"Which panel?" asked Bab, in an agony for fear he would not finish.

"The one with the knot hole in the right hand corner," he added and fell back on the couch.

Bab tried to make him tell more, but his mind was clouded over and he had already forgotten she was there.

"Has he finished?" asked Stephen.

"Yes," replied Bab, "but come quickly. We have no time to lose. Jose is lying somewhere, dead or half dead, in the secret pa.s.sage."

Too much excited and amazed to say good-night to the hermit, the callers rushed down the pa.s.sage, followed by the two servants. At the foot of the attic stairs they waited while John brought lights, and for the second time that day Bab climbed into the vast old attic.

"Thank fortune the part.i.tion is down," exclaimed Stephen. "I suppose Uncle Stephen forgot to slide it back, he was in such a hurry to get away from Jose." Bab had explained the situation, to Stephen while they waited for the candles. "Which panel did he say, Bab?"

"This must be it," she answered; "the panel in the right-hand corner that has a knot hole in it. Here is the knot hole all right. We are to press it, he said."

They pressed, but nothing happened.

"Press the knot hole, why don't you?" suggested Bab.

One touch was enough. The panel opened and disclosed a long pa.s.sage cut apparently through the wall. There were several branch pa.s.sages leading off from the main one, marked with faded handwriting on slips of paper, one "To the Cellar," another "To the Library" and finally the last one "To the Right Wing."

"This must be the one," said Stephen, as they groped their way along single file. "Be careful," he called; "there should be a flight of steps along here somewhere."

Presently they came to the steps. Up through the dense blackness they could faintly hear a sound of moaning.

"All right, Jose, old fellow, we are coming to you," cried Stephen, while Bab's heart beat so loud she could not trust herself to speak.

Groping their way down the narrow stairway, they came to a landing almost on a level with the ceilings of the first floor rooms. At the far end of the pa.s.sage they could hear a voice calling faintly.

"He probably fell the length of the steps, and dragged himself across,"

exclaimed Stephen, holding his lantern high above his head.

They found Jose stretched out by a narrow door opening directly into the right wing. There was a gash just above his temple which he himself had bound with his handkerchief and his leg appeared to be broken at the ankle.

"Jose, my poor boy," cried Stephen, "we have found you at last!"

Jose smiled weakly and fainted dead away.

The two men carried him back up the flight of steps, not daring to try the experiment of the pa.s.sage leading to the library.

"I suppose Uncle Stephen has known these pa.s.sages since he was a child,"

said Stephen in a low voice to Bab as they pa.s.sed through the attic, "and when his attendant is asleep, no doubt he steals off and wanders about the house. I believe he has always had a mania that he was being pursued by the Italian boatman; and when Jose followed him, right on top of his meeting with you, it was too much for the old fellow."

"He's a dear old man," returned Bab, "and how he must have suffered all these years; that is, whenever his memory returned."

"And think of the hermit, too, who sacrificed his entire career for you, Miss, just because you never learned to swim."

Bab smiled. "If my Aunt Barbara had lived by the sea as I have, she would never have had to wait for boatmen and lovers to pull her out of the deep water. Swimming is as easy as walking to me."

"I am glad you've learned wisdom in your old age," replied Stephen as they paused at the door of the bedroom given to Jose.

"There is one thing I cannot believe," declared Bab, "and that is that the hermit swam off and left Aunt Barbara to drown."

"Who knows?" answered Stephen. "People lose their heads strangely sometimes."

It was Alfred, destined to be a great doctor, who set Jose's leg that night.

CHAPTER XXIV-GOOD-BYE TO TEN EYCK HALL

Four days had pa.s.sed since the exciting happenings of that eventful day that had begun with the disappearance of Jose, and had ended with his discovery.

"I have much to be thankful for," said the major to Miss Sallie, who was reclining in a steamer chair on the piazza. She had not left her bed until the afternoon of the third day, and was still a little shaky and nervous.

"I can't think what they are, John," she replied severely. "You have had nothing but misfortunes since we came to stay under your roof. I hope they may end when we leave."

"The first one," said the major, smiling good-humoredly, "is that I have had the privilege of knowing how splendid American women can be in time of danger. I always admired the women of my country, but never so much as now," he added, looking fondly at his old friend.

"Yes," a.s.sented Miss Sallie proudly, "my girls are about as fine as any to be found in the world, I think. They are wholesome, sensible, and never cowardly. Undoubtedly they saved Ten Eyck Hall for you, Major, by their combined efforts, and by Bab's bravery in watering the roof when the sparks began to fly."

"You were just as wonderful as the girls, Sallie, my dear. They tell me you superintended the digging of the trench and managed your men with the coolness of a general; and that when the fire leaped over the trench you were there with the bucket brigade to put it out. The girls were no whit less courageous in your day than they are now, Sallie."

"And what is the second blessing you have to be thankful for, John?"

interrupted Miss Sallie.

"That Jose is the boy I took him to be-a good, honest, n.o.ble fellow."

"I must say I liked him from the first moment I set eyes upon him," said Miss Stuart.

"Yes," continued the major; "his father might well be proud of him. He deserves the highest commendation for his forbearance and unselfishness in regard to that brother of his."

"How is the brother, by the way?" asked Miss Sallie.

"You know he was taken to the hospital the day after he was brought here; well, the boys went over in the car yesterday. Antonio is much better. His sister is tending him. He is very repentant, she says, and has consented to go to school and turn over a new leaf. In fact, I myself have had a long talk with him. I can see that there is great good in the boy. It has simply been perverted by evil a.s.sociations."

"Ah, Major," exclaimed his old friend, smiling indulgently as she tapped his arm with her fan, "you are truly the most optimistic soul in the world. I hope all your golden dreams about this wretched boy's future will come true. But what about his sister!"

"Jose is anxious for her to go to a school in America. He believes she could not endure the restraint of a European school after her free, open-air life. She is only too anxious. She wants to cultivate her voice, and the old grandmother appears really relieved at the turn affairs have taken. She was willing to concede anything to keep the grandson out of jail."

"Then my Ruth will not be able to gratify her whim to educate the Gypsy girl," pursued Miss Sallie.

"Not exactly," replied the major. "Jose's father is very well-to-do, as the world goes, but Ruth is to take charge of Zerlina's education and look after her generally. She has asked Jose to allow her that privilege, as she put it."

Just then the girls came around the corner of the piazza, after a stroll in the garden.

"How fresh and delicious the air is since the rain!" exclaimed Barbara.