CHAPTER VII

TIT FOR TAT

"All in the nick To play some trick And frolic it with Ho! ho! ho!"

Though the natural-history portion of the Marshlands Museum grew so rapidly that it threatened to overflow the cabinet, there were very few antiquities in the collection, a Roman lamp, an Egyptian scarab, a few old coins, and a Georgian snuff-box making up the whole of the scanty store.

"I wish we could get a few really ancient things," said Cathy one day, as she dusted and tidied the shelves. "Arrow-heads, I mean, and spindle-whorls, and bronze brooches, and all those delightful finds you hear of people digging up out of barrows. I'm sure there ought to be some on these moors if we only knew where to look for them."

"Go and dig, then," suggested Dick. "You don't know what you might come across."

"Why shouldn't I?" said Cathy. "There's a little round green mound just in the corner of the field near the stone bridge that, I always think, looks as if it ought to have something inside it. I shall certainly try some day, when I have time."

Cathy generally carried out her intentions, so one afternoon about a week later she came from the tool-house carrying two small garden spades in her hand.

"Come along, Phil," she said. "We'll go and dig on the moors. It's a good opportunity while the boys are out fishing. They always make such fun of us. It will be quite time to tell them about it if we find anything."

I was more than willing, so we started briskly up the steep stony road towards the moors. It was a glorious autumn afternoon, with larks singing overhead, and the heather a glow of soft purple below. Flocks of plovers scared at our approach flew off with warning cries, and a sea-gull or two, which had been feeding with them, flapped majestically away towards the silvery line of the sea in the far distance. We followed the course of the noisy brook for about a mile, till we reached the little rough stone bridge which spanned the rapid, rushing water.

"Why do they make the bridge so much wider than the stream?" I asked, as I looked down at the narrow channel under the arch.

"The water is low now," answered Cathy. "But you should see it when there has been a storm upon the hills. It comes raging down in a great foaming torrent, and it's so wide that sometimes you can scarcely get on to the bridge. It looks grand then. I often think the country is even more beautiful in winter than in summer, yet how few people who live in towns ever dream of taking a Christmas holiday to see what the moors are like in December!"

"They would find it dull, I expect," I suggested, for I could not imagine Aunt Agatha or any of her friends leaving the diversions of London to seek nature's solitudes in mid-winter.

"They don't know how to enjoy themselves," said Cathy, who had a fine scorn for town-dwellers. "I would rather have a ramble over the fells in the snow, or a scamper on Lady after the hounds, than all the parties and pantomimes you could offer me."

The mound proved to be a small green hillock in the corner of a very stony field close to the bridge.

"It's just the kind of place the prehistoric people used to bury their chiefs under," declared Cathy. "Don't you remember the pictures I showed you in Mother's book? There ought to be a skeleton in the middle, and all the drinking-vessels and ornaments and things which they put in the grave with him. If we pull a few of these stones away I think we shall be able to dig; the soil seems fairly light."

"It's very soft here," I said, putting in my spade as I spoke and turning up the turf without much difficulty.

"So it is. Perhaps a rabbit has burrowed there and loosened the earth. We'll go on here, as it seems an easy place."

We had not dug more than a foot deep when Cathy's spade struck upon something hard.

"Stop, Philippa! Be careful!" she cried. "If there's really anything here we mustn't spoil it on any account."

She went down on her knees, and, putting her hand into the hole we had dug, began to feel about cautiously.

"There is! There actually is!" she exclaimed, and with eyes shining with delight she drew forth a small round vessel fashioned somewhat in the shape of an urn. It appeared to be made of baked clay, and was broken and crumbling round the top and stained with darkish marks below.

"It must be two thousand years old or more," said Cathy, in a voice of rapture. "And there's something inside it too!"

She turned it carefully upside down, and out fell a few little bones and five worn and rusty-looking coins.

"Now, this _is_ a discovery," she continued. "No doubt it was a Celtic chief who was buried here. They would burn his body first, and put his bones in the urn along with a few Roman coins. You can't see the marks on them, can you? Never mind, we'll rub them up when we go home. What an addition to the collection! _Sha'n't_ we crow over the boys, just!"

We filled up the hole in the mound again, and went home elated with pride, feeling that the British Museum itself might justly envy us our possession. The boys were hanging about the gate as though they were waiting for our return, though they certainly could not have known where we had been that afternoon.

"Hullo! What have you got there?" they cried, as Cathy produced her treasure.

"Don't ever dare to chaff me again about antiquities," she announced. "What do you say to this?"

It might have been fancy, but I certainly thought I saw a wink pass between Dick and Edward. Perhaps, however, I was mistaken, since they all seemed duly impressed.

"Looks a real mouldy, crumbly, museum old kind of a performance," said Edward.

"Must be genuine if you dug it up yourself," remarked Dick.

"You'll have to write about it to the newspaper," put in George. "What sport for you to see your name in print!"

"Go and ask Evans for a box of metal-polish," said Cathy. "I must certainly find out what the coins are, they'll fix the date of the mound."

Dick went with a readiness which might have aroused our suspicions, and hung over her shoulder while she rubbed vigorously away at the worn-looking specimens.

"It's certainly coming off!" she cried with enthusiasm. "Oh, look! There is a mark like a head, and some writing, and--it looks like--why--why----!"

She held the coin up critically, and her face fell; as well it might, for when the dirt was cleaned away, there appeared the unmistakable profile of Queen Victoria, while on the other side was the familiar figure of Britannia and the remains of the words "Half Penny"!

"Dick!" cried Cathy with sudden enlightenment.

But the boys were doubled up in such convulsions of jubilant mirth that it was a few moments before they could gasp out any remarks.

"Done you, old girl, for once!" spluttered George.

"Oh! I really didn't think you'd be taken in by such an easy fake!" shrieked Edward.

"Made it ourselves," explained Dick, between bursts of chuckles. "We modelled it in clay, after the pattern of those pictures in the mater's antiquarian book, and baked it in the oven. Then we crumbled the top away, and stained the bottom with iron-water, and filled it with pigs' bones and all the oldest coppers we could muster. We didn't bury it too deep, because we knew you'd never fag to dig half the mound away. I dare say the place _was_ soft! No doubt a rabbit _had_ been burrowing there! Oh, I say! I feel quite weak with laughing!"

Cathy and I bore our chaffing with the best grace we could.

"It was really rather clever of them," said Cathy. "Of course it's a dreadful sell, but we might find something genuine some day; only the next time we mean to go hunting for antiquities we won't tell the boys beforehand!"

All the same the affair rankled in our minds, and we came to the conclusion that if we could possibly seize an opportunity we should like to play a trick upon these determined practical jokers, so as to pay them back to some extent in their own coin. It was rather difficult to hit upon anything fresh, Cathy scorning such stale devices as apple-pie beds or stitched-up trousers.

"Those are as old as the hills," she said. "And would scarcely amuse them. I want to find something quite out of the common, and if possible to give them a good fright into the bargain."

"Ghosts," I suggested.

"Um! No. It's rather hard to get up a clever ghost, they find it out directly. You see they've done it so often themselves to scare the servants. Stop! I have it! Oh, I've thought of a most glorious idea! Didn't you hear Edward reading out an account from the newspaper this morning of a robbery at Thistleton Hall? Why shouldn't we have a sham burglar, and rouse them all in the middle of the night? It would make a splendid sensation."

Mr. and Mrs. Winstanley were away from home, spending a week in Scotland, and Edward considered himself to be the head and safeguard of the establishment during their absence, so the scheme really seemed very feasible.

"We can dress up the figure of a burglar with some of Father's old clothes stuffed with straw," said Cathy, "and let it down through the trap-door in the end bedroom. But first of all we must pave the way. Suppose we were to write a letter to Edward, as if it came from some poor person, warning him that there's going to be an attack on the house? It would make them ever so excited about it first, and then they'd fall quite easily into the trap, and be ready to believe that someone was really breaking in. Can you keep the secret, Phil, absolutely tight and safe? We mustn't betray even by a look what we're meditating."

"I think I can," I replied. "I'm rather clever at hiding my feelings. I didn't let George guess last night that I knew where Dick had put his cricket-cap, though I helped him to look for it everywhere except in the right place."

We set to work at once so that we might have time to carry out our plans before the squire and Mrs. Winstanley returned home. Cathy's letter was a product of genius. It was written on the thinnest of village note-paper, with the vilest and scratchiest of pens; the handwriting was unformed and scrawling, and the tails of the letters were occasionally smeared, as if a large and dirty finger had industriously and laboriously pursued its way along the page. It ran thus, being guiltless of stops--

"honered sir "i take up my pen to tel you wot as bin on my mind and i ope you wil not considder it a liburty but Honored Sir i feel it is ony rite to warn you as your pa and ma is away and you the squire as is to be and i dont like to split on my pals but there is some as will ope to find your ouse not two well looked arfter at nite and i can tel you no more at present for i dont want to get into no trubble "this is from "one oo knows"

She addressed the envelope on the extreme top to--

"Mister edward winstanly marchelands near evverton",

put the stamp on upside down at the bottom, smeared the letter with her thumb previously rubbed in the dust-pan, and dropped the epistle herself into the village post-box.

It was extremely difficult to keep our faces the next morning when Edward opened this strange communication, especially when we saw that he took it in all seriousness.

"I say, Dick, look here!" he said, drawing his brother aside. "Just read this, and see what you make of it. It appears to me there's going to be an attempt to break into the house, and someone has written to warn us. Whom could it possibly be from? There's no name or address on it."

Dick turned the dirty sheet of paper over and over in his hand, and examined the envelope closely, but it was evident he could make no more of it than Edward had done.

"What's the matter?" asked Cathy innocently. "What are you two putting your heads together about?"

"I don't know whether I ought to tell you girls," said Edward in his most fatherly manner. "I'm afraid you'll be scared out of your senses. But after all perhaps it's wiser to let you know, for you're both pretty plucky on the whole. Here, you may read the letter."

We seized it as if we had never seen it in our lives before, and looked at each other with much apparent consternation.

"It's certainly meant for a warning," I said gravely.

"If I were you, Edward," remarked Cathy, "I should put it into the hands of the village constable."

"Put it into the hands of the village fiddle-stick!" growled Edward. "What help would poor old Gaskell be, I should like to know? He'd run away if he saw the very tail of a burglar. I dare say he's all right to lock up a drunken man on fair-day, or to slip the handcuffs on poachers when the gamekeepers are holding them tight, but he'd be of no earthly use in a case of this sort. Just you leave it to me. Dick and I will undertake to look after the house. You girls had better lock your bedroom door to-night; and be sure you don't let the servants get a hint of it, or we shall have them all in hysterics."

So far our hoax had answered admirably, and Cathy and I retired upstairs after breakfast in fits of delighted laughter.

"He looked so solemn over it," chuckled Cathy; "that touch about his being the future squire was most effective. He feels he's quite a man and must defend the family property."

"I nearly exploded when Dick sniffed the letter, and said he could tell it was written by a clodhopper, because it smelled of their abominable tobacco!" said I.

"We'd better get on with our burglar," said Cathy. "I have Father's old tweed suit and his fishing-boots here, and I brought up a whole sackful of hay yesterday, it's underneath my bed. Have you locked the door? No one must come in on any account."

We first securely stitched the coat and trousers together, fastened the trousers firmly into the fishing-boots, sewed a pair of gloves on to the ends of the sleeves to represent hands, and then stuffed the whole figure tightly with hay. The head was a little more difficult to manage. We tried at first to make it out of a sponge-bag, but that did not seem to answer at all; so in the end Cathy fetched a large mangold out of the field, which had a warty protuberance on one side very much resembling a human nose, and by the aid of two shoe-buttons stuck in with hair-pins for eyes, and a slit cut with a penknife for a mouth, we really made a very creditable burglar countenance. We mounted it on a sharpened stick, which we rammed down into the body, crowned it with a soft felt hat, tied a silk handkerchief round its neck to cover up deficiencies, and then sat down and rejoiced over our handiwork.

"Doesn't he look a splendid Bill Sykes?" cried Cathy. "In the dark I'm sure anyone would think he was real. Those fishing-boots look very clumping and murderous."

"He's not very heavy either," I said, lifting the figure easily in my arms, "I think you'll be able to manage him."

The place where we intended to spring our surprise on the boys was a large unoccupied bedroom at the end of the passage, generally called the "north room". It had a trap-door in the ceiling which opened out on to a flat roof, and by climbing upon the edge of Cathy's balcony it was extremely easy to step on to this roof; indeed we had often done so to watch the sunset, or to get a good view of the surrounding country. We arranged that about midnight Cathy should mount up here, I should then hand the burglar to her, and after opening the trap-door she should allow his legs to dangle through it as though he were in the very act of forcing an entrance into the room. When she was ready I was to give the alarm, and we trusted that in the faint moonlight the boys would not readily discover the imposture. We hid "Bill Sykes" safely away under the bed, and went downstairs again, feeling all impatience for the evening to arrive.

Edward was extremely particular about locking up that night--he examined every bolt and bar, closed all the shutters, put a screw in the back-kitchen window and a wedge in the cellar door, and finally went round the whole establishment with a lantern, peeping into pantries and china-closets, and even the housemaid's cupboard under the stairs, to make quite sure that nobody was concealed there with nefarious intent. He retired to bed at last with a revolver under his pillow; Dick took the air-gun, which he had borrowed from Captain Vernon, while George, not being able to obtain any firearms (the squire having wisely locked up his gun cupboard and taken the key away with him), was obliged to content himself with the garden syringe well charged with water, with which he could certainly give anyone a decidedly cold reception. It was past ten o'clock before we were all in our rooms, and Cathy and I decided that we would not go to bed, as we were much too excited to feel sleepy; so we sat eating apples and reading to pass the time, as we did not dare to talk much for fear the boys should overhear us. At ten minutes to twelve we opened our window and looked out. It was a beautiful moonlight night, just bright enough to make the room rather light without showing any object too plainly, and nothing could be more fortunate for the success of our plot.

Cathy climbed cautiously on to the roof, and I managed to hand up the burglar--with some difficulty, I own, for if he were not heavy he was decidedly bulky. She had tied a rope under his arms so that she might dangle him more securely, and she very soon unfastened the trap-door and let his legs down through the opening.

"Are you ready?" I called under my breath, as I watched her from the balcony.

"Hush! Yes, just got him right!" she whispered; "you may go now. Remember, Edward first!"

It was an exciting moment. I ran down the passage, and tapped softly at Edward's door.

"Oh, do come quick!" I said in a low voice, which I am sure must have sounded most agitated. "We've heard such strange noises, and we can't help thinking that someone's trying to break into the north room!"

Edward appeared in an instant, fully dressed, and armed with his revolver. I am sure that even if he had lain down on his bed, he had neither removed his clothes nor closed his eyes. He looked rather white, but I must say very determined and self-possessed.

"Have you roused the others?" he whispered. "Don't make any noise, and perhaps we may be able to catch him. You'd better go back to Cathy, and both of you stay in your room. This thing's not fit for girls, and you might get hurt."

Dick and George, who slept in the adjoining bedroom, arrived on the scene with equal promptitude, and the three crept silently down the passage, while I, after pretending to retire, followed at a little distance to watch the fun. Arrived at the north room they noiselessly opened the door, and sprang back for a moment, looking rather aghast, for dangling through the opening in the roof appeared the large fishing-boots of our burglar, moving about in such a natural and lifelike manner, that it was no wonder the boys were deceived.

"Hullo! Who's that?" cried Edward in a firm tone, levelling his revolver at the figure.

The legs twitched, and came slightly lower, so that a portion of the body might be seen through the trap-door.

"Stop, or I'll fire!" declared Dick, with a suspicious little quaver in his voice.

"If you move an inch, I'll kill you!" roared valiant George, though his weapon was certainly the least deadly of the three.

Cathy let the burglar down a good piece, so that his head and his felt hat now appeared, while his arms seemed to be waving about in a wild demonstration of defiance. Bang! went both revolver and air-gun at the same instant, while the syringe discharged its contents freely over the room, George in his agitation having somewhat miscalculated his aim. Cathy loosed the rope, and "Bill Sykes" dropped with a heavy plump on to the floor below, his mangold head striking the bed-post with great violence. A dead silence followed.

"Have we done for him, or is he only foxing?" whispered George.

Cathy from above uttered a low groan.

"He's still alive!" gasped Dick.

"Ay, but he's hurt," said Edward. "We'd better see what damage is done. Be ready, Dick, to hold his legs, in case he should jump up suddenly."

They advanced with extreme caution towards the figure, which lay stretched out in a most natural manner, face downwards, in the patch of moonlight which fell through the window. Dick seized the fishing-boots, and held them securely while Edward made a firm grasp at the arm. Perhaps something in its consistency felt unusual, for with a cry he turned the burglar over. The sudden movement loosened the mangold head, which we had not been able to fasten on very securely, and, rolling off with a bound, it fell at the feet of the astounded George.

A yell of disgusted wrath arose from the indignant boys, and I could not forbear to run into the room, clapping my hands in my glee, while Cathy peered down through the trap-door in rejoicing triumph.

"Done you this time, old fellows!" cried Cathy.

"Oh, I didn't think you'd be taken in by such an easy fake!" I echoed.

"Made it ourselves!" exploded Cathy from above. "Only Father's old suit stuffed with hay! And you thought you had done for him! I think I could tell you who sent that letter if you were to ask me!"

"Come down, you young wretch!" said Edward. "If you let yourself drop, I'll catch you. Well, of all the sells I've ever had in my life, this is about the biggest. So you wrote that precious letter, did you? It was uncommonly smartly done, too! And as for this countenance, it's simply ripping!"

And he burst into a roar as he picked up the head of our decapitated house-breaker.

I really think the boys laughed as much as we did, for they were good-natured enough not to mind a joke at their own expense.

"You've jolly well taken us in for once," said Dick. "And I give you the credit for it. I didn't think you girls could have got it all up so neatly. You've scored no end, and I suppose now you'll be satisfied, and cry quits about the antiquities."