Treasure

"Treasure"

Audrey Ribbon was just trying to prise a sheaf of papers from the jaws
of the hole-punch which had locked shut when the gentleman came into
the office, looking fraught and darting small glances around the place.
He resembled a shrew who had problems. His hair was thinning and his
shoes caked with dark greasy mud.

"I need to see Mr Gulliver ! " he said, in a shrill voice.

"Office hours are over, " she said tartly.

"It's urgent, " he said, seeming more and more panicked. Audrey gained
the distinct impression that he was about to cry. She took some measure
of pity on him. He looked to be in his mid-forties and there was hardly
any substance to him. Audrey judged that he had had a hard life.

"Which Mr Gulliver do you want ? " she asked, " The psychologist or the
detective ? "

The man seemed a little puzzled that there were two and now that he had
found his bearings a little, was also confused that the office seemed
to be part of a large Edwardian house, more like an old-fashioned
doctor's surgery than a detective agency.

" The detective, " he said, "I'm in a real pickle. "

Audrey finally untangled the papers, opened the file and deftly removed
the spring clip. She pushed the two metal springs through the holes,
replaced the clip, closed the file and placed it in the correct sling
and then eased the drawer of the filing cabinet soundlessly into place,
in what seemed like one continuous movement.

"Mr Damon Gulliver is out on business. He won't be back today. His
brother Mr Francis Gulliver is upstairs, he does deal with some of the
detective agency work. Perhaps he will agree to see you. Please wait
there. "

Audrey Ribbon walked up the elegant staircase, holding lightly onto the
oak bannister and rapped gently on the door to Francis Gulliver's
office. He gave his permission to enter and she opened the door, just a
little, so that she could squeeze through.

The office was large and well furnished, with a large dark-brown
leather couch, a well-stocked library, state-of-the-art computer and
elegant art-nouveau lamps. These were needed, because although there
were large windows to the room, they were covered with wooden shutters
to prevent natural light.

It had been many years since sunlight had come into that room and the
keen observer might have detected a certain faint mustiness about the
place, despite the low hum of the air-conditioning.

At the far end of the room were two doors, one leading to a bathroom
and one to a bedroom. These could not be accessed from anywhere else in
the large house.

The desk that Francis Gulliver used faced these shutters, so that he
sat with his back to the door, an unusual position, but one which
suited his particular needs.

Francis himself was a large man, broad with the build of a rower or
rugby prop forward, one who had stopped playing a few years earlier. He
had a kindly face and sharp ice-blue eyes which spoke clearly of great
intelligence. He wore a pair of small John Lennon-esque spectacles and
his hair was rather too long and slightly tousled, a thick flop falling
over his brow whenever he moved his head. It had been a while since the
woman had come to the office to cut it for him.

"There's a client downstairs Mr Gulliver, " said Audrey in a gentle
voice.

"I'm not taking any more appointments today, Mrs Ribbon, " said
Francis, "I am weary and I have some new books delivered today which I
wish to devote some time to. "

Audrey paused for a moment, feeling terrible about imposing on her
employer, whom she liked best of the three men who lived in the house.
However, she had left the man downstairs, and she felt a professional
obligation to raise the case with Mr Gulliver.

"He's not strictly here to see you, " she said, "He wanted Mr Damon,
but he did say that it was urgent. "

"Six minutes, " said Francis, "No more. "

The shrew-like man entered the room, he seemed uncertain as to whether
to take his coat off, which was damp from the downpour outside. Noting
that there was nowhere to hang it, he settled finally on folding it
over his arm. He approached Francis and sat down.

"Mrs Ribbon gave my instructions ? " asked Francis, who was precise in
all things, "You have six minutes of my time. "

The man spoke and his voice was thin and reedy in comparison to
Francis, who had a deep sonorous quality to his voice. He did not have
a toothbrush moustache, but the addition of one would not have caused
surprise, he had the sort of face that waited expectantly for a
moustache of some kind.

"My name is Michael Fowler, " he said, "I need some help to find buried
treasure. "

Francis drew a small notepad towards himself and removed the cap from
his silver fountain-pen, neatly placing the cap on the desk as he
prepared to write. Everything on the desk was at strict right angles,
nothing askew, even the paper clips were lined up in precision
formation.

"My brother and I, well, we didn't really get on. He was always a bit
of a dreamer, full of grand schemes, while I ended up working in the
family business with my father. "

"What manner of business ? "

"It's a printers. Only a small shop just ten workers, but we do
alright, considering. My father died about eight years ago, so I run it
now. Edward didn't want to have anything to do with it, he was happy to
sign it all over to me. He asked me for three thousand pounds to
finance some trip abroad - he had an idea that he knew where to find
some treasure. "

"And you funded him in this venture ? "

"Well, to be honest, " said Michael Fowler, "It seemed only fair. The
money was a fraction of what he was owed really. He was entitled to a
share in the business, but he wasn't interested. I thought if it'd keep
him happy, he might as well have the money. So I got a loan and gave
him the cash. "

Michael went on to explain that his brother Edward had been away for
two years and that then a cheque had arrived through the post, made
payable to Michael, for five thousand pounds.

"I was rather surprised, " he said, "I'd never really expected to see
the money or Edward ever again. We'd had words you see. He'd gone off
abroad treasure-hunting before, when dad was really ill. Lung cancer.
He smoked forty a day, so it wasn't that big a shock. But anyway, he
was ill in his hospital bed, tubes coming out of him, and all he could
do was ask for Edward. I want to see Edward, that was all he would say.
"

"That must have been quite distressing, " observed Francis, "You had
been the dutiful son, no doubt involved in a lot of the care for your
father, running his business, and yet it is your wayward brother that
he called for. "

Michael put his head down and his adam's apple moved in his throat,
"Yes, it was pretty hard to stomach. Anyway, we couldn't get hold of
him till after dad had died, and I said some things. Things I regret
now, but you can't unsay them, can you ? "

He went on to explain that after receiving the cheque, he had heard
nothing at all from Edward until two months earlier, when a solicitor
had contacted him to tell him that Edward was dead and that he had
inherited everything.

"Well obviously I didn't think it would be much, " said Richard, " A
few trinkets, some stuff of sentimental value. To be honest, I was
surprised that he would have seen a solicitor at all. Turned out he had
bad health problems over the last year or two, he'd had plenty of time
to sort out his affairs. But, I was shocked as all hell to find out
he'd left me a country estate. "

From the floor above, there came a crashing noise, as if someone were
jumping up and down heavily. There were also gleeful shouts and the
noise of what sounded like a space-age laser pistol firing. Richard
looked upwards, wondering what was happening.

"That's just my younger brother Joe, " Francis explained, "He is
rather...exuberant. Do carry on. "

Richard described the estate, Hexborough Hall. It was in Derbyshire, a
place they had visited often when they were younger. They had talked
when young of one day being rich and owning the place. It was a
sprawling place, with coachhouses and about eight acres of land. It
must have cost millions.

"And you had no idea that he had bought this estate ? "

"None whatsoever. It's wonderful, an absolute dream. I could easily
live there forever. The problem is, the inheritance tax on it is huge,
and Edward left no money at all. I can't raise the money to pay the
tax, and I'm running out of time. "

Francis put his large hands together and touched his chin with both
index fingers, sighing heavily, "That is very sad Mr Fowler, but my
brothers and I are not a charity. We may be men of means, due to the
tragedy of circumstance, but we do not make a habit of loaning money,
no matter how grave the plight."

"No, no, " said Mr Fowler, "It's nothing like that. See, Edward left me
a letter as well. In the letter he explains how he got the money for
Hexborough Hall. Seems his treasure hunt paid off, he found a heap of
old pirate's treasure and used some of the money to buy the Hall. But
the rest of it, he said it's worth more than a million. And it's mine,
if I can find it. "

"I'm afraid that this sounds very unlikely, " said Francis, a rather
sour expression settling about his lips.

"He gave me photographs as well, " said Mr Fowler, handing them over to
Francis, who fastidiously would not take them from his hand, but waited
instead until Mr Fowler had set them down on the desk.

There were two photographs, both taken with a Kodak Instamatic camera,
both showing a man who looked like a younger, healthier Richard -
tanned and glowing and standing next to a heap of treasure - gold
coins, jewellery, rubies the size of eggs. Francis examined them
closely.

"These don't appear to be faked, " he said carefully, "I don't know of
any process for faking Instamatic photographs. Also, it would go some
way to explaining your brother's dramatic change in fortune. However,
the treasure itself may not be genuine. One must be careful not to make
leaps. "

Mr Fowler felt in his coat pocket and set down a gold coin on the desk.
It made a heavy noise as he put it there. Francis touched it, although
it had substance, the metal itself was soft, he could make a slight
impression on it with his nail - it also appeared to be very old. He
picked it up and breathed on it gently, noting the way that the metal
fogged.

"You've had this tested I presume ? "

"Yes, " said Mr Fowler, "Certified genuine. That was with the letter,
in case I had any doubts. "

"So, if you can find the treasure it is yours, and you can settle the
inheritance tax debt and keep Hexborough Hall. Interesting. And of
course, if you don't find it in time, the Hall will be sold. "

"And I think that's where the treasure is, " said Mr Fowler, "Somewhere
in the Hall or in the grounds. That's the logical place. So if I have
to sell the Hall, I'll lost the treasure forever. "

"Very well, " said Francis, "I am interested in your case. Quite
interested. However, your six minutes are up. I suggest that you make
an appointment with Mrs Ribbon downstairs for tomorrow with my brother
and I. Tell her that I will move other matters for your convenience.
"

Mr Fowler waited a moment before standing, assuming that Francis was
not serious, but it became very clear that he was. Francis was precise
and exact in all matters, and six minutes meant just that, and no
more.

Francis lifted up a package that he had received from Amazon and opened
the cardboard wrapping, before lifting out the books and placing them
on the table. He folded up the wrapping to as small a size as he could
manage and put it into the waste paper basket beside his desk. He
selected the first book, which was about recent advances in genetics,
leaving the historical memoirs for another occasion. At that point, the
door opened and a small white object shot over Francis' shoulder and
bounced off the opposite wall with a small 'plook' sound.

"Ping pong ! " shouted Joe Gulliver, as he entered the room, with a
small paddle in his hand.

Francis sighed, he wasn't going to be able to start on his new book.
However, he couldn't be angry with his brother for long. Joe was one of
the most pleasant people Francis had ever met. He had not an ounce of
malice in his entire being. Joe had difficulties, he was essentially an
idiot-savant, who for most of the time operated like a six year old
child, yet who was capable of flashes of sheer genius. Another reason
that Francis held Joe in such regard was that, when his mind could be
focused on the game, Joe played chess excellently, and was one of the
few people who could best Francis. Such a challenge was always
welcomed.

"Very well, " said Francis, "Ask Mrs Ribbon very nicely if she will
help you set the table up in here, and we shall have a game of table
tennis. "

For a large man, Francis was deceptively quick around the table and
well able to place spin and disguise on the ball. However, not only was
Joe exceptionally energetic, but Francis did not have the heart to go
for the killer shot every time the opportunity arose. And so it was
that an hour later, Joe had won five games to Francis' three.

The next morning, Francis outlined the position with Mr Fowler and the
lost treasure to his brother Damon. He had to speak slowly and softly,
because not only was Damon not awfully quick on the uptake, but that
morning he also had a hangover acquired in a Fulham cocktail bar. He
was also in love, which was a fairly regular occurrence, the two
matters often in tandem, and in Francis' experience, the love often
wore off before the hangover subsided.

"So, when Mr Fowler comes to see you today, you will have some ideas as
to how to tackle the case, " explained Francis.

Damon had no ideas whatsoever at that point, beyond returning to bed
and having nothing to do with Fowlers of any kind. His plans for the
day would then be to arrange for flowers to be delivered to the house
of Catherine Monpellier, who he would then telephone and invite out for
dinner. Damon was outrageously good-looking, with black wavy hair,
piercing eyes and high cheekbones, but there was really very little
going on underneath the pleasant exterior. It would be unfair to say
that he was dim, but he was certainly not a shrewd man.

Francis sighed, "You will need to go down to the estate and begin your
search. I suggest that you take Joe with you, as I am busy today. The
grounds are huge, so the search will have to be focused. "

"Should I get spades on the way ? "

"I imagine that there will be spades to hand, should you need them.
However, my suspicion would be that you will need no spade. "

"Why, if there's all that treasure ? "

Francis held up his left hand and began to count off digits as he made
a series of points in answer, " One, Edward Fowler was ill at the time
he concealed his treasure and is unlikely to have been able to dig a
vast pit. Two, if he got staff to assist, he would run the risk of them
either recovering the treasure for himself or assisting Mr Fowler for
financial reward. Three, as a man interested in treasure, Edward Fowler
would be well aware that gold and silver found buried in this country
is 'Treasure Trove' belonging to the Crown, and would not wish to
deprive his brother of this fortune by taking such a foolish action in
concealing it. "

Damon nodded, this all made sense to him. He rubbed his chin with the
back of his left hand. He would need to shave in a few minutes.

"If you wish, you can make these insightful remarks to Mr Fowler when
you see him. He is a plain-speaking man and I doubt that they have
occurred to him. It will probably impress him that you have already
made inroads into the case. "

"I think I will, " said Damon, grabbing Francis' silver pen and jotting
down brief notes on a piece of paper, "Can't tempt you to a day out in
the country ? "

"Very amusing, " said Francis, in a tone that suggested the opposite,
"In any event, I am giving evidence today, via video-link. If you could
set up the camera before you shower, that would be of assistance.
"

Francis lifted his wrist and pushed back his shirt-sleeve to reveal his
watch, which had a tan leather strap and a simple and elegant face, "Mr
Fowler will be here in half an hour. I will be available for a
telephone conference at one o'clock. Let me know what you have observed
by then. You and Joe may need to stay overnight. I fancy that Edward
Fowler put some thought into concealing his treasure. "

After the shower and packing, Damon met with Richard Fowler and agreed
that he and Joe would follow the man to Hexborough Hall. Joe and Damon
were in the E-Type, and Damon found it extremely difficult to keep the
slow pace that Richard Fowler was setting in his battered old van, with
'Fowlers Printing' written across the side. To have called it white
would have been too charitable. Damon noted that in the dust at the
back of the van, some children had written 'Free Dot Cotton'. Damon's
fingers drummed at the steering wheel and he wondered if he would ever
need to get out of third gear.

Joe wasn't troubled by the journey at all, he loved being out in the
car and was happily amusing himself by playing Pokemon on his Game Boy
and waving at any coaches that passed them.

The journey was made slower because Richard had to stop off at various
points to collect and deliver printing work that was on the way.

When they finally arrived at Hexborough Hall, Damon was extremely
delighted that he wasn't going to have to go round the estate digging
speculative holes and breaking his back by moving earth. The grounds
were immense, with large hedges, fountains and small lovers nooks
dotted around the place. As they drove up towards the house, he and Joe
could see deer leaping about in expansive fields.

"Bambi ! " said Joe, with delight, "When we find the treasure Damon,
can I play with Bambi ? "

"Soon as we find it, " promised Damon, whose headache was really
beginning to kick into life at this point. Ah, Catherine, he mused. She
really was the most wonderful woman, an artist with luxuriant hair and
a firm jawline.

They parked the car behind Richard Fowler's van, which seemed hardly in
keeping with the luxury of the place. Nearby, a number of tourists
queued either for ice-creams or to get access to the house and purchase
the necessary guide-books.

Damon looked up at the exterior of Hexborough Hall - he was not unused
to wealth, but the sheer scale of this place made him whistle softly to
himself. Richard Fowler found a key and let them in through a side
door, so that they didn't have to queue with the tourists who were
waiting to look round the Hall.

He had a sense from Richard Fowler that he didn't much like having
visitors walking around his new home, looking at him and wondering if
he was an earl or anything. Richard would have been much happier in his
local pub with a pint of warm bitter and a dog curled up by his feet.
But yet, he seemed at the same time pleased beyond belief to be living
in a place like this. From time to time, he had the manner of a boy
showing friends around a den he had built and bathing in their
admiration. He had only been at the Hall for about a month or two, it
would take him some time to grow into the role as the owner.

"It'll quieten down a bit later, " he said, "But I can show you round
the bits they don't get to see. "

He led them around through narrow corridors, passing door after door,
up flights of stairs and through a door. Inside, they were on the third
floor, which was essentially a balcony from which they could see the
marbled floor of the main entrance below, with suits of armour and
various display cases of swords and muskets. The centre-piece of the
main hall seemed to be a quartz crystal, all pinks and pale oranges
mixed with the whites, Damon judging its proportions to be
approximately those of an adult orang-utan.

On the floor they were on, a passageway about six feet wide bordered
each wall, with a railing to stop anyone falling down. Each wall was
thick with books, shelf after shelf, filled with old books of varying
sizes. Joe ran to the railing to look over the edge at people. He was
excited that he could look at their heads.

"Impressive, " said Damon, and he meant it.

"Yes, " said Richard, "I would really love to live here, but despite
all the features that have been added to bring in the tourists, it
still only brings in slightly more than the running costs. No bank
would ever lend money on the strength of the Hall. And I can't imagine
them lending me money for inheritance tax on the promise that I will
find some pirates treasure somewhere in the next year or two. "

"I have confidence that we will find the treasure Mr Fowler, " Damon
told him.

"We never discussed money, " said Richard, "I haven't got a lot at the
present, but of course if... when, you find the treasure, we could
agree a fee. "

"There will be no fee, " said Damon firmly, "There is never a charge
for our services. Did you not read the advert ? No hourly rate,
expenses only. "

"Well, yes, but I thought there was a catch. "

Damon raised his eyebrows, weary at the constant cynicism the world
placed before him. Richard led them into a dining room, with huge
tapestries and paintings on the wall. The dining table was similar in
size to yachts that Damon had been on, and there were some twenty
chairs around it, all carved from oak. The table was laid out with
elegant goblets. Damon looked up at the ceiling, which featured
intricate carvings, painted scenes and gold leaf winding around various
elements.

"I don't eat in here myself, " said Richard, "But this is the
banqueting hall of the historical Earls. "

"I have the feeling, " said Damon, "That this search may take a while.
I hadn't fully appreciated the scale of the place. We may need to find
a guesthouse to stay overnight, if there's anywhere you can suggest.
"

"I've got thirty-two bedrooms, " said Richard, "And I can only use the
one. I can find you somewhere very decent to spend the night. I will
ask Henry to organise a meal for you both. "

"Are there dungeons here ? " asked Joe, who could remain silent no
longer.

"Yes, " Richard said, with a slightly doubtful air, "And torture
chambers. "

"Cool ! "

An hour later, Damon sat in the Hall coffee shop, drinking a cup of
black coffee and picking half-heartedly at a Danish pastry. The place
was simply too big, there were any number of places one could hide the
treasure.

Edward could even have hidden it under a bed and it would have taken a
full day to find out in which room. And that wasn't even thinking about
the grounds. He had taken a stroll past the large quartz crystal, which
really was very impressive. A gold plaque on the plinth indicated that
it had been brought back by the Twelfth Earl of Hexborough from an
exploration in Africa in the latter part of the nineteenth century.
There had been all sorts of other items of interest brought back from
various exhibitions, including a stuffed silverback gorilla.

He was obviously going to have to be systematic, work out some
technique. But there didn't seem to be any sort of clue, as to where to
begin. He looked at the photographs that Richard had provided, studying
them carefully to see if there was some sort of subliminal message in
the background. There didn't seem to be.

Likewise, the letter was singularly useless. It made it plain that
Richard was entitled to the rest of the treasure, and that this was
valued way in excess of Hexborough Hall, and that he would need to find
it at the Hall itself.

Damon went to the Gift Shop and bought a scrapbook and a pencil with a
novelty knight in armour pencil top. He sat back down in the coffee
shop and began to play with the wording of the letter, looking for
acronyms, anagrams, possible coded messages. Thirty minutes later, he
had found nothing of any use at all.

Joe came running up to him, "Can I have some money Damon, can I
?"

Damon gave him ten pounds and told him to have a good time. At least
Joe seemed to be enjoying himself. Damon wasn't sure that this country
air was very good for him, he was strictly a City boy at heart.

He decided to grill the staff who worked at the Hall, Richard had told
him that they were the same staff who had been there for years and had
worked for Edward. Maybe they had been given some sort of clue, or had
noticed the previous owner hiding something.

Damon spoke with a number of people, before finding out that Henry
Chesterton was the man to talk to if he wanted to know anything about
the Hall. He was the Head Butler and he unofficially ran the place,
co-ordinating all the work of the others and had actually been born in
the Hall itself. If anyone had any difficulties at all, it was Henry
that would resolve them. Although there was a formal estate manager, he
was fairly clueless and always deferred to Henry Chesterton's opinion
on all matters of any consequence.

He was quite a cordial fellow, very straight and polite, and in his
late fifties. He held himself well, a man accustomed to dealing with
people. He had not been entrusted with a clue as to the whereabouts of
the treasure, but he had on occasion been invited to dine with Edward
Fowler, who he felt had been quite a lonely man. Henry's impression had
been that Edward had spent his whole life looking for treasure, and on
finding it had been oddly unfulfilled.

Henry felt that Mr Fowler was a very honest man. He had no doubts
whatsoever that there had been a treasure, and that it was of some
significant value. Edward Fowler had left provision for the staff's
wages to be paid for the next two years, regardless of who owned the
Hall. Henry was confident that Richard would find the treasure.

"What makes you so sure ? " Damon asked him.

"Simply because the previous Mr Fowler was so sure, sir. He spoke of it
often in his last few days. It provided him with a great deal of
entertainment. He said that his brother would be taking over the Hall
and that he would have to search very hard for something, but that he
would find it eventually. He said that he himself had spent his whole
life looking for treasure, and he wanted to give his brother the chance
to experience that as well. "

Damon wasn't sure how much use any of this had been, but it did suggest
strongly that there really was a treasure to be located.

It was ten past one, time to ring Francis. Damon outlined the position
to him, saying that he felt this was going to take forever.

"Stop, " Francis told him, "What you've told me has been very helpful.
Do you have the envelope with you ? The original envelope ? "

"No, Richard just gave me all the material. He had the envelope in his
study. "

"Well, go to him and open the envelope. "

"It's already open, " protested Damon, "That's how Richard managed to
get the photographs and letters out. "

"No, " said Francis with a heavy sigh, "Take a knife and slit the
envelope open, so that it can be unfolded, as if it were a flat piece
of paper. I have a feeling Edward may have provided a message inside.
"

"Why do you think that ? "

"It seems to me that Edward Fowler was a dreamer, someone who pursued
his dream. If he were setting a challenge for his brother, he would
want his brother to think in the same way as he had when he found the
treasure initially. He also seems to be a man of honour. His interest
is not in having the treasure lost again, but in making Richard work to
find it. "

"So why the envelope ? "

"Because, dear brother, we are not really looking for the treasure. We
are looking for the map. "

Eventually Damon found his way back to the study, where Richard was on
the telephone, talking to a client about some printing work.

"Still having to run the business, " he explained to Damon once he had
finished, "Just in case I end up losing this place. "

Damon asked him for the original envelope that Edward had left him.
Richard fumbled about in a drawer and eventually found it. It was an A4
envelope, manila. Damon picked up the letter opener and slit the
envelope along the longest edge and then the shorter edge.

"I suspect, " he said to a confused Richard, "That there may be a
message from Edward written inside the envelope. I suspect he opened up
the envelope, wrote a message and then sealed the folds back with gum.
"

Richard looked a little blank, so Damon continued.

"You see, my investigations have suggested that we may be starting from
the wrong place looking for the treasure. We ought properly, to begin
with searching for the map. "

Richard was very impressed by this and helped Damon to unfold the
envelope. There was indeed writing inside the envelope. In Edward's
spidery hand were written the words, 'Dear brother. Congratulations on
taking the first step. I hope that you have not yet wasted time digging
up the grounds at random. The trick with treasure hunting is to have a
map. Once you have that, the rest is just navigation and determination.
Edward. '

Damon immediately assembled a knowing look on his face. Richard was
simply agog, blinking and open mouthed.

"We are on the right track, " said Damon, "Looking for a map is very
different to looking for a mound of gold and jewels. "

What he didn't say, to temper his moment of triumph, was that if there
were ample places somewhere in Hexborough Hall to hide a pile of
treasure, then it was significantly easier to conceal a map.

Damon set his mind to work on this problem, not particularly worried
that he hadn't seen Joe for several hours. He knew that Joe could amuse
himself perfectly happily in a place like this. He began to think about
maps and treasure maps in particular.

The library seemed a good place to start, so he strolled upstairs to
look around, whilst idly casting the occasional glance over the railing
to see if there were any attractive women downstairs. There were one or
two, but their appeal was marred by the fact that young children seemed
stickily attached to them.

Perhaps the map was hidden inside one of the books. Damon took a few
down from the shelves and began to leaf through them, turning one or
two upside down and shaking them lightly to see if anything fell out.
After only a minute or two he realised that the task would take far too
long. Perhaps the map was hidden in a particular book. Something
like... Treasure Island perhaps.

With this in mind, he spent half an hour searching the shelves for
books whose titles had anything to do with Treasure or Gold. He did
find a few, but there was nothing hidden in any of them. In any event,
he set them to one side, because of the possibility of the map being
drawn in invisible ink.

What other possibilities were there ? That the map was like the
envelope, hidden on the other side of something. Damon lifted up a few
pictures to look at the back, hoping that none were wired up to burglar
alarms.

He was quite excited for a moment when he found an old map of the
world, where better to hide a map than on the back of an existing map ?
But, the reverse of the frame was blank.

Damon paused for a moment and tried to let his mind go blank. Once he
had achieved this, he tried to free-associate with the concept of
treasure, thinking through any thoughts which might be of use.

He peered over the railing excitedly, thinking "X marks the spot",
perhaps there would be a conspicuous X as part of the pattern on the
floor, or on a tapestry hanging up somewhere. He was very disappointed
that he hadn't found one in the main hall, but didn't want to write
this idea off just yet. There were many rooms to explore. While he was
looking, he saw Joe downstairs with a balloon, looking very excited. He
watched Joe leaf through his guidebook and make off towards one of the
exits from the main hall.

Damon wished that he had a natural talent, like his brother Francis. It
seemed that Francis never had any difficulty in setting his brain to
work for him, whereas Damon could never concentrate on anything for
long without his attention being diverted to something brighter,
shinier.

It was not that Damon was stupid, or talentless. He knew a hundred
different things, but none of them were of any real use. He knew what
grape and vintage would best accompany which fish, he always knew which
colours were in season, he could pack a suitcase or a picnic hamper in
an instant, he always always put salt and celery in his Bloody Marys,
he knew the most effective way to shave, he knew which shops stocked
the best cheeses, he could tell the difference between silly-point and
gully at cricket, he knew all of the best tailors in London, he could
calculate the odds of a poker hand at any given point, he knew from
listening to the radio who had conducted the symphony that was being
played, his name was on guest lists for almost every party and he could
tell you the best flights to get to New York or Paris or
Johannesburg.

None of those skills were really very useful in the business of
investigating crime.

There had always been a difference between Damon and Francis, even when
they were children. Francis would have his books and his experiments,
while Damon and Joe played rough-and-tumble games and had adventures.
When Damon had finally got a taste for reading, it was always detective
stories, Agatha Christie. He loved the unravelling of the mystery, but
the solution always arrived as a complete shock. In contrast, Francis
always solved the puzzle well in advance of even Ms Christie's
stalwarts, he would place a little cross at the foot of the page where
he had finally identified the killer. He was only wrong on two
occasions and on each of these, he had been able to argue a stronger
case for his own solution.

So it was that when Damon was looking for something to occupy his life,
he had finally settled on the idea of being a detective. He knew he
wasn't the brightest chap that ever came along, but he was very good
with people and it was something he could enjoy. Francis was always
willing to help out. He seemed to have about twice the amount of brain
as anyone would need to use, which balanced things out nicely.

An idea struck Damon, from a film he had once seen.

"The big W, " he said to himself, "I wonder if that's it. "

He wandered outside in something of a daze and began walking around the
grounds, looking for four trees that might be grouped together in the
shape of a W. There were an awful lot of trees to look at, and he ended
up hiking up a hill past a small petting zoo containing lambs and other
assorted cute and harmless animals being mauled about by young
children. He was getting mud on his Patrick Cox loafers, but the drive
to solve the puzzle was all that was on his mind.

The Big W concept had come to him naturally after his search for the
'X' marking the spot. He had seen the film, "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad
World", where a convoy of people all head off desperate to find the
crook's loot which is buried somewhere under a "Big W", which turns out
to be a group of palm trees in that formation.

He sat down for a rest. From this height, he could see much of the
estate. It really was very impressive. Not only were the grounds huge,
beautiful and well-maintained, but there were a lot of attractions to
interest the visitors who came to look around. Conservatories with rare
plants, a butterfly museum, a maze, boating lakes. Further in the
distance, he could see the river which ribboned through the estate, and
some brightly painted narrow-boats which were travelling along
it.

Damon couldn't see any Big W's, but he was not intending to give up
just yet. He could be very determined when he set his mind to
something. For a moment, looking at all this splendour, his mind turned
to Francis, who could never enjoy this type of view. Francis would have
been a quivering wreck if faced with such an open space, he would
probably have collapsed within a second of leaving the Hall itself. A
prisoner in his own home, only ever leaving his own room when a blanket
of darkness had settled, and only then when absolutely necessary.

He decided to buy some postcards from the gift shop. As Francis could
never be here himself and couldn't even bear to look out of his window
at home, at least he could look at some postcards and see how wonderful
Hexborough was. Damon could bring a little of the outside world to
Francis, in a very safe and controlled way. If they made Francis panic,
he could simply turn them over.

Damon made his way back to the Hall itself, where he encountered Joe,
who had obviously been having the time of his life. He was very excited
and began telling Damon about the many different things he had been
doing, he was very keen to take Damon onto the boating lake.

"I went down there to ask to go on the boats, but the man said there
should be two of us, so we can both row, so will you come with me ? I
told the man that you would. "

"Of course, " said Damon, although he was quite tired from his walk,
"But I want to ring Francis first, tell him what I've been doing today.
"

"Tell him I played with some lambs, " Joe insisted.

Damon rang Francis, who had finished giving his evidence and had felt
that it had gone quite well, although one of the barristers had been a
bit irascible. Damon outlined his investigations to date and Francis
was quite sympathetic and encouraging. He felt that Damon had done some
sensible work and told Damon that he might be on the right lines with
the 'x marks the spot' concept.

"As a treasure hunter, I think that would have appealed to Edward
Fowler's psychology. Can I speak to Joe now ? "

Joe came close to the telephone, he was always a little wary of mobile
telephones and a little surprised to hear Francis speak out of
something quite so small.

"Have you had a good time Joe ? "

"Yes, I've done loads. I've seen dungeons and suits of armour, and a
monkey, and butterflies. I fed some animals and Damon is going to take
me on a boating lake. "

"Very good, " said Francis warmly, "And how did you manage to find all
these wonderful places. "

"With the map of course, " said Joe.

And it was at this point that Damon gently took the guide book from
Joe's hands and flipped through it until he could see the map of the
house and grounds that was printed on the middle pages.

"Can I speak to Francis ? " he asked Joe, who passed the phone back to
him.

"You understand now ? " asked Francis.

Damon was still looking at the map, holding it in one hand, but he
couldn't quite work out the solution yet, "It's a brilliant idea, but
how did you think of it?"

"It's the Edgar Allen Poe theory, " Francis explained, "If you want to
conceal something, the best place is in plain view. We were looking for
a map, what we thought would be a single document, probably on
parchment, with paces and directions. But where better to hide a
treasure map, then in a map that already exists. Look at the back page.
"

Damon did this, scutinising it closely, until his eyes came upon a
paragraph at the bottom, stating that the guide had been printed by
Fowlers Printers, in that year. He explained this to Francis, who did
not seem at all surprised.

"I made some telephone calls after I spoke to you, " he explained,
"Firstly to Henry Chesterton. I asked him if Edward Fowler had updated
the guide books Once I found out that he had, I had a shrewd idea which
firm he would have sent the printing to. I spoke to the assistant
manager at the print works and he confirmed that the order had been
carried out earlier in the year, and that they had dealt solely with a
Mr Chesterton. I had an idea that Edward would have wanted to send a
clue of sorts to his brother. "

"So where is the treasure ? I'm looking at the map, but it doesn't show
any location of treasure. "

"I must confess that I had the printers fax through the map earlier
today, and I too was stumped on that for some time. You gave me the
solution yourself. X marks the spot. The letter X on the map shows
where the treasure can be found. "

"I can't see a letter X, " complained Damon.

"Not if you look at the main body of the map, " said Francis, "But look
at the title of the map. 'A map of Hexborough Hall' That's written
across an area of the grounds. The treasure will correspond exactly
with the spot where the X in Hexborough is located. "

Damon laughed aloud, "Fantastic. Richard will be delighted. "

"You may as well have the fun of explaining it to him, " said Francis
graciously, "My only interest is in the problem, not the people. You
may need a metal detector to find the exact spot. My prediction is that
you will be looking for something like a cash box, and inside will be
details of an overseas bank account opened in Richard Fowler's name.
"

Before the treasure hunt resumed though, Damon had a promise to keep to
Joe. As the two of them splashed about on the boating lake and the
setting sun reflected in the silver surface of the water, Damon mused
that things had turned out quite well, considering. The bedrooms that
they had been shown were very luxurious, with thick mattresses and
fresh linen, and he had been given a preview of the evenings menu by
Henry Chesterton. It would be very foolish to begin the sordid business
of digging holes at this time of night, when it could be done after a
good breakfast the next day.