Randalls Round by Eleanor Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

is another misquotation. In the Authorised Version, at any rate, the verse is ’The sun shall not smite thee by day.’ ”
    “Why, you’re right,” said Matthews. “We’ll just see what the Papists say. But it strikes me, sir, that any text that’s copied in full is wrong and that’s the clue.”
    In the library, established in armchairs, one with the paper of texts, the other with his Latin Vulgate, they traced out the references. The first was, as the Vicar had said, wrong.
    “That don’t tell us much,” complained the American. “It applies to the treasure, I guess, but it’s not much help to know that ’the sun will not smite it by day nor the moon by night.’ ”
    “It may refer to the hiding place,” said the Vicar. “That would suggest some hole or cellar or vault.”
    “That’s so,” admitted the American. “Now, Ecclesiasticus xxxi, 7.”
    The Vicar read aloud.
    “‘Gold is a stumbling block to them that sacrifice for it; woe to them that eagerly follow after it: every fool shall perish by it.’ At once a lamentation and a warning from the dead devil–worshipper,” he said. Then, with some hesitation, “Mr Matthews, it’s evident the man had some horrible experience. Don’t you think it would be wiser to abandon the search?”
    “Abandon it, Vicar? What, when we’re just getting on the track? Not if I know it,” cried Matthews. “Why, this is just the biggest thrill that ever happened! And if there’s any risk, why, that makes it all the better. Come on, what’s next? Matthew vi, 21.”
    “That’s from the Sermon on the Mount… Yes, I thought so. It really reads, ’Where thy treasure is, there shall thy heart be also.’ Another deliberate misquotation.”
    “And the last? Ecclesiasticus again, xxii, 12.”
    The Vicar read it with a certain solemnity.
    “‘The wicked life of a wicked fool is worse than death.’”
    “He certainly didn’t get much hilarious pleasure out of the sacrilege,” commented the American.
    The Vicar said nothing. Somehow they both felt a little uncomfortable.
    “Well, now, let’s get down to work,” said Matthews, throwing off his momentary discomfort. “We’ve got three clues. ’Have regard unto my name, for it shall be unto thee for a great treasure.’ ’The sun shall not smite it by day nor the moon by night.’ ’Where the treasure is, there shall the heart be also.’ Let’s get on to the name. ’Dom: Hierime Lindalle.’ Now what’s wrong with that as a name?”
    They puzzled over this for some time, replacing letters by figures, rearranging the letters to form anagrams, seeking for some principle to guide them to the clue. Tea was served and eaten almost silently as the two men badgered their brains over the riddle of the priest’s name.
    At last the American looked up.
    “No good,” he said; and the Vicar shook his head.
    “‘Hierime’ strikes me as being a bit of a freak in the way of a name,” commented Matthews. “Was he a saint?”
    “Why, yes,” said Mr. Molyneux. “Saint Hiereme, or Jerome, was a Father of the Church, a hermit who translated the Bible into Latin.”
    “Perhaps that accounts for this chap’s attention to the text,” suggested Matthews.
    “Perhaps. St. Jerome was a great scholar. No doubt you know Durer’s famous pictures of him – in the desert, and at work in his room, with his lion at his feet.”
    “What’s that?” cried the American. “A lion, did you say?”
    “Why, yes, but–”
    “What about that twelfth panel – the one with the book and the lion? What’s the betting it’s not Mark at all, but Jerome? The sly beggar! He slips in a figure he knows we’ll take for Mark, and all the time–”
    “I declare I believe you’re right!” exclaimed Mr. Molyneux, flushed with excitement. “That’s the clue – the panel in the north room.”
    “And, look here, the next fits,” cried Matthews. ” ’The sun shall not smite it by day nor the moon by night.’ Do you remember