Andrew climbed out of the pit, staring down at his work. The ground mocked him with its emptiness. Perhaps Mrs. Linton was right, and he was chasing shadows. The deed’s repetitions might have been nothing more than quirks of wording. He wiped mud from his hands, trying to swallow disappointment.
Yet doubt quickly turned into suspicion. What if Henry had meant to mislead? Or worse, what if someone had already found the cache years earlier? He imagined thieves prying open a treasure chest in the night, stealing whatever secrets it contained, leaving nothing behind but dirt to torment him.