Mystery of the keys

The Mystery of the Keys
my first book is
dedicated to
RoseMarie De Castro
and
Doctor Gabrielle Turgeon
With heartfelt appreciation for the gift of love and the chance of a lifetime. I will always remember this opportunity.

I love you both dearly
Leona S Woodleigh
(Lee)


The Mystery of the Keys

Chapter 1

Owning this fine beautiful house, finally realized all my dreams. This one hundred eighty years old structure was far beyond all I could hope for. I could not contain the energy flowing through me. Logan, my husband, was far more reserved in his shared joy. Logan knew the brunt of the work, on the house, would fall on his shoulders. It is so nice to have a man around the house. It is so nice that the man around this house is Logan.

During the perfunctory cleaning, I found a pair of very ancient, and very curious keys, in the junk drawer, in the kitchen. I placed them into my pocket and found that I was fondling them constantly. They became very familiar. I knew every groove, ding and tooth in the pair of them. My curious nature had to know where and what these mysterious keys belonged to. What would they open? What would I find? My fingers danced over them as if they were magic. Maybe they would open a door to a magical world. I simply had to find the secret these keys held.

Perusing the history of my mystery keys, I could easily become involved in another adventure. The precious keys remained in my sweater pocket for some time. By the time the girls are well settled into the new school year, 'I can wait no longer'. It is as though this pair of keys had become an extension of my pocketed fingers. Worried about being disciplined enough to not let my detective passion overwhelm my time, the decision is made to give it just a few more days. I think I am also worried about no longer needing the comforting keys, tucked close to me, fondled like a talisman.

In just a few weeks, the added task of preparing for the holidays would be at hand. I could not let my mystery utilize all my time, but I felt so compelled.

My very old house, being new to my family, had been the topic of much gossip. This, of course, only led to more imagination, more ideas to expand. Now, there are gossips in every community. This woman is usually quite good at reading under currents. This time there was just no putting a finger on it. Our house was the largest in the area. Perhaps this was the cause for all the scuttlebutt. Trust me were the market in good condition, Logan and I would never have been able to afford it.

We would take drives on the weekends and always we would end up going by to see if the sale sign was still up. Each time I saw that wonderful sign, I would sigh with relief. Then came the day when Logan announced,"We have an appointment with a realtor. Just looking, and praying it is still for sale isn't getting us anywhere. Let's see if we can possibly afford it." The house was available, at a loss to the owners, just to finally unload it. This is how the Woodleigh Family acquired "Mommy's" dream house.

Past owners had added to the structure. Sixty years ago, the second floor had been enhanced with a wrap around balcony. The job was beautifully done and made to stay in line with the original design to the primary structure. Forty years later, a magnificent
porch was built to wrap around the first floor. French doors led from the kitchen to the dining area that was formed into a semi-circle that continued along until you reached the steps. The wide staircase enhanced the double doors and made a stunning statement as it drew our eyes to a beautifully manicured lawn and landscaping complete with a lovely gazebo.

Entering the front door way, one could only gasp! Then foyer and grand staircase were the most interesting. Logan always says that the foyer and front hall are bigger than any of the childrens' bedrooms. As with most of the wood in this beautiful manor of a house, the stair risers are stained a deep mahogany. The matching handrail curves up to the third step and continues up to the top. Twisting nearly backwards, it proceeds down the mahogany floor till it ends at the Master bedroom. Walking straight, passing along the side of the stairs, we find ourselves in the kitchen.

Standing in the kitchen door frame my eyes perused the large, brightly lit heart of our home. I began to bring my vision more clearly into focus. The large window on the east wall, with a row of varied hanging plants, above the curtain rod, yet dipping below the window dressing. The house plants were thriving on the sunlight available to them. The greenery enhancing the mint scarves, dipping and swirling along the frame, was truly a picture in itself.

To my left, a beautifully ornate door, opened to the back stairs. I simply love the double stairs feature. Moving my eyes to the right till the stove came into view put a smile on my face. I have always wanted a large, functional, stainless steel appliance set. Logan surprised me the day we moved in, with the wonderful matching gifts. Gas, of course, the stove had four sizeable burners with a roomy griddle in the middle. The oven was a great size for a large turkey. And, be still my heart! To the side of the oven; a roomy storage for my cookware. No more hiding it in the oven. Continuing along, I see the sink. It is an incredible very old reproduction. It matches the appliances perfectly. Sight unseen, you would wonder how it could. The large window framing the sink, looks out to the south. The coiffed lawn rolls into a beautiful area. The matching mint scarf makes it look like a framed portrait. Between the sink and the pantry, though I cannot see it from this vantage point, is a door leading to the mud room.

I love the pantry; considering new construction no longer includes this handy room. Cabinets overhead painted in a summer cloud white and finished with beautiful pewter hardware, definitely brings the age of the house to mind. The ironing area, with the changeable padded surface, has become so convenient. Matching the overhead cabinets, the same below. One side frames the ironing area the other, extends to the length of the wall. I couldn't return to living without my valued pantry. Before turning into the dining room, a glass set of French doors leading to the dining area on the porch is something I take such pride in, I
stare at it every time I enter the kitchen. Next is a stainless steel matching refrigerator/freezer just the way I dreamed it would be. Following through you would be at the entry to the dining room.

Before deciding what to do first, my eyes gaze on the north wall. The enclosed staircase with it's beautiful mahogany door, delights me. On the wall, the annual school pictures of the girls enhance the wall and the room perfectly. As the ceiling tilts in line with the rising stairs, you move to another cabinet stretching to the east wall with a gorgeous pewter color "carera" marble counter top. Whenever I come into the kitchen, my mind pats Logan on the back. It has been remodeled so true to my vision, I love to work in here.

I decided to get some toast and coffee and start to check this floor for any telltale signs that would lead to a strange keyhole for my mystery keys. When I cleaned up, I started to the right of the kitchen stairs. Running my fingers over th walls and slowly stepping along the hardwood floor, but so far all my efforts were abortive. Opening every cabinet and looking and feeling for a keyhole or any sign hinting that there was a mystery to be found, I took a steady path until I reached the pantry, continuing my task. Again, there was nothing, that is, until reaching the ironing surface. Kneeling down and palping the wall below it, I noticed something different. It sounded hollow. The surface was cooler to the touch. Making notes on the tablet in my pocket, it was time to move to the dining room.Now, with a smile on my face, and feeling a bit accomplished, the same routine was begun.

My Mother's gorgeous mahogany dining set was crafted to, someday, be in this room. Table, ornate and a masterpiece of carpentry, seats twelve with a butterfly leaf for allowing four extra welcomed guests. Heavy chairs, padded deep blood red, richly add to the essence. Matching china closet begging to be filled with gilded china and crystal; now sits empty eagerly awaiting Santa's season , with hopes of a start to this vision. Equally cared for buffet and dry sink, complete the area of this room. The ample picture window reaches to the ceiling and just begs for Christmas decorations. I am the one for this job. Beginning the same routine, here, it is apparent that nothing is to be found in this room.

I am drawn back to the spectacular front staircase and something I have yet to mention. Beneath the farthest part of the wall, enclosing the risers; a sealed door. With determination, this door will be opened.

Working my way up the steps, there seems to be no differences either on the wall or the steps as I stomp along my way.There is a lot of guilty feeling stomping along the beautifully lacquered hardwood floors. Logan put so much work into them, I knew I would return to buff them, even though their luster was not marred. The hall on the second floor produced no alarms and the decision is made to forego the children's rooms until the Master bedroom has been gone over. A visual scan was made of the room trying to decide where best to begin. Without a second thought, I began to empty my things, from the wardrobe, onto the bed. Once it was barren, pointing a flashlight, fingertips began to explore the interior.

Suddenly, down below, where my shoes had been, my fingers brushed a button. I gasp as the back panel slides open into the wall in which the wardrobe had been built. Why hadn't I noticed such a button when I washed out the wardrobe? Flashing the light on it, and getting low to "really" look at it, realization sets in. It looks and feels like a screw; that is unless you pressed into the center. No wonder no one had located the secret before now. I pushed the button, again, to close the panel. I wanted to examine it. Carefully, I ran my finger tips over the surface. I didn't want to pick up a splinter. There was no need to worry. The area of the panel was planed beautifully and stained to match the rich dark tones of the wardrobe. Again, I opened the panel to inspect behind it. It wasn't exceptional or stained but the keyhole visible to me in an instant, was waiting for the larger, flat, square topped key. My own smile felt warm as the key was slid into the awaiting hole. With but a few wiggles the door opened easily into a vast darkness. Shining the light, visibility was but a few feet before me. Dramatically, cobwebs hung from the walls and ceiling as though curtains had been hung for decoration. Looking down, there were steps.

The steps, seven of them, were formed with concrete that had a stoniness about them. Apprehensive, I climbed over the wardrobe ledge and took the steps, counting while doing so. What I could see, which was nearly nothing, as the flashlight was shined into the darkness before me, was a network of cobwebs, like a gossamer curtain and beautiful to behold. The vaporous webs shivered and led a trail much like a greeting, directing me through the passage till I stood before the chests. Similar etheral webbing coated the walls in this dank place. As I moved along I displaced the atmosphere creating an eerie feel to the gently moving diaphanous substance. The trunks also covered in webs appeared to have fine lace table linen draped over them.

The air was heavy and hald a moldy smell that made me grateful to have worn a sweater. I was shaky as I nervously started up the hall seeing barely two feet ahead of me. It was a long hall and when I reached the end , a hall continued to the left and to the right. The lacy
covered trunks, seven in all,were against the cold stone of the wall before me. All seven trunks had keyholes. I simply knew all the keyholes were a perfect match for the second key in my pocket. My heart was pounding as I savored the moment with deep breathes, almost forgetting how awful the taste of mold was. It was difficult to breathe despite the coolness of the air. I could imagine what it must be like to be buried alive and each breath being difficult and tasting nasty, as the labored breathing became impossible. I moved the second key from my pocket, sliding it into the trunk, it opened easily.Hearing the bolt move, raising the lid, full of apprehension, having no way of knowing what would be found. Forcing a deep breath, I flashed the light over the contents. To my surprise, the first trunk was filled with very old cookware.

Cast iron pans and a dutch oven, old place settings and silver flatware brought a big question to mind and a mental picture to add it into my notes. Stepping to the right, the same key easily opened the second trunk. Moving aside a layer of paper, folded perfectly, were ladies dresses. They were made of rough cotton. Colors were drab; the style was very old, though how old I had no way of knowing, at this time. I was amazed that the fabric, in perfect condition; had no mold soaked through it. The boxes and paper preserved it all perfectly. Repacking the trunks, I headed back up the same hall I came down and carefully crawled back into the wardrobe. I simply had to tell Logan of my sleuthing and what it had
produced, today. For now, I needed a shower and to begin preparations for dinner. My gang would soon be home toting school bags, and homework and papers to be signed.

Chapter 2


Following my exploration,my body felt as though I was showering away the grime fro a days worth of toiling. My hair needed to be washed twice to rid myself of the feel of cobwebs. There was a ring around the bottom of the tub, such as I have never made. When the girls returned from school, I was lotioned
and dressed, and delighted to give hugs and kisses. Excited babble came from all three of them as they filled me in on their day's activities.

Denise, now a sometimes remnant of her pre-fifteenth birthday, set right to getting snacks and starting homework. She is pleasant right after school and I don't let this opportunity slip through my fingers.

Emily, our middle child, is by far the most loveable and cuddly. Her only desire as a nine year old is to become a ten year old. She is not quite as chatty and much more needy of hugs and cuddling.

Elizabeth, named after my beloved Mother, is six years old. She is the newest big girl in "real school", and has taken to the life of a little student with pleasure and ease. Her only problem and her greatest talent, is her total inability to be quiet. Lizzy will chatter on, and on, and on.

I wanted none of our angels to know my secret since none of them was too old to conjure up boogeymen and ghosts. It has only been recently that we got Emmie out of our bed and back into her own, in her new big girl bedroom. I was going to have to be very careful to maintain composure that was realistic. Barely able to contain myself, till Logan came home, I immersed myself in spending time with the girls and getting dinner ready. I was grateful that the girls could not see my tamped down but still very charged energy. When Logan came through the door, I could not hide a bit of it from him. He could see that I was not ready to open up. Our direct eye contact said," not until the girls go to bed". Seeing Logan's curiosity,helped me contain my own need to tell him what had happened while he was at work. Does misery really enjoy company? Just the thought of it made me giggle.
Homework was done and signed without any snags and showers weren't dragged out. I was happy for this one night of ease. As I started to get the young ones ready for bed and have my nighttime chat with Denise, Logan was already into his routine of preparing a caraf of tea, however, I called over my shoulder," You will probably want coffee tonight",

Tonight's story time for Emily and Elizabeth was 'Charlotte's Web'. This was probably the fiftieth time night time story time included Charlotte and Wilbur. The girls love this story and it always elicits many giggles and pleas for one more chapter. By the end of chapter three, Lizzy was sound asleep and Emily was satisfied I had read enough for her to sleep. Padding down the hall to Denise's room, music blaring within the closed door, I could hear it turned off as I knocked for entry.This half hour, or so, had always been very special to us. Just the girls discussing the day or whatever Denise would actually talk about without the normal teenage suspicions. Often it included what clothes or supplies, for what event or weekend she simply 'had to have'. Such is the give me, lend me, what ya got syndrome of the American teen. Having run the course, we hugged and kissed and I tucked her in(never, ever mention this in front of anyone). I turned on her radio and made my exit feeling warm and fuzzy, as I always did, after the, girls only, nighttime routine.

With a smile on his face and a chuckle to his voice, already offering me a mug of coffee, Logan declared," I can hardly wait for this". I began by taking the keys from my pocket and handing them to my attentive spouse. I explained that I was hopeful to find the proper fittings to these keys that seemed to mystify me. I showed him my notes and explained why I had emptied the wardrobe onto our bed. Logan paid close attention and showed an interest to my every word. I finished by telling him the secret was indeed in my wardrobe but fell short of telling him exactly what the secret was. We finished the coffee as I told my tale. "Well, let's put this caffeine to work", Logan said as he led me, first, to the pantry. He was intrigued by the obvious differences I had found. Working our way back down the front hall we stopped before the sealed door, already on Logan's to do list. He took the old flat screw driver he grabbed on our way to the door, and tried to tap the hinge screws loose with no success.

When we went to the Master bedroom, I handed him one of the flashlights that I had left on his dresser. I crawled into the wardrobe and pressing the button as I flashed a beam of light on the back panel, exposing the door. I looked over my shoulder , to Logan,"Can I have the flat key?" , I asked. I slid the key into the awaiting opening, turned it and pushed the door wide open. Logan uttered a simple,"WOW"! "Are you ready for this?", I asked.

I climbed down the seven steps, counting again, as I descended, Logan following behind me. Holding hands, two beams of light shining before us, Logan whispered," In a spooky way, it is beautiful". My response was a soft,"UH-huh", and began walking till we stood before the trunks.

Beginning once again, with the first two, Logan and I went through the items. The cast iron cookery needed only a good salting and would all be perfectly usable. The place settings were chipped and faded and the flatware was most questionable. I had strong doubts about their safety. Though badly faded and worn, the cotton dresses and skirts were amazing in detail. Hand stitching in perfect lines, amazed me, who cannot sew a stitch. As we moved along, unlocking the remaining five, it was clear to both of us that history had happened here. Clothing ws sorted by boxes for men, women, and children, shoes and bed linen. When we removed the paper from the last trunk, the first thing we saw was a beautiful quilt. It was quite large, unfinished and obviously many people contributed to it's design. Taking it with reverence and closing the last of the boxes, Logan and I started back, with quilt gently nestled in my arms.

Feeling both accomplished and somewhat solemn, Logan and I, his arm around my shoulders, returned to the wardrobe. While Logan showered, I removed my things from the bed and stacked them in the corner. Taking my second shower of the day, I dried quickly and climbed into Logan's arms. We slept like two spoons without any words of our experience.

When morning came, Logan was already off to work. Getting the girls up presented no great difficulty and I was able to delve into breakfasts and lunches with ease. The rest of the morning went equally smooth and before I knew it, all the girls were seated on the school bus and on their way.

I had big plans for my day. I was headed to the Town Hall for a copy of the original plot plans, of my unique house. The self control it took to wait for the appropriate time scheduled to open had me lost in my own thoughts, wondering what I might find. What else might the plans reveal? I drank nearly a pot of coffee as I went over my notes, expanding on my own version of short hand. There had been a pretty good accounting of yesterday's discoveries. Cleaning up both kitchen and myself, I was thrilled that the clock had finally moved along so I could head out to my intended destination.

Taking her time to acknowledge me, the dour looking woman, with a slight haunch to her back, was not at all willingly helpful. I found this quite disconcerting. She was surrounded by metal file cabinets, ceiling high windows caked in dust and a desk piled high with official looking folders. She was as cold as a witches' tit and it took much haggling before I would get some satisfaction. The required fee was paid for the documents and they would be prepared. I would receive a call when the items I requested were ready to be picked up. I took the phone number to be on the safe side. My excitement was growing as I completed another decisive act. Making my way back to the car, I made more notations in my growing notebook. Waiting would now be the hardest job. My next stop was to the Historic Society to do some research on both the area and my home.

Just walking through the door was a step back into time. To my left was a wall of the Roaring Twenties. Looking to my right were miners from the Gold Rush. Before me was a desk with an impeccably dressed woman offering her assistance. I told her I would like to see information on the Underground Railroad, specifically in our area. With a sincere smile, she led me up a flight of steps to a room filled with pictures, documents and file drawers filled with information. Mrs. Westford, with notably contrasting personality to the woman in Town Hall, assured me she would be available to help should I need assistance.

I started cruising the walls of pictures. In some, I recognized the area, as places surrounding our town. Suddenly, staring up, in amazement, I stood before my own home. It appeared to be lost in time. The caption below it said 'Adaire Manor-1832'.

Going to the catalog drawers, I searched for Adaire Manor, grateful that it started with an 'A'. It didn't take long before I found an entire section of index cards loaded with information and the locations of more expanded resources. For half an hour I sat and took notes. I felt like a school girl embarking on her first date. Finished, I returned to Mrs. Westford, with my notes. This lovely woman was very sweet and led me downstairs to an archive just full of facts, relative to my house, the surrounding property and it's original owners.

By the time I completed my research and received the copies that Mrs. WEstford so kindly ran off, it was time to get home for the girls return from from school. I placed all the documents I had received into the extra tote I had remembered to bring. Thanking Mrs. Westford, left for my car and drove home just in time for the bus to pull up. I was so happy to see my girls that I nearly knocked Lizzy over with the tote. "What you got in the bag, Mommy"? "Oh, I was doing some research for someone", was my answer. "Why? You don't work anymore" Denise chimed in. "Doing something special for someone, Denise, is not returning to work". "Anyway, let's get snacks and see what homework looks like tonight", I said, as I ushered them through the door.

Since the fourth and tenth grades were busy with MCAS testing, there would be no homework for Denise and Emily for a few days. Emily offered to help Elizabeth with her numbers. Denise volunteered to go to her room. I could her mood soured the moment she heard the word research. Before I decided to be a stay at home Mother, I did free lance investigating and research work. It was satisfying to my inquisitive nature and it provided a pretty good extra income, as well. I started a pot of coffee and started to peel potatoes. I was running the day's activities through my mind and all I had accomplished.

That night, sitting in the den with Logan, we sorted through all the information I gathered. "I am amazed at all you found", said Logan. He smiled and kissed me on the nose. I told him about the plot plans; Logan left the room, returning with three battery6 operated camping lamps.

We locked the den door leaving our work for tomorrow. Being Saturday would mean more creativity in applying time to our mystery. It no longer held so much of a mystery as it did a need to follow the evidence to some sort of conclusion.

Saturday morning was bright and crisp. The Autumn air was blowing brightly colored leaves around. It was so beautiful it was a shame Logan had to rake them up, but they wouldn't be beautiful for long. The girls and I had Saturday chores to do. Denise and Emily had their beds to make and breakfast dishes to wash, dry and put away. Elizabeth's job was to wash the table and dust the living room and her own bedroom, as well as make her bed. I could do all these things myself and in a more timely fashion, and Lizzy's bed would look made. The girls would learn nothing this way. I got to the laundry, as always and got two more loads going while I put away the basket already full with freshly wahsed and folded items. When we were all done, showered and dressed, there were drop offs. Denise was going skating and sleeping over a friend's. Emily, too, had a sleep over but this was also a birthday celebration. This left Lizzy to be entertained. We left the den locked for the day and took Elizabeth on an outing made for undivided attention, for our baby girl. By seven, she was sound asleep, and never awoke, even while I changed her into pajamas and tucked her in.

Now Logan and I were a pair of kids and our party was waiting in the den. Using a little more control we changed, made sandwiches and a pitcher if iced tea, than two pairs of slippers padded their way to the den. We settled in for a long night of getting to know Adaire Manor and it's original owners.

Chapter 3


The information before us was amazing! Logan and I learned that the first owners of our home were Jeremiah and Abigail Adaire. They loved each other dearly and loved their community of Hampton Falls. Jeremiah was on the town council and both he and Abigail were active in their community. They had no children, of their own, but were loved by all the children in the area.

Jeremiah began reading the publication "The Liberator" and the firt article published in it on anti-slavery. The article was printed by the publications founder, William Garrison Lloyd, known as Lloyd Garrison. Jeremiah was impressed by the paper, and specifically the anti-slavery article and continued to read the publication throughout his life. So troubled was he by the article, he became a member of The New England Anti-Slavery Society, at it's inception, founded by the same Lloyd Garrison. This affiliation created unsavory attention to Adaire. A number of times, the police came to his home in search of harbored runaway slaves. They never located any evidence of such activity.

The following Friday, I was called to come and pick up the plot plans I had ordered. When we got them home, we studied the plans, taking notes. From what I could see, our property line had never changed. We would explore tomorrow.

Saturday was cool, bright and sunny. As usual,Denise was out with friends. Logan and I took Emily and Elizabeth to explore our sizeable property. After an hour, we found ourselves on the south side of the property, a distance out, and very overgrown with green foliage.

Finally, we located the oversized and unlikely used mailbox. On top was a telltale black Sambo. For what seemed like forever, we scoured the oblique-like structure when something happened.

Logan pulled out a stone and the back creaked open. The moss covered stone, slippery and damp fell from Logan's hand as he displaced it, leaving behind a bald space from it's long time rest. Listening as the girls played hide-and-seek in and around the bushes and trees. I could tell they had not noticed our discovery. Not wanting them to catch on, I decided it was break time for me and the girls.

ile I took the girls in for a snack, Logan checked out the secret opening. After some time he came down the stairs from our bedroom, creating a flashing smile to break out all over my face. "So, Mia, is there enough of that pudding for me",Logan asked? He was acting as if he just came in from a shower and there was nothing deliciously strange about his sudden appearance. After snacks we asked a neighbor friend to keep an eye on the girls. Pleased to take the girls for a couple hours, we dropped Em and Lizzy off, so we would be able to continue our exploring. There was only so much more self control we could endure. Logan, again removed the stone. We each took a camping lamp, now waiting there for us, and I followed my man down the very steep and narrow steps. The air was damp and the steps slippery as were the walls we balanced ourselves against. I noticed a gas lamp at the bottom of the decent. It was webbed over as if it were wearing a chapel veil. We were standing in a corridor much like the one I had found only weeks ago. We continued down the passage and after a while we found ourselves standing before the same old trunks. Proceeding past the trunks we continued into the next passage. After a while we found old beds. There were nearly a dozen beds and three cradles. There were two kitchen tables with chairs around them. A wooden placard on the first table was burned with a statement that read,"We believe in a higher moral conscious". In a chest against the wall, where we stood, were blankets and more quilts, different quilts, and a journal with a list of all the souns that found sanctuary. Across the room steps led to the pantry with a keyhole that was exactly like the one that had opened the door behind my wardrobe.

The journal listed far more than the names of those hidden here. It appears that someone was teaching reading and simple mathematics. The journal contained the alphabet and numbers all printed so neatly. There were drawings. They weren't typical drawings but more like diagrams. I believe I saw the same shapes on the quilt in the wardrobe. Also, in the journal were the words to a song. Using the first line of the song, I Googled it. Imagine my shock when I read about the history of this song. Apparently, Harriet Tubman wrote these words to assist the slaves that were on the run. Harriet Tubman was perhaps the most famous conductor on the Underground Railroad. An escaped slave, herself, she had the courage to return to the south nineteen times, to guide runaways to freedom. Her song, itself,
was a guide to instruct how to best succeed in making it to the north, I thought as I read these words:

Wade into the water
Wade into the water children
Wade into the water
God's gonna trouble the water

Whose all those children
Dressed in red
God's gonna trouble the water
Must be the ones Moses led
God's gonna trouble the water

Whose all those children
Dressed in blue
God's gonna trouble the water
Must be the ones that made it through
God's gonna trouble the water...

I shivered as I read the history that was real, not just a retelling. Thge encyclopedia, online, says the song tells the slaves to get off the path into the water to throw off the scent dogs and their owners who track the running slaves.

We unlocked the mystery
of the Keys










Epilogue


Logan took the day off on Monday. In three trips we carefully delivered the seven trunks, still filled with their original articles and donated them to the Historic Society. Mrs. Westford was stunned, amazed and delighted. We arranged to have the furniture picked up. We then sat down with Mrs. Westford and presented the journal to her. We went through it together and she was so overjoyed, she trembled as I had the day I first read it. We signed over the property and signed a work order to have the furniture removed from the tunnels during school hours. After school we told our girls about the mystery and promised they would see all the items at the museum. Logan and I decided to keep the hidden passages a secret for the safety of the children. We still had to search for a few more questions to be answered. We would do that when the furniture was removed.

The furniture, trunks and placard, and the quilt are safely in the possession of the Historic Society. The beautiful but creepy cobwebs have been cleaned away. Logan and I were more determined than ever to find the hidden side of the sealed door. Once more we climbed through the wardrobe and went down the passages. Logan led the way this time, walking deeper into the passage until he decided we were in the area of the front hall. It was astounding how intensive this underground secret world actually was.

Pay dirt!! Logan found four steep steps. Shining the light ahead of him the was a cement wall slightly larger than the door beneath the front stairs. It would remain sealed.

One week before Christmas we were invited to celebrate the historic find of Adaire House. Many dignitaries and local folks, joined us. Our sense of pride was overwhelming as we read the bronze plaque that read:

The Logan and Mia Woodleigh Collection
Contributed
November 2010