The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 34

He hadn't slept a wink. At least, that was how it seemed. If he had dreamed at all, Hannover knew that all of his dreams had been the same restless chaos. Now he sat at his desk staring out into space and chewing the end of his pen in a very uncivilized manner. The door opened and shut quietly.

"I'm 'ere t' mail yer letters, Mr. Hannover!" Tim squeaked joyously. The man gave a start and looked over at him.

"Letters? Mail? Oh, bother!" In an irritable frenzy, he plunged his pen into the inkwell and began scribbling as fast as he could. Timothy looked surprised.

"Am I early, sir? Weren't I s'posed t' come right at six?"

"Oh, yes, yes! Of course the answer is yes!" his master said hastily.

He wrote one letter after another, but his thoughts were still elsewhere. All night long clear into the morning, he had only been able to think of one thing. The treasure! It isn't just a legend or a fairytale! It is real! Real!

He tingled all over with excitement and greed as he imagined the hidden gold lying within his house. He had only half-believed the story before, but now he dared to hope. It is ludicrous but wonderful! he thought on. Two hundred years of mystery, and it takes a little street scamp to begin unraveling the thing!

He was becoming unspeakably proud of his errand boy. Ah, how had he ever found such a child? Now, when he looked back on the day when he had taken Timothy in, he saw it as one of the happiest and most fortunate days of his life. The lad was more than a servant: he was a friend. Nearly the only friend Hannover had. Each day, whether he knew it or not, the man grew fonder of the little boy.

A blot of black ink bled across Hannover's paper, drowning his hasty, unreadable penmanship.

"Oh, dash it all!" he cried. He threw his pen back into the inkwell and crumpled the ruined paper in his hands. Then, unable to contain his curiosity any more, he looked over at Timothy in agitation. "Timothy, I'll have you know this is all your fault!" he exclaimed.

"Mine?" the boy gasped.

"Yes! Yours and that confounded riddle you told me yesterday! I cannot for the life of me get it out of my mind! I can't write my letters, I can't keep my records, all I can do is repeat and repeat that blasted poem!"

Tim started laughing, more humored than alarmed by the man's fit of emotion. "I'm sorry I bothered yer 'ead wiv it then!" he giggled at last.

"You should be! Tell it to me again. Quick! I might be able to solve it!" He pushed away from his desk and started pacing the room as Timothy began to recite the ancient riddle.

"Let it thrive with enduring life,

And every ill it will destroy,

Revealing truth unto your sight,

Filling you with unending joy.

But let it die or cast it away,

And see what there is left behind,

A worthless nothing, light and gray,

And blindness to your faithless eyes."

Hannover paused and squinted his eyes thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, that's it!" he cried victoriously.

Tim gave a hopeful start. "Have ya got it?" he asked excitedly.