about, my dears. Come on in, we're all here!'
Mr. Braithwaite, Mr. Mackay, and Will were gathered around the desk, and the lawyer greeted the newcomers.
'Good morning, friends. Mrs. Drummond was about to go and see if she could locate you. I arrived here early to look
up some old survey maps and see if I could throw any light upon our search.
'Mr. Braithwaite and the Drummonds have been helping me. I think we're close to a solution, that's why I was
sending for you. By the way, did any of you manage to solve the thing?'
Jon spread his copy on the desk. 'Amy did, she figured it was the first Gospelmaker, St. Matthew, whose
treasure we're after. But that's as far as any of us got. Look at this first line.'
The librarian inspected the line of words, scratching away at his frizzy hair. 'St. Matthew, eh. Well well, good,
er, heaven, a simple inclusion. Hmm, and none of us, er, er, noticed it. Very good, Amy, yes, very good, very good!'
Amy could not conceal her impatience. 'Mr. Mackay, you said that you were close to a solution. What have you
discovered?'
The dapper little solicitor coughed importantly. 'First we thought we were looking for a bell—does not the
second line say 'that bell ne'er made a sound'? But if we look at the next line we see that the bell in this case is a mere
figure of speech, 'yet the death knell tolled aloud.' This death knell means in reality that something is finished. For
instance, we could say, if Caran De Winn's title deeds to Chapelvale are not found, that signals the death knell for the
entire village, you see?
However, the rhyme does not speak of a place, but of people, 'yet the death knell tolled aloud for those who
danced around.' '
Will could not stop himself from blurting out. 'Wait! I remember my ole granddad singin' a song when I was a
little boy, something about a villain who ended up dancing around 'neath a gallows tree! Sorry for buttin' in on you,
sir.'
Mr. Mackay merely smiled over the top of his nose glasses. 'Quite all right, sir. Mr. Braithwaite, would you like
to tell them our conclusion?'
Mr. Braithwaite clasped the edges of his scholar's gown. 'Indeed, thank you, Mr., er, hmmm. We also have
come to that same gallows tree. We put emphasis on the word 'those,' er, yes, 'for those who danced around.' This, er,
would lead us to believe that more than one, er, person, miscreant, or whatever, was hung at this gallows place....'
Recognition suddenly dawned on Ben. 'So we're looking for that place of execution; what d'you think, Jon?'
'Right, mate!' the old carpenter agreed. 'Places of execution, or gallows trees, as they were called, and they
always had those 'orrible birds nearby, like in the next-to-last line, 'the carrion crow doth perch above.' But what about
the final line, 'light bearers 'neath the ground'?'
A quiver of eagerness entered Eileen's voice. 'That's what we'll find out by diggin' on the exact spot. You got
your little paper with the 'oles in it, Jon? We've got our map.'
Between them they matched up the paper with the four holes to the ancient map from the farmhouse.
'It says
Chapelvale, do you, Eileen?'
Will's wife shook her head. 'Must've been knocked down long since.'
Mr. Mackay took out a large survey map and compared it to the old map, looking back and forth from one to the
other. 'I'd say the old prison was right about here!' He made a pencil mark on the survey map. 'Right where the
police station stands.'
Ben and Alex were already making for the door. 'Well, what are we waiting for?' the younger boy said.
35.
THE POLICE STATION WAS A SMALL GREY-stone building, sandwiched between two houses built at the
turn of the century. One house was for the station sergeant, who often traveled to outlying communities, the other for
the station constable, who attended to village matters and kept the station house ledger up to date.
Constable Judmann was tending to the rosebushes in his front garden; he was an enthusiastic gardener, a big,
beefy fellow close to middle age. Seeing the two boys running ahead of the dairy cart, he wiped his hands on a cloth,
and donning a uniform jacket, he buttoned it up from his ample stomach to a bull-like neck. Taking his helmet from
the windowsill, he put it on and strode up the garden path with suitable dignity. He nodded at Alex.
'G'mornin', young feller, an' wot can we do for you, eh?' The gig pulled up and Mackay dismounted. 'It's all
right, Constable, the boys are with us.'
The policeman tipped a finger respectfully to his helmet brim. He had always been slightly in awe of Mackay,
feeling that solicitors and lawyers were a cut above normal folk.
'Mr. Mackay, sir, wot brings you up 'ere, summat wrong?'
The lawyer straightened his black cravat. 'No, no, Constable. Everything's in order. I merely want to ask you a
question.'
The policeman's chest buttons almost popped as he stood erect, pulling in his stomach. 'Question, sir? A
ty'service!'
'What happened to the original Chapelvale prison, which, according to my survey map, stood near this site?'
Constable Judmann jabbed a fat thumb over his shoulder to the greystone building. 'Nothin' 'appened, sir. There
'tis. Of course, it's been a police station for long as anybody can recall. No need for a lockup prison 'ereabouts for
many a long year now.'
Mr. Mackay nodded solemnly. 'But it was once a prison, and an execution ground, so I'm led to believe.'
