Meg Mackintosh Solves Seven American History Mysteries (5 page)

“What they called out, Meggers was ‘the
Regulars
are coming',” Peter told her, somewhat smugly.

Meg barely heard Peter; she was so caught up in her thoughts.

“You're letting your imagination run a little wild,” Peter cautioned.

“That's what imaginations are for, aren't they?” Meg retorted, turning to ask the librarian where Abigail's home was located. “Was it along William Dawes' route? Is it still there?” The librarian studied another old town map.

“Yes!” answered the amazed librarian. “Abigail's house was on the route, and if it's the house I'm thinking of, it's still standing, though it's fallen into disrepair. It's along the old main road, as many old houses are,” she remarked.

“It's probably an old cape or colonial house. Let me show you a diagram of an early American house in this book so you'll know what to look for.”

“Notice how the beams were hand-cut and then numbered and framed together, practically like Lincoln logs,” the librarian continued. “Here are some examples of different styles of old houses. Sometime you can tell an old house by the shape of the roof and other architectural features. You can borrow this book if you like.”

“Thanks, we may need it,” Meg said, and then she and Peter set off to find the old Hopkins' place. “I'm willing to bet the house will hold another clue to the mystery,” Meg said confidently.

It wasn't hard to find the ramshackle house with its steep roof and weathered sides. Some carpenters were there, restoring the structure. They were curious about Meg and Peter's history mystery, so they gave them permission to go inside to search for clues.

Inside, it was dark and the ceilings were low. Doors hung from broken hinges and the wide Plank wood floorboards were slanted with age.

“It even smells old,” remarked Meg. “Fortunately, it doesn't look like much has changed over the years.” She brought out her notes.
“The secret to the silver is under the sta.”
She read quietly to herself.

“It's got to be stable,” said Peter. “If Abigail did give Dawes' horse water, it makes sense that she hid the silver in the stable.” Peter dashed out back to explore, leaving Meg alone in the mysterious old house to think.

She remembered from her history class that many early American houses had secret hiding places, and that often they were found near the chimney or built in under the
s-t-a-i-r-s
!

Meg knocked on the wood next to the stairs.

One panel sounded hollow. She pulled at it and sure enough, it gave way, revealing a space big enough to hold a small family. Meg got out her flashlight to investigate, just as Peter burst back into the room. “There isn't a stable — Meg … Meg, where are you?”

“Boo!” Meg yelled, peeking out from the secret door.

“Abigail meant stairs not stable,” Meg said. “Come in here and see what's carved in the wood:
‘Beehive is the key, A. H.'
What do you think that clue means?”

“We'll never find a beehive,” Peter frowned. “It would be long gone.”

Meg studied her notes, reviewing all the information they'd learned thus far. “I know what beehive she means!” shouted Meg, playfully shining the flashlight in Peter's face and then running off.

“In colonial times, brick ovens were often made in the shape of beehives. They were built in the back of the fireplace or next to it — just like this one,” Meg explained to Peter. Searching the inside of the oven, they found a loose brick, which she carefully dislodged. Tucked behind it was a tightly wrapped piece of cloth. Meg gingerly unfolded the material.

“It's an old key!” said Peter.

“I wonder what it opens? Look, there's a letter ‘V' on the cloth. Maybe it's a clue.”

“I'm stumped,” said Meg. She stared at her notes. “We're so close to solving the case. What could the ‘V' mean — violin, venison, violets, vase, vault?”