"I wonder what I should call this case?" said Bess. "It's too bad I can't use 'Secret of Bat Cave'."
"I don't see why not," replied Nancy with a amused grin.
"There's nothing secret about it."
"Don't forget about the gold."
"Nancy!" Bess groaned, "what are you talking about? It can't be a secret if it doesn't exist."
Nancy laughed. "I almost forgot to tell you. I think there really is gold in that cave." Her friends looked at her as if she were pulling their legs. "Honestly! Remember when we left the cave? I had red dust on my back and my hands. Later, I recalled that I had leaned against a smooth wall in the cave. Well, you know, the cave is all sandstone and it's that yellowish color."
"So what are you saying?"
"That wall must be clay. Someone brought up a load of clay, I think, to fill in an opening in that wall."
"And behind the opening is a secret chamber. A secret chamber that contains the bag of gold nuggets!" George said excitedly.
"That's my theory anyway. Let's put it to the test, shall we?"
The girls were soon back on the by-now-familiar ridge with their tools. They set immediately to work. The clay wall was hard. The clay was completely dry. After a few hard whacks with the shovel it cracked and crumbled. Behind the opening they had created was a small hollow. Sitting on the floor was a brown leather bag. Just in front of the bag the letters "CF" were printed on the floor with white chalk.
"Cyrus Fisk must have done this!" Ivy gasped.
Nancy gestured for Ivy to take the leather bag. Ivy reached in and dragged it out of the hollow. She untied the knot on the leather drawstring.
"Omigod!" exclaimed Ivy. Everyone could catch a glimpse of the glittering gold dust. "It's gold, real gold! And the bag is heavy." Ivy looked like she wanted to jump up and down. Nancy was kind enough to think that she was more delighted at ending the long-standing mystery surrounding the old prospector than she was about the cash value of their find, especially after what happened on Metcalfe Point.
They returned to Ivy's house happily imagining how much the gold was worth and thinking of ways to spend it. Mr. Fisk was in the living room chatting with Mr. Podmore. They were both amazed to see the girls' find.
"I never imagined I would see this," Mr. Podmore pronounced. "After all those years."
"Before you make any more plans for the money," Nancy declared, "there's something I have to let you know about the message in the Tom Sawyer."
"Oh no," exclaimed George in mock horror, "it's another plot twist."
Nancy brought the book forward and opened it to the back of the title page. "We were so eager to look for a map or something in the book that we went right past this." There was an inscription. It read, 'To my dear Tank, I hope you develop a taste for the classics. Love, Cyrus.' It was dated 1978.
"The pen and the handwriting look the same as the message at the back. Then Cyrus did write the message," concluded George.
"But who's Tank?" asked Bess.
Nancy said, "I think we should ask Mr. Podmore."
"Mr. Podmore, you've been on the island a long time. Do you remember about twenty-five years ago, a child nicknamed 'Tank'?"
Mr. Podmore seemed to be prepared for the question. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. There was this boy, he loved playing sports, hockey and football in particular. He was barrel-chested and big for his age, hence the nickname. It probably came from the comic strip character with that name. The boy's name was Horace. It wasn't Eberhart then. I think this is going to take a bit of explaining."
Mr. Podmore settled down to tell them the story. "Horace's mother came to the island when she was in her mid-twenties. She was single and pregnant. She needed a place to stay. Well, she ended up living with Cyrus. It caused quite the scandal at the time, as you can imagine, even with the tolerant attitudes that island folk are reputed to have. Horace grew up having to put up with a good deal of grief over his mother. That's the reason I remember him so well as a boy. She stayed with Cyrus all those years, until the boy was nine or ten. Then she married a roofer named Eberhart and moved out. Eventually they left the island."
"Why did Cyrus write down the cave's location? Why didn't he simply give Horace the gold?" Ivy asked.
"Oh, I don't know. I guess the old man was embarrassed to hand over a large sum of money to the boy. It was easier for him to make a game out of it. Maybe it was his way to challenge the boy, to make him earn it."
"Didn't Cyrus tell Horace about the gold when he couldn't find it?"
"I guess not. Don't ask me to explain what the stubborn old fellow was thinking. Maybe when Horace's mother left him he changed his mind. We'll never know for sure."
"That seems pretty mean of him," said Bess reprovingly.
Nancy said, "So Horace kept the book all those years. When did he return to the island?"
"About ten years ago, just before Cyrus's death. You have to realize that Cyrus spent his last days in a care home in MacNeish – it's a small town on Coeverden Island – and wasn't living on Catriola at the time. As for the cave, the truth is that Horace had pretty much forgotten about it when he told me the story. This was when I was doing research. He thought it was nothing more than an odd whim on the part of Cyrus."
"It's sad to think that they couldn't have had a sort of reunion," Nancy mused.
Mr. Fisk interrupted. "My father heard about Horace's story after Cyrus died. In his will Cyrus bequeathed a small legacy to Horace's mother but nothing to Horace. My father subdivided the land and sold the waterfront house to Horace on very reasonable terms. It seemed a fair thing to do considering he had grown up in this house."
"Did he resent us being in the house?" asked Ivy.
"Not that he ever showed to me," Mr. Fisk said in his mild voice.
"I think he harbored bitter feelings towards Cyrus," said Mr. Podmore, "but you know Horace, he kept his feelings to himself most of the time."
"Mr. Podmore, you remembered the copy of Tom Sawyer when you made that remark about looking for a message from Cyrus?" asked George. He nodded. "So the book was on the shelf all along?"
"Not necessarily," said Nancy. "Horace could have taken it from his home and slipped it into the bookcase when we weren't looking."
"What will we do with the money now?"
"I'd like to believe it was my grandfather's wish that it should go to Horace," Mr. Fisk said calmly. "As his living kin I think we should see that the right thing gets done. The money should be held here for Horace. It's more than likely that he'll be coming back when he's out of prison. People seem to have a way of breaking away from this island and then drifting back again. This place must be more like home to him than any other."
"It seems strange to think that he'll be our neighbor again," said Ivy a little doubtfully.
Mr. Fisk placed his hand over his daughter's hand which was resting on the arm of a chair and clasped it. "Yes, I suppose at the end of the day we all have to find a way to live with one another. Beyond the good and evil that men do there has to be forgiveness."