Frank didn’t reply immediately. He tracked the rapidly-diminishing sailboat until it disappeared from view. "I wonder just what that guy was up to!" he muttered. He handed the heavy camera back to Matt, who carefully stored it in his case.

"Maybe," Frank admitted at last, with a sigh. "I admit, it could have been a couple of people who were out for a pleasure sail, just taking in the sights – and I suppose the fact that there were a bunch of people trooping around on top of the lighthouse would be interesting – but really, it’s not pleasure-cruise weather! We’re liable to get another storm soon – they’ve been blowing in off the Atlantic like crazy – and it’s damned cold out on the water!"

He looked around at the others, and could see he’d made his point. They were all thinking hard now, considering the possibilities he’d raised. He stared at the several-tons Fresnel lens, worth so much. How could anyone manage to steal something so immense? And if anyone did manage to steal it, how could they get rid of it? If they auctioned it off, or whatever, it would be recognized immediately!

Unless, of course, it was for a private buyer….Frank watched the overhead light shimmering in the glass lens. He could see multiple reflections of himself in the lens – multiple reflections of the others, too.

"Frank?" Megan touched his arm.

He turned to her, smiling, and lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "I’m back with you, baby." He kissed her, and pulled her close into his arms.

She laughed softly. "You feeling all right?"

"I’m fine, I’m great! Just thinking about the lens, is all."

"What about it?" Joe asked.

Frank told them, ending by saying "We won’t worry about it until – unless – we get more indications that someone is actually after it!"

"It doesn’t necessarily have to be the lens." a new voice startled them. Frank whirled, breathless with surprise, and saw a young woman with dark eyes and hair, standing on the stairs and watching them. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you," the woman continued, seeing Frank’s expression. "I’m Cherise LeGault, and you must be Joe’s brother." She ascended the last few steps and entered the lens room.

"Y-yeah…" Frank regained his composure. "I’m Frank Hardy, and this is Megan Wright," he said. Cherise nodded cordially to them, and exchanged greetings with Matt, Joe, and Vanessa.

"What did you mean, it doesn’t have to be the lens?" Joe demanded.

"Ah, there’s a story – a legend," Cherise told him, smiling. "Do you want to hear it?"

A chorus of "yeses" answered her immediately. Cherise smiled and plopped herself onto the floor. She patted it invitingly, and the others followed suit.

"Several decades ago – nearly a century," she began, "somewhere between 1910 and 1920 – a ship was wrecked on the shore near Stone Point. The keeper of the light at that time, a man named Johannsen, went to check for survivors. He found the wreck, but when he boarded it, it was empty – no one aboard, and no dead bodies, either. He thought perhaps the sailors had all been swept overboard, either during the wreck, or prior, during a storm, so he returned to the keeper’s cottage, intending to notify the Coast Guard." She paused briefly.

Matt’s eyes were glowing with fascinated intensity as he listened to Cherise’s expressive tones. Megan, sitting cross-legged with her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists, snuggled a little closer to Frank, who slid an arm about her. Vanessa and Joe exchanged delighted looks, then returned their gazes to Cherise, listening intently to her tale.

"When Johannsen got to his cottage, he went to the small room where the telegraph equipment was kept. He was about to send the telegram notifying the Coast Guard, when he was startled to hear a noise in the house! Since he lived alone, this was alarming, so of course he went to investigate. To his surprise, he found a strange man lurching down the hallway, a man who was evidently quite ill, apparently feverish, and appeared to be on the verge of collapse. He fell at Johannsen’s feet, unconscious.

"The keeper tried to help the unfortunate man. He put him to bed and cared for him as best he could, but it seemed that nothing he did helped much. As the stranger’s condition worsened, he became delirious, and babbled and rambled in his fever. He talked of a great wave of monstrous proportions, and he kept asking for someone…someone named Pierre." Cherise’s expressive voice kept her listeners enthralled; it was all they could do not to demand that she speak faster, each time she paused for breath.

"At last, the dying man said something that caught Johannsen’s ear and attention. He moaned and said ‘…the treasure. The treasure is cursed! Do not touch the treasure….Evil!’ And then, quite suddenly, he died."

The Hardys, the girls, and Matt sat there, open-mouthed.

"H-holy cow…." Joe breathed, at last. "I never heard that legend before!"

"What happened then?" Megan demanded. "What happened after the man died? What happened to the lighthouse keeper, and what about the wreck?" She was clutching Frank’s hand tightly, as if waiting to hear current news; as if the events were happening now, instead of years before. He didn’t attempt to loosen her grip.

"Johannsen did contact the authorities," Cherise continued, "and they came out to take charge of the body, and to search the wreck. However, Johannsen did not mention the treasure to anyone. It was his secret. If there was a treasure, he intended to find it and keep it for himself.

"To his surprise, he found it in a short time. The stranger had hidden it in the keeper’s cottage – in one of the fireplaces in a bedroom, behind a stone. There were jewels, many precious gems, some loose and some in settings. A king’s ransom in jewels, perhaps. But shortly after Johannsen found the treasure – perhaps a week or two after the sailor died – he became ill. He insisted in his notes that it was, indeed, a curse – the curse of the jewels, of which the sailor had spoken! Before he became too ill, Johannsen hid the gems, determined that no one should ever find them again. Only then did he mention them in his journal, not saying where he put them, only that they must be hidden away where they could do no more harm.

"It didn’t help him, though; apparently the damage had been done. And shortly thereafter, Johannsen died, as well. And no one has ever found the hidden treasure, although many have looked. It has been determined that Johannsen must have thrown the treasure into the ocean; the tide caught it and swept the jewels out to sea, to be forever lost." Cherise let her voice die away into a quiet murmur as she ended the story.

Joe swallowed nervously, shaking his head to come out of the reverie that he had fallen into, listening to the story. Cherise LeGault was one heck of a storyteller, you felt like you were living the story yourself, when you listened to her! Joe looked around at the others, who were blinking themselves, mesmerized, thinking….

Frank broke the silence. "Did anyone ever know where the treasure came from?"

Cherise shrugged, unsure. "It’s believed that they originally came from France; that the sailors had stolen the gems, and then sailed to America, to start a new life. There were rumors of a fabulous collection of jewels which had disappeared some time before. But since no one was ever able to find the jewels, no one could ever actually determine whether or not they were the missing ones."

Joe swallowed again, and wrapped his arm about Vanessa’s shoulders tightly. "How come I’ve never heard that legend before?" he asked.

Cherise smiled. "It’s a fairly new legend, as legends go," she replied. "You see, Johannsen’s journals and logs disappeared, just before he died. He wrote everything down, and then hid them. It was as if he wanted to clear his conscience, but yet he didn’t want anyone else to find out about the treasure, be overcome with greed, as he was, and suffer the consequences of the cursed jewels. The diaries were found – in the place where Johannsen said he found the jewels – only last year! None of the newspapers have been very interested in an old legend when the jewels themselves have never been found – but the story was published in a historical quarterly."

"We have got to use the story in our report!" Vanessa breathed. "Cherise, can we get a copy of the magazine it was published in?"

"Of course, if you would like it," Cherise nodded affirmatively. "We had to carefully copy and catalogue everything, when the journals were discovered, to save the story. The paper was nearly in tatters, crumbling away. It took specialists to get everything recorded properly."

Joe frowned, obviously thinking things through as he spoke. "So if the story was published in a magazine, then that’s how the people who are watching the lighthouse found out about it…if that’s what they’re after…if there really is anyone after anything…."

Cherise nodded thoughtfully. "It’s certainly possible."

"Are people still looking for the treasure, you think?" Frank wanted to know. "After the journals came to light, did people come here to look for it?"

Cherise laughed and blushed a little. "Well, I have to admit, we searched all the nooks and crannies we could find! And nothing turned up. I really do think Johannsen threw them into the sea; otherwise someone would have found them before now. And that’s all I know about the jewels, honest!"

"Do you think they were cursed?" Megan’s azure gaze locked on Cherise. "Why did Johannsen die, if they weren’t?"

"The public story was that he had caught something from the sailor – although you’d think anything that lethal would have spread through Bayport like wildfire, wouldn’t you? But so far as I know, no one else sickened and died."

"Could we see where the jewels were found?" Frank asked. "Was it bricked up again, or just left open?"

"Why in the world would you want to see an old hole in a fireplace wall?" Cherise asked in return, laughing. "And no, it wasn’t bricked up again."

Frank shrugged. "I’m just curious, that’s all."

"Well, no reason not to. Everyone coming?" Cherise looked at the others.

"We don’t all need to go traipsing over there," Vanessa demurred. "Joe and I can finish doing our measurements. Joe…" she added in a whisper, "we can calculate the wattage ourselves, you know…."

Joe groaned. "Math is evil!" he muttered, to no one in particular.

Matt also turned down the invitation. "I’m gonna walk up the lane and take some distance shots," he announced.

Joe grinned. "Watch out for crumbling ledges," he said, and ducked as Matt swatted at the back of his head.

Hand-in-hand, Megan and Frank followed Cherise to the lightkeeper’s cottage, to see the mysterious hole in the wall. Frank felt Megan’s curious glance fall on him a time or two as they walked. He knew she was wondering just why he was so avid to see the hidey-hole, but she was a good enough sport to go along with him, and not ask questions. He appreciated that – he wasn’t sure he could have answered them!

Cherise led them through the house to a back bedroom on the ground floor. They saw that this part of the house didn’t have a second story, and he wondered if it had possibly been added on after the original house was built. The upper story only covered about half the house. In the bedroom, the fireplace was built against the very back wall of the house.

"Well, there it is." Cherise gestured at the fireplace, showing Megan and Frank the hole. Frank knelt down, curiously putting his hand into the cavity and feeling around tentatively.

"It’s a lot bigger back there than I thought it would be," he commented. "It feels like…" He felt further, exploring the area. "It feels like there’s a good foot of space between the back wall of the fireplace and the outside wall of the house! Is that normal, Cherise?"

"I really don’t know," Cherise admitted, shrugging. "I know a lot of historical facts, but that’s not one of them!"

Megan dropped to her knees beside Frank. "Let me…" she requested.

Frank removed his hand, and Megan put hers in. Her smaller hand and arm moved easily into the depths of the hiding place. For a moment she smiled as she explored it, and then she froze…and blinked…and abruptly pulled her hand out. The color drained from her face."

"Baby? What’s wrong?"

Megan was scooting back from the fireplace now, a startled look on her face. "I thought I f-felt…F-Frank, you better look for yourself. Feel down to the left…."

Frank obeyed, mystified. Megan shuddered, and Cherise stared at them in wonderment.

"What the…?" Frank’s eyes widened, and he withdrew his hand, holding something. The something which Megan had found.