Dr. Marshall’s footsteps echoed in the empty hall as he followed the young man
over the strange tiled frog adorned in bright purples and gold.  The bright words that
circled the creature mocked Dr. Marshall’s grief:

                                      In this house a treasure hides
                                      You’ll find it lying up inside
                                      Lead the way that you can see
                                      The clues unlock this mystery

      Directly to his left was the elaborate library with its strange gilded wall and the
drawing room in which Mr. Hickory had once attempted to play both the violin and the
piano at once.  Dr. Marshall smiled.  It was in that room that Hickory had asked the
doctor to tour the grounds.  
      Directly to his right was the dining room.  On the other end of the giant mahogany
table was the entrance to the room in which Dr. Marshall first set eyes on the old man.  
The doors to the smoking room were closed and Marshall feared they would stay shut
for a very long time.  A tear rolled down his cheek as he followed Jacob to the second
floor.
      When they reached the top of the stairs, Jacob led Dr. Marshall through a maze of
rooms and doors and more hallways.  Many years ago, Mr. Hickory had led Dr.
Marshall into a room full of doors and bet him a horse that he couldn’t find his way out.  
Dr. Marshall lost, but Mr. Hickory never collected on the bet.  
      The second floor mazes were legendary.  All of the maids in town talked about the
difficulties navigating the Hickory Mansion and how so many of them had gotten lost in
the maze of rooms on upper stories.  It became a habit, apparently, for hired help to tie
strings to the master staircase and carry the other end with them throughout their
chores.  When they finished cleaning they would have to follow the string in order to
find their way out.  
      Dr. Marshall and Jacob finally ended up in a tiny bedroom at the rear of the house.  
There, on the bed, dressed in the same white robes he had worn on his first prank, lay
Mr. Hickory, smiling.  His white hair and beard stood on end, the way they always did,
which caused Dr. Marshall to question Jacob’s assessment of his death.  
       “He died like that, sir,” Jacob said.
      Dr. Marshall stepped forward and waved a hand in front of the man’s unblinking
eyes.  Mr. Hickory didn’t move.  The doctor lifted the man’s hand and felt the cold
clammy skin that revealed no pulse.  “When?”
      “This morning.”  Jacob answered.   
      Dr. Marshall unlatched his satchel and pulled out a death certificate.  He leaned
over the tiny writing desk by the wall and reluctantly filled it out.  Outside the window
Dr. Marshall could see the large glass conservatory that held a tree of Mr. Hickory’s
namesake as well as other plants that were destined to outgrow their glass enclosure.
      Nothing moved outside, not even the trees.  The familiar sounds of footsteps and
voices whispered like ghosts in the doctor’s head.  The unusual silence was deafening
and Dr. Marshall was surprised he hadn’t noticed it earlier.  “Where are the rest of the
servants?” he asked.
      “Mr. Hickory found jobs for most of them at other houses in the city,” Jacob said.  
“There are just a few of us left.  He said we were required to stay.”
      Dr. Marshall scratched his head.  “I don’t understand.”
      Jacob pointed to the folds of paper still gripped in Mr. Hickory’s other hand.  The
doctor walked around the bed and worked the papers out from Mr. Hickory’s fingers.  
He unfolded the pages and glanced over them.
      He looked over to Jacob, “It’s a lease agreement.”
      “Yes, I know.”
      “How did you know what it was?”
      “I helped him work out the details.”
      “So he wants other people to live in the house?” Dr. Marshall asked.
      “Yes, sir.  He said he wanted everyone to have the opportunity to find the treasure.”
      “And there is no will to speak of?”
      “None, sir.”  Jacob gestured to the pages the doctor still held.  “Just arrangements
for the house to be leased until the treasure is found.”
      Dr. Marshall looked down at the papers again and smiled.  “He had one last game
left.”  He read the first passage on the lease:  The same words he had read hundreds of
times, the same ones that haunted the entranceway and circled the strange mosaic frog
on the floor.  
      Dr. Marshall flipped through the pages again.  “It talks about the keeping of the
house and maintaining certain outdoor features… and certain people who should remain
employed here…”  Dr. Marshall found a passage and looked up in surprise.  “I didn’t
know he had a son!”
      “Yes, by the same name:  Alexander Hickory.”
      “Is he here?”
      “Well, yes, but –“
      Dr. Marshall ran to Jacob and grabbed his arm. “Take me to him.”  Jacob nodded
and led the doctor down another series of hallways and corridors to an elaborately
carved bedroom door.  He gestured for the doctor to enter.  Just inside, an aged nurse
held a very young boy in her arms.  She lifted the toddler and rested his head on her
shoulder.  A tiny gold chain revealed itself around his neck and a small charm bounced
against the nurse’s shoulder.  It held an eerie resemblance to the large key the doctor
kept for the front gate.  
Emily Kieson