'
The boy grinned. 'Only if they want to come, Jon. I'm willing to take on any folk who'll try helping themselves,
instead of sitting 'round hoping the problem'll disappear.'
Jon took out a battered but reliable pocket watch and consuited it. 'Nearly four, time for proper tea. D'you like
corned beef sandwiches and some of Blodwen Evans's scones? I bought 'em yesterday, but they're still fairly fresh.'
Ben remembered his four o'clock appointment. 'I'd love to stay to tea, mate, but I've got to go somewhere. Tell
you what, I'll see you here tomorrow, say about eleven. Will it be all right if I bring my friends and my dog?'
Jon waved at Ben as he leapt up to the windowsill.
'Aye. See you in the mornin', then, partner!'
When Ben had gone, the old seaman sat looking at the two bits of paper. He had worked long and hard at trying
to defeat Smithers and help his old cap'n's wife, without an ounce of success. However, he felt with the arrival of the
strange lad that things were beginning to happen. Stroking his beard, he stared at the empty window space. It was as if
the blue-eyed boy had been sent to aid him by some mysterious power.
22.
CHAPELVALE VILLAGE SCHOOL WAS A SMALL, drab, greystone building with the year 1802 graven
over the door. Very basic, merely a couple of rectangular rooms with a corridor between them, it was typical of most
small village schools. The playground at its rear opened onto the back of the library, which had been built later and
was slightly grander. The library had mullioned windows, behind which Mr. Braithwaite could be seen studying a
catalogue at his desk. The school playground was hemmed by a low stone wall, with bushes growing over it. Wilf
Smithers stood, apparently alone on the dusty playground.
From the far side of the schoolyard, Amy and Alex hid behind a gable of the adjoining library, watching him.
All at once the village bully did a little hopskip, punching the air with both fists. A voice, obviously that of Regina
Wood-worthy, called out. 'Give him the old one-two, Wilf!'
He turned to the thicket of lilacs growing over the far-side playground wall, hissing in a loud whisper. 'Shuttup
and keep your heads down!'
Alex blanched with fear as he murmured to his sister. 'That Wilf Smithers is a dirty liar, he was supposed to be
here on his own!'
The girl was about to reply when Ben strolled by not a foot from their hiding place. His lips hardly moved as
