SUSPICIONS AROUSED
For a moment the boys hardly knew what to do. They stood looking at
Muchmore, who seemed very angry, and also intensely excited.
"We're going to save the pictures," said Vincent.
"There are no pictures in there!" declared the man.
"The housekeeper said so," put in Bert.
"Yes, yes! The valuable paintings belonging to Mr. Stockton!"
exclaimed Mrs. Blarcum. "They'll be burned up! The fire is coming this
way!"
"I don't care if it is!" fairly shouted Muchmore. "Let the pictures
burn. As for you, old woman, if I find you meddling any more, with
what doesn't concern you, I'll find a way to stop you! Now clear out!"
The woman shrank back, mumbling to herself, and hastened down the
stairs.
"You boys are too fresh!" went on Muchmore. "Why don't you mind your
own business?"
"Our business is to put out fires!" declared Herbert. "And that's what
we're doing here."
"Then keep out of places where you have no right to enter! There is no
fire here!"
"But it may get here soon, and we wanted to save the things," added
Vincent.
"Get out!" exclaimed Muchmore, in an angry voice. "Don't you attempt
to go into that room. You'd better pay more attention to the blaze."
"The blaze is being attended to all right," replied Herbert. "We've
got two streams on it. But if you don't want us to save any goods, I'm
sure we don't mind. Come, Vincent, we'll leave."
The two boys, puzzled by Muchmore's queer actions, went back to where
their companions were still playing water on the flames.
The fire was now under control, the boys having prevented its spread
beyond a small area. Quite a hole was burned in the floor, and the
flames had eaten through the side of the house, and burned out two
windows. A little more water served to put out the last sparks.
"Guess we're done," said Charlie. "You can signal 'em to stop pumping,
Captain Bert," and he laughed, for he was well pleased with his role
of fireman. Bert blew the prearranged blasts on his whistle, and the
boys at the brakes were glad enough to cease, for their arms ached
with the strain. Those drawing water from the cistern likewise
welcomed the respite.
"Take up the hose," ordered Herbert, with as much importance as if he
was a battalion chief of a big city department.
Tom and Charlie went through the hall, dragging the two lines with
them, and the hose was soon reeled back on the engine.
"Guess we've done our share," declared Mr. Sagger, as he called to his
men of the bucket brigade. "The fire's out!"
"Well, I can't say that we did it all," Confessed Mr. Appelby. "The
boys did the most of it."
"We could have done it without them," asserted the butcher. "They were
only in the way. We couldn't use the cistern."
"I guess it's just as well they got there first," went on the mayor of
Lakeville. "This looked like a bad blaze, and if it had got beyond
control the whole house would have gone. It's as dry as tinder, and a
regular death-trap."
"Did you hear what started it, Mr. Appelby?" asked Cole, as he trimmed
the lamps on the engine.
"Overheated flue, according to the housekeeper. I was talking to her,
but a young fellow came along and ordered her to stop. I wonder who he
was?"
"That's Muchmore," declared Herbert "He's in charge since Mr. Stockton
has been away. He didn't want us to do anything toward saving some
pictures, and he kept me from going in a certain hall. He's a queer
chap."
"I should say so," commented Mr. Appelby. "Maybe he lost his head on
account of the fire."
"And he lost his manners, too," added Vincent, at the recollection of
Muchmore's mean words.
"Well, the house is safe now," went on Mr. Appelby. "I guess we can
leave. I suppose Muchmore can attend to things now. Let's gather up
the buckets, Sagger, and go home. I'd like to get a little more
sleep."
The bucket brigade soon left, and, a little while later, the young
firemen, pulling their engine, moved off down the hill, talking over
the events of the night. They all agreed that they had been more
successful than might have been expected of a new organization.
"I think Muchmore might have at least thanked us," said Tom Donnell.
"He didn't show up after his queer actions."
"There's something funny about that man," declared Bert. "I never saw
a person act so suspiciously. He seemed afraid that we would discover
something."
"Maybe he was," said George Perkins.
"What?" asked several of his companions.
"Why, I heard that he was a regular gambler," went on George. "He
makes a profession of it. Maybe he had a gambling outfit in some of
those rooms, and didn't want you to discover it."
"Who told you he was a gambler?" asked Vincent.
"The station agent. He sees him taking the train to the city every
once in a while, and one day he saw him in a car, with a man he knows
to be a gambler of the worst kind. Oh, Muchmore is a gambler, all
right."
"Do you suppose he has gambling games in that house?" inquired Tom
Donnell. "I shouldn't be surprised."
"I wonder if Mr. Stockton knows it?" ventured Bert. "I heard my mother
say Mr. Stockton was a very fine man, and I don't believe he would
allow that if he knew it."
"Nobody's liable to tell him," went on George. "He seems to have
disappeared. That's another queer part of it. The station agent, who
knows Mr. Stockton quite well, doesn't remember his going away, and
he'd have to go from here to New York, if he sailed for Europe, which
is the story Muchmore tells in the village."
"Boys," said Bert suddenly, "I believe there is something mysterious
about that house. I thought so when I saw how queer Muchmore acted.
Now, with what George tells me, I am more than ever inclined to that
belief."
"What can we do about it?" asked Vincent.
"Maybe we can investigate," went on Herbert, "I'd like to find out
more about the place."
"We might make an excuse for going there tomorrow, by asking if the
fire did much damage," suggested Cole.
"And be put out for our pains," objected Vincent. "No, I'm going to
stay away from there."
"I guess that will be best, for a time," decided Bert.