Lone pine five, p.4
Lone Pine Five, page 4
There was a pause while Mr Harman lit his pipe.
"Don't see why not, Jen. I like you to be with your friends."
"Oh, thank you, I've never had such a happy holiday as this is going to be... It was nice of you to come to the bus and meet me, Dad. Did you come specially?"
"Yes, Jen, I did. I reckoned you'd be on this one, and I just wanted to stretch my legs. I hope you'll get your camp, but there's rain on the way."
"How's Mr Wilkins, Dad? Is he all right?"
Her father looked down at her sharply.
"Why? Why do you ask like that, child? You sound very interested."
"Not particularly. I think he's rather sweet, and after all, I found him for us."
Mr Harman led his daughter over to a field gate they were passing.
"Sit here for a bit with me, Jenny," he said. "I want to have a word with you about Mr Wilkins."
With a little shiver of apprehension Jenny climbed to the top bar of the gate and put her hand on her father's shoulder as he leaned back and puffed at his pipe.
"Why, Dad? What's wrong? What's happened to him?"
"Nothing has happened to him, Jen, but something rather odd has happened to do with him, and I reckoned I'd tell you about it because you might know what it all means, for I don't."
"Tell me, Dad. Quickly."
"It's like this, then, Jen. 'Bout an hour or more ago the telephone in the shop rings and when I answers it a man's voice says was I the postmaster, and when I says 'yes' he says he is sorry to trouble me but he thought I might know if an old gentleman called Wilkins was staying in Barton. You can be sure this took my breath away, and I was just going to ask why he asked me when he said he was sure the post office would know as soon as anybody else in a village when a stranger arrived. This seemed reasonable enough, so I told the chap that old Wilkins was staying with us, and then I heard him give a sort of whistle and ask if he could speak to him."
Jenny shifted uncomfortably on the bar of the gate.
"Go on. What happened?"
"Nothing much. I mean not enough. I went up to Mr Wilkins's room and found him studying maps spread out on the table. When I told him he was wanted on the phone he looked up and said very sharp like, 'Who wants me, Mr Harman? I don't want to speak to anyone. I refuse to speak on the telephone. I don't want anyone to know I'm here. I want to be left alone and in peace, and that is why I've come here.' And while he was saying this, Jen, he was shaking all over and looked pretty scared, and I had to tell him that I'd already told the caller that he was living with us. When I said this I thought he was going to be ill. 'Ask the name, Mr Harman. If it's Smithson I'll have nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. I don't mind what you say, but I'll have nothing to do with it. I won't speak. I don't want them to know where I am. Please go away now.'
"After that there was nothing I could do but go back to the telephone. The man was still there, and when I asked his name he said it was Smithson, and I had to make up some yarn about old Wilkins being out... Tell the truth, Jen, I didn't care for the fellow at the other end - nasty, cocksure type. He said Mr Wilkins was his uncle and implied that the old chap wasn't quite right in his head."
"What a vile thing to say! I'm sure he's all right, aren't you?"
Mr Harman puffed at his pipe before he answered. "I suppose so, Jenny. But he is a bit odd, I reckon. That's what I wanted to ask you about. Tell me again everything that happened at the Castle and how he came up to you and what he said."
So Jenny went over the whole story for the second time that day and her father listened carefully.
"And so I'm sure he's just a kind and gentle old man and that there's nothing wrong with him at all," she finished. "What else did that horrible Smithson say?"
"He said Wilkins was a widower and lived with them so that he could be properly looked after. Far as I could make out, this Smithson implied that the old chap had gone off on his own on some crazy expedition and that they were coming over to fetch him home... I don't like it much, Jenny, but I don't see what we can do about it. I told Mum, but she said that as long as Mr Wilkins likes to stay with us and pay he could do so. That's all very well, but she didn't hear that oily Smithson on the telephone... We don't want any trouble, do we, Jen?"
Jenny slipped off the gate and slid her hand into his.
"We've got to protect Mr Wilkins from his deadly enemies, Dad. That's what we've got to do, but he needn't worry 'cos the others are coming tomorrow, and we'll take care of him. But you must help me tonight, Dad. I must keep him safe for the others... Let's go in now. I'm hungry."
Jenny's supper was waiting for her, but while she was eating it she was worrying about Mr Wilkins and wondering what excuse she could make to slip up to his room. At last she gave up the struggle, and before she had finished eating turned to her stepmother and said:
"This is lovely cocoa, Mum. Wouldn't Mr Wilkins like a cup? Shall I take one up to him?"
"He'd be stupid if he didn't like it, my lass, but he'll have no chance to taste it tonight, for I shan't make any more."
"But I'll take some up now if you like. I want to ask him something," Jenny pleaded.
"You'll be clever if you find him, then, for I can't. I've been up twice, but I reckon he's gone out, though I didn't hear him go."
Jenny caught her breath sharply, but when she glanced at her father he put his finger to his lips as if he did not want her to say any more just then. Almost automatically Jenny collected the supper things on to a tray and it was while she was washing them up that she had her idea. Although she could hardly stop yawning, and it was now nearly ten o'clock, she fetched her raincoat and put her head round the sitting-room door.
"I've washed up, Mum. Just going out for a bit. I think I know where Mr Wilkins has gone. Shan't be long," and she slammed the door and ran out into the street.
It was dark now but for the moon. Heavy clouds were piling up from the west and over the little village street loomed the great ridge of the Stiperstones. Jenny was not certain where Mr Wilkins had gone, but she was determined to find him if she could, and she did remember telling him about Black Dingle - one of the steep valleys which led up to the Devil's Chair.
She ran on up the hill until the lights of the village were out of sight. She passed the first lane on the right and took the second. All was very quiet and the trees seemed to close in round her as she went on stubbornly. Somehow she felt that if Mr Wilkins was wandering about by himself he would be likely to make for the dingle.
After a little she turned sharp to the left on a rough track leading uphill through the heart of a wood. As she walked she whistled to keep up her courage. The moon came out from behind the clouds as she left the trees behind her and saw, two hundred yards ahead, the gaunt shape of the old signpost that pointed the way up the dingle to the Devil's Chair.
Then she nearly screamed, for in the light of the fitful moon she thought she saw a strange, shadowy figure that might be that of a man, slumped against the foot of the signpost. Every instinct and fear of the unknown urged Jenny to turn and run as she had never run before down the hill, through the whispering wood, into the lane and down the road to home. She stopped and turned, and then, in fearful fascination, looked back over her shoulder. The strange shape moved and she cried out as she saw that it was a man - or the ghost of a man - that waved thin arms towards her.
Thin arms! He was very tall and thin, and perhaps after all it was Mr Wilkins.
Jenny stood still, but poised for instant flight. The shape seemed to be peering towards her, and after a little a thin voice called "Who is there? Who called?" and then she knew that her instinct had been right and that this was the man whom she had come out to find.
"It's all right, Mr Wilkins," she called. "It's Jenny Harman, your friend. I came to find you."
They turned towards each other at the same time, and when they met, the old man said:
"Indeed you are my friend, child, to have come out tonight to find me... Perhaps you are the only friend I have... Why are you here? Have they come for me so soon?"
"Nobody has come for you so far as I know, Mr Wilkins, and I've run nearly all the way from home. I heard you'd gone out, and somehow I guessed you might come to Black Dingle, so I thought I'd see if I could find you and tell you some wonderful news."
He did not move.
"Jenny?" he said quietly. "A pretty name for a pretty child. Tell me, Jenny, what is your wonderful news?"
"I don't think I can tell you standing still in this place, Mr Wilkins. I wish you'd take me home because, to tell you the truth, I've always hated this dingle, and most particularly at night, and I'm very frightened of the wood too."
He looked down and smiled at her strangely.
"Come, then, child. You must show me the way, for I have forgotten how I came, and we will both forget our fears. First, tell me your wonderful news, Jenny."
"Listen, Mr Wilkins. You remember you asked me if I knew anyone who knew the country round here well and would help you search for all the Roman things you want to find?... Well, I've found six people - or five others besides me - and if you'll have us we'll help you search every day for the rest of the holidays... At least I think I can promise that, although I haven't asked the others. You see, I know all the country round here specially, 'cos I was born here and I've never lived anywhere else. And then there's Peter too."
Now that she had started she found it rather difficult to explain the Lone Pine Club to him. Although he was certainly polite and did not once laugh at her, she could not help feeling that he was not taking her seriously.
"Now listen, Mr Wilkins," she said angrily. "You're not being fair. Dad told me about the telephone call that came for you, and although that isn't really our business we would like you to know that the six of us really will help you search. We're bringing tents and camping things tomorrow. We're not kids, Mr Wilkins, and we've had lots of adventures already. You can trust us, Mr Wilkins, but if you want to search these dingles and look round the old lead mines and that sort of thing, we'll help you. Do believe me, please."
Mr Wilkins patted her on the shoulder and she wriggled away.
"No. You needn't believe me now. Just wait till you see the others. They're coming tomorrow, and then you'll see for yourself what we're like and we'll tell you some of the things we could do to help you... Just for a change, Mr Wilkins, will you tell me something about these Roman things and what you want to find and whether you've got to dig and what happens if you, or anyone else, finds some treasure in a hole?"
This was very astute of her because, although her companion was not at all used to children - or not to nice children, as we shall see presently - he did really like Jenny for her kindness and friendliness. She also had something which he coveted very badly, and when she had forgotten this nonsense about a pack of children and showed an intelligent curiosity in the subject which was his life's greatest interest, he talked to her easily enough as they walked down towards the main road.
He told her about a Britain which was once largely covered by dense forests, through which wild beasts roamed - a Britain to which the proud Romans came in great galleys rowed by slaves. He told her how some of the Romans later became converts to Christianity, and how he believed Jenny's spoon to be a Christening Spoon which had survived some sixteen centuries.
"Your spoon, my dear," he said, "is much like those Christening Spoons which formed part of the Mildenhall treasure. It is possible that it has a monogram engraved upon its bowl, which consists of the Greek letters 'Kh' and 'R' which in turn are the initial letters of the name of Christ. Perhaps you will permit me to examine the spoon again when we get home - or tomorrow morning."
"Tell me about this Mildenhall place that I've never heard of," Jenny broke in. "We'll look at the spoon tomorrow if you like - before the others come."
They walked on down to the lane while he told her of the grandest discovery of Roman silver of modern times. He told her how in the years a.d. 365-367 a series of terrible disasters overwhelmed many of the defences of the Roman Province in Britain, and of how many Romans buried their silver and valuables so that they should not be discovered by the looting and avenging Picts, Scots and Saxons. He went on to tell her of the farmer and his ploughman who were at work on a field close to the fen in East Anglia during the winter of 1942-43, when the ploughshare, which had been set a little deeper than usual, ran against an obstruction and fell off. The ploughman jumped down to see what had caused the check and found what appeared to be a metal dish. When this was moved it was seen that the dish had been placed upside-down and covered many other articles made of a similar metal, which the two men believed to be pewter or lead. When they finished digging they had unearthed thirty-four lovely pieces, including trays, dishes, goblets, finger-bowls and spoons.
"I have been to see this hoard of treasure in the British Museum many times, my child, and I am sure that the spoon you picked up by chance is similar to those now famous Christening Spoons found at Mildenhall. One day, if you will permit me, we will take your spoon to someone whose knowledge is greater than mine. What you have, my dear, cannot be valued in money, but I believe it was found in these hills and that if we could find the remains of a Roman villa hereabouts, as they did at Mildenhall, then we may well find treasure which those who lived in the villa may have hidden for safety's sake. The Romans mined lead in these hills, Jenny. There was a Roman city not many miles away, at the place we now call Wroxeter - it was called Viroconium then - and there must be Roman villas hereabouts, and I mean to find them."
His voice had a confident ring now as he strode along.
"Of course, I understand, Mr Wilkins," Jenny said. "It all sounds wonderful, and I know we can help you... We'll come and see you tomorrow as soon as the others arrive and make some plans. You won't go searching by yourself first, will you?"
"Eh?" He stopped and turned round so suddenly that she bumped into him. "Not search by myself? But I want to be by myself. That's why I left the others so that I could explore myself, and now it seems that I was stupid enough to talk too freely before them, for they are coming after me and I know they will make me miserable again and interfere with my plans."
He was talking half to himself now, and Jenny realized that her father's guess was apparently correct. She was not quite sure whether to keep quiet in the hope that he would say more, or to question him so naturally that he might answer her without remembering who she was. She decided on a question.
"What happens to anything that you do find, Mr Wilkins? I mean, is it yours right away just because you found it, and could you sell it?"
"Sell it!" he shouted. "It is treasure trove, my child."
"But I don't know what treasure trove is. Please explain... Oh, Mr Wilkins, we're nearly home now. May I bring you some cocoa to your room and will you tell me then before I go to bed?"
He smiled at her gently.
"But you should have been in bed hours ago, child. Are you not too tired?"
"I shan't sleep till I know," Jenny said as she stifled another yawn.
Then they saw Mr Harman hurrying towards them, and when they met Jenny said: "It's quite all right, Dad. I met Mr Wilkins on his way home, and he's been telling me some wonderful things."
The old man put his hand on Jenny's shoulder. "Thank you for letting her come, Mr Harman. I was very glad to see her, and she has proved an admirable guide. I hope your wife will not object, but I have asked your daughter to share a little refreshment with me in my sitting-room. I know it is late, but a few more minutes will not make much difference now. I trust you will permit her to come?"
And, rather to her astonishment, Jenny found herself ten minutes later in pyjamas and dressing-gown sitting on the edge of a big chair in Mr Wilkins's room with a mug of hot cocoa warming her hands.
"This is fun," she said. "Tell me about treasure trove."
"Well," said Mr Wilkins, "objects of gold or silver which have been secretly hidden - not just lost - in soil or in buildings, and of which the original owner cannot be traced, are treasure trove and the property of the Crown."
Jenny understood what this meant, but asked, "Who decides whether it was secretly hidden and what happens when it belongs to the country?"
Then, very patiently, he explained that the local coroner decided whether the discovery was treasure trove or not, and that if it was the Crown would usually pass it over to a museum.
"That sounds dull," Jenny interrupted. "I'm not very keen on scratching about these valleys just because we may find something which will be handed to a museum. I hate museums, anyway."
"If a museum wants what has been found - I'm sure that more than one would like your spoon, Jenny - they will pay for it and the law says that the finder must be paid full value."
"I see. If you find it you have to give it up, but then you may be paid a lot of money. Do you want a lot of money, Mr Wilkins? Is that your trouble? Dad says that it's his trouble - not enough of it, I mean."
"It is not my main trouble, my child. All my life I have studied this subject, and I want nothing more now than to be left alone to go on with my exploration in my own way and in my own time... Since my wife died I have no home of my own. I wish to find something which will add to our knowledge and understanding of the past."
There was a knock on the door and Mr Harman came in.
"Excuse me, Mr Wilkins, but it is time that Jenny was in bed. Thank you for entertaining her."
The old man nodded.
"The thanks should come from me, Mr Harman. And an apology to you, I think, for my behaviour this afternoon. You will forgive me, I am sure, if I say no more than that I am anxious to spend my holiday in these parts without interference from others, even should they be relations. Good night, Mr Harman... And good night to you, Jenny."
Jenny paused at the door.
"Good night, Mr Wilkins... And don't you worry about a thing. We'll all look after you, and if you'll allow it we'll help you search for treasure trove too. You've no idea how useful we can be... "
