I CONFESS I felt a little flat when Michael Gilpatrick said that. I had
been so sure for the moment that I had hit on a brilliant solution of
the problem that now I was inclined to wash my hands of so stupid a cat
once and for all. But I remembered that Aunt Cal had particularly
entrusted him to our care. “What,” I asked, “are we going to say to my
aunt when she comes home and finds no Adam? She’s just as much attached
to him as Captain Trout is to—to Caliph. Why, she might come back any
minute now.”
As I spoke, I glanced over toward the house where it stood dark and
silent beyond the hedge. Suddenly I saw something that made me jump up
and grab Eve’s arm. “Why,” I cried, “I do believe she’s back already!
Look! There’s a light upstairs in that window at the end!”
“What!” Eve and Michael were at my side. For a minute, as we all stood
there, everything was in darkness. Then there came again the faint
flicker of light that I had seen at the upper window. “Looks like a
flashlight,” said Michael. “Or maybe a candle.”
“But why should Aunt Cal be going around the house with a candle? There
are plenty of lamps and they’re always filled.”
No one answered. The light was moving from window to window now.
“Sandy,” said Eve, faintly, “I don’t believe it’s Aunt Cal at all!”
“It looks to me,” remarked Michael, “as if there was somebody in the
house that didn’t want to be seen.”
“You mean a burglar?” I cried. “Oh, Eve, we left the back door wide
open. And there’s the silver in the dining room chest——”
“Guess I’d better have a look,” remarked Michael abruptly, starting
down the steps.
“Oh, do you think you’d better?” asked Eve anxiously. “S’pose he has a
gun or something!”
Michael did not say “Pooh!” but the set of his shoulders suggested the
word as he strode toward the hedge. He cleared it with one leap and
disappeared from sight in the direction of Aunt Cal’s back door.
“Come on,” I said, trying to sound cool and collected. “I’m not afraid!”
“Of course not,” agreed Eve, giving me her hand.
We reached the path where we had been sitting just a few moments
before. The mysterious light had disappeared, there was no sound
anywhere.
Cautiously we advanced. “There’s a lamp on the shelf just inside the
kitchen door,” I stated half-heartedly. “And the matches are just
beside it. It would only take a minute to light it.”
Eve did not answer. Suddenly she stopped and I felt her hand tighten in
mine. “Listen! What’s that?”
From somewhere inside the house a vague clatter reached us—a shuffling
noise—the thud of something falling. Then, quite close at hand, came
the scud and scurry of running feet! Immediately after we heard the
beat of quick panting breaths and two flying figures hurtled past us
into the night!
With one accord, we turned and followed them. But they had vanished
into the blackness of the lower garden almost before we knew it. Back
of the garden is a steep bank, ending in a muddy ditch. If they’d gone
down that, it looked like a pretty sure spill for both of them. The
thought sent us hurrying on. We reached the stone wall which forms the
lower border of Aunt Cal’s property. Eve shouted frantically into the
darkness, “Michael, where are you?”
There was no answer. I climbed gingerly onto the wall. I thought of the
muddy ditch at the bottom of the bank and I had a vision of Michael
lying there wounded and bleeding. “Michael,” I called, “are you down
there?”
Then to our infinite relief, a faint voice answered, “Coming!”
Presently we heard him thrashing his way upward. Finally he stumbled
out from the bushes below where we stood. Even in the darkness, we
could see that his clothes were a wreck. And there was a dark patch on
his forehead—though this subsequently turned out to be mud. “Oh,
you’re hurt!” Eve cried.
“Well, not fatally!” he panted as he reached the wall and sank down
upon it. “But the rascal got away, worse luck! If I hadn’t caught my
foot in a branch down there, I’d have had him. As it is, all I got is
this!” He held up a fuzzy-looking object.
We peered at it. “What in the world——?”
“Big Injun scalp lock!” chuckled Michael.
Eve put out her hand and touched it gingerly. “You mean—he wore a wig!”
“Looks like it. I grabbed at his hair just as I fell. When it came off
in my hand, I thought I must be seeing things!”
Abruptly Eve leaned over and sniffed at the wig. “Harry’s Hair
Restorer!” she announced.
Michael looked at her in amazement. “Mean to say you know the
gentleman? Perhaps he wasn’t a burglar after all?”
“If he wasn’t,” answered Eve slowly, “then I don’t know what he was
doing in our house! Unless—unless he came after the letter!”
“But we sent it back to him,” I cried.
“I know, but maybe he didn’t get it. Maybe he didn’t go back to
Trap’s—don’t you see? But he wanted the letter and when he didn’t find
it in his suitcase, he—he came after it.”
Michael got up from the wall. “Well, I guess I’ll be getting on,” he
said stiffly. “Of course, if I’d known you were acquainted with the
fellow——”
“But we’re not—not really. Oh, wait a minute, please!” Eve put out her
hand to hold him back. “If you’ll just give us a chance we’ll tell you
all about it. In fact, I think it’s time we told somebody.”
Back at the house after we had helped Michael remove some of the mud
from his person, we told him the story; first of Mr. Bangs’ activities
in the garden of Craven House and then of the piece of paper with the
odd inscription, which we had found.
Michael listened without comment. But when we had finished he said, “I
felt there was something suspicious about that real estate agent when
you first mentioned him. I happen to know that Craven House isn’t for
sale and isn’t likely to be and I couldn’t imagine why anyone should be
up there measuring the ground. And now this wig and this letter
business makes it look queerer than ever.”
“What d’you think it’s all about anyway?” Eve asked.
Michael shook his head thoughtfully. “It looks as if he was after
something. Something that’s hidden—or he thinks is hidden at Craven
House. I wonder——” He paused and gazed meditatively into space.
“Suppose we take a look around here,” he suggested at last, “to see if
there’s anything missing.”
“That’s so,” I said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Eve took up the lamp and together we made a tour of the house. Upstairs
we found that every dresser drawer had been rummaged and, in many
cases, the contents scattered on the floor. Eve’s empty traveling bag
and my suitcase were lying open in our room. But aside from this and
the chairs he had overturned in his flight through the lower part of
the house, the intruder seemed to have done no damage. And so far as we
could discover, nothing was missing.
Back in the kitchen, we returned to the discussion of what was to be
done. Michael, now that we had furnished a mystery for him to solve,
had entirely dropped his standoffish attitude. He agreed with us that
the only way to find out what the mysterious Mr. Bangs was after was to
keep our own counsel for the present. Michael was anxious to take a
look at the exact spot where we had found him at work in the garden,
and we finally arranged to meet him there the next day after his work
at the farm was over and to bring with us a copy of the letter.
It was not until after Michael had gone and Eve and I had restored
everything to its accustomed order that I remembered Adam. But the
house beyond the hedge was dark; Captain Trout had evidently retired.
The cat problem, we decided, would just have to wait.
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