Chapter One

"Harrison Thorton to see Mr. Randall Greystone by appointment."
"Yes, Mr. Greystone said you would arrive today. Right this way please." The butler of the castle ushered Harry through the Great Hall, an enormous room with a vaulted ceiling, and into the parlor. There a young man in his late teens sat in a soft wingback chair facing the fireplace.
“Mr. Thorton to see you, sir,” the butler said entering the room.
“Thank you, Louis. Please sit down.” He gestured to one of the chairs in the room. “And welcome to Greystone Castle. Tea?”
“Please.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Sugar, but maybe I should do it. I’m told I use an offensive amount.” Young Greystone passed him the steaming cup and Harry measured out a generous helping of sweetener. Tasting it, he sat down in a comfortable chair across from his host.
“Now let’s get straight to business.”
“Right. When I talked to you on the phone, I asked you to find a lost family treasure. The last person to see it died in 1783.”
“Well then,” Harry said with a tone of irony, “I guess I won’t be able to ask them where they last put it.”
“No indeed,” Randall smiled. Then somewhat hesitantly he continued. “I failed to inform you that for the last hundred and fifty years most of the family has considered it to be just a myth.”
Harry set down his cup and looked hard at him for a moment. Randall felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Harry sat back suddenly and gave his host a half-smile. “Then it looks like we have a legend to prove.”
“Thank you,” Randall said breathing an inward sigh of relief. “Now, please, call me Randall.”
“And I’m Harry.” He picked up his cup again. “Now, what is this story of a lost treasure?”
“I think you should know that there is someone else here that believes in the treasure, though I’m not sure who.”
“Why do you think so?”
“There’ve been some unusual,” he paused for a moment, searching for the right word, “accidents; the motorboat stopping out in the middle of the lake for no reason, broken water pipes, severed power lines. It’s like someone is trying to get me to leave. They are all repaired now, but still . . . Maybe they believe if I’m gone, it would be easier to search, or something like that.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Harry commented. “But tell me about the treasure.”
“In 1698,” Randall began, “six of my ancestors, brothers, built Greystone Castle. There are portraits of them hanging in the Great Hall, along with one of each person who has inherited this castle. The brother’s names were Richard, the eldest, then Walter, Thomas, Edmond, Charles, and William. Allegedly, they hid this treasure somewhere on the property, and for three hundred years it has remained hidden. Now it’s existence is very much doubted. My aunt, Harriet, is guardian of the property until I come of age. She does not believe any of it.”
“When do you come of age?” Harry asked.
“According to my father’s will, when I’m twenty-one. I’m eighteen now.”
“Why exactly do you want to find this treasure?” Harry probed. “You don’t seem to need the money or the acclaim of society. If everyone thinks it’s a wild goose chase, why bother?”
Randall’s face fell. “Do you think it’s a waste of time?”
Harry didn’t say anything. He was thinking.
“I want to find the treasure to prove to my aunt that it is real. I know she thinks it’s silly, but I wanted to prove that I could do it,” the young man explained.
Harry was still silent.
“You see, I want to go to college and study business administration, but Aunt Harriet thinks it’ll be too hard for me, so I won’t put my mind to it. She also thinks it would be a waste of time and money.” Randall spoke quickly, She won’t let me go unless I can prove to her that I can finish what I start, that I can accomplish something if I really want to. If I find the treasure, it will show her that I can do what I put my mind to.” He paused. “Do you think it’s a waste of time?”
“No, I don’t. If finding it means so much, I’m sure you’ll succeed. I don’t think the treasure is a myth, and if your Aunt Harriet does, then this may be the perfect way to prove what you can do.”
Randall set down his cup. “My aunt,” he said hesitatingly, “isn’t going to appreciate a . . . nosy houseguest.” When Harry didn’t reply, he continued, “She may be a bit of an obstacle.”
“I see.”
“One you may wish to avoid,” the boy said with a grim smile.
“Obstacles are intended to be surmounted,” Harry said, smiling back.
“I’ve told her that you are a friend I met while I was in the States. As long as we are on the subject, let me tell you who else you will encounter here,” Randall began. “Louis is the butler and museum guide. The maids--”
“Museum guide?” Harry interrupted, surprised.
“Oh, yes. You see,” said his host as he poured another cup of tea, “the oldest of the brothers I mentioned, Richard? Well, he was always collecting things. He was a collector of collections you might say. He set aside the castle’s west wing and its adjoining tower to house all the things he had acquired. In 1905, Peter Greystone, my great-great-great-grandfather decided to make it into a museum which the general public would be permitted to come and see along with some of the grounds. Also an estate this large and old requires a bit of money to keep running. There are the rental properties of course, but this helps us keep on top of things.”
“Interesting.”
“Quite. Now where was I? The maids. Becky and Ellie are the only two we have. Cole is our sort of the all-around repairman and groundskeeper. He is responsible for maintaining all the plants and for keeping everything in the castle running smoothly. Then there’s the chef, Patrick. He’s been with us for about four months I think. Our former cook was getting older and so he retired. There’s also Diane. She’s not employed here,” Randall explained. “She’s here researching the different plants in the conservatory and gardens for a magazine article. Almost every plant has been cross-bred. Am I forgetting anyone? Uh, oh yes, Larry. He researches stuff. I don’t know exactly what, just about everything, I guess. He has helped us in learning the history of some of the museum exhibits. He is normally in either the library or the museum.”
“That’s a few people to remember,” Harry declared.
“You’ll remember them all once you meet them,” Randall paused. “Any questions?”
“The museum; do the two girls clean it?”
“No, we have an arrangement with a cleaning service in town. They come in on Thursday afternoons. Otherwise, the maids would have more work than they could handle alone.”
“Do you have many visitors?” Harry asked.
“Most of the time, yes. Not often during the winter, but in spring when the weather is nice, we have a lot of tourists come down. London is only a half-hour’s drive, but it’s really only those who are on a long holiday. Most people want to see other things.”
“Have you noticed anyone coming repeatedly to see the museum?”
“Oh, I don’t spend much time there. As I said, Louis gives the tours. You might ask him if he’s noticed anyone with a particular interest in the exhibits.”
“I’ll do that.”
Randall hadn’t thought about the fact that practically anyone searching for the treasure could gain access to his home through the museum. This interrogation was beginning to make him nervous. “Anything else?”
“I’d like to change into something more casual since I’m here for pleasure and not business.”
“Come on. I’ll show you where your room is,” Randall grinned. As they passed through the Great Hall to head upstairs, Harry paused to look at the portraits. Six were hung collectively and noticeably apart from the others.
“Are these the brothers you mentioned?” Harry inquired.
“Yes, that’s Walter. He was fascinated by the game of chess, and had his portrait painted with his favorite chess board. What is now the ballroom used to house a life-sized chess set. The floor tiles are all either black or white, and most of the pieces sit along the walls. Actually, Edmond had the set made for him,” he said, motioning to the next portrait, “and put the final touches on himself. Edmond was a skilled carver, and had his portrait painted while standing at the end of the stairs next to one of the railing posts, which he carved himself. Richard, as you see, had his done while in a personal museum he created from artifacts he had collected. Thomas over there was a clock maker.”
“Did they even have clocks back then?” Harry asked.
“Oh sure. The first pendulum clock was invented by a guy named Huygens in 1656. Before pendulum clocks were around, a German named Peter Henlein came up with a spring-powered clock around 1510, but it wasn’t real accurate. The first clock with a minute hand was invented by Jost Burgi in 1577, but pendulum clocks didn’t have a minute hand until the turn of the century.” He grinned at Harry’s quizzical look. “There’s an exhibit in the museum with lots of clocks. It’s really interesting. You should check it out sometime.”
“The clock in that picture was one of the ones he made himself?”
“Right. The south tower was his workshop,” Randall replied, “and you can probably guess from this painting that Charles was the avid gardener.”
“Where did you find out so much about these men?”
“Oh, its been passed down through the family as a sort of remembrance of them, seeing as how they gave us Greystones such a big inheritance. One of my ancestors wrote all the information down in a book in the library, to help make sure nothing would get changed around through the years. The story of the treasure was passed along too, just not as prominently.
“I see. What about this man here?” Harry indicated the last painting.
“No one has quite been able to figure out what William’s hobby was. You can see he’s sitting at a desk holding a book, but what it is I don’t have a clue. Anyway, and let’s go get you settled in.” Randall led the way upstairs and down the hall to the right. Harry’s room was situated on the northwest side of the house, with windows overlooking the courtyard.
“I believe you have everything you’ll need here,” Randall said when they came in the room. “Louis will come by at eight tomorrow to show you the way to the breakfast room. By the way, I see no need to announce to everyone on a soapbox why you’re here. If anyone were to ask, I thought it would be best to tell them all that you’re a friend I made during my visit to the States last fall. Is that alright?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Good. I’ll see you at breakfast. Good night.”
Harry closed the door and started to unpack. A large wardrobe and dresser rested along the left wall, and a big old-fashioned four-poster bed and a nightstand were on the opposite side of the room. A window on each side of the bed overlooked the courtyard, and the glowing face of the castle’s clock tower was visible higher up. A fireplace dominated the wall to the right. Near it sat a small round table and a wingback chair. Harry deposited his laptop and plugged in the charger.