After dinner the four children went upstairs to the boys' bedroom andspread out the bit of linen on a table there. There were words here andthere, scrawled in rough printing. There was the sign of a compass, withE marked clearly for East. There were drawn eight rough squares, and inone of them, right in the middle, was a cross. It was all verymysterious."You know, I believe these words are Latin," said Julian, trying to makethem out. "But I can't read them properly. And I expect if I _could_read them, I wouldn't know what they meant. I wish we knew someone whocould read Latin like this.""Could your father, George?" asked Anne."I expect so," said George. But nobody wanted to ask George's father. Hemight take the curious old rag away. He might forget all about it, hemight even burn it. Scientists were such queer people."What about Mr. Roland?" said Dick. "He's a tutor. He knows Latin.""We won't ask him till we know a bit more about him," said Julian,cautiously. "He _seems_ quite jolly and nice—but you never know. Oh,blow—I wish we could make this out, I really do.""There are two words at the top," said Dick, and he tried to spell themout. "VIA OCCULTA." "What do you think they could mean, Julian?""Well—the only thing I can think of that they can mean is—Secret Way,or something like that," said Julian, screwing up his forehead into afrown."Secret Way!" said Anne, her eyes shining. "Oh, I hope it's that! SecretWay! How exciting. What sort of secret way would it be, Julian?""How do I know, Anne, silly?" said Julian. "I don't even know that thewords are meant to mean 'Secret Way.' It's really a guess on my part.""If they did mean that—the linen might have directions to find theSecret Way, whatever it is," said Dick. "Oh Julian—isn't itexasperating that we can't read it? Do, do try. You know more Latin thanI do.""It's so hard to read the funny old letters," said Julian, trying again."No—it's no good at all. I can't make them out."Steps came up the stairs, and the door opened. Mr. Roland looked in."Hallo, hallo!" he said. "I wondered where you all were. What about awalk over the cliffs?""We'll come," said Julian, rolling up the old rag."What have you got there? Anything interesting?" asked Mr. Roland."It's a——" began Anne, and at once all the others began to talk,afraid that Anne was going to give the secret away."It's a wonderful afternoon for a walk.""Come on, let's get our things on!""Tim, Tim, where are you?" George gave a piercing whistle. Tim was underthe bed and came bounding out. Anne went red as she guessed why all theothers had interrupted her so quickly. "What have you got there? Anything interesting?" askedMr. Roland]"Idiot," said Julian, under his breath. "Baby."Fortunately Mr. Roland said no more about the piece of linen he had seenJulian rolling up. He was looking at Tim."I suppose he must come," he said. George stared at him in indignation."Of course he must!" she said. "We never never go anywhere withoutTimothy."Mr. Roland went downstairs, and the children got ready to go out. Georgewas scowling. The very idea of leaving Tim behind made her angry."You nearly gave our secret away, you silly," said Dick to Anne."I didn't think," said the little girl, looking ashamed of herself."Anyway, Mr. Roland seems very nice. I think we might ask him if hecould help us to understand those funny words.""You leave that to me to decide," said Julian, crossly. "Now don't youdare to say a word."They all set out, Timothy too. Mr. Roland need not have worried aboutthe dog, for Timothy would not go near him. It was very queer, really.He kept away from the tutor, and took not the slightest notice of him,even when Mr. Roland spoke to him."He's not usually like that," said Dick. "He's a most friendly dog,really.""Well, as I've got to live in the same house with him, I must try andmake him friends with me," said the tutor. "Hie, Timothy! Come here!I've got a biscuit in my pocket."Timothy pricked up his ears at the word "biscuit" but did not even looktowards Mr. Roland. He put his tail down and went to George. She pattedhim."If he doesn't like anyone, not even a biscuit or a bone will make himgo to them when he is called," she said.Mr. Roland gave it up. He put the biscuit back into his pocket. "He's aqueer-looking dog, isn't he?" he said. "A terrible mongrel! I must say Iprefer well-bred dogs."George went purple in the face. "He's _not_ queer-looking!" shespluttered. "He's not nearly so queer-looking as you! He's not aterrible mongrel. He's the best dog in all the world!""I think you are being a little rude," said Mr. Roland, stiffly. "Idon't allow my pupils to be cheeky, Georgina."Calling her Georgina made George still more furious. She lagged behindwith Tim, looking as black as a thundercloud. The others feltuncomfortable. They knew what tempers George got into, and how difficultshe could be. She had been so much better and happier since the summer,when they had come to stay for the first time. They did hope she wasn'tgoing to be silly and get into rows. It would spoil the Christmasholidays.Mr. Roland took no more notice of George. He did not speak to her, butstrode on ahead with the others, doing his best to be jolly. He couldreally be very funny, and the boys began to laugh at him. He took Anne'shand, and the little girl jumped along beside him, enjoying the walk.Julian felt sorry for George. It wasn't nice to be left out of things,and he knew how George hated anything like that. He wondered if he daredto put in a good word for her. It might make things easier."Mr. Roland, sir," he began. "Could you call my cousin by the name shelikes—George—she simply hates Georgina. And she's very fond of Tim.She can't bear anyone to say horrid things about him."Mr. Roland looked surprised. "My dear boy, I am sure you mean well," hesaid, in rather a dry sort of voice, "but I hardly think I want youradvice about any of my pupils. I shall follow my own wishes in mytreatment of Georgina, not yours. I want to be friends with you all, andI am sure we shall be—but Georgina has got to be sensible, as you threeare."Julian felt rather squashed. He went red and looked at Dick. Dick gavehim a squeeze on his arm. The boys knew George could be silly anddifficult, especially if anyone didn't like her beloved dog—but theythought Mr. Roland might try to be a bit more understanding too. Dickslipped behind and walked with George."You needn't walk with me," said George at once, her blue eyes glinting."Walk with your friend Mr. Roland.""He isn't my friend," said Dick. "Don't be silly.""I'm not silly," said George, in a tight sort of voice. "I heard you alllaughing and joking with him. You go on and have a good laugh again.I've got Timothy.""George, it's Christmas holidays," said Dick. "Do let's all be friends.Do. Don't let's spoil Christmas.""I can't like anyone who doesn't like Tim," said George, obstinately."Well, after all, Mr. Roland did offer him a biscuit," said Dick, tryingto make peace as hard as he could.George said nothing. Her small face looked fierce. Dick tried again."George! Promise to try and be nice till Christmas is over, anyway.Don't let's spoil Christmas, for goodness sake! Come on, George.""All right," said George, at last. "I'll try.""Come and walk with us, then," said Dick. So George caught up theothers, and tried not to look too sulky. Mr. Roland guessed that Dickhad been trying to make George behave, and he included her in his talk.He could not make her laugh, but she did at least answer politely."Is that Kirrin Farmhouse?" asked Mr. Roland, as they came in sight ofthe farm."Yes. Do you know it?" asked Julian, in surprise."No, no," said Mr. Roland, at once. "I heard of it, and wondered if thatwas the place.""We went there this morning," said Anne. "It's an exciting place." Shelooked at the others, wondering if they would mind if she said anythingabout the things they had seen that morning. Julian thought for amoment. After all, it couldn't matter telling him about the stone in thekitchen and the false back to the cupboard. Mrs. Sanders would tellanyone that. He could speak about the sliding panel in the hall too, andsay they had found an old recipe book there. He did not need to sayanything about the old bit of marked linen.So he told their tutor about the exciting things they had seen at theold farm-house, but said nothing at all about the linen and its strangemarkings. Mr. Roland listened with the greatest interest."This is all very remarkable," he said. "Very remarkable indeed. Mostinteresting. You say the old couple live there quite alone?""Well, they are having two people to stay over Christmas," said Dick."Artists. Julian thought he would go over and talk to them. He can paintawfully well, you know.""Can he really?" said Mr. Roland. "Well, he must show me some of hispictures. But I don't think he'd better go and worry the artists at thefarm-house. They might not like it."This remark made Julian feel obstinate. He made up his mind at once thathe _would_ go and talk to the two artists when he got the chance!It was quite a pleasant walk on the whole, except that George was quiet,and Timothy would not go anywhere near Mr. Roland. When they came to afrozen pond Dick threw sticks on it for Tim to fetch. It was so funny tosee him go slithering about on his long legs, trying to run properly!Everyone threw sticks for the dog, and Tim fetched all the sticks exceptMr. Roland's. When the tutor threw a stick the dog looked at it and tookno more notice. It was almost as if he had said "What, _your_ stick! Nothank you!""Now, home we go," said Mr. Roland, trying not to look annoyed with Tim."We shall just be in time for tea!"
