Tragic News
Judy paid little attention to the ugly threat. She had no idea who the
man was. The shadow that had passed the tower door had been misshapen
and fleeting, but it gave her hope.
“It could be a policeman—or Peter.”
She thought of Cubby and immediately recoiled from the thought. But it
_had_ looked like the shadow of a stout man. Peter was not stout.
Neither was Horace and, anyway, Horace could hardly be running past the
tower toward the fountain. If he were running at all he would be
running away from it to get help.
“It must be someone coming to help him,” Judy decided.
She would not let herself believe it was Cubby or any other member of
Falco’s gang. They had been cruel to Dick Hartwell. Horace could expect
no mercy from them. In her thoughts Judy could hear what they had said
to each other all over again. Edith Cubberling’s threat to quit the
gang meant nothing unless she could take the treasure with her. “Maybe
I’d like to wear some of those precious rubies and diamonds,” she had
said.
Could Lorraine’s ruby be in the collection? In spite of her cold and
discomfort, Judy found herself still trying to solve her friend’s
problem. It kept her from thinking about her own. But if the ruby had
been stolen, why was Lorraine afraid to say so? Was it because of some
ugly threat to her life or the life of someone she loved? Arthur, for
instance. But that didn’t make sense, either. She’d called Arthur a
cheat. His name had been forged. Judy mustn’t forget that. It might be
a clue to the whole mystery.
“I’ll tell Peter. He’ll figure it out. Oh, why doesn’t he come? I need
help. I can’t move without feeling chilly all over. If only someone
would bring me my coat!”
Judy tried to think where she had left it, and suddenly it all came
back to her. The coat she needed so much was back there under the
fountain, covering Dick Hartwell. All at once she thought of the
diamond she had found. She had tied it in the corner of her
handkerchief and put it in her coat pocket. Was it still there? Judy
didn’t care any more. She almost wished she had never found it in the
first place.
“A frozen tear!” she thought, “and now I’m nearly frozen! Where is
Blackberry?” The warmth of the cat’s soft fur would be some comfort
even if he hadn’t delivered their message. But perhaps he had! The
tower hadn’t been mentioned. Whoever came in answer to Horace’s SOS
would hurry right to the fountain.
“It will be safe now. Falco didn’t turn it back on! I did one thing,”
Judy told herself. “I kept them from turning that valve. They
threatened me on purpose to make me afraid of them, but they’re the
ones who have the most to fear. I’ll be all right in a minute, and then
I’ll follow them and see who that man was.”
The minute passed. Another followed it and then another. More shadows
passed by the door, but when Judy opened her mouth to call to them
nothing came out, not even a hoarse croak.
“I’ll have to get outside where Peter can see me,” she decided. She was
so used to having him come when she needed him that she couldn’t
believe her helplessness now. There was no pain in her bruised foot,
but she simply could not stand on it no matter how bravely she tried.
Suddenly she was seized with a violent chill. It was all she could do
to drag herself from the gloomy tower out into the sunshine.
The day was sunny but cold. It was the penetrating cold of early
December. Judy’s wet clothing had started to freeze while she was still
in the tower. Now it felt as if she were encased in ice like a mummy.
“This can’t be happening to me,” she thought.
Never, in her whole life, had she felt so alone and helpless. She felt
it was her own fault, too, for not calling Peter and telling him where
she was going. But wouldn’t Honey tell him? She knew, and so did her
father. Didn’t anyone care?
Tears filled Judy’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. But they fell into no
enchanted fountain. “It wasn’t enchanted. It was haunted. I wish I’d
never seen it. I wish—”
As if in answer to her wish she heard the sound of a twig breaking.
Someone was coming along the path from the fountain. Judy’s heart began
hammering in anticipation. Even Falco would be better than nobody. But
would he? To her dismay, it was the gang leader’s voice she heard.
“We can’t get near it,” he was snarling. “The police have it roped off.
They’ll search every inch of it, and we’re helpless, thanks to you!”
“Why me?” asked Mrs. Cubberling. “Why blame everything on me? It’s that
redheaded girl. She wasn’t as weak as we thought she was. She’s gone!”
Evidently they hadn’t seen Judy. Maybe it was just as well, but
somebody had to see her! She knew now that her strength was not enough,
that she would have to attract the attention of the police who had come
to rescue Horace and Dick Hartwell. Had they been in time?
“They can’t let me just lie here and die,” thought Judy. She had never
thought very much about dying. She had always felt so vibrantly alive.
But now, suddenly, it seemed possible. And yet help must be very near.
Falco had mentioned the police. He and Edith Cubberling were now hiding
inside the tower. If they climbed the stairs and crawled into the big
tank it would make an even better hiding place, now that it was empty.
But now the voices suddenly sounded nearer.
“Look!” Falco exclaimed. “She didn’t get away. I told you she couldn’t.
There she is lying on the ground. Just wait till I get my hands on her!”
He started for Judy, but Mrs. Cubberling screamed at him. “You fool!
Don’t you touch her! Do want to get us all sent up for life? The place
is surrounded! You have enough crimes to answer for already. If you
have any sense you’ll give yourself up and send that man we followed
back here. He says he’s a doctor.”
“Yeah? He also says someone found a cat with a note on its collar and
telephoned him. I suppose you fell for that, too.”
“Why not?” she replied. “If it’s the same black cat I caught prowling
around here last night, it came with that G-man who traced the phone
call. He’s this girl’s husband. Didn’t you hear him asking about her?”
“Peter! He’s come!” Judy whispered.
“What’s that?” Falco questioned, leaning closer. “What do you know
about that cat?”
“Where—is he?” croaked Judy.
“I don’t know, but I’d kill him if I could find him. It’s bad enough to
be trapped by a girl, but a _cat_!” He spat out the word and made a
violent gesture.
“And a black cat at that. I’ve always heard they were bad luck,” put in
Mrs. Cubberling, “especially this one. He belongs to Judy Bolton, of
course. Yes, I’ve guessed her name. Roger Banning told us about her,
remember? Her family moved into the house where old Vine Thompson used
to operate. Roger said this girl and her brother helped Chief Kelly
round up most of the gang, and Roger said they’d get you, too. It was
when you held the gun on him and made him bring us his friend with the
prison record. I’d like to see you talk yourself out of this mess when
that G-man finds this girl.”
“Let him!” growled Falco. “We didn’t hurt her. She hurt herself diving
into the fountain. It was turned on full force. I don’t see how she
ever got through it. That water has power. For my money it was all the
protection we needed.”
“If Dick Hartwell is dead—” Edith Cubberling began.
“He’s dead all right. Real dead,” Falco interrupted, “but I don’t have
to answer for that. _You_ turned on the fountain, Edith. I’m not
forgetting that.”
“Don’t think you’re going to blame everything on me!” she screamed.
“And you’re not going to get me in any deeper! I’m going back there and
get that doctor. But not until you clear out. I don’t trust you. ‘If
anyone goes near that fountain, turn it on!’ you said, and so I turned
it. But is that man back there real dead, as you say, or isn’t he? It
makes a big difference. They were still working over him when we left.”
“That’s routine,” declared Falco. “The doctor was just pulling two of
them out of the pool when we caught up with him. ‘Neither one of them
will do much talking,’ he said. Both drowned, I guess.”
“Do you think the other one was her brother?”
“Horace—drowned? Oh, no!” gasped Judy. “It can’t be true!”
“What’s she saying?” asked Falco. “Maybe we’ve still got a chance if we
listen.”
“Don’t be a fool! It was listening to all her made-up talk about a
haunted fountain that spoiled our chances,” declared Edith Cubberling.
“I’m going for her father. You hide in the empty tank. They’ll never
find you there!”
“What if she tells them where I am?”
“She won’t. She’s unconscious. She won’t bother you.”
Moments elapsed in which Judy was dimly aware of retreating footsteps.
The last thing she heard was Edith Cubberling’s triumphant chuckle.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” she seemed to be saying, “Falco won’t bother
you either.”
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