subsequent meetings of the Ravens in the
tower room.

"Please, Uncle Johnny, make Isobel and Graham promise they won't tell
_anybody_! It ought to be ours 'cause we found it and we're Westleys,"
begged Gyp.

"Whatever in the world possessed Peter Westley to build a secret
stairway in his house?" Mrs. Westley asked John Westley. "Who ever heard
of such a thing in this day and age?"

"It's not at all surprising when one recalls how persistently he always
avoided people. He planned that as a way of escaping from anyone--even
the servants. Can't you picture him grinning down from those windows
upon departing callers? Doubtless many a time I've walked away myself,
after that man of his told me he couldn't be found."

"I think it's deliciously romantic," exclaimed Isobel, "and I have just
as much right to use it as Gyp has."

"My girls--I am afraid the whole matter will have to go to the board of
trustees. Remember--Uncle Peter gave Highacres to Lincoln School--we
have nothing to say about it."

"Wasn't it _dark_ up there?" asked Graham.

Gyp looked at Jerry and Jerry looked at Gyp. By some process of mental
communication they agreed to say nothing about Uncle Peter's ghost. Back
here in the softly-lighted, warm living-room, those weird voices and
clammy fingers seemed unreal. However, there was the letter--Gyp reached
for the Bible.

"We were looking through some books--and we found this." Holding the
envelope gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, she handed it to
Uncle Johnny.

He read the address, turned the envelope over and over in his hand.

"How strange--it has never been opened. It's addressed to Robert. I'll
give it to you." He handed it to Mrs. Westley.

She took it with some of Gyp's reluctance. "It's Uncle Peter's
handwriting--but how fresh it looks. It's dated two days before he died,
John! I suppose he put it in that Bible and it was never found." She
tore the envelope open and spread out the sheets. "It's to both you and
Robert--read it."

My Dear Nephews:

It won't be long before I go over the river, and I'm glad--for I am
an old man and I've lived my life and I can't do much more, and I'd
better be through with it. But I wish I could live long enough to
right a few things that are wrong. I mean things that I've done,
especially one thing. Lately there isn't much peace of mind for me.
I've tried to find it in the Bible, but though there's a lot about