Chapter XIV: Mr. Marsh Discovers His Loss

"EDGAR, dear, your father wants you," said Mrs. Marsh, meeting her son at the front door one afternoon on his return from school a few days after he had lost the Calais Noble. "He's in the study, and he's so put out because he's missed some coin or other. He says you showed his coins to Roger, and he's displeased at that—not that he minds Roger having seen the coins, but because you had no right to meddle with his keys as you must have done. I tell him he should not leave his keys where everyone can get at them; but, all the same, you ought not to have touched them, my dear. You'd better go to him at once."

Edgar obeyed in fear and trembling. He found his father seated before the cabinet which held his coins, looking disturbed and perplexed.

"You want me, father?" the little boy said, in a faltering tone.

"Yes. Have you been meddling with my coins?" Mr. Marsh asked sharply.

"I showed them to Roger that time—you know, father, when he and I were here alone. I didn't mean any harm. I found your keys on the writing-table. I didn't think you'd mind Roger's seeing the coins—and the stamps."

Mr. Marsh was pleased with this apparently frank response, and his next question was put in a less irascible manner.

"Did you notice the Calais Noble when you and Roger were looking at the coins?" he inquired.

"Yes, father."

"Ah, then it was safe up to that time! Well, now, I cannot find it anywhere. You are sure it was here?"

"Yes," Edgar answered positively, "I am quite sure, because Roger noticed the flag at the stern of the ship, and he was so surprised when I told him the worth of the coin. He said he would soon sell it if it was his."

"Oh, indeed!"

Mr. Marsh looked thoughtful, and Edgar regarded him with an anxious scrutiny. There was a brief silence at length the former said: "Well, evidently the coin is gone. I fear it must have been stolen."

"Oh, no, no!" the little boy cried vehemently. "Who would steal it, father?"

"Ah, that's a question that I cannot answer. It's a puzzling business which I do not pretend to understand; but one fact is indisputable, the Calais Noble has disappeared, and someone must have taken it. I have been careless in leaving my keys about, so I cannot hold myself blameless in the matter; but I thought everyone in this house honest. Your uncle told me you had exhibited my collections of coins and stamps to Roger; he mentioned it because it struck him that I was unwise not to keep my valuables in greater security. I am sure I wish heartily I had done so. You had no right meddling with my belongings, Edgar, but I am glad that you did not quibble when I taxed you with having done so; if you had prevaricated you would have made me angry indeed, but you did not, and I am pleased that you at once admitted the truth. By the way, do not mention to anyone that the Calais Noble is missing; your mother knows it, but I shall ask her not to speak of it to outsiders."

"Very well, father," Edgar answered, surprised beyond measure that his father was taking his loss so quietly. He had blushed—Mr. Marsh had thought with pleasure—when he had been commended for admitting the truth. "Perhaps—perhaps the Calais Noble will turn up again," he suggested.

Mr. Marsh shook his head doubtfully, he did not think that very likely. He had his suspicion as to what had become of the coin, but he was not going to confide it to his son. He was feeling very troubled, and the expression of his face was exceedingly grave. One more question he put to Edgar before dismissing him.

"Was Roger interested in my coins?" he asked.

"Oh yes!" Edgar replied. "He didn't think so much of them, though, before I told him what they were worth, then he was simply astounded. You know, father, Roger doesn't get much money to spend—very little indeed, really—and he thinks a great deal of money in a way."

"In a way?" Mr. Marsh echoed inquiringly.

"Yes, he's always saying what he would do if he was rich."

"Oh, is he? Well—you may go now."

The little boy left the study gladly, and went upstairs in a very relieved state of mind. Not until some time afterwards did he reflect how cowardly he had been not to confess he had taken the Calais Noble to school and inadvertently lost it; at present, he congratulated himself that he had got over the interview with his father so successfully. Why, he had not even been asked if he knew what had become of the missing coin! How truly thankful he was for that, for it had saved him the necessity of telling a lie. He did not suppose he would hear anything about the Calais Noble again; but it made him the least bit uneasy to remember that his father considered it had been stolen, and he would have been more uneasy still had he known the suspicion which troubled his father's mind.

Entering his bedroom, he found his mother there, engaged in examining the contents of his wardrobe.

"I'm making up a parcel for your cousins," she explained, "so I'm looking to see if there's anything of yours you can part with. That suit of clothes is a little faded, but there's a lot of wear left in it; it would do for Roger to wear at home during the holidays, I dare say, and you won't want it again. See there's nothing in the pockets, Edgar."

He did so. It was the suit he had worn on the memorable day when he had lost the Calais Noble, and he drew an involuntary sigh as he noticed a rip in the trousers' pocket, which doubtless accounted for the disappearance of the coin.

"What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Marsh, hearing the sigh, and noticing the serious expression of his face; "your father was not angry with you, was he? I know he was vexed because he had missed one of his coins—he has probably mislaid it, as I told him—but he could not possibly blame you for that, though to be sure, he was annoyed you had meddled with his keys."

"He—he thinks the coin has been stolen, mother."

"What nonsense! Who would steal it? Oh, it will turn up again! By-the-by, I'm going to drive to Princess Street after I've had a cup of tea, and you can come with me if you like."

Edgar brightened on hearing this; and, when an hour later he drove off with his mother in the direction of the town, he had quite recovered his usual spirits—indeed, he was easier in his mind than he had been for days, for he confidently hoped his trouble concerning the Calais Noble was at an end.

The Trents were all at home with the exception of the master of the house, and there was a flutter of excitement in the sitting-room when Mrs. Marsh's carriage stopped at the door. Polly flew to the window and reported the arrival of Aunt Janie and Edgar; and, a few minutes later, Louisa showed them into the room.

Mrs. Marsh kissed her sister-in-law, and shook hands with Cousin Becky, the latter of whom she complimented on her appearance, saying how much better she looked than when she had arrived at Beaworthy; then she turned her attention to the children, and Polly wondered if she would now remember her promise and ask her to the Rookery. Soon the boys withdrew to the window, where they talked together and remarked on the passers-by; but Polly listened to the conversation of her elders, observing her aunt with grave, grey eyes.

"Well, Polly," said Mrs. Marsh presently, with a smile, becoming aware of her little niece's scrutiny, "how are you spending these beautiful summer days?"

"As usual, Aunt Janie," was the response, given in accents of reserve.

"Let me see, I don't think we've met since that afternoon you shut yourself up in the clock case, have we? No. By the way, I thought you were going to spend a day with me at the Rookery; you have not been yet?"

"No," Polly replied coldly; then, her indignation getting the better of her, she added in a distinctly resentful tone: "I haven't been asked."

"Polly!" cried her mother in a shocked voice, whilst Mrs. Marsh flushed slightly, and gave a rather embarrassed laugh.

"That's why I haven't been there," the little girl declared; "Aunt Janie must know I shouldn't go unless she invited me, mother. I suppose she forgot."

"Well, will you come to-morrow?" Mrs. Marsh asked quickly. "It will be Saturday and therefore a holiday for the boys, and Roger will be able to come too. Do let them come, Mary," she said, turning to her sister-in-law, "the dog-cart shall call for them in the morning after it has taken John to the office, and I will send them home safely in the evening."

Mrs. Trent accepted the invitation for her children very gladly, for few pleasures came their way; and, after that, Polly unbent towards her aunt, and her face beamed with smiles.

Mrs. Marsh paid quite a long visit, and, when at length she took her departure with Edgar, the big brown paper parcel she had left in the hall was carried into the sitting-room, and the children began to examine its contents.

"All old clothes, as usual," remarked Polly ungratefully, an expression of disappointment flitting across her countenance. "Why, what's this?" she cried, a moment later, as she came upon a small parcel wrapped in tissue paper.

"Open it and see," said her mother.

She did so, and revealed to sight a pretty, green leather purse, which contained a new half-crown and a slip of paper with "For Polly from Aunt Janie" written across it in Mrs. Marsh's handwriting.

"Oh!" exclaimed the little girl, in mingled amazement and delight, "Oh, it's really for me! How good—how kind of her!"

"I know why she's done it, because Uncle John tipped me a half-crown when he met me with Edgar yesterday," said Roger, looking very pleased. "Edgar must have told her, and she thought you ought to be remembered too."

"Yes, she would not guess that you meant to divide your half-crown with me. Fancy her putting the money in this beautiful purse—quite a new purse too! See what a firm clasp it has! Oh, mother, isn't it a nice present?"

"It is indeed, my dear." Mrs. Trent's face was as bright as her little daughter's. "Aunt Janie is really very kind! I was sorry to hear you speak to her as you did, Polly."

"Well, she shouldn't have pretended she expected me at the Rookery without being asked, should she? She promised to invite me, and you know you always say, mother, that a promise should be kept. She said she would take me for a drive, and she ought to have thought I should look forward to that."

"She did not realise, I expect, what a treat a drive would be to you; she would not willingly disappoint you."

"No-o, perhaps not," Polly allowed, "that's what Cousin Becky said, but I cannot imagine how a grown-up person can be so—so ignorant. I think Aunt Janie means well," she admitted as she took another peep at the bright half-crown inside the purse, "and I shall never be able to thank her enough for this beautiful present. I wish, Roger, you had a purse, too."

"Oh, boys don't want purses," her brother replied, "they carry their money loose in their pockets. You needn't think I'm jealous, Polly."

"Jealous!" she cried with a happy laugh. "As though you would be that! Now we shall have half-a-crown each. How shall we spend our money?"

They proceeded to discuss this momentous question in low, confidential tones, whilst Mrs. Trent and Cousin Becky examined the various articles of clothing they had strewn upon the table. Many of the garments were in excellent condition, and Cousin Becky promptly promised her services as a needlewoman to turn them to the best account.