Page 26 of If Not for the Duke

But analyzing it revealed nothing. If there was a reference to the location of the Money Pit on Oak Island somewhere in these letters, she didn’t see it. There had to be something else. Something she hadn’t noticed. A more subtle hint.

Did one of the words serve as a code for the island or a treasure? Rereading it with that in mind didn’t work. Besides, why would he be so careful when writing to her? Who did he think might read these and use the information he shared?

Lena opened the drawer and pulled out the notes she’d made earlier in the week while reading the first set of letters. With as much patience as she could muster, she looked over her observations again, hoping to see a connection but nothing struck her.

Her thoughts drifted as she puzzled over the phrases, and her gaze moved to the window where sunshine streamed in, the letter still in hand. She lifted it to reread a paragraph only to have an oddly familiar shape indented in the paper catch her notice. The figure visible through the writing was about the size of her hand and had been made with pressure rather than ink.

Her breath caught. It was a rough map of Oak Island.

Ebenezer Jenkins was more than familiar with the island if he’d drawn a map. Now she need only see if he’d placed any other hidden messages in his letters.

*

Making excellent progress. Pumps working well. Thirty feet down already.

Sterling frowned atthe telegraph message from Clarke the following morning. It was as if the man hadn’t received Sterling’s message, as he didn’t acknowledge it at all. Blast him.

That didn’t sit well with Sterling. He’d expected Clarke to agree to his order to not release information without his approval. He would heed Sterling’s request, else Renwick would cut off funding for the dig. He didn’t want to work with someone who didn’t follow orders.

Thirty feet sounded like progress, but Sterling wanted to know more. Where was he digging? One of the previous shafts or a new one?

He pulled out his map of the island where he’d noted the places Clarke thought the Money Pit would most likely be. Which one had he decided to dig first?

Sterling would’ve liked to read Wright’s journals to see at what depth his tunnels had flooded. Surely it was deeper than thirty feet. Chances were the pumps wouldn’t be necessary until they dug deeper. So why had Clarke mentioned them?

Suspicion rose within him. Was Clarke exaggerating his progress? If so, did he do so to try to distract Sterling from his failure to follow his orders or something else?

He heaved a sigh, remembering how often Bernie reminded him of his lack of trust. Perhaps he needed to give Clarke a chance before assuming the worst.

If only he could discover some helpful information about the island. While he appreciated Bernie’s enthusiasm for the privateer’s letters she’d found in the attic, he wasn’t particularly hopeful that they held any clues. He’d read most of them himself and had been less than impressed. What would Lena think?

Asking her if he could look at her father’s journals was out of the question. The man’s tragic death while searching for treasure was surely a source of continued pain for her and her sisters.

He was surprised to realize he didn’t want to risk hurting her by raising the topic. Her reluctant apology for the nickname she’d given him had amused him. Perhaps hewastoo serious. Dancing with her at the ball hadn’t been his intention. Yet how could he have resisted when she’d looked so lovely with a mix of defiance and regret in her expression?

“Sterling?”

He looked up to see Bernie in the doorway. “Good morning. Join me. I’ve just received a telegram from Clarke.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up as if he’d promised her the moon, and she hurried forward. “What does he say?”

“All is progressing. He’s down to thirty feet in a shaft.”

“Does he mention where he’s digging first?” She leaned over his shoulder to read it for herself.

“Unfortunately, no. He isn’t very specific.”

“Perhaps he’ll send a more detailed account in a letter.” Her frown suggested she wasn’t particularly pleased with the response either. “I wanted to advise you that Miss Wright is coming for tea this afternoon.”

“Oh?” He was taken aback by the shimmer of excitement that filled him at the thought.

“Yes, we’re comparing ideas on the letters. I am most anxious to hear what she thinks.”

“As am I. I wonder if you should refrain from sharing the specifics of Clarke’s progress for now.”

“If you insist. But why?”

“The fewer people who know specific details, the better. I know people will make comparisons between David Wright’s work and Clarke’s, but I don’t want to stir the talk by constantly sharing Clarke’s progress. Also, there’s a chance Clarke won’t find anything. We don’t want to act overconfident.”

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