Ronnie shivered. The shiver started at his shoulder blades, traveled down his spine, and made his flesh stand out in goose pimples. Just a few feet ahead, almost in the thick blackness that lay between the bushes along the path, he could make out Bill’s light-colored shirt. And at the end of the path lay the padlocked building with its strange halo of light still shimmering in the foliage over the roof.
As they drew closer, Ronnie could see that the light did come from the chimney as he had suspected. “Somebody poking a flashlight around in the chimney flues, all right!” he thought. But why? Was it just a trick to scare Bill and him away for some unknown reason, or was this intruder searching for something?
They were almost to the building when the light went out and the blackness closed in over the roof. Ronnie shivered again. The building seemed lonelier and more desolate than it had before.
Bill turned about and came close to Ronnie. “There’s somebody inside for sure!” he whispered. Ronnie could feelhis friend’s breath against his cheek. “Listen. I can hear him walking around.”
Ronnie heard the sounds too—floor boards creaking under the intruder’s weight. “Come on,” he breathed, and taking his friend’s arm, steered him toward the side of the building.
The log was still in place below the window. Ronnie found a hold on the window frame and pulled himself up. He leveled his eye against the crack and peered inside.
Only a small portion of the interior came within his view, and the intruder, whoever he was, was out of range. But a portion of his flashlight beam was visible and lit up the fireplace and the hearth before it. Then the light shifted suddenly to the other side, stayed out of view for a moment, and then returned.
A moment later the light went out completely and the building was plunged into complete blackness.
Ronnie felt Bill tugging at his arm. “I hear something around back!” his friend warned. “Maybe he’s getting out.”
“But there’s no way out through the back,” Ronnie protested. Hadn’t Bill and he searched every square foot of the outside of the building? But then, the intruder had to enter and leave the buildingsomewhere.
Ronnie stole another quick look through the crack before making up his mind. The interior was still pitch-black. “You stay here and watch the front and sides,” he directed Bill. “I’ll see what’s going on around back.”
Before Bill could protest, Ronnie had dropped from the log and was making his way toward the rear of the building. It wasn’t easy finding a way through the thick tangle ofvines and bushes, but he didn’t want to risk giving his presence away by turning on the flashlight.
He rounded the corner of the building just in time to see the figure of a man step back, away from the rear wall of the old office. For a moment or two his face was silhouetted against a patch of sky. “Caldwell!” Ronnie called angrily before he realized what a foolish thing he was doing.
The man’s hand rose. A brilliant beam of light struck the boy full in the face, blinding him instantly. Then the light went out and the man sprang away into the darkness.
Burning with anger and disappointed from the stupid mistake he had made, Ronnie leaped wildly after him, and plunged into the undergrowth. He had taken no more than a few steps when he tripped over a log and hurtled headlong through the air. He landed with a jolt in a tangle of briars and his head smashed against a tree trunk. Whirling lights and brilliant flashes stood out before his eyes as he fought for consciousness.
The next thing he knew Bill was standing over him. “You all right, Ronnie?” Bill was asking. “Ronnie, you all right? Say something, can’t you?”
Ronnie struggled to sit up. The top of his head throbbed and he could feel a lump rising. “I—I guess I’m all right,” he said.
He tried to stand up. The trees, the sky, the building started to swing around before his eyes. He grabbed Bill’s hand for support.
Within a few minutes he felt better. Bill took his arm and helped him down the path. “Golly, I sure as shootin’ messed that up,” he said to Bill. Then he told his friend what happened.
“So you figure it was Mr. Caldwell?” Bill asked when Ronnie had finished.
“Well, I reckon I didthen, or I wouldn’t have called his name. But, gosh, now I’m not so sure. It was plenty dark. What a fool I was yelling out to him. Boy, could I kick myself in the pants for being so stupid.”
“Yea,” Bill agreed, “yea, if you weren’t so woozy, I’d do it for you. But what do you say we pay Caldwell a hurry call? I think we can still beat him back to his cottage, seeing he’s got to detour around through the woods. Feel well enough to try it?”
Ronnie agreed that he did. Except for a slight throbbing in his head, he felt as well as he had before the accident.
They hurried down the cobblestone road, using their flashlights only when they needed them to find the way. They approached Caldwell’s cottage cautiously. Light was shining from the two windows that faced the path.
“Let’s take a peek in the window first,” Bill whispered. “You know—see what he’s doing before he gets wise that we’re here.”
They crept noiselessly to the window and peered over the sill. Caldwell was seated before a small table that held his typewriter and a kerosene lamp. He was busily at work.
Bill leaned over to whisper in Ronnie’s ear. “Boy, either he’s real sneaky or else he wasn’t ever out of the building,” he said. “Helooksas if he’d been at work for hours.”
“Maybe he has been,” Ronnie said. But if Caldwell wasn’t their man, why had he turned so instinctively when Ronnie had called out his name?
“Let’s go in and have a talk with him just the same,”Bill suggested. “But don’t let him know we suspect him of anything.”
Caldwell opened the door to them after Bill had knocked. “Well!” he exclaimed, motioning for them to come in. “How did you know I was just itching for a little company?”
The two boys sat down on the edge of his cot.
Caldwell turned his chair away from his typewriter to sit facing them. “What are you doing down here at this time of the night?”
“We were working on our sign,” Bill answered.
“I thought I saw a light coming from your office windows, and I was thinking about going down to investigate earlier. But I got so wrapped up in my work I just never got around to it.”
Ronnie glanced over at Bill to find his friend looking at him too. Bill was thinking the same thing, evidently. Caldwell was claiming that he hadn’t left his cabin all evening. That didn’t prove athing, of course, Ronnie realized. In fact, Caldwell might have told them this just to cover his movements.
Mr. Caldwell got up and crossed over to his “kitchen” and returned with a box of crackers. “I can’t offer you much, but perhaps you’ll have a few crackers?”
“Thanks,” Bill answered taking several. “We can’t stay much longer. I’ve got to be getting back home soon.”
A miller moth made a dive-bomb attack at the lamp. Caldwell picked up a folded newspaper he had handy and swatted the insect. The lamp swayed precariously and the moth flew off unharmed.
“Dad’s got some old screens in the barn,” Ronnie said.
“I’ll bet you they could be made to fit the windows. Might even be a screen door. I’ll ask him about putting them up.”
“You just get them to me—along with some tools—and I’ll do the putting up, gladly!” the man answered.
Bill stuffed the last cracker into his mouth. “We’d better be getting along right now.”
Mr. Caldwell came to the door with them. “If I can help you with your tourist business in any way, just say the word. You’re welcome to use any of the information I’ve gathered when you’re talking about the village.”
“Thanks, Mr. Caldwell,” Ronnie answered. “We just might take you up on that. I’ve been thinking maybe we’d mimeograph a little booklet about the place.” He turned to Bill. “We could use the Grange mimeograph, and the paper wouldn’t cost much. We could tell all about the Glassworks and life in the village in the olden days and—”
“And the mysterious locked-up office building,” Bill added, picking up the idea with great interest, “and even about those old glass candlesticks of your grandfather’s, Ronnie!”
“Candlesticks!” exclaimed Mr. Caldwell. “Rorthcandlesticks?”
Ronnie nodded.
“They must be worth a great deal,” Caldwell said. “What do they look like?”
Ronnie described them. Caldwell nodded slowly as Ronnie brought out detail after detail. “I’d certainly like to see them sometime,” he said when Ronnie had finished.
“Come on up to the house any time,” Ronnie offered. “I’m sure Grandpa would be glad to show them to you.”
When they were alone outside, Bill turned to Ronnie. “You know,” he said, “I think Caldwell is kind of a swell guy. I just can’t believe he’s the one sneaking around the village and running off when we catch sight of him.”
Ronnie thought about this after he had left Bill and was hurrying up the steep incline to the orchard above. Was Bill right about Mr. Caldwell? There were arguments for and against. That silhouette of the man’s face against the night sky, for instance. Ronnie had tried again and again during the evening to convince himself that he had been wrong when he had called out Caldwell’s name. But somehow he just couldn’t do it. And he couldn’t forget what had happened that morning! It had been daylight then. Was it just a coincidence thatbothtimes Caldwell’s name had come to his mind?
He’d talk to Gramps about it, that’s what he’d do. But when he arrived home he found the door to his grandfather’s room closed and no light showing from underneath.
He climbed the stairs and headed for his room. Phil was in his own room, in his pajamas, and lying on his bed with a pile of old comic books at his side. A wild idea hit Ronnie suddenly and he poked his head into Phil’s room. “Have you been in the house all evening?” he demanded. Maybe, just maybe, Phil was playing tricks on them and he had been in the padlocked house!
Phil looked at his brother in surprise. “What’s the matter—the heat got you or something? Sure I was here all the time.”
“OK. I was just wondering.”
Phil dropped his comic book and sat up. “Say, something real interesting must have happened to you down in thevillage, or you wouldn’t be putting me on the witness stand. Come on, out with it.”
“Nothing happened. You’re imagining things, that’s all.” Ronnie hurried down the hall, hoping that Phil wouldn’t have the energy to follow him.
Phil didn’t. Ronnie ducked into his room and closed the door. Then he went over to the window and looked out.
The valley was in complete darkness. Even the lights in Mr. Caldwell’s cottage were out. The deserted village was asleep.