“So you got a treasure. Larkspur got a treasure. But nobody got The Treasure," Jane said, putting the check from Jack Thatcher into the zippered compartment of her purse. She slung the purse strap over her shoulder, and took a last look in the bathroom. Their suitcases and Jane's collection of notebooks were already in the station wagon. They walked out of the room and Jane allowed herself the luxury of pulling the door closed hard enough to qualify as a good, solid slam.
The doorknob came off in her hand and fell on her foot. The door bounced back open.
Jane screeched, dropped her purse, and sat down on the floor, hugging her foot and whimpering.
“Oh, come on. Don't be such a sissy," Shelley said. "You're getting soft in your old age.”
Jane drew a long breath and said, "It weighed a ton. I think I've broken a toe!"
“Jane, don't be silly. You can't break a toe with—" She'd picked up the doorknob and was hefting it in her hand. "This is heavy. Too heavy.”
Shelley went back in the bedroom and held the doorknob in the shaft of light that had so recently illuminated Jane's check.
“Stop sniveling and come look at this," Shelley said.
Jane got up, tested her foot, and limped over. "Look inside the back of it where the shaft went in. Get the light in there.”
Jane gazed at the doorknob for a moment. "It can't be—"
“Oh, yes, it can," Shelley said. "I believe what we've got here is your average solid gold doorknob that's been painted black. Close your mouth. You look adenoidal."
“The box of doorknobs in the attic…" Jane muttered. "Uncle Joe kept them, so he could put them back someday and take these away with him.”
Cars were being loaded up in the front drive. A uniformed officer was preparing to drive off Mrs. Crossthwait's Jeep to parts unknown. Jack Thatcher, surprisingly subdued, was loading the trunk of his car, which was blocking Jane's. "No, Daddy. That goes in the backseat," Livvy saidfirmly. He put the dress box in the backseat without a word. Iva and Marguerite were sitting in their vehicle, waiting while Uncle Joe unceremoniously flung their suitcases in their trunk.
“Just one thing puzzles me still," Shelley said. "The door to the attic was unlocked when we first looked in there and locked later. Who did that?"
“Uncle Joe," Jane said.
“How do you know?"
“Because I accidently told him we'd been in the attic when I mentioned that he could use the dolly in the attic to carry Mrs. Crossthwait's sewing machine up the stairs."
“Oh, of course!" Shelley said. Glancing around, she asked, "Where's Mel?"
“He left about an hour ago to have a chat with Gus Ambler on his way back home.”
Jack Thatcher finally pulled away, freeing Jane's car.
“Ready to go?" Shelley asked.
“Almost," Jane said.
She got out of the station wagon and walked over to Uncle Joe, who was still abusing luggage, and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Yeah?" he said.
She reached in her purse and pulled out the doorknob.
“This fell off my bedroom door. I'm sure you don't want to lose it.”
He put out his hand and a slow smile spread over his face. "I sure don't," he said. "I hear the doorknob standard is pretty high these days." He closed the trunk, went to the window of his stepsister's car, leaned down to speak to Iva and Marguerite. "Drive safely," he said, with such good cheer that they looked alarmed.
Then he turned and winked at Jane.