Prologue of the Lake Mystery. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Campbell Shelp. The Lake Mystery by Marvin Dana. Prologue, The Miser. The Dresden clock on the mantel struck twelve in soft, slow, golden notes. As the gentle echoes died away, Horace Abernethy, sitting huddled in a moorish chair before the fire of logs, stirred feebly. Presently he sat erect, moving clumsily, with the laboriousness of senility. But there was nothing of the aged in the glances of his keen, dark eyes, which shone forth brightly from out the pallid parchment of his face. His intent gaze started first toward the clock to verify the hour of which the gong had given warning. It went next to the closed window on the right of the fireplace, over which the shades had not been drawn. The unsheltered pains were spangled with raindrops, and, as he watched, a new gust beat its tattoo on the glass. The old man drew down the tip of his thin, beak-like nose in a curious movement of disgust, then stroked petulantly the white cascade of beard that flowed to his bosom. Curse such weather! he snarled in a voice querulous in trail with years. He stood up with sudden alertness, surprising after his first awkward slowness. A brisk gesture of the head threw back from his face the luxuriant white curls of hair. But in spite of it I must go again, and so make an end of the job. Else death might take me unawares. Abernethy glanced aimlessly about the long, low-sealed room, now lighted only by the glow from the fire. After a little he advanced to the centre, where a concert grand piano dominated the scene. In a moment more he had lighted the tall lamp that stood at hand. A sheet of music and manuscript was lying on the rack. He seized this, and scanned it eagerly, muttering the while. Curious it should work out so, he exclaimed at last. Curious and infernally clever too. He seated himself before the instrument, still holding communion with his thoughts. Yes, it will do. Capitally. And it has the spirit of the thing. It chants the curse. Suddenly, as he seized speaking, the old man lifted his arms in a quick graceful movement. The long, claw-like fingers, supple still, fell vehemently on the keys in a clamour of melancholy music. There was only a single strain of melody, that written on the page before him, but he played it again and again, as if obsessed by its weird rhythm, played it blatantly, tenderly, with reluctant slowness, with masterful swiftness. And, as he went on and on, he abandoned the simplicity of the written score. In its stead, he multiplied harmonies, superimposed innumerable variations. The musical rapture revealed the decrepit old man as virtuoso. The treatment of the theme showed him to be at once the scholar and the creature of vivid emotional imagination, while the physical interpretation of the dreaming that drove him on displayed a technique astonishing and one so burdened with years. But ever, throughout the wildest extravagances of his fancy's flight, there was no failure of that first morbid rhythm, of that first monotonous melody and minor set on the sheet before him. This was the score on which he built the ordered sequence of his improvisations. The player ended with a harsh clanger from the keys, and whirled about on the stool to stare intently toward the wall opposite the fireplace. Now, his pallid face and the glimpse that showed above the beard was faintly flushed from the bodily strain of playing. But the fire burning in the dark eyes proved that the emotion within still maintained its vigor undiminished. Springing up, he drew his tall, thin form to its full height, and stood thus motionless for a long minute, gazing fixedly at the wall before him. Then, again with the swift movement of the head by which the white curls were thrown back from his brow, he strode forward and came to a stand facing the naked wainscotting of the wall. In the long barren room, devoid of other ornament, this paneling was of itself sufficient to command attention. Beyond a few scattered chairs, a solitary table with its lamp, the irons of the fireplace, a cabinet for music, the piano and the high lamp standing beside it, there was nothing in the place, not even so much as draperies to mask the ugliness of the window shades. Such scarcity of furnishing was emphasised by the size of the apartment, which was fifty feet in length and half as wide. Doubtless, the occupant had preferred the space thus free from ought that might in any wise hamper the resonance of the music. Be that as it may, the ornateness of the wainscotting was made conspicuous, since only the piano offered another interest. Of black walnut it ran to a height of at least seven feet out of the ten that measured the wall, and, extending around the four sides of the room, gave to the aspect of the place a quality of melancholy so extreme as to be almost funeral, in effect in no way lessened on closer observation, since the deep carving was merely a conventional labyrinth of scrolls. The manner in which Abernethy scanned the wall opposite him was too intent to be explained by any ordinary concern with woodwork long familiar. Moreover, his eyes were glowing fiercely, the talon-like fingers writhed curiously where they hung at his sides, the shaggy white brows were drawn though. From time to time the tip of the thin nose was thrust downward in the movement peculiar to him. It was plain that he was in the grip of profound feeling, though he stood mute before a stark space of wall. The old man bestirred himself abruptly. His right arm was raised with swift grace, the dexterous fingers played for a moment silently, yet firmly, on the crowded traceries of the carving. A flurry of wind brought the rain clattering noisily against the windowpains, but the musician gave no heed. The clock rang softly from a single stroke of the gong, but his ears had no care for the hour. He was muttering to himself now, brokenly, despairingly, the while his fingers wandered over the intricate design of the paneling. Mine, mine, and I must leave it all, must leave it all, soon! Oh, so soon! God, the torture of it! Mine, all mine! Ah! Without warning sound, the panel on which his hand rested had swung outward until it stood like a door, wide open. An ejaculation of eagerness burst from Abernethy's lips, as he peered within the opening thus revealed through the wall. A large plate of polished steel glimmered in the dim light that came from the lamp beside the piano. A figured knob in the centre of this plate proclaimed the fact that here was a cunningly contrived safety vault. The old man's arm again reached forth with that astonishing quickness which characterised his every movement. Now the agile fingers seized the knob of the safe door, twirling it with practised certainty of touch. Presently the methodical adjustment complete. He tugged briskly on the knob and the door swung outward. An exclamation of delight burst from Abernethy's lips. His form grew suddenly tense. With feebrow haste he put both hands to the lighter inner doors and pulled them open.  Immediately its soft radiance revealed the whole interior of the recess. The space was well filled with canvas bags of the sort commonly used to conspain species. Their appearance there, thus hidden and protected, left no doubt of the fact that they were the old man's chief treasure. For that matter there was nothing else inside the vault, not even ledgers or papers of any sort whatever. It was quite evident that Abernethy had no hesitation in trusting his other valuables to less secret places of security. Here he concealed with such elaborate precaution only actual coin. And now secure from all observation at midnight in this remote region where the isolation of time and place were intensified by the downpour of the tempest. The aged musician gave free reign to his consuming passion, stripped from his nature the last mask of hypocrisy, bloated and adored at back of that devil who was his master. Abernethy nimbly caught up two of the bags and bore them to the table that stood against the wall to the right of the vault where he set them down with a softness of movement which was like a caress in its tenderness. Then he sank into a chair beside the table and began untieing the cord that held shut the mouth of one of the bags. It was only a matter of seconds until the sack gaped open. He paused now to stare about the room with furtive, fearful eyes. His scrutiny was directed principally toward the windows. His lips were drawn in a snarl as he realized that the shades had not been pulled down. He sprang to his feet and darted to the nearest where he arranged the shade to his satisfaction, mumbling and mouthing the while. Afterward he made a round of the room, very swiftly yet using all care to render himself secure from observation by anyone without. A glance at the doors having shown him that all these were shut fast, he at last drove back to the table where the money bags awaited him. The chair was drawn close into it Abernethy sagged heavily as if in sudden relaxation from the taut energy that had urged him on hitherto. For a half-minute he sat crouched over the table in an attitude of utter weariness, almost of collapse. But abruptly he aroused himself from the clutch of lethargy. Once again he held himself upright. Again his eyes searched the room craftily, a light with emotional fires. Finally his arms rose swiftly, swooped forward and downward until the talon-like fingers closed on the bags which he drew tight to his breast where it pressed against the table. In this posture which was like an embrace he remained moment after moment, tense, alert, movelessly alive in every fiber of him. Then putting term to the rapturous pause the old man sighed faintly as one who, with infinite reluctance, awakes from ecstasy. He sat rigid and pushed the two bags a slight distance from the edge of the table. For another little interval he stared at them half doubtfully in the manner of one returning slowly to reality after the illusions of a dream. A second sigh was breathed from his lips, not blissful now, but weighted with bleak despair. Presently he tossed his head impatiently and began fumbling with the string of the second bag. This yielded speedily as had that of the first. In another instant he had poured forth the contents of the two sacks on the table before him laid twin heaps of gold. Afterward for more than an hour the miser gave full play to his vice. Before the smoldering fires of the metal he worshipped devoutly, abjectly. His soul prostrated itself in adoration beneath the golden glory that he loved and reverenced. At times he plunged his fingers within the heaps, listening rapidly to the clinking song of the coins as they were moved half hazard by the contact. At times he sat dumb, crooning softly as if these bits of metal had been sentient things to hark to his hymn of praise. Other vagaries were his, innumerable follies, nameless abasements before this, his most sacred shrine. Of a sudden Abernethi sprang to his feet, leaving the glittered piles on the table. He hurried to the piano, where he seated himself with face turned toward the altar of his worship. The supple fingers touched the keys anew, the melancholy air which he had played before sounded once again. But now it was rendered simply, without extremes of emotion on the part of its interpreter, without variations in its harmonic forms. Instead the old man played it slowly and gently throughout, repeating it monotonously many times. The morbid rhythm stood forth ghastly in its naked, sordid truth. It came as a hopeless confession of despair, the ultimate fact in the vice that was his master. Abernethi went back to the table, stacked coins until he had the measure of a bag full, and thus divided the gold, which was then returned to the sacs. Next he brought forth other bags from the vault, until the table was covered. This done he went out of the room to reappear after a minute, wearing an old soft hat and a raincoat with capacious pockets, in which he stored, one by one, the bags of gold. Two more trips will do it, he muttered to himself, as he turned to close and lock the vault. I must dictate that letter to-night. Under the touch of his hand, the section of wane-scotting swung back into its place. There was not even the suggestion of a crevice to hint of the hiding-place behind the carved wood. The miser turned and went hastily from the room. The Dresden clock on the mantle had just sounded the hour of four with its golden notes when Abernethi re-entered. The water ran in a stream from his hat, all around him on the floor as he came to a stand inside the door, drops from the raincoat formed a growing pool. With a gesture of weariness he cast off the hat, then freed himself from the coat, which he threw down on the floor with a carelessness which of itself was sufficient evidence that the treasure of gold was no longer there. He went forward to the fireplace, where he sank down into the Moorish chair, huddling without movement, as one exhausted. It was half an hour before he had rested enough for further exertion. Then, clumsily and with many groans, he stood up and once more left the room. He returned soon with a phonograph and a box of rolls which he set on the table. After he had arranged the machine he began to dictate a letter into the receiver. His words came distinctly, swiftly, without ever any trace of hesitation. As soon as the first roll had been filled with the record he paused to insert another and then straightway continued with similar precision. When at last the miser made an end he had used many rolls and the first gleam of dawn was beating weakly on the drawn shades of the room. End of Prologue. Chapter 1 of The Lake Mystery by Marvin Dana This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 1. Adventurers Pact Sac's temple regarded with pardonable pride the separate table laid for four in the parlor of his bachelor apartment. Then, as a knock made known the first arrival, he went to the door and opened it eagerly. At sight of the tall, soldier-like figure standing on the threshold his face lighted. Roy, marching by all that's good! he cried. Hello, Sac's old man! came the answer in a musical monotone surprisingly gentle from one so stalwart. Got your letter, and here I am. Incidentally, I'm tickled to death over the idea of some real excitement. I haven't had any since a jolly fight in Mexico with the detective, who thought I was an absconder from the States, and tried to hustle me across the border. Morton thrust out a rather heavy chin, so that in a twinkling his face grew threatening, savage, his kindly blue eyes paled, the lids drew closer. I had coloured souvenirs of his earnestness scattered all over my anatomy for a fortnight, but I didn't have to have a doctor to patch me up, and he did, so I was satisfied. In fact, I got the doctor for him as soon as he apologised for his mistake. Morton chuckled at the memory. His face was again all amyability. Sac's laughed. You still wear a chip on your shoulder in order to entice somebody into a scrap? he said. Nonsense! Morton exclaimed, huffly. You ought to know that I don't want anything violent. I always try to steer clear of trouble. It's only when something comes up that a man must resent for the sake of his self-respect that I ever resort to brute force. Why, I—Sac's ruthlessly interrupted. Oh, certainly you're a man of peace, all right? Only—ah, here's one of them. Sac's sprang to his feet and hurried to the door, on which an imperative knocking sounded. As he turned the knob, the newcomer pushed his way into the room unceremoniously. A man as tall as Morton, but whose six feet of height bulked much larger by reason of the massive build and large head, thatched shaggily with thick iron-grey hair. The face showed rugged ugliness, emphasised by muddy skin. His voice was wheezy from climbing the stairs. Well, and what's it all about? What and why? Fillabustering, abduction, sunken treasure. Count me in on the scheming, strategy-conspiring plotting, but leave me out when it comes to donning the diving suit or engaging in the merry sword-play at the head of the stairs or any aviation. Well, well, it's like old times to be together. He had shaken hands with the two men while speaking, serenely disregarding their verbal greetings for his huge voice boomed over theirs. No cigarette, he concluded, waving away the offered box as he sank down beside Morton on the couch. I prefer a man's smoke.  The doctor says I smoke too much, he added, comfortably, after inhaling a startling volume of the smoke. Sacks smiled unsympathetically. It's eating so much and taking no exercise that makes you puffy. Billy Walker snored it indignantly. I only eat enough to keep this absurdly large carcass of mine properly stoked, he declared. Of course I don't take violent exercise. I want my strength for brain-work. You can't use the same vital force in two ways.  I, however, prefer intelligence to biceps. Where's Dave? That's the answer, Sacks exclaimed, as a knock again sounded. A moment later, David Thwing, the third and last guest, was in the room. He was the only short member of the group, but he was brought across the shoulders with a stocky form that promised unusual strength. He might have been good looking, but for the fact that his nose had once been disastrously smashed and never rightly repaired, its present outline was as choppy as the channel sees in a gale. It gave to his face a suggestion of the prize ring. Now that the party was complete, Sacks bade his guests take their places at the table. No explanations till we're done with the meal, he announced, in answer to the questions of his friends. It was only when the table had been cleared of all safety canters and glasses and smoking materials that he at last stood up to address his friends. A certain formality in his manner arrested their attention, and they regarded him with a sudden increase of curiosity. It's now six years since we left the university, Sacks began. In the last year we made a boyish pact. We agreed to answer the call of any one of us who became embarked an adventure of a sort to require the assistance from the others. So I have summoned you in accordance with the terms of our agreement. You see, I really have a sort of adventure to offer you. Though perhaps you'll think I'm a bit selfish in the matter, for the profit will be all mine. Roy, however, has made money enough so that he doesn't need any more, and Billy always did have more than he could spend with his foolish ideas of just learning things instead of living them. Dave is reasonably poor, but, too, he's reasonably honest, and so he's better off without the temptations of great wealth. I've come to the conclusion, after careful reflection, that I'm the only one of the quartet who actually is in want of money. My tastes are luxurious, and, too, I have ambitious projects in the direction of operas that I wish to write. I can't give myself to such serious work while I have to turn all my energies into musical pot boilers to soothe the savage breast of the wolf at the door. The metaphor is mixed, Billy Walker grumbled. The purpose of pot boilers is to soothe the stomach, not the breast, but what could be expected of a composer essaying oratory. Sax accepted the criticism without rancor. Anyhow, I'll let that stand by way of introduction," he continued. The pit of the matter is this. I've had some money left to me, a tidy sum, in fact. Instantly there came a chorus of congratulations from his friends, but the host waved his hand for silence while he shook his head legubriously. I'm not exactly ready for congratulations yet," he declared, when they had fallen silent again. It's true I've had some money left to me, but the deuce of it is I don't know where the money is. Exclamations burst forth anew, eager questionings. The simplest way of explaining the whole affair, Sax went on, is to make it known to you in the form in which it was made known to me. The morning of the day on which I wrote to you, I received a letter. That letter was the first warning I had of this possible adventure. Now I'll read the letter to you, and then you'll have the same knowledge of the whole matter as I have. By way of preface, I need only say that the writer of the letter has since died, and I have been formally notified by his lawyer concerning the old man's will, in exact accordance with the terms of the letter he wrote me. The young man took from his breast pocket a type-written letter, and proceeded to read it aloud. From the first word to the last, the auditors sat silent, almost without movement, save now and then for the relighting of cigar or cigarette. The letter ran as follows. Sax Temple, Esquire, New York City. Dear sir, it will doubtless astonish you at the outset to receive a letter of this length from one who is a complete stranger to you. It will astonish you still more when you learn the contents of this communication. I shall, however, set forth the facts in such wise as may enable you to grasp them understandingly. For your opinion concerning them or me, I care little.  All that you need to know is this. I am a musician. All the love of my life has been given to music, with two exceptions, of which I shall write later on in this letter. As to the music, I have loved it as an amateur, for I was of independent means with no need to mix in the sordid struggle for money. I have never written for production. I have been content, for the most part, merely to study, to apprehend as best I might the work of the masters. What I have myself composed has been of a wholly desultory sort, fragments of fragmentary ideas. I have fashioned now and then the motif of a theme. I have scientifically worked out by an application of mathematical laws based on ratios of vibration, certain new things in the way of harmony. All these I have left you unconditionally. I dare hope and believe that you will be able to make some use of the material. If you do so, pray spare yourself the pains of giving me any credit, if your honesty be over nice, or worrying your conscious if you chance to be dishonest. I have no idea that I shall be messing around anywhere in your environment after I am once dead, and the world's praise can be less than nothing to me after I have gone from earth. But because you are a musician, and, as I have come to believe, an earnest one, I have decided to make you heir to my musical legacies certainly. To my money perhaps. I'll explain the perhaps presently. But first I must tell you of the love that rivaled my love for music. This was for your mother. On that account my thoughts have been directed to you with special force. On that account this letter to you and all this letter implies. Your mother as a girl possessed a wonderful natural voice, and, to, the soul of a musician. It's so chance that she and I were neighbors, and we met often socially. I was only a few years older than she, and I was already skilled in music, for I had devoted myself to the study of it from childhood. I recognized the supreme worth of her voice at the first hearing. I fell in love with your mother then, as a man with a woman, yes, even more as a musician in love, with a glorious instrument of music. It soon became evident that while she liked me, she could not love me as a wife should love her husband. I realized the truth, and though I suffered as an emotional temperament must suffer in such case, I did not despair. The musician in me triumphed over the man, for I rejoiced in the glorious gift that she would manifest to the world. So I merged my passion for the woman in the enthusiasm of the maestro for his people. I offered myself as her teacher, and she accepted me in that capacity. For two years I taught her. Under my training her method became perfect. Her soul, too, grew, so that she had sympathy and understanding. Then, just when she was all prepared for her triumph and my own, she fell in love with your father. She married him. In spite of all my prayers, my reproaches, my supplications, she abandoned her career for love's sake. Her husband was opposed to his wife's appearing in public as a singer. She yielded to his wishes without remonstrance. I believe she was happy in her way because she loved your father sincerely, and she counted no sacrifice too great for love. You, as a musician, can apprehend perhaps the suffering I underwent in consequence of this disappointment. It sickened me of my fellows made me a recluse. It was in my life of retirement that I developed my third love, that of the miser for gold. I secretly transformed all my possessions into gold, which I kept in a secret safe here in my house. Oh, the hours of night during which I have worshipped before the shining heaps, but enough has been written at one time and another over the raptures of the miser, a rapture without justification and reason, yet more masterful than any other. I shall not weary you with explanation or excuse. The statement of the fact alone is sufficient. Now at last I find myself the victim of a disease that must end my life course within a few days, perhaps hours. It becomes necessary then for me to dispose of my wealth. I am without relations with the exception of a distant cousin and her daughter who are already well to do. To this daughter I have left my house here and the land that goes with it, a thousand acres, which has some value today and will have more very soon as the region is being opened up. For the bulk of my wealth, which as I have said is in gold, I have selected you as a possible heir, but you must do your part. I have thus chosen you because I dare hope that by it you may be helped in accomplishing something of worth in the art of music and so atone in some measure for the loss occasioned by your mother's abandonment of her career. The condition which I have imposed on this legacy is merely to test you as to your perseverance and your intelligence. In the event of your failure half of the money will go to the girl and the other half to the founding of a musician's home. After my death you will be notified by my lawyer who has my will duly drawn in accordance with the conditions I hear roughly explain. At once then you will come to this place and here conduct a search for my treasure chest which contains three hundred thousand dollars in gold. If you discover this within a month from the day of my death this treasure shall be yours absolutely. If you fail in the quest the seals of my description of the hiding place which has been deposited with my lawyer will be opened and the treasure secured to be divided between my young kinswoman Margaret West and the establishing and endowing of a home for disabled musicians.  If you are as acute as I think you will easily discover the necessary clues to the hiding place of the gold. In the hunt you have full liberty to use any means you wish with the privilege of residing in the house here with your helpers if you employ them during the length of the time allowed you. Yours truly Horace Abernethy. As he finished the reading Sacks folded the sheets and replaced the letter in his pocket. Then he sank back into his chair and surveyed his friends quizzically. Well, he demanded. David Thwing beamed happily through the heavy lenses of his eyeglasses as he spoke. And so you want us to go with you and of course we will. He gazed benignly on his fellow guests then opened his mouth and trolled in a musical baritone a hunting we will go. Roy swung into the measure with a nicety of accord in the tenor that told of old time practice. Sacks added his bass and the song ring out in an harmonious prophecy of success. As the refrain ceased Billy Walker expressed himself whimsically. This comes as a great relief to me. He explained grinning cheerfully. I'm all tied up with commission for erudite essays I've promised to write. I've been unable to figure any way in which I could fulfill my obligations. Now by cutting the whole thing the difficulty will be removed. I shall simply disappear with you. Sacks old boy, I thank you. When do we start? And you, Dave? The host questioned eagerly, though this friend had already given consent for the three. I haven't a blessed thing to do, was the contented answer. Apart from the pleasant thrill incident to this questing for hidden treasure, your wish for my assistance gives me a new feeling of self-respect due to the fact of having something in the nature of business to attend to. When do we start? Roy Morton nodded amiably as Sacks turned in his direction. Of course, he declared, when do we start? Your trumps all of you, the host declared gratefully. I knew I could depend on you, but to have your assurance takes a weight off my mind all the same. I'd feel infernally helpless, alone on the job. With you chap standing by, I know we'll win out. As for starting, well, time is important. There's a bit less than a month now left to us. I've looked up trains. There's a good one that starts in the afternoon. I know it's awfully short notice, but if you could manage to make it tomorrow, why? He halted doubtfully to stare at his friends. Tomorrow it is! Boomed Billy Walker and the others echoed agreement. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of The Lake Mystery by Marvin Dana This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 2 The Secretary In the performance of her secretarial duties, Mae Thurston duly drummed on her machine the remarkable letter to Sacks Temple in which the old miser made known his intended disposition of a golden treasury. Because she possessed an excellent New England conscience, the girl maintained silence, despite the urgings of a feminine desire to share the secret. This reticence on her part was the more admirable in as much as, just at this time, her affections were becoming strongly engaged by a suitor. Hartley Masters, the man in the case, was a civil engineer employed in the neighbourhood with a survey for an electric road. On one occasion he had stopped at Abernethy's cottage for a glass of water from the well. The master of the house was absent at the time, but the secretary was present, and by some chance, out of doors that pleasant May morning. Conventions seemed rather absurd in that remote region. The young engineer admired the charming face and slender form, and hastened to engage her in conversation. She responded without reluctance, rather with pleasure in this diversion from the monotony of her days. Afterward a considerable intimacy developed between the two. May Thurston had much of her time free, and Masters contrived so to arrange his work as to take full advantage of her leisure. That his heart was touched seriously may be doubted, but his courtship lacked nothing in the evidences of intensity and sincerity. He made a deep impression on the girl, who was both ingenious and tender. Masters was the first to whom she had given more than the most casual heed, and, almost at the outset, she found her affections engaged. She regarded him as astonishingly handsome, as, in truth, he was, in a melodramatic fashion of his own, with huge dark eyes, long lashed and glowing, a sweep of black mustache, and thick, clustering hair, which was always artistically tousled. In fact, the whole appearance of the man was blatantly artistic, in the Bohemian acceptation of the word, and he was scrupulous to wear on all occasions a loose bow of silk at his throat. He was tall, too, and broad enough, but there was too much slope to his shoulders, his neck was too long, his head bulked too large for harmony. His voice was agreeable, his manners were suave, quickened by adjontiness, which was perhaps assumed to harmonize with the insouciant air of the cravat. May Thurston, who had read her Byron, thought of him as the Corsair, and her heart fluttered. It is easily understood that the secretaries keeping silence concerning her employer's remarkable testamentary plans showed her the possessor of some strength of character as well as a sense of honour. She even managed to keep her own counsel after Masters openly declared his love and besought her to become his wife, at some vague time in the future, when he should have arrived at a position of independence. She yielded readily to his ardour, and had plighted troth, all a tremble with maidenly confusion and womanly raptures. Then, a few days later, Abernethy died. She felt now that she was at liberty to reveal the circumstances of the will to her lover. As they strolled on the lakeshore, the evening of the day after the miser's death, May told the story to which Masters listened with absorbed attention. Mad as a hatter! he ejaculated, contemptuously, as the girl brought her narrative to a close. Yet, though his voice was mocking, there was manifests in his expression in eagerness that puzzled the girl. She would not permit his comment to go unrebuke'd. No, she declared firmly, Mr. Abernethy was not mad. He was eccentric, of course, very. That was all, however, he wasn't crazy, unless every miser is crazy.  Then he really did it as a sort of joke, Masters suggested easily. As much that as anything else, May answered, and her tone was thoughtful. There was sentiment on account of Saxe's temple's mother and the old love affair, and, of course, this young man's interest in music made it seem like a good disposal of the money. But I have a suspicion, too, that Mr. Abernethy really enjoyed hiding the money, making it hard for anyone else to get hold of it, you know. That idea appealed to his miserly instincts, I think. How he hated to leave it! No pockets in a shroud! I've heard him mutter a hundred times. It was horrible and pitiful. Yes, miserliness is an awful vice, Masters agreed. His tone was perfunctory, although his inflections were energetic enough. There fell a little silence between the lovers, where they sat on the west shore, beneath the rampart of wooded hills. It was already deep dusk, but out on the open space of water shone a luminous purple light, shot over with rose and gold, reflected sunset glow over the eastern mountains. May Thurston stared happily at the wide dancing path over the water that led to the newly risen full moon, and she dreamed blissfully of the glory of life that was soon to come to her beside the man who had chosen her as his mate. Masters, on the contrary, while equally enthusiastic in his musings, was by no means sentimental as he gazed unseeingly across the lake's level, now wimpling daintily at touch of the slow breeze. The young engineer's thoughts were, truth to tell, of a sort sordid, even avaricious, covetous, and at last, after a period of profound reflection, he uttered his thought. May dearest, he said softly, with a tender cadence, what a shame it is that the old miser didn't think of us. The girl faced her companion with a movement of shocked surprise. Think of us! she repeated, confusedly. Whatever can you mean? Masters turned and regarded May with intentness, a fond smile showing beneath the curve of his mustache. His voice, as he spoke now, was softer than usual. Why, he said, I was just thinking on the hardness of fate sometimes. Here was this old man, with more money than he knew what to do with, and here we are without a penny. There was nothing money could do for him, except gratify of ice, the madness of the miser, and money could do everything for you and me, sweetheart. The thought of it made me say it was a shame the old man didn't think of us. Well, after all, we couldn't expect him to, the girl said placidly, with the sober sense characteristic of her. Of course it would have been nice to have his fortune, but we must be patient, Hartley. She turned her face again to the east, and looked out into the deeper purples of the distance, beholding again fair visions of the happiness to come. The man's tones were somber, as he replied, I tell you May, it seems to me like no man's money. The girl aroused herself from dreaming, and for the second time regarded her lover with puzzled inquiry. What do you mean by that, Hartley? she demanded. I mean, came the deliberate answer, that this hidden fortune of Abernethys doesn't really belong to anyone at this moment. Nonsense! the secretary exclaimed briskly, confident as to the fact out of her stores of business experience. The money belongs to the estate. By due course of law it will go to Saxe Temple, if he fulfills the condition under which it has been left him. If he fails, it will go to the girl and the musician's home. She smiled contently, pleasantly conscious of her own erudition, and looked out over the lake again, watching idly the frolicking dance of the swallows to the movement of the waves. On the contrary, masters continued argumentatively, at this very moment the ownership of that gold is problematical. Nobody exactly owns it, although theoretically the title to it is vested in the surrogate's court, or whatever they call it in this wilderness. As a matter of strict fact, that gold has become hidden treasure. To be sure, the old man has left directions as to who shall have it if found, and who shall have it if it's not found. But suppose now, someone else were to find it? Not Saxe Temple!  Suppose I were to find it? May Thurston sprang to her feet, and regarded the speaker with an expression of sheer amazement, which swiftly changed to one of dismay. The softly tinted rose of her cheeks flamed suddenly to scarlet, her luminous eyes, usually so gentle, sparked dangerously. She stared fixedly at the man for a few seconds. At first he encountered her gaze steadily enough, smiling. But presently, under the accusation in her look, the smile passed from his lips, and his eyes fell. The girl continued to observe him indignantly for a few moments more. Then, at last she spoke, and now there was more of sorrow than of anger in her voice. Hartley! The exclamation was a reproach, and as such the young man recognized it, he rose quickly, caught May's hands in his, and spoke tenderly in justification of himself, his eyes again meeting hers boldly. In the days that followed, Master showed a wily patience. He recurred to the subject of the miser's gold again and yet again. The girl's reluctance slowly grew less, and she found herself unable to combat the ingenuities of his reasoning. Finally she reached a point where she no longer opposed his wishes, although she still held to her own conviction as to the wrongfulness of that which he proposed. The man felt that he could trust her neutrality, so reluctantly conceded. With this for the time being, he rested content. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 3 The Assembling The dwelling in the wilderness contained only two servants, a woman of fifty, who performed the duties of housekeeper and cook, and her husband, slightly older, who did the small amount of outdoor work required about the cottage, but, during the open weather, was chiefly concerned with the care of the two motorboats, which had been the miser's single extravagance. After the funeral, the lawyer of the deceased ordered Jake Dustin and his wife to remain at the cottage for the time being, to await the outcome of the bequest. May Thurston, also, was retained as the one person most conversant with Abernethy's affairs. These arrangements made the attorney return to Boston, holding himself in readiness for another visit to the cottage at any time when his presence there might be required in connection with the inheritance. Masters, naturally enough, rejoiced in the situation, thus created, which left him entire freedom in the prosecution of his illicit search for the treasure. He realized to the full that his best opportunity would be limited to the short interval before the arrival on the scene of others, who would inevitably regard his presence with surprise, if not with actual suspicion. For the moment, however, there was none to offer any hindrance. Jake was engaged in overhauling his engines within the boathouse, which was situated a full hundred yards from the cottage. He had neither eyes nor ears for the actions of Hartley Masters, who, in his opinion, was merely sparking that Thurston gow mighty close. Mrs. Dustin, for her part, was absorbed, as always, in a relentless warfare against matter out of place, which she consistently loathed as dirt. As she invariably talked aloud to herself, she gave ample warning of her whereabouts at all times, and it was no difficult thing to evade her. Yet, despite the advantages of his situation, Masters, to his chagrin, learned nothing concerning the treasure. The young man's failure was pleasing, rather than otherwise, to May Thurston, who, at intervals, kept alongside him in the quest, though always without affording him other assistance than the doubtful comfort of her presence. Despite the fact that his specious arguments had silenced her, she was by no means convinced as to the propriety of his undertaking. Her conscience still spoke clearly, even while she abandoned controversy with Masters for love's sake. A telegram from Mrs. West came to May, in which it was announced that the widow and her daughter, Margaret, would arrive at the lake on the day following. The lawyer had advised Mrs. West concerning the death of Abernethy and her daughter's inheritance of this property, together with the possibility of another fortune, should Sax Temple fail in his search for the secreted horde of gold. On receiving the telegram, May was in a flutter of pleasurable excitement, notwithstanding her devotion to Masters. The isolation of this life in the wilderness was a weariness to her spirit, and she joyously looked forward to the coming of the heiress, a girl presumably of about her own age, who might afford her that companionship she so craved. Masters, on the other hand, was filled with an impotent rage against the promptitude of Mrs. West's answer to the announcement of Abernethy's death. The vultures flocked to feed on the carcass. The engineer sneered, with an angry tug at the flowing length of his mustache. May's lips set primly, as she stared at the handsome face of her lover with rather less than her usual admiration for his romantic air. It occurred to her active intelligence that Hartley was hardly the one to scorn those who came lawfully to claim their own, while he was unlawfully seeking the property of another with such feverish eagerness. But, with feminine wisdom, she held her peace, while Masters went on fuming futilely against fate. With the aid of timetables, she calculated the exact hour at which Mrs. West's arrival might be expected, since the message had neglected to state this, and then sought Jake, to whom she gave instructions that he should go down the lake in one of the motorboats the next morning to meet the ten o'clock train, northbound, at the station three miles away. When, that night, Masters, still grumbling, kissed her good night, her lips were passive, which had not been their want. Masters reappeared early the next morning, for he was aware that in a few hours his best opportunity to search would be passed. He utterly ignored the fact that his engineering work was being neglected, to an extent that must soon involve him in serious trouble with his employers. The possibility of wealth had suddenly come to dominate his thoughts, and allowed no rivalry. He was pale, as if after a sleepless night, and his stache of hair was tingled in a confusion wheel for once, not contrived with studied pains. His great, black eyes were glowing, as he encountered May at the cottage door. The girl sighed as she noted the haggard appearance of his face and the tenseness of his movements, usually so briskly graceful. A certain latent fierceness in his expression caused a thrill of apprehension in her heart. She was shocked that he could enter thus whole-souldly into a nefarious project for the sake of gain. Where's the old woman? Masters questioned curtly, after a scant phrase of greeting. In the kitchen, May answered. I must hurry, the engineer continued alertly, but anyhow I have almost four hours clear. They can't get here before eleven, I guess. If the train's on time, they should get here about half past ten, May corrected. There was a note of warning in her voice.  Masters laughed shortly. No fear. I'll watch out, but hold them back as much as you can, he bade her. Without more ado, he entered the house. She heard him go quickly into the music room, shedding the door behind him. For a moment she rested motionless, irresolute, her face troubled. Then, with a gesture of annoyance, she turned away, and went toward the waiting-launch. The northbound train arrived hardly a minute behind its schedule. May, waiting eagerly on the station platform, scrutinized the few passengers as they clambered down from the daycoaches. Then her attention was caught by the activities of a colored porter at the vestibule steps of the Pullman. Beside him, on the cinder path, were three valises of heavy leather, somewhat battered, but of undeniable dignity. As the man adjusted the portable step beside the track, two women appeared above him on the platform of the car. May had no doubt as to their identity. She noted the simple elegance of Mrs. West's travelling suit, the modish air of the daughters. She observed, too, the radiant loveliness of the girl's face. A subtle premonition of sorrow obsessed her, as she stared half resentfully at the beauty of Margaret West, elusively revealed from within a mesh of gray veil. She fought against the mood, and went forward to greet the strangers. The manner of the two travellers was so cordial that the secretary quickly forgot her presentiment. Mrs. West proved to be a handsome, though rather delicate, woman of perhaps fifty years, in voice and manner, and in nature as well, a true gentlewoman of a type now somewhat out of fashion. As May had already learned from her late employer, this lady had, throughout her life, enjoyed ample means, though not great wealth. The daughter, Margaret, resembled the mother, but in her slender form was the grace of youth. There's no doubt that it's still a real wilderness hereabouts, Margaret declared, after the first greetings had been exchanged. I thought it might have changed since our visit ten years ago. And it's still all wilderness for the way we have yet to go in the motorboat, May answered, smiling. Here is Jake, Mr. Dustin, you know. He'll carry your valises to the landing." She indicated the embarrassed boatman, who was hovering doubtfully near. With attention thus thrust upon him, he grinned sheepishly, then turned to the luggage. Chris will help him, Mrs. West said. May looked in the direction of the speaker's nod, and started in astonishment. In her absorption with the two women, she had observed neither the coming nor the presence of this man. Now she regarded him curiously. Evidently, from his appearance, as well as from Mrs. West's words, he was a servant, and may guess that he must be as well an old and highly esteemed family retainer, since he thus made one of the party on this trip. He was a short man, rather absurdly fat, though not in the least heavy of movement or weasy of breath. But he had a general roundness, of a sort almost infantile, incongruous with perfect baldness.  A somewhat suggestive redness of the skin made the caricature effect of a Bacchic cupid. For the rest, he was neatly dressed in black, and he smiled genially on May, and touched his head decorously, at the reference to himself with a respectful, miasmus. Then he stooped alertly to the luggage, seized a bag in either hand, and waited expectantly for the more sluggish shake to point the way. May had wholly forgotten her first impression long before the cottage landing was reached. She found Mrs. West kindly and interested, while Margaret displayed a democratic friendliness that was inexpressibly grateful to the lonely girl. But, at the last, all her apprehensions came crowding back. It was at the moment when they emerged from the boathouse and started toward the cottage. Why? Who is that? Mrs. West asked, with a note of curiosity in her voice. May looked up to see Hartley Masters as he stepped briskly out from the front door of the house. At sight of the party on the shore, he halted abruptly, in seeming confusion. Then, after an instant of indecision, he swung sharply to the right, into a path that ran along the lake to the south. Oh, it's Mr. Masters! May answered, a bit falteringly. He's an engineer at work near here. He calls, sometimes. Some stress in the speaker's voice caught the attention of Margaret. She regarded the troubled face of the secretary intently for a moment. Then, she stared speculatively after the tall figure of the engineer, as it passed swiftly into the concealment of the forest. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of The Lake Mystery by Marvin Dana This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 4. Eve of Battle Masters came suddenly on May Thurston that same afternoon, as she chanced to be alone on the cottage porch. When he appeared so swiftly out of the wood, which was thick behind the house, the girl realized that he must have been lying in wait for this opportunity to meet her unobserved. The stealthiness of the act revolted her anew, and the disagreeable impression was in no wise relieved by the engineer's conversation or manner. Nothing! I found nothing at all! he declared, curtly. His large eyes were glowing with anger. I can't understand it! His tone was full of rebellion against the injustice of fate. But... may began. Her voice was hesitating, timid. Masters went on stormily, disregarding her. I mustn't give up, though, just because they've come. He nodded toward the cottage. You must introduce me at once. Then get them outside to look about, and I'll have another try at the gold. The girl was dismayed by his persistence. She wished to point out the danger of discovery, but the engineer would listen to no protests. And in the end his inflexible will beat down her resistance. So, presently, Masters was duly introduced to Mrs. West and her daughter. His manner was now all suavity. He devoted himself to making a good impression, and in this he succeeded, for he was in fact usually attractive to women, though not to men, who regarded him with latent suspicion or open hostility, according to their various natures. In this instance, his handsome face, graceful, frank manner, and lively chat diverted and pleased the mother, while the more susceptible daughter found herself near to blushing under the earnest regard of a stranger so romantic of appearance and so respectfully, yet obviously, an admirer of her own charms. Indeed, though Masters was very discreet, his manner somehow caused the trouble in May's heart to swell, for now it was leavened with jealousy. Yet there was nothing overt to which she might take exception. It was, rather, an intuition that warned her. But when she again found herself alone with her lover, she was confronted with offence in his first words. We must keep our engagement secret from them. Though May had had no thought of any present publicity for her romance, this preemptory command came with a shock. Why? she demanded. What do you mean, Hartley? Masters became fluently plausible. His seeming candor disarmed criticism. Margaret West is a pretty girl. He explained, smiling at last, and she is evidently aware of the fact. If she thinks I'm dangling, so to speak, a victim to her charms, she and her mother won't wonder any at my hanging around the place a good deal, and it's Miss West's place now, you know. It wouldn't do for me to make myself too much at home here, just as your fiance. She might be jealous. His smile over this none too delicate pleasantry was so caressing. His voice was so tender. He was so tall, so stalwart in picturesque fashion, so good to look on altogether, that May quite forgot her first instinct of indignation. After all doubtless he was right.  Masters' face instantly grew grave. His voice took on a dignity almost rebuking. No little girl, he said gently. That wouldn't be fair to you, or to her, or to me, but we'll keep our secret for a time. And to this I'll bid reluctantly, May consented. That reluctance must have become open revolt. Could she have known the inner workings of her lover's crafty and unscrupulous brain? For the fact of the matter was that the engineer had no sooner set eyes on Margaret West than knew, daring plots began to shape themselves in his imagination. His heart thrilled at sight of her. His interests deepened second by second. He experienced, indeed, an attraction strange, dominant. The emotion was the more impressive in as much as it was totally unlike that with which May Thurston had inspired him. He had admired the secretary in rather a placid fashion. He had enjoyed her dainty appearance. He had been agreeably entertained by her lively intelligence. Most of all, he had received flattering unction to his vanity from the east of his triumph over her heart. The case of Margaret was radically different. Even in the first interview with this girl, he found himself subject to a spell hitherto unknown in his experience of woman. Being by no means a fool, he guessed that here in truth was one actually to possess his love. That realization worked no sort of regeneration in the moral nature of the man. On the contrary, since he was essentially selfish, it served only to spur him on toward bold speculations as to all possible gains for himself. Since he knew the terms of the Abernethy will, a new scheme flashed on him within five minutes of his introduction to Margaret. If he should be unable to find the hidden treasure for himself, he would strive his utmost to prevent the success of Sax Temple in the quest, since failure on the heir's part would mean Margaret's inheritance of one half the gold. By this means, although he would not secure the full amount of riches, he would at least become possessor of a moiety, for he would marry Margaret West. He felt no pain of regret for May Thurston, whom he planned to betray so basely. His sole concern was for his own advantage, the securing of the woman and the money that he desired fiercely, but he would succeed in this preposterous ambition. He did not doubt for a moment confident of the favour with which the softer sex usually regarded him. He took the first step in his conscientious scheme when he gazed with respectful admiration into the eyes of Margaret West. He took the second when he charged May Thurston to keep secret the troth he had plighted her. On the morning after the coming of Mrs. West and Margaret, the secretary received a telegram from Sax Temple with the announcement that he and his friends would reach the lake that same afternoon. So, there now remained for the engineer less than one day of liberty in which to prosecute the hunt for the treasure. For all his audacity, masters knew that he could not dare to carry on the search during the interval even, except with utmost caution, lest he arouse the suspicions of the widow or her daughter. He had passed most of the time since they're coming in racking his brain with vain conjectures as to a possible clue, with the hope of making actual investigation at a more propitious time. Now, however, the telegram warned him that his period was at an end. The presence of the heir and his associates would effectually halt the engineer's operations, and he realized the fact with bitterness of spirit. Thereafter, he must perforce do what he might skulkingly ever cautious to avoid any least guess by anyone as to his purpose. But I'll keep an eye out, he confided to May, solemnly. If they find a hint anywhere, I'll beat them to the goal, after all, you'll see. She shrank at his words, something that was fast coming to be a habit with her. But Mr. Temple has the right to it, you know. She expostulated, weakly. If he gets it, masters retorted with a sneer that lifted slightly the luxurious mustache. Only, I'll see that he doesn't. And anyhow, I believe that he must be a pretty namby-pamby sort of chap, fancy his bringing a band of helpers. Mr. Abernethy particularly said that he might do so, May reminded her lover. It seems a bit cowardly just the same, masters maintained. I'll win out yet, I tell you May, the fellow is handicapped, he fears failure. Saks Temple arrived at the foot of the lake in mid-afternoon, and with him came Roy Morton, Billy Walker, and David Thwing. Jake was awaiting the incoming train, his weather-beaten face aglow with anticipation. The terms of the will having become known to him, he had developed what might be called a sporting interest in the issue. After years of monotony, excitement had jumped into his life. Therefore he now advanced toward the four young men with suitcases, who had descended from the Pullman, and bobbed his head energetically, his clean-shaven face wrinkled in a smile. Mr. Temple and Party at Calculate, he remarked inquiringly, looking from one to another. I am Mr. Temple, said the heir, with an answering smile, as he stepped forward. He indicated his companions with a gesture. These are my friends, come to help me on a bit of business I have in the neighborhood. You know about it? Jake beamed joyously. Well now, I've got some suspicionings, as it were. He admitted cautiously. I hope you've left everybody well to hum. Oh, I believe some in the city are complaining. Sacks replied, with apparent seriousness. But the general health is about the average. Just so, Jake showed himself gratified. Well, I'll lead you over to the motorboat. Billy Walker groaned statoriously. And we're not there even yet, he exclaimed aghast. Oh, putty nye, Jake made assurance. Only a matter of three mile on the lake. We'll get there in a jiffy, in the shirt so. The what? Sacks questioned.  Jake replied, complainingly. He said as how it meant kind of lively. The name must be shirt so. Sacks explained to the unmusical and bewildered Billy Walker. The motorboat, you know. But Billy was not appeased. He kept at Jake's side as the party moved toward the landing, a furlong to the east from the station, and expressed his sentiments vehemently, though not lucidly, so far as the boatman was concerned. I'm given to understand, he said severely to the puzzled Jake, that your craft is not merely a plain, slow-going, safe-and-sing fourth launch. But on the contrary, one of those contacherous, speed maniacal contraptions that scoots in diabolical and parabolical curves and squirts water all over the passengers. If so, I think I'll walk, though I'm not fond of walking. Jake seized eagerly on the one intelligible phrase in Billy Walker's bombast. Nary squirt, he declared with emphasis. Old man Abernethy, he was ailing just like you be, and I learned to nest the shirt so careful. Mighty careful, yes, sorry. The others, who had overheard, laughed impudently at this naive reference to the invalidism of their friend, whose physical inertia was equal to his mental energy. At sight of the motorboat, Roy Morton gave critical attention, scanning it with the supercilious manner of one verse in the mysteries as, indeed, he was. Unbidden, he ensconced himself at the engines in the seat with Jake. Soon, however, his coldly inquiring expression softened to radiant satisfaction, as he noted the smoothness of the start, the delicate adjustment from speed to speed, the rhythm of the perfectly tuned cylinders.  He knew that Jake loved his engines, knew perfectly that the old man fairly doted on them, cherished them even as a lover his mistress. Because of the sympathy that he, too, had with such things, Roy respected the boatman mightily, began then and there to grow font of the brown and tripled face. Billy Walker, for his part, after the first moments of suspense, became convinced that his anticipations of disaster were little likely to be realized in fact, and thereafter he gave himself over to delighted contemplation of the wooded shores, which on either side sloped gracefully to the water's edge. David Thwing, too, gazed about on the newly budded beauty of the wilderness with a content made keen by overlong sojourning in the places builded by men. It was only Sax Temple himself, alone in the stern chair, who looked around with eyes that just then wrecked not of the scenic loveliness, despite the appeal and such vistas to one of his beauty-loving temperament. But his whole interests, now, was centered on the quests that had brought him to this remote region. His roving glance was searching all the stretches of lake and forest, wonderingly, hopefully, fearfully. Here was the place in which he must win or lose a fortune, according to the decree of the old man's whimsy. The desire of his dearest dreams surged in him, the challenge of ambition, the ideals of art, this wealth, once achieved, would give freedom to work according to his loftiest aspirations. A sudden fierce resolve burned in him. He would succeed, notwithstanding all difficulties in the path. Fate had given him opportunity. He would wrest it from victory as well. His face set itself sternly in lines of strength. And then, without any warning, the scherzo swung around a densely wooded point of the shore that had seemed almost to bar the narrow channel, through which they had been passing thus far. Now, just before them, lay broad reaches of placid water, a mile in width there at hand, much wider in the distance beyond. Low mountains loomed undolent afar, whence the descending forests ran to assure that wound hither and yawn in innumerable inlets, coves and bays, broken often by cliffs. Yet, even now, Sax Temple gave no heed to the loveliness of the spectacle. Instead, his whole care was fixed on an uncouth, rambling structure that blotched a clearing visible along the west shore a mile away. It was the only dwelling to be seen anywhere, as far as I could reach. The seeker had no doubt that now, at last, he had his first sight of Abernethy's cottage, that spot in which his cunning must meet, and master, the cunning of a dead man, who had made grim jest with the gold he loved. CHAPTER V. The Search Begins. An unwanted activity prevailed in the miser's cottage. The presence of Sax Temple and his companions brought into the isolated dwelling a varied and bustling atmosphere, which, at times, came to the fore. The one member of the party who permitted not to disturb his tranquility was Billy Walker, and that because of a chronic aversion to every form of physical exertion. He contented himself with holding a sort of informal court on the porch, sitting at ease with his massive frame sprawled in a commodious wicker chair. Mrs. West remained with him much of the time, while Margaret Byterne joined them, or moved about here and there as an interested observer of the other three men who were already busily searching the house. On occasion, Margaret and Mae Thurston wandered away together in long strolls by the lake shore, or over the hills through the forest. By the circumstances of such companionship, a considerable degree of intimacy was soon established between the two girls, which was inexpressibly comforting to the secretary. She would have delighted to tell this new friend of the engagement that existed between herself and the engineer, but she had passed her word not to do so, and it never occurred to her as possible that she should break it. At times, masters joined the girls in their rambles, but that avaricious gentleman, though eager to press his suit with Margaret, could not often bear to absent himself from the scene of operations that had to do with the treasure. So, for the most part, he either joined the group on the porch, or gave himself over to loitering hidden in the woods, at a point a few hundred yards to the south, where a thick screen of undergrowth effectually offered a barrier against observation from the cottage. By such espionage, he was sure to be instantly advised concerning any discovery of a clue, as it would create excitement among those on the piazza. He would have preferred to remain constantly among the searchers, but this was patently impossible. Masters was by no means lacking in shrewdness, however great his shortcomings in the way of respect for Mayom et duam, and he was both sensitive and sensible enough to know that his company was not especially agreeable to Temple and his friends in their exploration of the house. It was, in truth, rather curious to note the various opinions held in reference to the engineer by the four men engaged in seeking Abernethy's treasure. Masters had been introduced to them by Mayom the morning after their arrival at the cottage, and had shown himself as friendly as possible. But, in accordance with the usual effect he had on men, the impression created by him on each of the four was distinctly unpleasant. Sax Temple felt an intuitive dislike, which he was at no pains to explain. Billy Walker regarded the engineer with a mingling of amusement and disdain, ill-concealed, and he did not scruple afterward to describe the visitor as a peculiarly obnoxious romantic pirate with a flamboyant veneer of the courtier Latin. But he refused to take the fellow with much seriousness. In this respect, he differed from Roy Morton, who made it a rule to be uniformly suspicious of all things and all persons, and lived up to this rule with finical fidelity. He immediately characterized the engineer as a completely base and designing person, one of whom all decent and honest men might well beware. He proved his contentions quite to his own satisfaction by physiognomy, by phrenology, by chyromancy, by the sixth sense, and by the fourth dimension. David Thwing, who was ordinarily a kindly soul, made some small effort to combat the severity of Roy's strictures, but the philanthropic attempt failed dismally of appreciation, which results troubled David not at all, since his heart was not in the task. He ensued a week of feverish activity on the part of sacks and his friends, in which Billy Walker was as busy as any, although his toil was exclusively mental, while his body remained in its customary lethargic condition. By day and by night he devoted himself to examination of the problem that confronted his friend, and by day and by night the other three carried out his every suggestion. Unfortunately, however, for sacks's hopes of inheritance, their first hurried search of the cottage resulted in not save weariness and dismay. Of anything in the nature of a clue, they found no least trace. Billy Walker delivered the final decree in a council held by the four after dinner on the seventh day. It had so chance that the friends were alone together in the chief room of the cottage, which was the music room. I vaddled my wits in vain. Billy Walker confessed, dullfully, Until there shall have been an accumulation of new intellectual energy on my part, I shall be able to offer you no theory as to the actual hiding-place so ingeniously selected by the late lamented Mr. Abernethy to whose ashes, peace. While I am thus recuperating, however, you, my children, shall not be idle. Oh, by no manner of means. On the contrary, you shall be very busy, indeed, after the method prescribed by my inexorable logic. I'm beginning to think that a little luck just now would help more than a lot of logic, sacks declared gloomily. Listen to the oracle anyhow. David Thwing urged, in his always kindly voice, You see, he went on whimsically. Billy is a specialist in thinking. He doesn't do anything except think. So we must respect his thinking. Otherwise we could not respect our friend at all. David's big, protruding eyes, magnified by the heavy lenses of his eyeglasses, beamed benignantly on his three companions. The one thus dubiously lauded, grunted, disdainfully. Panagerics apart, he resumed, in his roughly rumbling tones. There appears at this time but one course of procedure. To wit. Tomorrow morning you must start on an exhaustive search of the whole house. Hitherto you have made only a superficial examination. This has failed miserably. Now the scrutiny must be made microscopic. There could be no gain saying the utterance. As the speaker had declared, it was the command of the inevitable logic presented by the situation. The hearers gave grumbling assent to the wisdom of the suggestion, with the exception of Roy Morton, who, curled lazily in the depths of the Morris chair, was staring vacantly at the elaborate carving of the wainscotting, and smoking an especially fat Egyptian cigarette. Now he suddenly sat upright, and his gaze was turned on his companions, who had looked up at his abrupt movement. Roy's eyes were hard, his chin was thrust forward in the fashion characteristic of him when the spirit of combat flared high, which, to tell the truth, was rather often. He spoke with apparent seriousness, but Thwing, who had been through some adventures of a violent sort in his company, noted that a significant excess of amiability in his tones, which was always to be heard on critical occasions, was now wanting. There's only one simple and sure way to success, Roy declared authoritatively. We must burgle. There were ejaculations of astonishment from his curious hearers. It's this way, he explained blandly, fixing his steel-blue eyes grimly on the wondering Billy Walker. We must rifle the lawyer safe. Of course, the lawyer whom Aberneth the employed has exact instructions as to how to come on the treasure. All we have to do then, is to break into his office, carrying an oxy-acetylene blowpipe, cut open the safe, find the secret instructions, copy them off, and afterward duly retrieve the gold at our leisure. Besides, he concluded with great complacency, I know a first-class safe-blower to help us on the job. I did him a favour once. He'll be glad to do me a kindness in turn. A chorus of protests came from Sax and Billy, to which, at last, with much apparent reluctance, Roy yielded, and definitely, though sulkily, withdrew his ingenious predatory plan. But David, the while, chuckled contentedly, for he was apt at a jest, and, too, he had known Roy more closely than had the other two. Since the working schedule had been thus happily determined on the side of law and order, the friends gave themselves over to an interval of social relaxation for the remainder of the evening, during which period, at the suggestion of David, the subject of the treasure was to be. Roy, who was fond of music, and had himself once possessed no mean measure of skill on the violoncello, now besought Sax to try the piano, for hitherto their whole attention had been given to the business in hand, to the exclusion of all else. David, also, who doted on music, though without any technical training, added his entreaties. Billy Walker, who esteemed music about as highly as a cat does water, was complacent enough not to protest, which was the utmost that might be expected of him under the circumstances. Sax went to the piano very willingly, for he was in a mood of nervous tension that craved the emotional relaxation of harmony. Sax played with a good degree of excellence in his technique, although he was far from being such a master of the instrument as had been the dead owner. But the essential charm of the Younger's Man interpretation lay in the delicate truth of his sympathy. His intelligent sensitiveness seemed, indeed, Catholic in its scope. Whether he toyed daintily with a graceful appoggiatura from Chopin, or crashed an astonishing dissonance from Strauss, he equally felt and revealed the emotion that had been in the composer's soul. Hardly had he begun, when Mrs. West entered from the porch, and after her came Margaret. Presently, May made her appearance with masters at her side. Only Jake and his wife, in the kitchen, remained unattracted. They had already heard from their late master sufficient music to last them a lifetime. The audience was sympathetic enough to encourage the player, and Sax remained at the piano for a long time, to the satisfaction of all his hearers, even that of Billy Walker, who was shamelessly dozing. Finally, the musician's attention, during a pause, was attracted to a stack of music which was lying on top of a cabinet at the right of the piano. He rose, and going to it, began glancing over the sheets. His eyes lighted with admiration as he noted the various compositions in the collection. In this examination of the music, he realized, as he had not done hitherto, the virtuosity of that dead miser who had made him the possible heir to wealth. For here was not save the most worthy in the world of musical art. There was not a single number of the many assembled that was not a masterpiece of its kind. In its entirety, the series presented the very highest forms of musical expression, the supreme achievement both intellectual and emotional, in the art. For the first time, Sax felt a gust of tenderness toward the lonely old man, for the sake of their brotherhood in a great love. And then, at the very bottom of the heap, Sax came on a single sheet which drew his particular attention. The page showed a few measures written in manuscript. This fact alone was sufficient to make the sheet distinctive in the collection, in as much as it was solitary of its sort. Every other composition was from editions by the best publishers. With his newly aroused interest in Abernethy, it befell that Sax was pleased thus to come on a composition which, he made sure, must have been from the pen of Abernethy himself. Yet, as he scanned the few bars, the young man experienced a feeling of vivid disappointment, for the work was by no possibility of a kind to compel particular admiration. So, at least, it seemed to him just then. With a sense of disillusionment concerning the quality of the dead miser's genius, Sax carried the sheet of music to the piano, where he placed it on the rack, then began to play. As the first chord sounded, May Thurston, seated in a chair near the door, made a movement of surprise. Afterward, as she rested quietly in her place, there lay on her face a look of melancholy that was very near dejection. The music that Sax played was this. Thus, Sax's tempo played the few simple phrases over which the old miser had lingered so long one desolate night, but now a vast difference appeared in the manner with which the music was sped. Abernethy had rendered the composition with astonishing intensity of emotion. He had interpreted the harsh measures with exquisite, though melancholy, tenderness. He had clinged them forth with the spirit-aphrantic appeal, with hot passion in the uncouth numbers, with crass, savage abandonment, again with the superimposing of mighty harmonies, vast, massive, dignified. Now the genius was gone from the reading. Sax's tempo felt no least degree of sympathy for this crude, unpleasant fragment. On the contrary, the piece affected him only disagreeably. To his musical sense, this creation by the miser was peculiarly offensive. Yet, through some subliminal channel, the stark sequence of the rhythm laid thrall on him, so that he ran over the score not once, but many times. Nevertheless, he always set the music forth nakedly, unadorned by any graces of variety in the interpretation, undraped by ingenious harmonies. He played merely the written notes, played them with precision, reluctantly. And, when finally he had made an end, he still sat on at the piano, staring toward the written page, as one vaguely troubled by a mystery. It was May Thurston who broke the little interval of silence that followed after the music ended. I've heard that before, Mr. Temple," she said, many, many times. Sax whirled on the piano stool to face the girl. Yes, he said, and there was a note of bewilderment in his voice. I should imagine so. As it is in manuscript, it was probably composed by Mr. Abernethy himself. But I must say that I'm greatly disappointed in it. I can't discover any particular merit in it. You know, he left me all his manuscripts. I've had no time to look at them, however, as they only arrived the day we left New York. So I was especially interested in this, to learn something of him, and this teaches me nothing at all concerning him. Or, if it does, he broke off unwilling to voice his candid judgment of the manuscript's merits. He turned to Roy, who lounged in a window seat, smoking the inevitable cigarette. What did you think of it? he demanded. Perfectly ghastly came this intense answer. I was wondering what on earth you were up to, and hoping for the best. Yes, ghastly. May Thurston laughed, but there was little merriment in her notes. That's exactly what it is! Ghastly! she shuttered slightly, and glanced across the room toward Margaret, as if in quest of sympathy. It is ghastly. It got on my nerves frightfully. Mr. Abernethy was forever playing it, along at the last, and I used to enjoy his playing so too. I love music, and he was simply wonderful. I've heard most of the great players, and it seems to me that he was as good as any of them. His technique was magnificent. He told me once that, since many years, he had had an absolute mastery of the instrument physically. He had only to think and to feel the spirit of the music. He said that the sympathetic response of his body was wholly automatic. That is the ideal, of course. Sacks agreed with a sigh. I only wish that I had attained to it myself. Perhaps he weakened a bit at the last, when he did this, you know? He looked at me inquiringly, as he made the suggestion. But the girl shook her head resolutely. No, she said, with an air of finality. Up to the very day of his death, there was no breaking down of Mr. Abernethy's mind. Yet he was always playing that piece at the last. Only he played it in a thousand ways, never twice alike, and always castley. Again, the girl shattered slightly. That's curious, Sacks said. He swung about on the piano stool, and sat staring somberly at the written page. Billy Walker innocently cleared the atmosphere. He sat erect, rubbing his eyes brazenly. Now I liked that piece, he declared genially. It's got some swing to it, some go. Yes, rather. Best thing you've played, if anybody asks me. Nobody did. Roy retorted, sourly. As a matter of fact, Billy Walker, though totally tone deaf, had been granted a considerable capacity for the enjoyment of rhythm. The composition that distressed Mae Thurston by its ghastliness had cured him with the steady drumming of its chords. The law of compensation works in curious ways. End of Chapter 5


What's going on everybody got Kyle and Matt here we're laying sports cards and we are ripping this one is 23 24 Donors basketball Five box number six this time did a random before the break guys I had Brett see with the Mavs down to 2 to 1 L with the Sixers Good luck. Good luck. Let's see we got they actually do have a pretty good rookie below Kula Bali But he hasn't um the Sixers and or the Wizards themselves been pretty bad this year So he doesn't begin too much exposure, but he's actually really solid below Kula Bali They haven't got a lot of exposure though. They've been a they're pretty rough all year Wonder how that game is going. That was a new game, right? For some reason Very interesting. Yeah, we're weird new start on a Saturday. I know what's are holding on I'm not bad. Not bad. No hanging around. I'll take it All right guys again. We are full for tonight. So definitely start or for today start checking out breaks with Sam tonight He starts at 5 p.m. Link the break schedule. They're just a minute ago If you guys want to check out what he's ripping tonight. There's Jaime Hock as I'm a hawk is on the radio rookie Chris Murray chat Holmgren press proof and bones Highland to 199 only purple purple press proof And John Moran gold press proof that granny Richard Good luck mark. Let's see we can get you a nice number one or low number one Andre Jackson There's Kula Bali Press proof at Vicka Zubat and Joellen B to 149 laser Luca press proof marvels rookies GG Marcus sassard Rashawn Holmes press proof And purple PG Paul George zero gravity Let's go nose. Come on. Let's hang in their nose home advantage, baby Maybe Tuck pack the tuck It's always clean in there There's a jet Howard Mairly saw whiskey There's some smoke in the way Anthony black that whole building Alex Caruso there press proof There is Jane Hardy to 99 red laser laser And a scoot Henderson nice one there blazers retro series Scoot boys LBB lunch hour. Yeah, it is You can get mad out of here guys. It's missing lunch Brandon Brandon Miller radio rookie Missing lunch with the boys is Victor radio rookie. It's okay.  I don't radio rookie I don't say 99 big man out of you con for the bolts so no go press proof is Booker and Purple Unleashed press proof of KD Man Booker was lighting it up to start the day actually started 10 of 14. I think in the first quarter with 29 points 10 of 14 screws you how are we 14? How do you put up 14 shots in the first quarter? Yeah as well Ridiculous Brady rookie Jordan Walsh Fairly even 14 minutes.  He was just consistently every five minutes. He was putting up 10 The chunky packs always have a crunch time Could be on to something be on to something airplane. It's a Muhammad Guye They're gladly there's an Isaiah Wong. It'll be a second auto here to 25 got an extra auto Rainer rookie auto out of Miami the Pacers nice one there blue laser. We'll take it We'll take an extra auto take an extra auto all day Keontae George on the blue to 49 nice one there ready rookie for the jazz. He's solid, too And Kyrie Irving on the press proof certainly take an extra auto Jalen Wilson. There's all Sarah Thompson ready rookie Keontae George a Vincent press proof and a press proof ready rookie Chris Murray In case on Wallace rookie press proof. I like the crunch time design, too. I like the It's a fun one. They brought that one back for years It's the lines make the super all them a gallon of water in my head in the rain deal deal Accept I accept the deal probably get Spencer and Jason do it with you I guess Spencer and Jason do it with you, man. They'll be They'll be out of their minds if they make the Super Bowl and I'm in Thompson Got Dyson Daniels press proof and a Cam Whitmore to 199 rockets rookie Retro series and bead ready rookies. There's a scoop Henderson for the Blazers There's Grady Richard Bowden's Highland press proof and no a cloudy press proof Nets ready rookie and LeBron James unleashed press proof Alrighty guys one box down box number two Joe you can hear me Yeah, I know I can Box two good luck guys. Good luck And we got Sam and Sam and a jaker coming in five o'clock today Just trying to see what the LBBs are eating dude. He's got a he's got a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich right now I see that I see that Brandon Miller on the radio rookie got some peanut butter sandwich going down. I see that Victor women yama on the radio rookie LBBs are having lunch boys Having lunch. There's a Jalen hood Shafino. It's gonna be another no auto for the Lakers there on the next day No auto for the Lakers Couple in that set. I'm in Thompson. Nice one there radio rookie number to 199 for the Rockets one of the Thompson twins and Net marbles Jimmy buckets Really is that it's been that long airplane I knew it was like what was it like the 30-year drought or something that they just got over It was like 32 or something.  Hey, yeah, I'd probably be with you. I'd probably I'd be with you with the water Be down for it. See you so go Julius Randall press proof and There'd be a purple press proof on the back LeBron Zero gravity Yeah, yeah, so the last card is always a press proof in these packs And then you can have like a base in front of it so you can get to Two of those crunch times the last car was always a press proof in these Just like a silver foil or a gold foil another products scoot Henderson rookie and Other next day auto this one is Keonté George nice one there jazz On card auto Keonté very nice Work for the jazz very good point guard Jared Jackson and Matisse libel to 49 blue Blue laser and a press proof update you Paul for the subscription Eric Gordon press proof. There's wimby rookie And purple press proof can Whitmore Rockets John Collins got I'll Sarah Thompson radio rookie Rupert there's Keonté George. I'm a hawk is Shading sharp press proof and this will be Bruce Brown. That was number to ten nice gold there Gold laser for the Pacers already moved again Bruce Brown won a championship last year with the With the nuggets now. He's already moved off the Pacers quite Leonard Marbles It's making his way around town asking for Jeff I Don't think so. I don't think so Jeff. They probably didn't mix makes mistake that one Probably not wimby guys guys something else. They probably got him in the right team Kevin love press proof and that'll be Josh Hart to 149 for the Knicks And case on Wallace press proof rookie thunder Really what the heck? You're stealing from kids at the national man. Come on. I'm on now there's radio rookies Moses Moody press proof and nice one there. I'll say or Thompson press proof Detroit And Jamal Murray press proof marbles He's stealing from a kid. I'm glad to hear though about that one on a tie. That's sick. That's crazy though ready rookie sasoko Gary Peyton press proof and James Harden to 99 red laser Jimmy Butler on the press proof and last packing box to jet Howard AB go magic dame on the press proof and purple press proof on the back is gonna be Yolkich Yolkich action right guys box three We'll end a few minutes behind today for sure But Sam will be starting at five o'clock guys, so we won't be in his way at all five o'clock start with group breaks He is filling up pretty quickly guys got some museum mixers See what else he's got I think he just sold out on I think he just sold out on the Um Phoenix he did he's got no one left one left Phoenix random teams guys four boxer one left number 24 He's got 14 to go in Bowman chrome you basketball 15 in another Don Russo five boxer random team style and then two to go in definitive Then he's got a museum of Bowman chrome stadium eight box mixer with 18 to go So I'll be a baseball mixer with a couple different products. I don't know We haven't been very good all year, but uh, I'm liking what I'm seeing so far I'm down to I'm down to upset UNC Every nice I'm down with it There's key out say George.  There he is Yeah, they uh College basketball landscape has been weird this year for sure. I've noticed a lot of upsets There was a lot of big top teams going down More than usual. I feel like but maybe not I'll say Thompson ready rookie AD and this will be Oladipo to 149 Rockets Oladipo and a I'll say Thompson press proof. Usually you see those teams go like Yeah, yeah, right No, not even close like UNC is ranked number three and they have three losses. That's yeah, yeah You're crazy in college Yeah, yeah, no, we started this season really bad been playing better recently For sure been playing better recently started the season rough though lock it in. There's a scoot Henderson ready rookie Always got to lock it in. There's that Aaron Gordon press proof and Wiggins to 199 purple press proof Ja purple press proof as well. Yeah six and two in the ACC certainly not bad Take that all day And Whitmore I'm in Thompson There's a Reggie Bullock that one is 275 on the die-cut press proof. How's Texas doing this year Lane? They got a couple good guys. I haven't seen how they've been playing though John Morant on the press proof I can remember them being unranked at one point. I was kind of surprised. I was probably a few weeks back though Maxwell Lewis. There's a B Brandon Miller It's gonna be Steven Adams on the press proof and then Quinton grinds to 149 on the laser and net marbles of Devin Booker to 99 Laser he had quite a night last night.  Yeah Not often you hit 64 and people forget about it already Colby Jones Jet Howard got a Kate press proof Kamara on the rookie press who he plays a lot for the Blazers Marsman solid and net marbles of Jalen Brown Taylor Hendricks Soco got a David Roddy press proof and then Malcolm Brogdon So be for the Blazers to 25. That's the low number press proof Malcolm Brogdon And unleashed of Tatum Jason that Tatum radio rookie Hawkins. There's a CJ McCullum press proof Press proof Colby Jones And radio rookie on the press proof Luca that base on the front money baits Rated rookie there is Brandon Podzimski. I'll be on the base rookie auto radio rookie out of there. I'm worse Orious Podzimski Another press proof Oladipo And Quinton Grimes to 99 red laser Jason Tatum crunch time. It's another Victor Thank you co-given us a follow appreciate that sir Time Lord there on the press proof and a CD sysoko radio rookie press proof and Retro series Trey young and if you guys aren't following or subscribed We do always appreciate that or if you hit the like button on YouTube if you guys are enjoying the string Always appreciate that as well helps us reach some new people grow our audience here Go box number four one more break after this guy's another five box of Donners Number seven and then Sam and Jake start tonight at 5 p.m They group breaks going in they got Almanac tonight. I'm an act personal edition starting at around 11 They all 100 Almanac personal editions done tonight Oh, it's a really fun time. Mr. L. J. K. and chat there makes them guys do enjoy it Please do let him know I'm in Thompson there on the radio rookie guys I mean ideas either if you're something maybe you'd like to see in it Also very receptive to that Kobe Jones to 149 lays a radio rookie. That'll be for the Kings And can Whitmore and Whitmore retro series Rockets Still have you be lunchtime do over it. We're doing it. Yeah, bro. He's no two thirty to three, bro Radio rookie get the babysitters out for that. There's a Kelly uber a press proof And that'll be it's a 199 got a radio rookie below cool about the wizards to one at 99 And press proof drama rent what time the babysitter comes to 30 stay through half an hour Sounds like it's Sam right now. I think Sam. Yeah, I consider how the sims key radio rookie County George. I'm a Hawkeyes There is Garland press proof and a press proof radio rookie scoop nice one there blazers The better rookies playing this year and unleash date Lasers are rough too, man. There's a couple good rookies playing on some tough teams for sure Gotta work that out a little bit Uncommon though not uncommon You're after really high. Usually it's not a good team. That's yeah Unfortunately, there's Walker. There's a B for the magic Brandon Miller press proof brawn and that'll be Rudy It's a 199 purple press proof to go bear And a press proof crunch time a Luca Victor again Kong woo.  Did they Netmarvel's Lamello. Oh boy. It's Jason Momoa comedy. I don't know That was that they went with it Who just came out so what it was that's Aquaman 2 they're trying to go that route That's not the way to go now Marvel tries to do that all the time. Yeah, they're always trying to make Make it a comedy They're always trying to make it a comedy after that last Avengers movie. It's not been the same Yeah, no, there's a Chris Murray nice one there Keegan's little brother to 99 Actually twin brother. I should say Chris Murray to 99 there for the blazers Jabari press proof for the blazers and a Jabari Walker blue to 49 blazers Triple blazers there. Yeah And Marvel's Devin Booker, I never even saw the first Aquaman still actually with them. Yeah, I never watched them Never saw that first one DC guy though I did see Black Panther 2 that kind of felt like Aquaman honestly with the bad guy in that one Yeah, where he kind of felt like an Aquaman. Yeah There's a Malachi Brandon press proof And purple press proof Kyrie Dallas Monty Bates Mark Assessor, we got a Luca press proof And I cut for the Rockets is Jabari Smith second year to 75 Bari Smith, Jr And Victor on the press proof rookie nice one there spurts Take a Victor.  Let's go Take that UNC Take that UNC take that or Mando Your autograph is terrible, but you deserve Jordan Hawkins There's a Domus a bonus and Jared Jackson on the back to 99 red laser It's not really morning anymore. That's fair. Yeah, it's 3 p.m. That's fair. Can't say George rookie jazz That is very fair I've been saying night. I was saying night earlier. Yeah, I'm all over the place All right guys one more here number five of break six One more Donneress, and then we'll get number seven going one last break today of the afternoon Tell them to go to work What are they really gonna do? Yeah It's I'll be lunchtime he goes. Yeah, it's 2 30. I was like, oh my god 2 30 to 3 All right guys one last one then we got one more break today One more Donneress five boxer number seven appreciate y'all filling us up today guys It is filling up quickly with Sam tonight as well five o'clock start I'm not gonna have spots for too too much longer. Oh, yes, just disconnected. You refresh. Yeah, it's a Wi-Fi Better be yeah, it is I got a restart guys. We're gonna keep the same video going nobody can hear me right now But you'll see in the In the replay we got to restart here. I have to restart Should I type in chat that work? Yeah, you can do that. Yeah, it'll be a different stream once I started up, but They're still there. They can see I think Sam did that to me. Honestly. Mmm Sam walked out and immediately went out I think Sam did that to me. All right. We should be back guys. Sorry about that. Sorry about that Should be back of course Course the stream goes down why not Right guys, we should be back we should be back. Sorry Rick I didn't mean to dip I didn't mean to dip we open that first back and I put it right down We still got the same recording going. I did not mean to OBS OBS shut me down there. So we're gonna keep on ripping here. We're gonna keep on ripping here We got one box left in this one. Yeah, sorry about that guys. OBS shut us down But I have a full recording so I'll upload that the end It'll it'll be a full recording. Yeah, sorry about that guys They were messing with me.  Sorry about that again. Very sorry OBS is a mess with me today Farming use. Let's go Let's go. All right guys gonna keep on moving here Like I said, I have the full recording still recording. So we'll upload the entire video to YouTube Sorry about that. There's a Victor women yama on the radio rookie I'll have to see when the full video gets uploaded. It's a shady. You know how we roll There's a James Weissman press proof and Nicola Jovic. They're two one four one ninety-nine press proof purple We'll have to see when the entire video gets uploaded I'm in Thompson and Nicola Jovic for the nuggets. I got you guys. I appreciate it. Yeah, it happens More occasionally than we wanted to for sure OBS crashes on us more often than we want Um, a lender Miller, there's a herder on the press proof And John Collins there to 140 now on the laser laser County George rookie. Yeah, I think Sam was messing with me turn the internet off Yeah, I try to top load the router bro try to top load the router dude Donnie's done it before he has successfully done That's why it's in plastic right now.  It sounds like a dog. He said that one time I think the internet like actually went down and it was out for like an hour and it's like Donnie top blow the router man We lost the internet for an hour Right guys appreciate everybody Hanging with us there Sorry about that again, Colby Jones Yanis press proof and clay Thompson.  I'm trying Go, let's go. What's my low numbers here? We see one gold so far. I want to see another I'll see another gold AB and Brandon Miller ready rookies Scott Dain and Press proof Jaros Walker LeBron James press proof Sam likes bringing his breaks in one box at a time That's why he came in six hours early I see Got a man Thompson. I'm in Thompson. He's dialed.  I'm a hakes and this will be Noah clowny on the on-card rookie on next day auto you go Nets When the guys sign this set no, uh, no a clown next day for the Nets press proof scary Terry And Brandon Ingram to one ninety nine purple press proof Kyrie let go Walls press prove Randall to AB press proof magic and unleash Joel Last two packs. Yeah, we got one more break tonight and then Sam starts at five with group breaks he is um Pretty close to full man. A lot of a lot of breaks filled up already very nice and then he'll do um Almanac at the end of the night Almanac personals. He's getting there going now. We're ready Making his list checking it twice There's a scoot Henderson radio rookie Jalen Duran. Hey Duran press proof and Rudy 99 red laser And on the back scoot Henderson retro series another one to 99 very nice one there on Portland on the scoot retro laser Last pack. We'll do a hit recap and then we'll be on to the last break here at Gordon press proof ready rookie press proof of Vuchovitch and yokich retro series press proof All righty all righty there guys that will do it that will do it for Donner's five box number six Rainham team so we'll do a hit quick hit recap and then we are on to number seven our last break of the night Yeah, Alexandra's taking a spot there Michael are taking a spot in the museum mixer I'm gonna link you guys the break schedule again guys for Sam starting at 5 p.m Does not have a ton of breaks left with spots. Um museum second mixer still has spots um a couple like two to go and definitive couple in Donner's basketball another five boxer and then um Bowman chrome university basketball is going to be his last couple We'll check those out for later tonight do a hit recap here to 149. We got John Collins um Colby Jones ready to rookie Quinton um Quinton Grimes got Victor Oladipo, Josh Hart, Joellen B to 99 Rudy um Scoot Henderson, Jared Jackson got Quinton Grimes and Devon Booker to 99 Got Jimmy Hardin and James uh jayden hardy to 75. We got Clay Thompson 75 on the press preview Jabari Smith and Reggie Bullock to 49. Jabari Walker, Matisse Stiball and County George nice ready to rookie there uh 25 out of bio and Brogdon, Gold to 10 Bruce Brown next day Otto of Noah Clowney got Podzinski uh next day Otto County George nice one there um to 99 Chris Murray Sanogo to 99 and a Isaiah Wong to 25 blue laser auto Alrighty there that'll do it for number six just one more one more today guys number seven and get that going here in just a moment