The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

him. Why, he used to post notices right in town when he held auctions at Barataria, listing what he had to sell, mostly smuggled Negroes and a few cargoes of luxuries from Europe. He was a privateer under the rules of war, but he was never a real pirate. At least, that’s the belief held nowadays.”
    “We can’t turn up our noses at pirates,” laughed Ricky. “This house was built by pirate gold. We only wish—”
    From the hall came a dull thump. Ricky’s napkin dropped from her hand into her coffee-cup. Rupert laid down his spoon deliberately enough, but there was a certain tension in his movements. Val felt a sudden chill. For Letty-Lou was in the kitchen, the family were in the dining-room. There should be no one in the hall.
    Rupert pushed back his chair. But Val was already half-way to the door when his brother joined him. And Ricky, suddenly sober, was at their heels.
    Zzzzzrupp! The slitting sound was clear as they burst into the hall. On the fur rug by the couch lay the writing-desk. Its lid was thrown back and by it crouched Satan industriously ripping the remnants of lining from its interior. As Rupert came up, the cat drew back, his ears flattened and his lips a-snarl.
    “Cinders! What has he done?” demanded Charity,swooping down upon her pet. At her coming, he fled under the couch out of reach.
    Rupert picked up the desk. “Nothing much,” he laughed. “Just torn all that lining loose, as I had planned to do.”
    “What is this?” Ricky disentangled a small slip of white from the torn and musty velvet. “Why, it’s a piece of paper,” she answered her own question. “It must have been under the lining and Satan pulled it out with the cloth.”
    “Here,” Rupert took it from her, “let me see it.”
    He scanned the faded lines of writing. “Val! Ricky!” He looked up, his face flushed with excitement. “Listen!”
    “Gatty has returned from the city. The raiders calling themselves the ‘Buck Boys’ are headed this way. Gatty tells me that Alexander is with them, having deserted the plantation a week ago. Since his malice towards us is well known, it is easy to believe that he means us open harm. I am making my preparations accordingly. The valuables now under this roof, together with the proceeds from the last voyage of the blockade runner, Red Bird , I am putting in that safe place discovered by me in childhood, of which I have sometimes spoken. Remember the hint I once gave you—By Our Luck. Having written this in haste, I shall intrust it to Gatty—”
    “That’s the end; the rest is gone.” Rupert stared down at the scrap of paper in his hand as if he simply could not believe in its reality.
    “Richard wrote that.” Ricky touched the note in awe. “But why didn’t Gatty give it to Miles when he came?”
    “Gatty was probably a slave who ran when the raiders appeared,” suggested Rupert. “He or she must have hidden this in here before leaving. We’ll never know.”
    “But we’ve got our clue!” cried Ricky. “We knew that the hiding-place was in this hall, and now we have the clue.”
    “‘By our Luck.’” Rupert looked about him thoughtfully. “That’s not the most helpful—”
    “Rupert!” Ricky seized him by the arm. “There’s only one thing in this room that will answer that. Can’t you see? The niche of the Luck!”
    Their gaze followed her pointing finger to the mantel above their heads.
    “I believe she’s right! Wait until I get the step-ladder from the kitchen.” Rupert was gone almost before he had finished speaking.
    “Oh, if it’s only true!” Ricky stared up like one hypnotized. “Then we’ll be rich and—”
    “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” Val reminded her, but he didn’t think that she heard him.
    Then Rupert was back with the ladder. He climbed up, leaving the three of them clustered about its foot.
    “Nothing here but two stone studs to hold the Luck in place,” he said a moment later.
    “Why not try pressing those?” suggested Charity.
    “All right, here goes.” He placed his thumbs in the corners of the niche and threw his weight upon them.
    “Nothing happened.” Ricky’s voice was deep with disappointment.
    “Look!” Val pointed over her shoulder.
    To the left of the fireplace were five panels of oak, to balance those on the other side about the door of the unused drawing-room. The center one of these now gaped open, showing a dark cavity.
    “It worked!” Ricky was already