The Ghost in the Tower
Linda spent Monday morning inspecting her autogiro and making some minor
repairs in preparation for her flight back to Green Falls. She did not
tell her aunt that she and Dot were planning to stop at the empty house,
for she did not want to worry the good woman. If everything went well,
she ought to be home before supper.
Dot had persuaded Bert Keen to return the airplane which she had flown
in the race, and she took the precaution of packing some sandwiches and
some fruit in the autogiro. On an adventure like this, you never could
tell what would happen.
“I hope that Mike O’Malley is there when we arrive,” she remarked, as,
early in the afternoon, she and Linda climbed into the “Ladybug.”
“So do I,” agreed Linda. “But I am not counting on him. I have my own
tools, and—guess what?”
“What?” demanded her companion.
“I’ve been practicing picking locks! We won’t need a ladder, after all!
I’m quite good at it. I think I’d make a first-class burglar.”
“That’s some accomplishment!”
“It really is. And you never can tell when it will come in handy. If
some child were locked in a burning house, or some old woman with heart
disease had a spell in the bath tub——”
“Now, Linda!” protested her companion. “So you really think that you can
get into that house?”
“Without a doubt. And it’s going to be lots of fun.”
“Yes—maybe. Suppose there really is a ghost in the tower, Linda! You
know you do read of such things——”
In spite of her gayety, Linda shivered. The memory of that ghastly face
at the window was still vivid to her.
“It won’t be so bad if we go together,” she replied. “And there must be
some explanation of that queer apparition.”
The day was beautiful and clear, and the sun shining; amidst all this
loveliness the girls could not believe in ghosts. Dismissing the
gruesome subject from their minds, they gave their attention to the
country over which they were passing. Linda was flying low in the hope
that she might identify the spot where the accident had occurred. She
wanted to see how far it really was from the house which Helen Tower
believed to have been her home.
It was Dot who spied it first—the big oak in the field, where they had
landed to offer help to the injured girl. A moment later they saw the
road, winding as it did over the hill, from whence that gray car had so
suddenly and so disastrously appeared.
Dot marked the spot on the map which she held in her lap and Linda flew
on towards the house with the tower. About three miles beyond they
caught a glimpse of it through the trees.
They flew across in front of the house, over a big field which had
evidently once been a lawn, but which was now overgrown with weeds and
tall grass, but Linda decided not to land there. It was too conspicuous
a place to leave the “Ladybug,” in case anyone came along. Instead she
came down behind the barn as before, the girls walked around to the
front of the house, by the side away from the kitchen. Linda carried her
tool kit—“just like an ordinary robber,” she remarked—and they climbed
the wooden porch steps to the front door.
“Wait!” whispered Dot, in awe. “I hear an awfully queer sound!”
Both girls stood motionless and listened. A dull, rasping noise reached
their ears, which continued with monotonous regularity, now and then
changing to a squeak.
“The ghost!” breathed Dot.
“No,” replied Linda. “It’s some animal—or possibly a human being. We
better knock on the door before I start to pick the lock. If Mrs.
Fishberry is here, she’d jump at the chance to have us arrested.”
Raising her hand, Dot thumped loudly on the door. A reply instantly came
to them.
“Linda! Oh, Linda!” a girl’s voice screamed.
“It’s Amy—I mean Helen!” exclaimed Linda, breathlessly. “Just what I was
afraid of! That woman locked her in!”
“But what could be the point of torturing the child?” demanded Dot.
“I don’t know. That’s for us to find out.” She lifted her voice. “Amy!”
she cried, at the top of her lungs.
“Here I am—around the back!” yelled the girl.
In excited haste Linda and Dot ran down the steps and around the side of
the house. There at the kitchen window, from whose panes the glass had
been broken, stood the girl, patiently cutting away at the woodwork with
a dull carving knife.
Both girls ran up and kissed her through the broken window.
“I heard the plane, and I was hoping it was you!” said Helen.
“Are you all right?” demanded Linda, almost afraid to ask. She dreaded
to think what confinement in this ghastly house might have done to the
nervous girl.
“I’m fine,” replied the other. “Only I’m a prisoner. But I was going to
work my way out.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. Mrs. Fishberry locked me in and ran away on Saturday.”
“Oh, you poor girl!” cried Linda. “And are you starved to death?”
“No. I had oatmeal and water and dried lima beans. Really, I’m all
right. And Linda—I remember everything!”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. You can call me Helen now—that really is my right name. I’ll tell
you all about it when I get out of here.”
“I’ll get you out,” replied Linda. “I’ll pick the lock on the front
door, and on your inside door.”
“Can you really? Is there anything you can’t do, Miss Linda Carlton?”
Linda laughed; it was wonderful to find the girl in such good spirits.
“You stay here, Dot,” she said, “and keep Amy—I mean Helen—company. I
won’t be long.”
She was right in her surmise; the job did not take long, and she was
extremely proud of her new accomplishment. In less than half an hour she
opened the heavy door and stepped into the dimly-lighted house. The huge
square hall, with its great staircase, the closed shutters, the sparsely
furnished rooms cast a gloomy atmosphere. It was just the sort of house
a ghost might be expected to haunt.
By means of her flashlight she made her way through the hall to the door
where she supposed the kitchen to be. She knocked loudly, calling,
“Yo-ho, girls!”
“Yo, Linda!” was the reassuring reply.
But here it was not necessary to pick the lock, for Mrs. Fishberry had
left the key in the door. So Linda merely turned it and walked into the
room.
The two girls rushed at each other in joy, and Dot bounded around the
house to join in the happy reunion.
“First I’m going to get some fresh air and some fresh water,” announced
Helen. “Then let’s go.”
“Go?” repeated Linda. “Why, we just came.”
Helen looked puzzled.
“But didn’t you come for me?” she asked. “And now that you’ve set me
free——”
“We weren’t sure that you’d be here,” explained Linda. “In fact, we
didn’t expect to find you—we thought you were with Mrs. Fishberry. We
really came to explore.”
“Explore?”
“Yes. The tower—the ghost you were so frightened of.” Linda did not add
that she had seen it herself.
“Oh, maybe that was my imagination,” returned Helen, lightly. “I don’t
care about it now that everything has come back. All I want is to find
my old nurse—Mrs. Smalley.”
“Mrs. Smalley?” repeated Dot. “You don’t mean Mrs. Fishberry?”
“No, I don’t. I’ll tell you all about it, while we explore the house, if
you insist on doing that.”
So, as the girls walked about from room to room, examining everything,
peeping into closets, inspecting Helen’s bedroom, the girl told them the
story of her life. They listened breathlessly, sharing with her the
intense desire to find the dear old nurse who had been all the mother
Helen had ever known.
Both Dot and Linda agreed that it was necessary to set to work at once,
but Linda was not willing to leave until she had visited that tower.
Though Helen had been able to put the vision of the ghost out of her
mind, Linda could not do it so easily. She had seen for herself—in
daylight.
“We’ll go as soon as we have a look at the tower,” she agreed. “But I’ve
just got to go up there, Helen. Please show us the way.”
The girl shuddered.
“I’m afraid something may happen, Linda. I—I don’t want to go.”
“Well, just show us the staircase, and you can stay at the bottom of it
and wait for us.”
“But I’m as much afraid for you as I am for myself,” she insisted.
“Nevertheless, I’ve got to go. It may have something to do with Mrs.
Fishberry—it may help clear things up. By the way, Helen, do you
remember her now?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you remember your uncle?”
“Only that there was one, and neither Mrs. Smalley nor my grandfather
liked him. They both said he was wicked.”
“He may be up in this tower, ready to spring at us with a gun,”
suggested Dot. “That would be worse than a ghost.”
Helen led the way to the third floor of the big old house, and thence to
a room which was scarcely more than a closet, with a spiral staircase
which ascended to the tower. Linda went up first, followed by Dot, while
Helen slowly mounted after them.
It was so dark that had it not been for the flashlight, Linda would
never have noticed the door at the top. This opened inward, and she
stepped into the tower room. But it, too, was pitch black—a fact which
she could not explain when she recalled seeing at least two windows in
the tower from the autogiro.
“What a horrible place!” exclaimed Dot, as she too reached the top.
“Such a musty smell! And dust!”
“Are you still alive?” came a faint voice from below, and a moment later
Helen joined them.
“Better close that door,” advised Linda. “We don’t want to fall down the
steps.”
“Where are the windows?” demanded Dot.
“Behind those curtains,” cried Linda, making the discovery as she turned
her flashlight upon a heavy drapery which hung over the wall.
“Let’s pull them down and get some daylight,” she suggested. Grasping
them with both hands, she gave a tremendous pull, and the heavy curtains
fell to the floor in a heap.
The sight which she disclosed made all three girls cry out in horror.
The ghost which both Linda and Helen had seen was revealed to them now!
Helen hid her head on Dot’s shoulder, but Linda was no longer afraid.
Seen from behind, for the figure was facing the window, it was by no
means so gruesome. A human skeleton had been draped with a black cloak,
and the hollows in the bones of its face had been filled with some
preparation like wax. When she examined it closely, Linda saw that the
eyes were glass, probably covered with some phosphorous compound, to
make them gleam. And the hands, which had especially confounded her on
that previous occasion, were actually moving now. But there was a
reason: a light string attached them to each other, and a small weight
slid along the string, pulling first one hand down and then the other.
It was clever and ingenious—and horrible.
But Linda could not help laughing at herself for being fooled so.
“It looks like a college boy’s prank,” she said, as Helen was finally
induced to examine it for herself. “I suppose your father or your uncle
did it in their youth—to frighten the other boys. And they must have
forgotten all about it, and left it here.”
“Maybe my uncle did it on purpose to frighten me,” remarked Helen. “I
think he had some reason for wanting Mrs. Smalley and me to move—perhaps
so that he could get the house for himself.”
“Possibly,” admitted Linda.
“Well, let’s pull the old thing down, anyway,” suggested Dot. “No use
frightening the countryside. And hadn’t we better take down the other
curtains and see whether there are any more?”
Linda turned about and pulled at another drapery. This, however,
disclosed only a bare window. A third showed a blank wall behind. Then
she and Dot proceeded to dismantle the ghost and to pile it into the
corner. It was while they were doing this that a panel fell out of the
wall.
“More mysteries!” exclaimed Dot, excitedly. “Here’s a hidden closet.
Maybe we’ll find some money!”
“Or a lost will,” added Linda, jokingly, never thinking that she had
guessed the very thing.
“How did you know, Linda?” demanded Dot, picking up the yellowed packet.
“That’s exactly what it is! What was your grandfather’s name, Helen?”
“Henry Adolph Tower,” replied the girl. “I never knew that he left a
will. Is it his?”
“Yes. Oh, come on over here, Linda—give me your flashlight. It’s getting
dark in here again. Let’s read it!”
So busy had the girls been that they had hardly noticed the fading light
until they tried to read the words on the written and printed pages. But
they had not started from Lake Winnebago until three o’clock, and the
flight had been a considerable distance.
Breathlessly, Dot read out the formal, legal words of the will, picking
her way slowly among the unfamiliar terms. But there could be no doubt
about the contents. Henry Adolph Tower had left the house and grounds
and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars in bonds and cash to his
granddaughter Helen, and a bequest of five thousand dollars to Mrs.
Smalley. A Trust Company in Chicago had these in keeping until the will
should be probated.
Helen’s eyes were gleaming and her cheeks were flaming. She simply could
not believe her good fortune. Oh, if she could only tell dear old Nana
about it, this very minute!
“Now aren’t you glad we came up here?” demanded Dot.
“I should say I am,” she replied. “Oh, Linda—and Dot—you have done so
much for me!”
“What’s that queer smell?” asked Linda abruptly changing the subject.
“Something’s burning,” said Dot.
“I wonder if I left any beans on cooking,” remarked Helen. “I was so
excited when I heard you girls come in that plane, that I don’t remember
whether I left the oil stove burning or not.”
“Could the kitchen be on fire?” demanded Dot, holding the will tightly
in her hands. “Girls, we’ve got to get out of here!”
Taking the flashlight Linda led the way down the staircase and opened
the door of the small room that led to the hall. An overpowering cloud
of smoke rushed against her, stifling her so that she closed the door
immediately again.
“Stay here!” she commanded to the others, who had just come down the
spiral staircase. “Keep the door closed, while I see whether I can force
my way through. The house is on fire!”
Closing the door again, she crept out on her hands and knees through the
smoke-filled passageway. The atmosphere was dense with the smoke, so
overpowering that Linda gasped helplessly for breath. But she pushed
onward to the main staircase, only to see that great wooden structure
already in flames.
With a cry of terror she crept back to the door of the room that led to
the tower, and fell with a dull thud against it. Dot rushed forward and
opened the door, and knew from one look at her chum’s face that escape
through the house was impossible.
“Come back to the tower!” she cried, “where we can get some air through
the windows!”
But Linda only leaned weakly against the steps. She could not answer.
“We’ll have to carry her, Helen!” Dot said. “Take hold of her feet. I’d
rather jump from the tower if I have to die than be burned alive!”
Together the two girls managed to get Linda up the steps and once there
they shattered the glass of the tower windows, for they could not raise
them. The fresh air was reviving; Linda was able to stand up and lean
out of the window while the others cried for help.
At that very moment, Mike O’Malley drove up to the house in his car,
followed by a huge telephone repair truck!