The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 42

"Mr. Hannover," Sebastian's low voice interrupted something very important.

"What is it? Can't you see that we are busy?" He sent Timothy a teasing, almost guilty, glance as he shoved their favorite novel beneath a stack of business papers. The little boy stifled a giggle.

"Forgive the intrusion. There is a certain beggarly person at the kitchen door who requests an interview with you."

"A beggar? And for that you interrupt our important business and waste our most precious time?"

"I would not have troubled you about it, sir, except that the cook insisted very irrationally that I bring it to your attention. This is not the first time the young man has come; it is the second. The first being yesterday morning when you and the boy were...ahem...occupied elsewhere." There had been a strange pause in his speech.

Occupied elsewhere, eh? And where does he suspect that was? Hannover wondered. His mind reflected on yesterday's events: the mystery, the riddle, the paper they had found in Lady Denzel's Bible. Or does he already know? Did he hear every word I read from that letter? Has he overheard all of the clues? He tried to shake his thoughts away. Perhaps I am being too suspicious.

"Personally," the butler went on, "I would have sent him away immediately. But the rest of the staff would not hear of it. They adamantly required that I bring the matter to your attention and allow you to make the final judgment."

"And my judgment is that the man is undoubtedly a low, sniveling, dishonorable beggar who is most likely poor by his own lazy, abominable ways. He must mean to work on my sympathies and thereby covet and pinch my hard-earned pennies! No! Absolutely n—" Tim's earnest, shiny eyes arrested the man. That gaze was too pure and good to be ignored, too childishly sweet to be resisted.

"What?" Hannover asked bluntly.

"Mr. Hannover, couldn't we go meet the bloke? Please? He mayn't be of a bad sort. What if he's a right nice fellow? Or what if he ain't lazy an' 'bomnibibble like you says he is? Maybe he's in real trouble an' needs 'elp? I fink Jesus would like it if we 'elped people who really needs it. An' even if they don't an' we thought they did, we'd still be doin' right instead o' doin' wrong. Please, Mr. Hannover, can't we go see 'im?"

Hannover opened his mouth to argue. But how could he? At last, he sighed in resignation. "Oh, very well. But just you wait and see, he will be just as lazy and bomnib—I mean abominable, as I said!"

Timothy put on a big smile and started dragging his master out of the office and down to the kitchen. There, they found Mary and the others looking rather forlorn, perhaps even upset, as they made breakfast. The cook brightened as she saw her master and little Timothy.

"I knew you 'ad a heart somewhere in there, Mr. Hannover. Now don't be too 'ard on the child! I'm a good judge o' people an' I say he's honest an' good!"

"That's just what I thought," Rory agreed. "But Mr. Lory would 'ave none of it! An' he gave that poor lad such a hard scolding that it ought t' put 'im t' shame! Really, the boy's done no harm..."

"Where is he?" Hannover cut in.

"Outside waitin' since our good old butler wouldn't 'ear of 'im comin' inside." Mary huffed.

Hannover pulled the kitchen door open, expecting to see some bedraggled, cunning deceiver on the doorstep. But instead, he saw a thin gangly boy with well-combed hair and tidy, though worn and faded, clothes. It was a familiar face, and in a moment, Hannover recognized him as the gutter cleaner whom Timothy had given his money to.

Pity knocked on Hannover's heart, wishing to come inside and make itself at home. But a quick suspicion locked the door tight.

"Oh, so it's you, is it? Did you come for another donation?" he asked the youth coldly.