CHAPTER IX

Horace Cooperates

Judy really meant to call Peter again. But when his sister Honey telephoned and suggested a late movie she couldn’t resist the temptation to go with her. The picture was all about a man with a criminal record. It made Judy think of Dick Hartwell. Honey said she had liked him, too.

“My trouble is, I like everybody,” she confessed. “Besides, I have a little theory of my own that people have to make mistakes in order to do better. I know I did.”

“I believe in that, too,” declared Judy, “and so does Peter. He doesn’t think a single conviction should brand a man as a criminal. I certainly had a better opinion of Dick Hartwell than I do of RogerBanning. He and that Cubby, as he calls him, are up to no good. As for that other man, there was something evil about him. Lois and Lorraine weren’t the only ones who were frightened. I do mean to go back there and investigate in spite of his warning. Horace will dig up something. I wish you could go with us tomorrow, Honey. You couldn’t ask for the day off, could you?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t,” Peter’s sister replied. “Mr. Dean has just bought a new air-brush machine, and tomorrow is the day I learn how to use it. I wouldn’t miss that even for a wish in your enchanted fountain, Judy. The art work I’m doing is the fulfillment of my dearest wish, anyway. But have fun!”

“I will,” Judy promised, wondering if she would.

The next morning when Judy told Horace what Honey had said about the new air-brush machine, he was not pleased at all. Muttering that young Forrest Dean was more interested in the artists his father employed than in the work he was supposed to be doing, Horace made an attack on his breakfast that sent a fried egg skimming through the air like a flying saucer.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” screeched his parrot from his cage near the kitchen window.

Fortunately for the doctor’s peace of mind, the parrot went to sleep early, but he also awoke at the crack of dawn. This morning he was especially noisy.

“At least,” Judy laughed, as Horace mopped up the egg, “he isn’t calling names the way he usually does.”

“No?” asked Horace.

The egg incident had started the parrot off. Now he was sidling from one end of his perch to the other and screeching, “Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!”

This was by no means the only word in the parrot’s vocabulary, but it was the one he most frequently used. It made Judy think of Lorraine’s wish.

“She wished she could trust Arthur, and then she asked me if I could trust Peter if I believed he was a cheat. What do you think she meant by that?”

“Cheat! Cheat!” shrieked the parrot.

“There! You’ve started him off again. Quiet, Plato!” commanded Horace.

To Judy’s amazement, the bird kept still.

“So you’ve finally decided on a name for him?” she asked her brother. “But why Plato?”

“Why not?” Horace asked. “Most of his chattering is Greek to me. Honey suggested the name. You know how I feel about her, Judy. But if she’s in love with her art work, where do I fit in?”

“I’m afraid, Horace, that she thinks of you as a brother,” Judy told him. “After all, she is my sister. I wished for her in the fountain, and my wish came true.”

“Actually,” Horace pointed out, “she is your sister-in-law, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be a great big cooperative brother to both of you if that’s the way she wants it. Art before love, as the saying goes. By the way,” he asked more curiously, “how does Honey operate this air-brush machine?”

“She doesn’t know,” Judy replied. “That’s why she’s so eager to learn. She told me the kind of picture it paints. It gives a nice spattered effect like—like the spray from a fountain.”

Everything reminded her of fountains. Later, as they drove through Farringdon and on toward the Brandt estate, they talked of little else.

“We’ll see what haunts your fountain, and then I’ll take you on home. This may not be much of a story, sis. I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

“I won’t be. I’m more interested in what’s bothering Lorraine. Something has made her really unhappy,” Judy declared. “You and I both know Arthur wouldn’t do anything dishonest. Why should Lorraine, who’s supposed to be in love with him, even suggest that he might be a cheat?”

“Did she?” Horace looked almost too interested.

“I started to tell you at breakfast, but your parrot wouldn’t let me. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Lorraine acts as if the whole thing ought to be kept secret, and I’m sure she has a reason. Horace—”

“Don’t worry,” he assured Judy. “I won’t let the cat out of the bag.”

Again Judy thought of Blackberry shut in the attic.

“Maybe we should drive over to my house—”

“Later,” Horace promised, turning in at the private road to the Brandt estate. “Newspapermen never pay any attention toNO TRESPASSINGsigns,” he told Judy as they drove past the notice and straight up to the door of the house Judy was now seeing for the first time.

The top of the hill had looked like the end of the world. They had come down upon the house immediately afterwards. It was nestled in the hollow beyond the hilltop and rambled off in all directions, an attractive combination of brick and native stone. There were three or four tall chimneys. Judy didn’t count them because, just as she and Horace climbed out of the car, a black cat darted in front of them and through the open door. A grim, elderly man, who did not look at all pleased to see them, was holding it open. He had not waited for Horace to ring the bell.

“Heraldreporter. May I have an interview?” Judy’s brother asked promptly.

“With whom, may I ask?”

The man’s tone was icy, but Horace replied in his usual bland manner, “I was told by my editor to get a good story from someone of importance. I leave it to you, sir. Who is the most important person here?”

The man, who was tall, white-haired, and rather an important-looking person himself, was about to reply when a woman’s voice from somewhere within the house called, “Who is it, Stanley?”

“Reporters, madam,” replied Stanley, raising his voice as much as dignity would permit. “They want to interview a person of importance. Will you see them?”

“I will not.” The reply was short and to the point. “I told those two gentlemen who were here last night that we have nothing to hide. I will not be bothered by any more people.”

Horace, who always had a quotation at the tip of his tongue, turned to Judy and said, “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”

“I beg your pardon?” Stanley said politely.

It came to Judy that he must be the butler. Had the Brandts left him there to take care of things while they were away, or had these new people, whoever they were, hired him? Even the Farringdon-Petts didn’t employ a butler.

“This is the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Banning, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Brandt,” Stanley corrected her. “I’m afraid you have made a mistake—”

“I’m afraidyouhave made a mistake,” Horace said, and his tone was not so bland as before. “The Brandts are in Florida. We were told they had leased the estate to the Bannings. Is Mr. George Banning here?”

“He is not, sir!”

“What about his son, Roger?”

“He isn’t here, either. Stanley, tell them to go away!” the voice from upstairs called more shrilly. “Roger is out. He won’t be back until afternoon.”

“We’ll wait, if you don’t mind. We’re in no hurry.”

Pushing himself past the startled Stanley, Horace pulled Judy along with him. “There’s news here,” he whispered, “and I don’t mean small stuff. Unless my eyes deceive me, that’s a police car driving up the road. We can watch from this window!”

Blackberry Leads the Way

The room in which Judy found herself seemed to be all windows. There was no furniture in it except for a round rug on the polished floor and a bench against one wall. In the other three walls were high windows with deep cabinets built under the window sills. On top of them were big glass tanks and little glass tanks filled with everything from tiny tropical fish to goldfish the size of flounders. Horace nearly dived into one of the fish tanks as he rushed to look out and see what was happening. Nothing, apparently, was.

“They’re simply cruising around out there,” he observed. “Do you think they’re looking for the fountain?”

“They won’t reach it in a police car,” Judy replied. “They—” She stopped suddenly. The round rug on the floor was hand-hooked and looked very familiar. So was the cat that sat motionless in the center of it, fascinated by the moving fish.

“Horace!” she exclaimed. “That’s Grandma’s rug! She did deliver it here, and that looks like—it is!” Gathering the cat in her arms with another exclamation, she hugged him against her cheek and then, holding him back to look at him, asked in amazement, “Blackberry! What in the world are you doing here?”

“What he intended to do was obvious,” Horace observed with a grin. “What would any cat do in a room full of fish? I didn’t recognize him when he crossed our path out there and then darted through the door.”

“He led us here!” cried Judy. “He’s always leading me into adventure.”

“And trouble,” Horace added. “By the way, sis, are you sure he is Blackberry?”

“Of course I’m sure,” replied Judy, tilting the cat’s head to show her brother the proof. “No other black cat has the same tiny white hairs that look as if someone had spilled milk on his nose. They’re on his feet, too. When I first saw him I said they made him look like a blackberry dipped in sugar, and Peter agreed that Blackberry was a perfect name for him.”

“A ‘purrfect’ name?”

“Exactly,” Judy agreed, “with the accent on thepurr. The white hairs don’t show as much as they did when he was a kitten, but I’d know him anyway by the crackle in his purr. Listen to him, Horace! He’s so glad to see us.”

“I wonder,” Horace said, still grinning. “He seemed rather glad to see the fish before we came in. My big news story may turn out to be nothing but a fish story after all. At least I know what his hobby is.”

“Whose hobby?” asked Judy. “You don’t even know who owns the fish. Stanley could be taking care of them for the Brandts. It does seem to me I remember goldfish in the pool around the fountain.”

“When you fished for the diamond you showed me?”

“No, Horace, it was the other time, when I thought the fountain was enchanted and made my wishes. I know I saw flashes of gold in the water. I wonder if any of these fish are ever kept there.”

“Probably—in the summer. In the winter the pool seems to be reserved for more valuable things. I wouldn’t mind fishing for diamonds. There may be more—”

“Sh!” Judy stopped him. “Wasn’t that the doorbell?”

Horace looked out the window. The two policemen who had been cruising around the grounds were no longer in the police car. It was parked in the circular driveway. The bell rang again. Blackberry stiffened in Judy’s arms and pricked up his ears. She could hear Stanley’s voice.

“Mrs. Cubberling is resting. She does not wish to be disturbed this morning.”

“Is she Cubby’s wife or his mother?” Judy whispered.

“Who knows? Mr. Cubberling may be the neighbor I’m looking for,” declared Horace. “Listen!”

“Two government men were here last night,” Stanley was saying. “Mrs. Cubberling can’t tell you any more than she told them.”

Judy’s gray eyes widened in alarm when she heard this. The FBI! Had she accidentally stumbled into a mystery Peter was investigating?

“I didn’t mean to!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Horace! One of those government men could have been Peter. What’ll we do? I promised him I’d never follow him on another one of his investigations.”

“You didn’t follow him on purpose,” Horace reassured her. “I’m not so sure Blackberry didn’t, though. Cats aren’t bound by promises.”

“I wish girls weren’t. I do so want to help—”

“Listen!” Horace interrupted.

The voices outside were becoming louder. Judy heard Roger Banning’s name and the name of Dick Hartwell. Cubby wasn’t mentioned. Neither was the dark stranger whose name Judy did not know. Finally Stanley called upstairs in an extremely agitated manner, “There are two gentlemen here, madam. They’re officers of the law and they have a search warrant—”

“That does it!” Horace whispered. “It’ll be news all right. They’re going to search the house.”

“They’ll find us!” cried Judy. “Horace, they mustn’t! That door over there seems to lead to the garden. Maybe we can slip out without being seen.”

“An excellent idea! That’s using the brain cells. Now,” Horace announced a few minutes later when they were safe beyond a thick yew hedge that bordered the garden, “we’ll do a little searching for ourselves. Think you and Blackberry can lead me to the fountain?”

“I think so.” Judy still had the cat in her arms. “Stop squirming,” she told him. “I’ll let you down when we find the path.”

“Maybe he can help us find it,” Horace suggested.

“It wouldn’t be safe,” Judy objected. “How do we know that dark man isn’t lurking around somewhere waiting to catnap him? Seriously, there may be danger. If you come to a fence, don’t touch it. The wires are charged with electricity.”

“Friendly lot, aren’t they?” asked Horace. “There’s your fence.”

They had come upon it sooner than they anticipated. The whole wooded portion of the estate seemed to be fenced off with chain-link fences and electrically charged wire.

“What do they keep in here?” was Horace’s next question. “I’m not eager to meet any ferocious animals.”

“The only animals I saw were made of stone,” Judy told him. “Lions, but they don’t bite. They only spurt water out of their mouths when the fountain is on, and I imagine it isn’t today. It’s too cold. The pipes would freeze—”

“And moan,” Horace said. “You know what weird sounds can come out of hollow pipes when the wind is blowing. You probably only imagined the words.”

“I don’t imagine words. You know that. Please don’t start that argument all over again,” begged Judy. “It doesn’t get us anywhere, but the path will. This fence crosses it, but I think I can find the place where we got through it yesterday. After that we just followed the path. We can find it all right with the tower to guide us. It’s somewhere in that direction.”

Judy tried to point, but found the cat in her arms something of a handicap. He was still struggling to free himself.

“You won’t hold him long,” Horace prophesied.

“But I have to,” Judy insisted. “I don’t want him to run away from us. He may be a big help if we explore the fountain. If there really is a cave underneath it and if we can squeeze inside, we’re bound to find something if only more water pipes. If I can crawl in behind those cupids—”

“Ifthe water is turned off,” Horace finished for her. “That makes sixifs. I counted them.”

“There are apt to be seven or eight, if not more,” declared Judy. “But Blackberry can explore places we can’t. The trouble is, he can’t tell us what he finds—”

“Me-aurr!” interrupted the cat.

“In words, I mean,” Judy corrected herself. “You tell us in your own way, don’t you, Blackberry? I wish you could tell us how you got here. Did Peter bring you?”

“Peter wouldn’t bring a cat to help him investigate a crime,” Horace began. “Maybe you didn’t shut Blackberry in the attic—”

“Blackberry!” cried Judy as the cat leaped from her arms.

It was a squirrel that had attracted him. He soon chased it up a tree and out on an overhanging branch. The squirrel escaped, but Blackberry was now on the other side of the fence. With one leap, he was on the ground.

“A good idea!” approved Horace. “Blackberry is leading the way again. That’s how we’ll get over. You’re next, Judy. I’ll hold you up.”

“It seems to me we’re doing it the hard way. Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed when she was in the tree. “I can see the house from here. Those policemen are just coming out. Do you think they’ll recognize your car?”

“Probably,” replied Horace. He was having a little more difficulty climbing the tree since there was no one to boost him.

“Do you think they’ll search the grounds?”

Judy, who was wearing slacks, slid down the branch easily and dropped to the ground, but it broke with Horace. He got up, rubbed a skinned place on his elbow, and replied, “Probably,” as if nothing had happened. His dignity seemed to be more hurt than any other part of him. Judy just had to giggle. Blackberry, apparently not liking the commotion caused by Horace’s fall, darted off into the bushes.

“He got away in spite of me,” declared Judy, “but he’ll be back. He likes to help me explore. I would have taken him with us yesterday, but Lorraine doesn’t like cats. She says they’re creepy.”

“She said quite a few unpleasant things, didn’t she?” asked Horace.

“It was only because she was upset,” Judy excused her. She was beginning to wonder if she should have told her brother anything about Lorraine’s problem.There seemed to be problems enough without that. The next one they encountered was a thick growth of thorny bushes. They were nearer the tower now. The path couldn’t be far away.

“If only they hadn’t planted so many kinds of holly, and all with prickly leaves,” Judy complained. “Maybe they think they need more than electric fences to keep people away.”

“Away from what?” asked Horace stopping to extract a thorn from his finger.

“The fountain, I guess. There is some secret about it. There must be,” Judy decided. “There! I can see it now, through the bushes, and it is turned off. Hurry, Horace! I can hardly wait to explore it.”

Under the Fountain

Judy reached the fountain ahead of Horace. It looked even more forsaken than it had the day before. When they finally stood together beside the circular wall that enclosed the dry pool, even Judy could feel no enchantment.

“It’s gone—whatever it was,” she said mournfully.

“The water’s gone. I can see that much. They must have a good drainage system,” Horace commented.

“For the big pool, yes.” Judy could not shake off the feeling of disappointment. “There may be a little water in the center fountain,” she added more hopefully. “Shall we go across?”

“Might as well,” Horace agreed, following her. Blackberry, who had reappeared, remained at the edge of the pool watching. There were no fish. Thus the fountain held no charms for him.

“Come here, Horace!” Judy called presently to her brother. “You said you wanted to fish for diamonds. Well, this is the place.”

Horace found the little pool in the center of the fountain very uninteresting and said so. There was nothing in the water but sticks and dead leaves. Furthermore, it was icy cold.

“Now I understand your frozen tear story a little better,” Horace continued. “I suspect Lorraine has more to cry about than she told you. If she doesn’t trust Arthur, she has a reason—”

“Perhaps an imagined one. She is jealous. You remember how hard she made it for me in high school—and afterwards. Of course,” Judy admitted, “Arthur did like me, and I thought I was in love with him. He is romantic-looking and I was too young to realize that true love is more than going places with someone who makes a nice impression. Peter makes a nice impression, too. But not a romantic one. You sort of feel his strength. Oh, Horace! I wish I’d told him about this before we came. I should have called him instead of going to that movie with Honey.”

“I’m afraid we won’t find out much, anyway. You say the fountain spoke to you—”

“Yes, but not until I’d made my wish. Yesterday it was only a moaning sound. I did think it said, ‘Go away!’ but maybe you were right, Horace. Maybe it was just a noise in the pipes. I’d feel a little foolish speaking to it now.”

“More foolish than usual?” Horace teased.

“Just for that I will! Oh, fountain!” Judy began. “Speak—”

A noise in the holly thicket interrupted her. A policeman poked his head through the bushes and shouted, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

“We’re just exploring,” Judy replied calmly. “If we find anything we’ll let you know.”

“Oh, it’s you,” the policeman said and withdrew to go into conference with his companion. Judy heard something in a low voice about previous mysteries she had solved.

“Chief Kelly says he’ll never forget the day he met Judy Bolton,” she heard. “After emptying a bag of jewels on his desk, she invited him to a ghost party. He tells me she’s been chasing ghosts ever since.”

“Think that’s whatwe’redoing?”

“It looks that way. Let Judy and her brother explore the woods if they want to. They’re better at finding jewels than we are. There were none in the safe. Mrs. Cubberling was only too glad to have us look there. Who knows? Maybe they’ll turn up in a hollow tree.”

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Did you hear that?” Judy whispered. “They’re looking for jewels. They think maybe we can find them because we did find the loot from that other robbery. Listen!”

There was more conversation as the voices drifted away. Peter’s name wasn’t mentioned but, because the policemen seemed to approve of what Judy was doing, she felt sure Peter would, too.

“We’re trespassing,” she told Horace a little later, “but the law doesn’t mind. I heard them say they’d made a mistake, but did they? They didn’t do much searching around this fountain.”

“If there’s a story here, we’ll just have to uncover it ourselves,” declared Horace. “I’d like to explore that tower over there. If there are stairs inside, we could climb them. We’d have quite a view from those peepholes.”

Judy saw the peepholes he meant. They were about halfway up the tower. She suspected the police had already viewed the estate from up there and found nothing suspicious. She had not told them about the diamond she had found in the fountain, nor did she intend to tell them until after she had talked the whole matter over with Peter. Apparently only Stanley, the butler, and Mrs. Cubberling had been at home when the house was searched.

“Cubby is probably her husband,” Judy decided. It had been a fairly young voice that had called from upstairs. “But where does Roger Banning fit in?” sheasked Horace. “Do you think he could be here as a plumber’s helper? His father is supposed to be a plumber.”

“There are plenty of pipes here. Someone must have to keep them in working order. They’ve even got them in the lions’ mouths.”

Judy giggled. “Lois noticed them before. She said it gave Mr. and Mrs. Lion a startled expression, as if they were saying, ‘Oh!’”

“Maybe they’ve found the jewels those policemen are looking for,” Horace suggested with a laugh. “Apparently Cubby, as you call him, and Roger Banning made themselves scarce on purpose—”

“And that other man, whoever he was,” Judy put in. “He really frightened Lorraine. Did I tell you she lost the ring Arthur gave her? I mean she lost it unless it was stolen. She didn’t want to tell us about it, but when we found the diamond I looked to see if it came out of my ring, and then I noticed Lorraine wasn’t wearing hers. She acted guilty about it, too. Oh dear!” she suddenly exclaimed. “Is that the police car driving away?”

“Sounds like it,” agreed Horace. “I felt safer with them here, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I feel safe enough,” Judy replied carelessly. “Blackberry will protect us. He’s up there on the wall keeping watch—”

“Of what?” asked Horace. “Birds?”

“Of course not,” retorted Judy. “I trained him not to catch them.”

“What about fish?”

There was a twinkle in Horace’s eye as he asked this question. He had not forgotten the room with the fish tanks. How Blackberry happened to be there was still a mystery. The house, as well as the grounds, puzzled Judy.

“Something is going on here. Something—fishy.” She laughed and then shivered. There was a chill about the deserted fountain that made her wish she had worn warmer clothing. Her hands were especially cold.

“If it’s news,” Horace said, “it’s being well kept from us. Shall we explore below?”

“Let’s,” agreed Judy. “It can’t be any colder down there than it is up here, and I am curious. Come on, Blackberry!” she called to her cat. “Don’t you want to help us explore?”

“It’s too damp for him,” explained Horace when the cat refused to come.

Together Horace and Judy edged in between the cupids. Judy giggled at the pipes running up their backs to the bowl of the fountain. Exploring underneath, they found a dark opening which Horace bravely entered.

“No dragons,” he announced, peering about with the help of his flashlight. “It’s wet and slippery down here, and there are holes where a person could break a leg. Watch it, Judy!”

The warning came just too late. Judy tripped on something that turned out to be a removable drain cover and fell into what seemed to be a tunnel.

“This would make a good hideout for a gang of thieves,” commented Horace when he had helped Judy to her feet. “I hope we’re not getting into something we can’t handle. Shall we proceed?”

“Of course.” Judy was determinedly cheerful in spite of a scraped elbow. “There’s nothing dangerous down here.”

Horace was not so sure. Cautiously, he led the way along the tunnel, which seemed to be leading directly under the fountain. Suddenly, in the circle of light from Horace’s flash, they saw a closed door.

“Maybe this is where Mr. Banning lives!” exclaimed Judy. “Wouldn’t it be exciting to live right under a fountain? He could really take care of the pipes—I mean if he is a plumber. It’s locked,” she added, trying the door. “Shall I knock?”

“What’s the use?” asked Horace. “Nobody would answer.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” declared Judy, rapping loudly on the door.

“I told you,” Horace began, but stopped suddenly as the same moaning voice Judy had heard before called out, “Please, go away!”

A Mysterious Prisoner

“That,” announced Judy when she could find her voice, “was not a noise in the pipes. Someone’s in there, and I think he’s hurt. Shall I try again?”

Horace did not answer. He stood there as white as a ghost, with his mouth half open. The beam of his flashlight was directed upward. Judy saw a great many water pipes interlaced overhead. She supposed they could carry sound as well as water. But someone had to be in the room to make the sound, and she had a feeling it was someone who needed help and needed it badly. She rapped again, and this time there was no answer.

“Do you need help?” called Judy.

She didn’t know this man. She had no idea who he was. But, being Judy, she was ready to be a friend to anyone in trouble.

“Please answer me! I’m your friend,” she called again.

She had to call a third time before the man answered. His voice was fainter now.

“I have no friends,” he replied. “Why can’t you just go away and let me die in peace?”

For a moment Judy didn’t know what to say. She was ready to help him. But how could she?

“He wants to die,” she whispered. “Oh, Horace! We must do something. Do you think he’s a prisoner in there? Maybe he can’t open the door.”

“Ask him,” Horace suggested.

“Are you locked in?” called Judy. “We’ll get you out, somehow, if you are.”

“It’s no use,” the man replied. “I’d rather die here than in prison. Now go away!”

“I think we’d better. We’ll have a look around and then notify Peter. This is news, all right,” declared Horace. “Probably this man is one of a gang. Maybe he was hurt escaping from the police.”

“But Horace,” Judy objected, “this man’s hurt, and he needs help. We should call Dad.”

“Maybe we should. Tell him we’ll bring a doctor.”

Judy told him, but “Leave me alone!” was the only answer.

“Who are you?” called Horace. To this and more questions both he and Judy asked there was no answer. The man was through talking and told them so by silence. The air became heavy and oppressive as they waited. From time to time they would call more questions or offer help only to hear their own echoes sounding hollow in the tunnel. There was, Judy noticed presently, one other sound.

“Hear it!” she whispered. “Let’s find out what it is. It sounds like someone breathing.”

“Maybe it’s a dragon breathing fire.” Horace was trying to be funny to keep up his spirits. “I’m not feeling like St. George this morning.”

“You are a hero,” Judy reminded him. “It was in all the papers. ‘Hero of the Roulsville flood—’”

“Cut it out, sis! You know I was scared silly. I’m not wearing my suit of armor.” Judy knew he was remembering another equally shivery adventure in a ruined castle. “I could use it, though,” he added. “Now what are we up against?”

“It looks like another pipe,” replied Judy, turning on her own flashlight to see it better. “There’s a brick wall beyond it. But what’s beyond that?”

Led on by curiosity, Judy soon discovered another locked door. No moans came from behind it, and when she knocked and called there was no answer. There wasn’t a sound except—

Judy turned quickly. The sound now came from a definite direction. Was it something burning? The air was suddenly warm against her face.

“Hey, sis! You know what?” Horace said in a whisper. “There’s heat down here, and I don’t like it. What do you suppose makes it so warm?”

“It could be only a furnace,” Judy said.

She came upon it so unexpectedly that she let out a little shriek and then laughed at herself for doing so. She had been right.

“It is!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Horace! That’s all it is. I don’t know what I thought it was at first, but it’s a little pot-bellied stove with pipes branching out in all directions. Come and see!”

Horace came at once and saw the furnace. There it sat like a squat, red-eyed demon in a little lair of its own. It was burning coal from a bin beside it, and the fire showed through a grate in the door. Horace opened it to show Judy the blaze.

“Comforting, isn’t it?” she said. “Though I wonder how they get the coal down here. And who shovels it? I hope, whoever it is, he doesn’t shovel us in.”

“He might. How do we know he doesn’t have horns and a tail? This place needs more than heat to take the chill out of it,” Horace said with a shiver. “A little warm sunlight would help.”

“There is a little light where we dropped into the tunnel,” Judy remembered. “There may be other openings, too. A coal chute, maybe. There must be light of some kind in those locked rooms.”

“I hope there is,” agreed Horace. “It would be pretty dismal in there where that man is without any light at all.”

“He could live down here, I suppose, with light and heat,” Judy went on thinking aloud. “But why? Surely nobody would choose to live underground like a mole. If he’s hurt, Horace, why doesn’t he want us to help him? He said he wanted us to leave him alone to die. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me,” declared Horace. “Obviously, someone has imprisoned him under the fountain for a reason. Maybe he thinks we’re his captors and that’s why he doesn’t trust us.”

“But I told him we were his friends,” Judy protested.

“But are we? How friendly can we be if he’s a criminal?”

“Oh, Horace! He’s a human being,” cried Judy. “No matter what he’s done, he has a right to decent care. We must get him out of there and call Dad or else notify Peter—”

“And have him send the man back to prison?”

“I suppose he’d have to, wouldn’t he? If he’s an escaped prisoner, or if he’s being held here by criminals, Peter may be looking for him. The police weren’t. They were looking for jewels. You don’t think they’re hidden in the room with him, do you?Maybe he is a thief. Maybe he was hurt trying to escape from the police—or Peter.” This thought alarmed Judy. “You know, Horace,” she went on more urgently, “he does have to shoot at people sometimes. To make them halt, I mean. If he wounded this man—but he couldn’t have done it! It isn’t like Peter at all. Oh dear! I’m all mixed up. If I help this prisoner escape I won’t be helping Peter, will I? Why do I get into these dreadful situations?”

“It’s your instinct to help people,” Horace told her with what sounded like real sympathy. “I know how you feel about that man in there, but what can we do if he won’t cooperate?”

“We can keep trying,” replied Judy. “No matter who he is, we can’t leave him in there to die. I’ll call him again. Not you, Horace! He might think you were a policeman or something. We can’t even let him know you’re a reporter. The thought of publicity might scare him, and there’s enough down here to terrify him as it is.”

“You’re not just talking,” Horace agreed as they moved closer to the locked door.

“Oh, mister!” Judy called out sweetly. “We’re still here, and we still want to help you if you’ll let us. We may be strangers, but we want to be friends—”

“Yeah?” The voice behind the door was less polite. “I know. Friends like Roger Banning—ready to jump on a guy when he’s already down.”

A friend? Roger Banning? That rang a bell in Judy’s mind, but for a moment the thought that followed didn’t register.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“You might tell me whoyouare before I do any more talking,” the man replied.

A Desperate Situation

Judy and Horace looked at each other in bewilderment. They both knew they couldn’t tell the prisoner who they were without further antagonizing him. A newspaper reporter and the wife of an FBI agent were hardly the right people to trust with whatever secret the fountain was hiding. Suddenly an idea came to Judy.

“The main thing right now is that you need help,” she called out. “If you’re hurt we can have Dr. Bolton here in no time. How far is it to the nearest telephone?”

“Too far,” the man replied. “I know you now. You’re Dr. Bolton’s daughter. Is that your husband with you?”

“N-no,” Judy stammered, really confused now. “It’s my brother.”

“The newspaper reporter? Well, why don’t you hurry back to your paper and tell them you’ve rounded up the last of Vine Thompson’s boys single-handed? Or didn’t you know the Brandts had leased their estate to a gang of jewel thieves? Go ahead, tell them—” Suddenly the excitement died out of the man’s voice and he finished in despair. “But it’s too late to tell them anything. There’s no help for it now. They’ll have to send me back to prison.”

“What is the story?” asked Horace. “Maybe we can help.”

“No, it’s no use.”

Judy pulled her brother aside where the man wouldn’t hear her whisper, “Horace, I know who he is now. He said Roger Banning was a false friend, and he’s been in prison, so he must be Dick Hartwell. Don’t you see? If he knows us, then we must know him. That’s who he is. I’m sure of it. No wonder he’s afraid they’ll send him back to prison. But he forged some checks. He wasn’t a jewel thief. And what did he mean about the last of Vine Thompson’s boys?”

“They were jewel thieves. Remember the stolen jewels I found in the hollow tree that used to lean over our house? But of course you remember! You were the one who took them to the police station and met Chief Kelly and solved most of the mystery—”

“No, Horace,” Judy objected. “You solved most of it. You knew what was haunting our attic long before I did. I thought maybe it really was Vine Thompson’s ghost.”

“If her ghost is anywhere, it’s here with the gang her sons started. I didn’t think Dick Hartwell was in it, though, and it’s news to hear that Roger Banning is a jewel thief. Do you suppose that explains the diamond in the fountain?”

“Sh!” Judy cautioned him. In his excitement, Horace had spoken louder than he intended. It was all very confusing. Judy had supposed the Thompson gang was past history. The sons of the notorious fence, Vine Thompson, had all received long sentences in prison. But a gang like that, as Peter had once pointed out to her, spread its evil influence far and wide. Always there was a criminal on the fringe of it who didn’t get caught. That criminal usually followed the pattern of his hero, the original gang leader. And so crime spread, like a bad weed in a garden. That was the way Peter explained it. How Judy wished he were here to explain things now!

“Horace,” she said suddenly, “you can’t breathe a word of this story until we’ve talked it over with Peter and his office has released it. If that man is Dick Hartwell, he was in a Federal penitentiary. He forged his father’s signature to a government bond.”

“But he was out on parole,” Horace began.

“He’s right, though,” Judy interrupted. “They’ll put him right back in if they find him. A man is on parole only as long as he keeps out of trouble, and this man is in trouble—way in. I still feel sorry for him, but I know now what we have to do.”

“Name it and we’ll do it. Of course you’ll notify Peter—”

A rushing sound in the pipes overhead interrupted Horace in the middle of what he was saying. His face went suddenly white.

“He heard us!” cried Judy. “I think that man in there heard what we were saying and turned on the fountain!”

“Come on,” Horace exclaimed. “We have to get out of here fast, before the fountain fills, and report what he told us. Come on, Judy! The exit must be in this direction. There’s that drain cover you tripped on before.”

Judy beamed her flashlight toward it and saw that Horace had replaced it.

“Wait!” she called to him. “That drain is there to keep the tunnel from being flooded. If any water seeps in from the fountain it probably runs off down that drain. You shouldn’t have put back the cover!”

“I was afraid someone would fall down the hole. Either way, it’s a trap!”

Horace’s voice sounded hollow, echoing back through the tunnel. Already he was way ahead of her. Judy soon caught up with him, but they were too late. The rushing sound in the pipes overhead continued as the water flowed through them to spray out in all directions from the fountain. Judy couldn’t see out. But, remembering, she knew what it must be like out there where she had felt the enchantment.

“Lift me up, Horace,” she begged. “You can do it. I want to see.”

He lifted her until she could step from his shoulder into the hiding place behind the cupids. The spaces between them where they had entered were now covered with falling water, cutting off escape.

“How bad is it?” asked Horace from below.

“Real bad,” she replied. “I can’t see a thing through the water. I’m standing right in back of it. There’s no way out.”

“There must be! We came in that way.”

“Not when the fountain was on, Horace. It’s like being under Niagara Falls. The pressure is terrific.” Niagara Falls made Judy think of her honeymoon there with Peter, and she added, “I wish Peter were here to help us. He would know what to do.”

“He can help us better where he is,” Horace told her when she had dropped back into the tunnel and stood on the wet floor beside him.

“But where is he?” wailed Judy. “We shouldn’t have come here without letting him know. Now we’re trapped, and no one knows it except Blackberry. If he were a dog he might go for help, but cats are too independent. Of course, if Peter sees him—but will he come back today?”

“He might,” Horace replied cheerfully. “Dad knows where we are. You promised to call, and if I know Dad he’ll suspect something’s wrong when you don’t keep your promise. If he tells Peter and if they find Blackberry—”

“Moreifs!” Judy interrupted. “Don’t look so cheerful about it just because it’s news. If we drowned in here that would be news, too, but we wouldn’t be around to read the paper. We’ll just have to find out how to shut off the water. That man must be able to control the fountain from in there. There’s nothing out here that we can turn.”

“There may be,” Horace said. “We haven’t examined the pipes.”

“There isn’t time!” Judy was panicky now. “You’ll have to remove that drain cover before the tunnel is flooded. You should have left it open—”

“I know. I made a mistake,” Horace admitted. “Now it’s stuck, and I can’t budge it. There’s nothing to hold on to. Help me, Judy! We’vegotto get it off!”

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