THE SEARCH IN THE OLD HOUSE
Paul's adventure in the old house somehow seemed to give importance to his
opinions on all matters pertaining to that subject. So when he suggested
that the act of throwing something into the water by the tenant of the
abandoned building was for the purpose of destroying evidence, all the
boys agreed that quite likely such was the truth.
What evidence this person, be he Grandall or not, wished to destroy and
why, was the subject of vast discussion. Since the coming of Slider among
them, particularly, the Auto Boys found the mystery of the stolen twenty
thousand dollars to possess for them a strong personal interest. They
talked over and over again, and with the greatest relish, everything
that had come within their notice in and around the bleak old structure
down there on the Point.
Finally--it was during the Sunday evening supper of cold hard-boiled eggs,
bread and butter, bananas, graham crackers and coffee--that finally, and
at last, Phil Way proposed that a really serious visit be made to the
clubhouse the following morning. Of any person encountered--Mr. Murky
excepted, of course--permission to use the vise and other equipment in
the automobile shed would be asked. This would be a reasonable pretext
for going to the clubhouse grounds. And being on those premises, everyone
should look carefully about for some clue to the stolen money's hiding
place.
It was not easy for Captain Phil to suggest this plan. He was not sure it
was quite square and honorable--"on the level"--as some would say,--but
he called it a stratagem in a worthy cause and so felt better over it.
But really, since the cause was that of helping Chip Slider, as against
such villains as Murky and Grandall, no one could blame Phil, or blame
any of the lads that they welcomed his proposal heartily.
The day had been hot and close. Contrary to the usual condition, also,
the air grew little if any cooler as night came on. A dive from the
projecting log into the lake to cool off was in order then, as the boys
prepared for bed.
"Just goes to show what a nuisance clothes are, anyway," observed Paul
Jones, as he dried himself. He was rejoicing exceedingly that he had
only to jump into his nightshirt to be clothed to all necessary extent,
following his swim. "Heap fine idea if we had clothes for day time as
simple as for night time!" he added.
"Yes sir, it's just such fellows as you, Jones, that would sooner or
later drift right back to the stone age if there weren't more
energetic ones to drag you along forward, making you wear clothes and
things--keeping you civilized," was MacLester's answer. A good-natured
grin accompanied his remarks.
"Well, I s'pose it takes clothes to give some folks an appearance of being
civilized," was Paul's warm rejoinder, yet with utmost good-nature. "But
for my part--well, I'll go on wearing 'em, David, for your sake."
"And it would make your appearance more civilized still if you made more
civil use of your tongue," MacLester retorted.
Then Jones had recourse to his usual, "Tush, tush, Davy! You've tired
yourself all out. You'll feel better tomorrow."
This sort of language, in a fatherly tone that from Paul's slender size,
in contrast with Dave's large frame, was really grotesque, always provoked
a mild laugh. Usually, too, it closed the wordy clashes in which the two
boys frequently engaged.
MacLester made no further response. He was ready for bed now, Billy had
already crept in and Phil and Chip Slider were following him.
"Last is best of all the game," chirped Jones in his own blithe,
self-complacent way as he saw that he was bringing up the rear, as
often he had done before. But in another moment he likewise was in bed.
The boys were feeling now the late hours of the night before. Undoubtedly
they all would "feel better tomorrow."
The probability that the amiable Mr. Murky would discover Chip Slider's
presence in the woods had been discussed before, but the talk was renewed
at breakfast Monday morning. Chip was quite sure the old fellow did not
suspect that he was near. He had been very careful to keep out of Murky's
sight and was more anxious than ever to do so now, being quite sure there
would be serious trouble for himself and his new friends as well, were he
discovered.
It was so apparent that Slider stood in great dread of the tramp that
Phil had no hesitancy in suggesting that he might better remain at the
camp while the others visited the old house. Chip agreed readily. He said
he could be of no use elsewhere, and his presence with the Auto Boys would
but inflame Murky as much against them as himself if they chanced to meet
him.
With the exception of the upstairs window being closed, the clubhouse
and its surroundings looked exactly the same as on their former visits
to the Point, the Auto Boys found. The air of loneliness, melancholy and
excessive quiet impressed them all just as it had done before. The sound
of their own footsteps appeared to ring in a hollow and unnatural way.
Their voices, though low and subdued, seemed loud and harsh in their ears
in the foreboding calm of this haunted atmosphere.
"I don't see _why_ it should always feel so here--as if a fellow was just
going to be scared to death," remarked Billy in an undertone.
"If you figure it out, though, it's all in your mind," replied Phil
thoughtfully. "Trouble is, to make yourself believe it."
But notwithstanding his reasoning, sound enough, undoubtedly, despite the
awful tragedy the Point was so soon to witness--Captain Phil carried his
philosophy rather gingerly, as it were, when he stepped up on the porch
to knock. In other words, he stepped very lightly. Still his rapping was
right sharp and it should have brought a response had there been anyone
within hearing, willing to make answer.
Peering in at the windows, the boys could see nothing in any way different
than when they had been at the house the first time.
"I tell you whoever _was_ here has gone," said MacLester for the fourth
or fifth time, and he tried the door. It was locked. The door at the
rear,--that is, the one opening upon the high porch facing the lake,
was likewise tightly secured.
"Now then," said Phil, resolutely, "we're face to face with the question
that has been in my mind all night. What are we going to do next? And I'll
tell you what we _are_ going to do. We have no right to go into the
house--no right at all, one way you look at it. But that isn't the answer.
We are helping Chip Slider with his search for money that was stolen
and hidden, and that ought to be found and returned to its owners. Then
it's _necessary_ that we go in this clubhouse and _we're going in_."
"Paul knows the way up through the cellar! Let him get in at the window
he got out of and so go up the cellar stairs and open the door for us.
There's a key inside, likely," proposed Billy.
"Say! how'd you like to take a run and jump off the dock?" answered young
Mr. Jones with more fervor than elegance. "No, sir! We can find some other
window open!"
And Paul was right. A surprise awaited the boys when they reached the west
side of the house. (The path from front to rear passed on the east of the
building.) The brush and a couple of tall trees grew very close to the
walls at the westerly side. Phil was foremost as the friends ventured in
that direction.
"Look!" he cried suddenly. "A window open, and more than that, it's
smashed to smithereens!"
Quite true it was. The fragments of glass littered the parched and
stunted grass. The sash of the window was raised to its fullest height.
A freshly broken branch of a low bush, close by, was evidence that
the mischief had been done but recently.
The boys could only guess by whom and for what purpose the window had been
shattered. The thought came to them that Murky might have been doing some
investigating inside. Possibly he was in the house at this very minute.
The idea was not a pleasant one to contemplate.
"Gee whiz! I'd fade _away_--I'd shrink up to a pale shadow and
perish--actually perish, if ever that fellow got hold of _me_!" said young
Mr. Jones. His voice indicated that perhaps his exaggerated statement
might not be so overdrawn as it appeared.
"Come on! Give me a lift, somebody," exclaimed Way impatiently. Then,
ignoring Billy's prompt offer of a hand to boost him, up he clambered
and the next moment stood within. Billy, Paul and Dave followed.
The air in the house was close and oppressive. Outside the sun shone
hot. Not even a zephyr stirred the leaves. A bluejay shrieked noisily, as
if in protest at the visitors' conduct. With something of that "fading
away" feeling Paul Jones had mentioned, the boys proceeded, however, from
room to room.
Downstairs they found everything to be quite as has been described
heretofore. The bucket on the kitchen table beside which, on a former
occasion, the boys had seen a tiny pool of water, was now empty and
turned upside down. Other little things, such as the tin dipper being
inside a cupboard and every drawer and every door closed, suggested
that whoever had occupied the house had indeed gone away.
A door opened upon the stairs that led to the second floor. It was closed
but not locked. Up the dusty steps the boys went. They found themselves
in a hall off of which opened six small bed-rooms. In each was a bedstead
of one kind or another, some of iron, some built of pine lumber. There
were mattresses on all the beds but on only one was there other bedding.
This was in the room the window of which the boys had more than once seen
to be open.
A couple of blankets and a pillow were thrown loosely over this mattress.
The latter was quite out of its proper position as if it had been placed
on the bedstead hurriedly. Looking more closely the lads discovered that
the other mattresses were awry. Dave suggested that someone had pulled
them this way and that to see if anything was hidden in or under them.
There was no telling whether he was right.
Between two of the tiny bed-rooms was a bath-room. It contained a tub
and washstand only, but was quite nicely finished in painted pine as,
indeed, was all the second floor. There were no towels, soap, brushes or
any of the usual paraphernalia of a bath-room in sight but on a little
shelf beneath the mirror were a shaving-mug and brush.
"See! this has been used just lately! The soap is still wet on the brush,"
Phil Way observed, picking up that article. "Mr. Grandall forgot it, I
reckon."
"Grandall--your grandmother!" exclaimed Worth quickly. "Look at the
initial B, big as life, on the cup!"
"Just the same, it was Grandall who was here and the only questions
are, what did he come for and where has he went?" said Paul Jones more
positively than grammatically.
"Anyhow the shaving cup or the initial, either one, is no sure sign of
anything except that someone was here, and we knew that before," said Way
reflectively. "Quite likely the reason the mug was left here was that it
had been here all along and did not belong to Grandall," he reasoned.
"Now you're shouting," spoke Jones with emphasis.
At the end of the narrow hall was a small room with a door opening upon
a balcony. Here the boys stepped out. The view of the lake from this point
was extremely pretty. Under the glow of the sun the water shone like
silver. The green shores looked cool and delightful--far cooler than
they really were.
But they were lovely to the eye. Only one tall, dead pine whose naked top
and branches rose gaunt and ghostly above the foliage of its neighbors
offered the slightest omen of the impending danger in a scene so tranquil.
A high trellis on which the roses or some vines had at some time clambered
to this balcony or porch roof where the boys now stood, offered them an
opportunity to climb down to the ground. Only Billy chose this route. He
quickly reached the earth and went out to the decaying remnants of the
wharf while the others resumed their search through the house. But if he
thought to discover any sign of whatever the strange man threw into the
water the day before, he was disappointed.
Worth rejoined his friends in the clubhouse living-room. Striking many
matches to find the way, they all descended the steep steps into the
cellar. Very little light entered this dark place. One small window only
was there beside the one whose presence Paul Jones had found so convenient.
"Here's the place to look carefully," observed Billy. "But I say, we are
a pack of mutton-heads! What if someone should come into the house this
minute? Tell you what! You fellows dig around here and I'll stand guard
upstairs."
"I did think of such a plan but after seeing that broken window, I
concluded it wasn't necessary," said Phil. "Whoever there might be to
disturb us now, has been through the house ahead of us, I'm thinking. And
it's my opinion that we are too late coming here, anyhow. The man who
most likely found the twenty thousand dollars is the one who cleared out
last night."
Still Billy Worth insisted on going upstairs to stand guard while the
search of the dark cellar went forward and the bluejay outside harshly
screamed its protests while the gaunt, bare top of the old dead pine
frowned ominously across the lake.