was disappointed. After all--well,
treasure should be treasure.

Rupert carried the portfolio into his bedroom and locked it in one of
his mysterious brief-cases which had somehow found its way upstairs.

The two chests they moved out farther into the hall and the trunk was
placed back against the wall, ready for further investigation.

"Mistuh Ralestone, suh," Letty-Lou, standing half-way up the back
stairs, addressed Rupert, "lunch am on de table. Effen yo'all doan come
now, de eatments will be spiled."

"All right," he answered.

"Letty-Lou," called Ricky, "put on another plate. Miss Charity is
staying to lunch."

"Dat's all ri', Miss 'Chanda. I'se done done dat. Yo'all comin' now?"

"You see how we are bullied," Ricky appealed to Charity. "Of course
you're going to stay," she swept aside the other's protests. "What's
food for, if not to feed your friends? Val, go wash up; your hands are
frightful. I don't care if you did wash once; go and--"

"This is her little-mother-of-the-family mood," her younger brother
explained to Charity. "It wears off after a while if you just don't
notice it. But I will wash though," he looked at his hands, "I seem to
need it."

"And don't use the guest towels," Ricky called after him. "You know that
they're only to look at."

When Val emerged from the bathroom he found the hall deserted. Sounds
from below suggested that his family had basely left him for food. He
started along the passage. Not far from the stairs was the writing-desk
where Rupert had left it. Val picked it up, thinking that he might as
well take it along down with him.

CHAPTER VII

BY OUR LUCK!

Depositing the desk on the seat of one of the hall chairs, Val started
toward the dining-room, a grim hole which Lucy had calmly forced the
family to use but which they all cordially disliked. Its paneled walls,
crystal-hung chandelier, marble-fronted fireplace, and inlaid floor gave
it the appearance of one of the less cozy rooms in a small palace. There
were also two tasteful portraits of dead ducks which had been added as a
finishing touch by some tenant during the eighties and which still
remained upon the walls to Ricky's unholy joy.

But the long table, the high-backed chairs, the side serving-table, and
the two tall cabinets of china were fine enough pieces if one cared for
the massive. Ricky's table-cloth of violent-hued peasant linen was not
in keeping with the china and glassware Letty-Lou had