Forgetting about manners and forgetting that Tim was supposed to keep out of the customers' sight, the two made a dash for the main staircase. They sped down the passage. But as they turned to fly downstairs, they nearly crashed into someone who was climbing up. Timothy stopped and dodged just in time to miss him.

"Gracious me!" Bently exclaimed. "Where on earth are you off to?"

Timothy paused, laughing breathlessly. Gracie blushed in surprise and embarrassment.

"Sorry for almost knockin' ya off yer feet!" the boy finally wheezed. "We're off t' see the well!"

"The well?" the man laughed in amusement.

Timothy was off again like a shot, dragging Grace behind him.

"Please do forgive us, Mr. Bently!" the girl called over her shoulder. The man's joyous laughter was a reassuring sound. It was clear that he hadn't taken offense.

In a minute more, the two ran outside and were trotting down the garden path. It was turning into a beautiful day. The rain had stopped, and all of the plants were dancing in a gentle breeze. Tim led his friend straight to the special walled garden where the well sat full of rain water.

Gracie stumbled to a halt and leaned against the well's stone rim, laughing and trying to catch her breath. "Tim, what are we doing here?" she asked. "You haven't told me a thing yet!"

In an excited squeal, the little boy started to explain, hopping up and down as he talked. "It's just like this, Gracie," he began. "Ya see, I've been a-finkin' a good deal 'bout that poem we found in the old prison cell! An' t'day, I fink I know just what it's sayin'. Lady Denzell was tellin' the story in the Bible 'bout the woman who met Jesus at the well! I 'eard that story just this mornin'. An' suddenly, I knew that if the clue was t' be anywhere, it 'ad t' be 'ere 'cause this is the only well Netherstrand's got!"

Grace's heart bounded with excitement. Immediately, the two began searching the well. They pushed back the vines that were climbing up its rocky walls, and they peeled away bits of moss just in case there were engraved letters beneath it. When all of that failed, Tim leaned over the edge of the well. The water was darkly shadowed on that cloudy day. But after staring for several minutes, he saw something that made him perk up with hope. Each time the clouds moved apart and the sun chanced to shine, something deep in the water gleamed.

"Gracie, look!" he gasped. "D'ya s'pose there's somefing down there?"

The girl's eyes widened as she looked in. "Yes! I think there is!" she exclaimed joyously. "It looks like something metal!"

She rolled up her frilly sleeve and reached her arm down as far as it would go, but she couldn't even touch the water's surface. "It is so deep!" she complained.

Tim thought for a moment, but he could find only one conclusion. "Well, there's nuffin' for it. We've gotta pull it out. An' there's just one way t' do that!"

Gracie looked at him in surprise. He was peeling off his little brown jacket and slipping off his shoes.

"Timothy!" she gasped. "You can't mean to go diving for it, can you? What if you drown?"

The boy laughed. "I don't reckon we gotta worry 'bout that. I can swim like a fish! A sailor taught me 'ow once!" He couldn't be dissuaded. With unharnessed bravery, he scrambled up onto the edge of the well, took a deep breath, and dropped in with a splash.

Swirling water and a cloud of tiny bubbles blinded Timothy's eyes for a moment. He felt himself touch the bottom of the well gently. Then he started to rise again like a floating buoy.

Timothy took a gasping breath when he reached the surface. Then he dove under again. This time, he forced himself down to the bottom and felt all around on the floor of the well. His fingers explored all of the nooks and divots in the slimy stone floor. Then he felt something cold, smooth, and hard. He closed his fingers around it and bobbed back up to the surface with a gasp.

"What is it? What is it?" Grace cried from above.

The boy wiped the water from his eyes and blinked down at his discovery. But it was only a penny which someone had tossed in for good luck. He let out a disappointed sigh.

"Nuffin' more than a copper," he answered. "An' it ain't mine, so I can't keep it." He let the coin drop into the water with a plunk, and it sank slowly to the bottom again.

"Well, that was all for nuffing," he sighed. "Now I'm all wet too. An' blimey it's cold in 'ere!"

He tried to scale the wall, but it was harder getting out than it had been to dive in. Suddenly, this little well didn't seem quite as shallow as before. When he touched the bottom of it, the water's surface was a good twelve inches over his head, and the edge of it was a long way out of his reach. He scrambled and climbed. But each and every time, he went plunging back into the water again.

"Gracie, gimme a hand!" he begged at last. He reached up, and his friend stretched her arm down as far as it would go. Their fingertips just barely touched, but they couldn't manage to clasp hands. The children's hearts sank.

"Blimey, Grace, I'm really in it now!" the boy stammered behind chattering teeth.

"Oh Tim!" the girl cried. "I told you not to dive in! You will catch cold, I know it! What am I to do?" The girl's eyes filled with tears as both of them strained to reach each other. But it was no use.

"If ya please, would ya run an' get some 'elp?" Timothy suggested. His face would have burned with embarrassment at the thought, but he was too cold to worry about it now.

"Yes! Yes! I will run as fast as I can!" Gracie answered hastily. She was gone the next instant, and Tim was left alone feeling very chilly and worried as he stayed afloat in the still, murky pool.

Every minute felt like an hour to Timothy. He pitied himself for a long time. Then he fretted about what might happen if Mr. Hannover found out.

Oh, please don't tell Mr. Hannover! he fretted.

Perhaps Gracie would run and tell Arthur. The kind young doctor would have no trouble lifting him out. And then Tim was sure that Arthur would take him upstairs and let him warm up by the fire in his own bedroom.

After he had run that hopeful thought, he got tired of trying to keep his head above water. With a weary sigh, he grabbed onto one of the rough stones in the wall and leaned his head against the damp rocks.

He waited impatiently, straining his ears to hear the sound of Gracie's footsteps hurrying back. But as he floated there a little longer, he began to notice something strange. Before his gazing eyes, shapes and dents in the wall began to form themselves into neatly carved grooves in the stone. Half of the lines were hidden by moss and slime, but he could see a few of them clearly. They had been put there on purpose; they were beautifully engraved words.

The little boy's heart bounded with excitement. He splashed across the well to the place where the words were written and then started clearing the green slime away with haste. At last, he could see everything clearly. It took him a while, and it was a difficult task, but he finally picked out every word of Lady Denzell's next message and poem.

Meanwhile, Grace was hurrying as fast as she could. She ran through the garden, glancing into every arbor in search of help. But she saw no one until she had almost reached the castle's front door. Then she came to a halt, and her cheeks burned like fire. The only man in sight was Mr. Bently. He was calmly looking out to sea from Netherstrand's doorstep.

How Grace wanted to run to him. She knew he would be kind. She knew he would be delighted to help. But she could almost hear her brother's voice whispering in her ears, and she saw a flashing memory of the anger which had burned in Arthur's eyes the last time he had seen her and Mr. Bently together.

As the girl struggled inside and wondered what to do, her staring eyes drew Mr. Bently's attention. The frightened look on her face was enough to startle him with concern.

"Miss Lansbury, what is the matter?" he asked.

"I..." she paused and wrung her cold hands together. Arthur, she thought. I need Arthur! But she was too terrified to run to him. Bently was her only hope. He was kind, and he was ready to come to her aid.

Just as she decided to trust him as her hero, the front door swung open and, by chance, Mr. Hannover's lanky figure stepped out. He sensed some kind of trouble the minute he set eyes on Gracie's flushed cheeks and Bently's concerned eyes.

"I beg your pardon, but is anything wrong? Can I do something to help either of you?" he asked cordially.

Grace let out a deep sigh of relief. "Oh, sir! It is little Timothy!" she cried.

"Timothy? M-m-my errand boy?" Hannover stammered in alarm.

"He has gotten himself stuck in the well and—"

Both Hannover and Bently gave a start.

"The well? My Timothy is stuck in the well?" Hannover burst frantically. No more had to be said. In a heartbeat, the man's gangly legs were sprinting through the garden with Bently close behind him. Gracie was racing to keep up.

"Timothy! Timothy!" the man cried, skidding to a halt at the well and leaning over its edge. His pounding heart felt a wash of infinite relief when he saw Timothy's bright eyes look up at him in shock. Thank goodness, the lad's head was still above water. He had not sunk to the bottom and drowned.

"M-m-mr. Hannover!" Tim stammered.

"Oh Timothy, you unnerving, irresponsible, annoying rascal! What have you done?" Hannover cried.

The next instant, Bently reached the well and looked down at the child worriedly. "Timothy, my poor little friend! Are you alright?"

"Only a bit on the c-c-cold side!" the little boy answered, teeth chattering. "But Mr. Hannover, you won't never guess what I found! Oh p-p-please don't be angry wiv me! Ya won't be angry when ya knows everyfing!"

"Stop prattling and take hold of my hands!" Hannover commanded, leaning down as far as he could and grabbing the drenched little boy.

"There, look at all the trouble you have caused!" he grumbled, lifting the child out with a little help from Bently. "Now, not only are you soaking wet, but you have dampened my best suit too! And I was headed into town to take care of some important business! I tell you, Timothy, you are more trouble than you are worth! Now you shall probably catch a cold, and I don't care if you do! It would serve you right for being so utterly reckless!"

Hannover set the child down and swung his coat around the lad's shoulders, buttoning it up to his chin. Then he put a hand on Tim's shoulder and started ushering him quickly toward the house.

"I'm sorry!" Tim said earnestly. "I didn't mean no harm by it. But, sir, I found another clue t' the treasure. An' it goes like this..."

The child's voice went on, but Hannover couldn't listen.

He's too cold! He'll catch his death! he fretted. Oh, perish the thought! Forget going to town! How could I possibly go to town at a time like this? I must get him warm in a hurry! The worried thoughts in his mind made Timothy's recital of Lady Denzell's poem go completely unheard. He didn't even have the presence of mind to thank Bently for his help or to bid Grace a good morning.

With a mission, he marched his errand boy straight up to Hannover's own chamber and hastily stoked the fire. A few minutes later, Hannover finally sighed in relief and satisfaction. Timothy was lying on a sofa, bundled up in dry clothes and wrapped in a heap of blankets. He looked perfectly content amid the cushions and pillows.

"Fank you," the child said sweetly. His eyes shined up at his master in devotion as the man place a cup of hot tea in his hands. "Mr. Hannover, what d'ya fink that poem means?"

"Poem? What poem? Have you memorized another one?" Hannover asked, still only half over his anxiety.

"Didn't ya hear it? Lady Denzell 'ad it written in the well. She put it there 'cause she was finkin' 'bout 'ow Jesus said he would give us livin' waters so we'd never be thirsty again. I fink the water he was talkin' about was his spirit. 'Cause didn't the preacher say that the Holy Spirit lives in us? An' if we got Jesus' spirit in our hearts, we'll always be full an' happy just like when yer thirsty an' ya takes a big drink o' water!

"Anyhow, the poem went like this, 'Let it thrive with enduring life, and every ill it will destroy, revealing truth unto your sight, filling you with unending joy. But let it die or cast it away and see what there is left behind: a worthless nothing, light and gray, and blindness to your faithless eyes.'"

As the words rang in Hannover's ears, his eyes widened in interest. "You read that in the well?" he pressed. Timothy nodded, and the man's mind started racing with excited thoughts. Finally, he understood. This wasn't a child's game. It wasn't Timothy's imagination. He looked at the little treasure-seeker in sudden amazement. "Remarkable!"