shadowed, their features showing the wickedness of evil men the world over. Closing his eyes tight, Ben fell back
upon the grass, shuddering, feeling the earth move like a rolling ship's deck.
Warm breath and a damp tongue against his cheek brought Ben back from his dreadful trance. "Now then, pal,
are you all right?"
Something smooth and silky brushed his hand, and Ben sat up, glad to be back in the normal world. Ned was
sitting next to him, he caught sight of Horatio vanishing into the house. Immediately Ben felt better. He hugged the
big dog's neck.
"I'm all right now you're here, you old rogue. It just happened, I was reading the poem from the base of the
cross, when this awful feeling came over me."
The Labrador nodded. "Flying Dutchman again, eh?"
Ben ran his fingers through his tousled blond hair.
"Yes, it was Vanderdecken and the others, but there were strange faces there, too, frightening ones I'd never
seen before. Good job you came and snapped me out of it. I think it was due to reading that poem."
A bee was taking an interest in Ned's nose, and he swatted at it with his paw. "Then don't read the poem, leave it
to the others to solve. They're a pretty brainy lot, 'specially old Mackay and Braithwaite, real knowledge pots those
two. Besides, we'll have other things to worry about tomorrow. Bet you'd forgotten about those rough types due to
come up from London?"
Ben smote his forehead with an open palm. "Of course, the four men Miss Wot'sername said were arriving
Thursday! I've been so busy contending with riddles and dealing with
Wilf and, his gang, they completely slipped my mind. Have you found out any more about the situation, Ned?"
The black Labrador winked. "Oh yes indeed, I spent a very profitable hour at the back of Smithers's lawn. You
should have heard the racket. Mr. Smithers must have lungs of leather. By the way, isn't it time for tea? Come on, I'll
tell you later, we've got the rest of the day. At least you won't have to worry about young Wilf anymore."
Ben followed Ned inside. "What d'you mean about Wilf ?"
Ned helped himself to a drink of water from his dish.
"Tell you later, come on, get the kettle on, slice the seed cake. Where's my old lady?"
Ben spread a clean cloth over the table. "Asleep in the sitting room, we'll surprise her with a nice afternoon tea
when she wakes. Ned, will you tell Horatio to keep from under my feet?"
Ned shook his head. "No use telling him anything, unless it's about sardines!"
34.
BY NINE O'CLOCK ON THURSDAY MORNING the sun was almost as hot as noon—it was a record
summer. Jonathan Preston sat at his workbench, a pencil behind one ear. He stared at the poem and blinked. Stroking
his beard, the old ship's carpenter took a sip of tea and bit into a bacon sandwich. Hearing the noise of young people
coming in through the back window, he spoke without turning around. "Aye aye, mates, sun's been up since six, so
have I. What time d'you call this to be rollin' up on deck?"
Tearing the crust and bacon rind from his sandwich, he fed it to the black dog who'd gotten to the table before
his companions. "Like my breakfast better'n your own, eh, feller!" Amy perched on the edge of the workbench, where
she saw the poem. "Have you solved it yet, Jon? St. Matthew's message?"
The old seaman smiled slyly. "No, not yet. Have any of you?"
Both boys shook their heads. Jon watched Amy drumming her heels against the bench. "Now then, pretty maid,
d'you know something you ain't telling us? How did you find out it was St. Matthew's message?"
Her brother sounded rather injured. "Yes, how did you? You never said anything to me!"
Ben gave her a mock severe look. "Nor me!"
The girl plucked the pencil from behind Jon's ear and wagged it at them. "That's because you were asleep, my
dear brother, and how could I tell you, Ben, you weren't even there. So I thought I'd keep it a secret 'til we were all
together. Now watch this."
She drew two lines between the words of the first line of the writing on Jon's copy:
'Twould see/m at the w/icked's fate.
"Now, spell out the letters between the two lines, Jon."
He did as she told him. "M-a-t-t-h-e-w. Matthew! Very clever, Amy, I been staring at this for hours, but I never
saw that. How did you come to notice it?"
Amy shrugged airily. "It's called an inclusion—we did it as a word game in school last term. You look for
words among words."
The blue-eyed boy nodded admiringly. "Well done, pal!"
Amy jumped down from the bench. "Not so well, Ben, I couldn't fathom out any more of the puzzle. Could
you?"
"No, I had other things to think about, which I'll tell you later. I bet Mr. Braithwaite's managed to solve it."
Jon tossed the last of his sandwich to Ned. "I went over there earlier, but he didn't seem to be in the library.
Maybe he's arrived by now—let's go and see."
Exiting the almshouse by the front door, they saw the gig with Delia standing patiently in the shafts outside Mr.
Mackay's office. Amy ran across to stroke the mare.
"What's Will doing in Mr. Mackay's office this early?"
The door opened partially, and Eileen popped her head around it. "I was about to go'n see if you were up an'
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,