But Helen Riker still wouldn’t believe they hadn’t met with some disaster.
“If they’ve decided to track those robbers down by themselves,” she wailed, “some real harm may come to them.”
“I’ll see that it doesn’t,” promised Peter.
Judy made three phone calls. Then she and Peter put on coats and boots and began an exploration of the neighborhood. The new snow helped, and they soon discovered that Penny and Paul had left a path from the house to the barn and then across the shortcut to the North Hollow road.
Judy’s friend and nearest neighbor, Holly Potter, reported that she had seen the children a half hour or so earlier. They were on their way toward the new housing development, she thought.
“Muriel’s house is on the corner. They could have been on their way there,” she added as Judy hurried off with Peter.
“I called Ricky and Muriel and Anne before we came out. They hadn’t seen them,” she called back.
“That leaves Wally, doesn’t it?” asked Peter. “Did you think of calling him? That’s where they were planning to have this magic show, wasn’t it?”
“Of course. Why didn’t I think of it? That’s where they naturally would go. Let’s go back to the house and telephone.”
“I’ll get the car out and drive over and pick them up if you like,” Peter offered.
“All right, and in the meantime I’ll get breakfast started,” Judy decided. “What do you fancy this morning?”
“Pancakes would do very nicely. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
“Pancakes it is!”
They returned to the house hand in hand and enjoying the crisp morning air. Overnight it had changed from fall to winter. As Peter drove off along the snowy road Judy waved to him and then turned to Mrs. Riker.
“He’ll find them. Don’t worry. Let’s go inside and have a nice hot breakfast ready for them when they do come back.”
Church bells were ringing, reminding them that it was Sunday morning. For Judy and Peter this was never a day for sleeping. Usually they drove to Farringdon and attended church with Judy’s parents and Peter’s grandparents. Horace never missed a Sunday.
“Honey will be there, too. And Lois and Lorraine and all the other girls I knew in high school,” thought Judy.
But when she suggested church to Mrs. Riker the young woman protested that she didn’t want to meet people.
“Not here,” she said. “Not yet.”
What did she mean? Judy had suggested the little white church in Dry Brook Hollow, as it was already too late to drive to Farringdon, and the children had not yet returned.
“We might look for them in Sunday school if Peter isn’t back by ten o’clock.”
Judy felt sure some of the neighborhood children might have invited them. She didn’t know why, but she just couldn’t share Mrs. Riker’s anxiety, although she could sympathize with her. The pancake batter was ready. Ten o’clock came and still no children. Mrs. Riker was the first one to suggest walking over to the Sunday school.
They arrived just as all the children were singing:
“Come, ye thankful people, come,Raise the song of harvest-home.All is safely gathered in,Ere the winter storms begin.”
“Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest-home.
All is safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin.”
“It’s Thanksgiving Sunday!” Judy whispered.
But Mrs. Riker was looking into the faces of the children and finding nothing to be thankful for. Her own were not there.
They waited until the hymn was over and then tiptoed quietly out of the big Sunday school room. A moment later the quiet was shattered as the children rushed off to their individual classrooms. The Dran boys hurried in through the outside door. They were both out of breath.
“Are we late?” the older boy asked Judy.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh dear!” the younger one lamented. “We missed the singing and that’s the best part. We wanted Penny and Paul to come with us, but Peter said their mother would worry—”
“Thank the Lord,” gasped Mrs. Riker.
She looked about ready to faint. The Dran boys stared at her.
“She’s their mother,” Judy explained. “She’s been worried sick. But it’s all right now. We can all be thankful they’re safe. But where were they?”
“At our house,” the boys said matter-of-factly.
“They wanted to sign up for the magic show,” Timothy, the older of the two, explained. “Didn’t they tell you where they were going, Mrs. Riker?”
“No,” she replied rather uncertainly as if she wanted to say more. She looked at Judy, who should have introduced them. In the excitement she had forgotten to do so.
“It’s all right. Peter brought them back and gave us a ride,” Timothy said.
“He didn’t wait for you. I guess he didn’t know you were here,” Barry, the little one, added.
Having explained everything, the Dran boys ran off to their classes which were somewhere in the basement rooms of the church.
“Penny and Paul would have enjoyed this. Maybe I’ll let them come next Sunday,” Helen Riker remarked as they left to walk home.
“Next Sunday?” Judy questioned.
Was Mrs. Riker planning to stay all winter? What were her plans? Judy knew she couldn’t ask her new friend to leave when she didn’t have anywhere to go, or any money, but she hadn’t counted on taking in a whole family.
“If I’m here,” Mrs. Riker replied. “I haven’t decided anything. But at least I have something to be thankful for. The children are all right.”
When they reached Judy’s home they found Penny and Paul helping Peter make pancakes. He had discovered the batter and the griddle ready, and had appointed himself chef in Judy’s absence.
“Pancakes coming up!” he announced. “Pitch right in, everybody. Know where we’re going as soon as we finish, Angel?”
“No, where?” Judy asked.
But before Peter could tell her, Mrs. Riker said what she wanted to know was where the children had been and why they hadn’t told her they were going out.
The answer to the last question was simple enough. She had been asleep when they left.
“It was very early,” Paul explained. “We had to wake everybody up. Mr. Brown didn’t like it, but when we went to Timmy Dran’s house the magician didn’t mind.”
“The magician!” their mother said in shocked surprise.
“Is that where you were?” asked Judy. “I might have known it! Where does this magician live?”
“With Barry and Timothy Dran. He’s the nicest man, just like Daddy, only he isn’t. It’s all right if we go there,” Paul hurried on. “Peter knows him. They got real well acquainted, and we joined the club and Penny has a part in the magic show. She and Anne changed places because now she’s the littlest. Wally said it was all right.”
“I disappear,” Penny announced proudly.
“Not again,” her mother protested.
“It’s all right. I’ll come back.”
Mrs. Riker sighed.
“Well, I hope so. At least you’re safe now. The next time you leave the house you must tell me, so I won’t worry,” she continued. “You know how much I’ve had on my mind.”
“I wish I did,” Judy thought.
“We know. But it’s going to be different now, isn’t it, Penny?” Paul asked.
“Oooh, yes!” she squealed.
“More secrets!” Judy said, holding up her hands in mock despair. “Haven’t we enough already!”
She still had Mrs. Riker’s problems to solve and they weren’t easy. As they did the dishes together she encouraged the young woman to talk. The truth came out unexpectedly when Mrs. Riker commented that their kitchen used to be almost as nice as Judy’s.
“You’d never think it to look at it now, but when we lived in the caretaker’s cottage on the Riker estate, it was the coziest, warmest little place you ever saw. The boys used to come down whenever Mother made cookies—”
“The boys?” Judy questioned.
“My husband Philip, and his brother Paul. I liked Paul best then,” she continued in a voice that told Judy she had decided to take her into her confidence. “We were children, of course, but I used to think it was Paul I would marry. And then, suddenly, everything changed. After we left the caretaker’s cottage and went to live in the city, it was Philip who wrote to me.”
“But what happened to Paul?” Judy asked.
“I never saw him again,” Helen said, “but Philip came to New York and looked me up. He said he and Paul had quarreled and that he, Philip, had been disinherited. Their money never mattered to me, anyway. I loved them both—”
She stopped, but Judy made no comment. She was afraid of breaking the spell. It was almost as if Helen Riker were reliving her past.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true!” she declared. “It used to break my heart when they quarreled. Philip was jealous of Paul because their uncle favored him and called Philip a little thief. He did take things to give away. Uncle Paul had so much, Phil thought it didn’t matter. They were only there on a visit, but it was the happiest summer in my whole life. Afterwards—but why talk about it? It’s all in the past and I have the future to think about.”
“Could there be a link?” asked Judy, thinking fast.
“How do you mean?”
“I mean if one of the presents Philip gave you happened to be in the pocketbook that was stolen—”
Mrs. Riker’s face went white.
“How did you know?” she questioned.
Judy smiled, taking the dish the other had nearly dropped.
“It was just a guess. Your little daughter Penny is like her mother. She isn’t very good at keeping secrets. A green doll would be a green goddess, wouldn’t it? Possibly a jade goddess worth quite a bit to a thief who had the mate—”
“Rama!” Helen gasped. “Paul always said it was bad luck to separate them!”
“Bad luck?” Judy asked, turning from the corner cupboard where she had just placed a stack of five plates, the last of the breakfast dishes. Or were they lunch dishes? Their pancake feast had waited so long that it was nearly lunchtime before they had finished.
“You don’t believe in it, do you?” Mrs. Riker questioned anxiously. “I guess you think we make our own luck, good or bad, and maybe you’re right.”
“But if that’s true,” Judy said, “we can change it. You’ve made a good start, telling me all about it.”
“I didn’t tell you quite all,” Helen admitted. “I didn’t tell you how we used to act out the story of Rama and Sita. Do you know it, Judy?”
“Only a little of it,” Judy answered. “I know they are the ideal man and woman, but was Sita a princess? Penny said the green doll was a princess, but I guess she got the story mixed up with the Oz books. Did you read them to her?”
“I read her the Oz books, not the ‘Ramayana.’ There isn’t a translation of it that a child Penny’s age could understand. We heard the story told and made up our own play. I would call, ‘Rama! Rama! Rama! I seek thee within me and my senses are sealed.’”
“Did Rama answer?”
“No, it was always the demon Ravana. He was the many-headed monster who stole Sita and kept her a prisoner for seven years. The boys would take turns being Ravana. The other one was always Rama.”
“And you were Sita? Did you take the statues to act out the play?”
“At first,” she said. “Then Uncle Paul discovered us and forbade us to touch them. After that we thought of him as the many-headed demon. When he roared at us we’d exchange glances and know each other’s thoughts. I’ve seen you and Peter do it. I think two people can when they love each other very much, but it didn’t last with us. When Sita was stolen everything changed. Paul didn’t want to play any more.”
“How do you mean?” asked Judy. “Was it Philip who took the statue?”
“Yes,” she said. “He gave it to me and told me to keep it for seven years and then he would bring me its mate. He did find me just seven years later, but neither of us ever mentioned Rama and Sita. We were married, I often told myself, without their blessing. Paul didn’t come to the wedding. None of his family did. My mother and some of my friends from New York were there. But I never saw Paul again.”
“If you did see him—” Judy began.
But Helen Riker was crying now.
“I’d still love him, I guess. Little Paul is really named for him, not for Mr. Riker. I was always a little afraid of old Uncle Paul. And now I’m afraid of meeting either of them. Can you guess why?”
“Because you kept the green goddess?”
“Yes, but it’s more than that. I’m afraid of what may have happened during the years I didn’t know him. If he’s grown up to be bitter and cruel like his uncle, with no understanding of children— And if he hasn’t—why, then he’s probably married to someone else. I’d pretend I didn’t care any more if I found out Paul was happily married.”
“I see,” Judy said, and there were tears in her eyes.
“You really do, don’t you?” Mrs. Riker spoke as if she wasn’t used to having people understand her feelings. But now that someone did, she was ready to pour out her heart.
“That was what made it so hard,” she went on with her story. “I loved the green doll, as I called her, and didn’t want to part with her, because Philip had given her to me. After he was killed in the accident two years ago, it seemed even harder to part with her, and I didn’t, even though we needed money desperately. She reminded me of those happy days when the three of us played together and took turns and I didn’t have to choose between them. They were twins—”
“Wait a minute!” Judy stopped her. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say they were twins?”
“Identical twins,” she replied. “Some people couldn’t tell one from the other, but I could. Philip laughed more than Paul did. He was more reckless, too. When we played follow-the-leader, he would lead us places that Paul and I were afraid to go.”
“What sort of places?” asked Judy.
“Well, there was a cave in the side of the mountain. I don’t remember exactly where it was. It was a natural cave,” she remembered. “I don’t imagine it’s there any more. It seems to me it was about where that monument stood.”
“Could the monument have been built over it? That might explain the voice that told the children to go away. It would explain the footstep, too!”
“Then he was there!” Helen Riker exclaimed.
“Who?” asked Judy.
“Old Uncle Paul,” she replied with a shiver. “He knew about the cave. He chased us out and took possession of it for himself just as he took possession of everything he wanted. I hated him for his selfishness. I wanted to hurt him. I knew it was wrong to keep the statue, but it was my way of paying him back. He must have turned queer to build a tomb and hide in a cave underneath it to scare people. I wonder if he knew who we were.”
“How could he know? Do you think he was peeking out from somewhere? But how could he know you even if he was? You were a little girl then—”
“I know,” she interrupted, “but I’m like my mother. I thought perhaps I could keep house for him like my mother did. Our one hope was that he would welcome us and forgive me when I gave him back the little jade statue of Sita. But now it’s stolen and he didn’t want to see us. Philip’s insurance money is all gone. We used the last of it coming here. I’ll have to go to work, I guess, and put the children in a foster home. I don’t suppose you’d consider letting them stay on here with you? I’d pay you out of my wages. Maybe I could wait on tables or find work in a store. Do you mind looking after the children if I begin hunting for something tomorrow?”
“Not at all,” Judy replied.
“Judy, you’re kind and thoughtful and understanding—”
“Please,” Judy stopped her. “Peter calls me Angel, and the next thing, you’ll be doing it. I have a lot of faults. I lose my temper and expect too much of people and make hasty judgments, and sometimes I’m rude. I was annoyed with you for not telling the truth—”
“And well you should have been,” Helen Riker said. “For a girl who was once called Sita, I have fallen far short of the Hindu ideal of perfect womanhood. Perhaps I was fooled by Ravana, the evil one. I should have called, ‘Rama! Rama! Rama!’ more often.”
“Do you think he would have answered you?” asked Judy, still a little baffled by the mystic tale.
“Perhaps,” Helen replied, “but I waited too long. Life does not wait for indecision, Judy. As the demon said in the story, ‘It is too late!’ Each of his many heads, pierced by Rama’s arrows, cried it to heaven until there was only one left to speak and it spoke wisely, ‘Learn by my example. Do selfless deeds at once. Those that are selfish put them off till they cease to trouble thy mind.’ But, you see, I put off the deeds I should have done. I intended to visit Uncle Paul and give him back his precious Sita and tell him how Philip took it for me when we were both children and didn’t know its value. I dreaded going there and it was even worse than I imagined. I don’t ever want to go again.”
“Well, I do,” declared Judy, “more than ever now that you’ve told me. Peter!” she called. “Where was it you said we were going?”
Peter had been in the next room making plans with the children. Judy knew, even before she asked him, that they were going to explore the ruins of the Riker mansion. It did surprise her, though, when he said the magician was going with them.
“For goodness sake, why?” she wanted to know. “Does he think he can wave his wand over it and make it rise up out of the ashes?”
Peter just grinned in that impish way Judy loved. He had found out something important, but so had she.
“I can hardly wait to tell you,” she said, “but first you must tell me. Are we really on the trail of the real green doll? ItwasSita. I’m sure of it now. And more than ever I want to bring Rama and Sita together. It may not be bad luck to separate two statues, but it surely is to separate two people who love each other.”
“I know what you mean,” Peter said. “I heard you and Helen Riker talking. She’s told you something important. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Yes, Peter, she has.” Judy was still too filled with the hypnotic story of Rama and Sita to tell Peter much about it, but she did say, “She told me Philip and Paul Riker were twins and that she loved them both. It was Philip who took the statue of Sita and gave it to her. She knew it was stolen, but it was hard for her to gather up enough courage to bring it back. She was afraid of old Mr. Riker, and no wonder! Now she thinks he was hiding in a cave under the vault on purpose to scare people. She’s afraid of meeting him or anyone—”
“She’ll have to meet the magician,” Peter broke in. “I told you he is going with us.”
“If you don’t mind,” Helen Riker said, coming into the room just then, “I’d rather not go. Why don’t you take the children and let them explore? I’d rather stay here and rest.”
“We could do that. What do you say, Angel?”
“You mean me?” Judy asked.
She had been off on a flight of fancy. If Peter could have known her thoughts he might have called her Cupid instead of Angel. “If we could only find Paul Riker and patch up the old romance,” she was thinking. Aloud, she said to Peter, “There must be some way of finding out what we want to know without resorting to magic. I’m not at all sure I approve of inviting the magician to go with us.”
“Penny and Paul approve, don’t you think?”
Their approval was almost too enthusiastic.
“He can do anything,” Penny insisted.
“You ought to tell them this magician, whoever he is, can’t work miracles,” their mother said a little impatiently.
“Maybe he can,” Peter replied, his eyes twinkling.
“I’m afraid I don’t like this sudden power he has over the children,” Mrs. Riker said. “Why did you go there, Paul? Tell me the truth, now!”
“I had to, Mom,” he replied. “I wanted him to pick Penny for the magic show. We’re going to join the club and wear black spots on our foreheads—”
“But that’s the sign of the Destroyer,” Judy said.
“We know,” Paul said, “and it was the Destroyer on Uncle Paul’s tomb. Are we going back there? When are we going to start?”
“Right now,” Peter told them, “with your mother’s permission, of course. Better wrap up good and warm. It’s going to be a cold climb up those steps to the vault. The cave underneath, if we can find it, may be even colder.”
“Is Blackberry going?” Paul wanted to know, when they were ready to start.
“It looks that way,” replied Peter. “Judy has him in the car. He’s waiting for you on top of the back seat. Come along now, and keep him company.”
Judy felt a little uneasy about leaving Mrs. Riker by herself, and telephoned her mother before she left. Mrs. Bolton agreed to come over and meet her and keep her company while the doctor went out on his calls.
“Is it all right if Horace and Honey come along with me?” Judy’s mother asked. “They’re here now. We all went to church together.”
“I went to Sunday school, but only long enough to listen to one hymn. Mrs. Riker will tell you about it. That is, if she feels like talking. If she doesn’t, don’t urge her. She may just want to rest. We’re leaving right now, Mom, and much as I love him, I don’t want Horace with us. We’ll give him another stick full of news. Tell him that and bless you, Motherkins, for doing a good deed and being my guardian angel.”
Mrs. Bolton sounded a little baffled as she hung up. Judy could hear a protesting noise over the telephone.
“Mom should be used to me by now,” she told Peter as she climbed in the car beside him. “I think she rather enjoys being mystified. Seriously, though, I don’t think it’s fair to make children believe in magic. They should be told a little about how stage tricks are performed—”
“The trouble is,” Peter said, “I don’t know myself how they’re performed, do you?”
“No,” she replied, giggling.
“Well, here we are,” Peter announced, a little later, stopping before a rambling ranch house.
It was one of the more expensive homes in the new suburban development. Judy was surprised to find the Drans living in such luxury. The boys always spoke of their parents as if they were in modest circumstances.
“Is the magician Mr. Dran?” Judy wondered.
Then the thought came to her that the boys’ mother might have married a second time. Before she could explore this possibility the magician himself appeared at the door. A moment later he entered the car like anyone else, without tricks. The door stuck a little and Peter had to help him open it. He was not introduced. Judy thought he seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but the children’s enthusiasm was contagious. Soon he was answering all sorts of questions.
It developed that he had studied magic in India and had learned some of the tricks discovered by ancient Hindu fakirs. He was telling the children that he could place a living head on a table and make it talk to them, when Judy interrupted.
“Magic is all right in its place,” she said, “but don’t you think you’re carrying things a little too far? You’ve made the children believe you can do practically anything.”
“Aha!” he said. “Is that what they told you? I must be like the many-headed demon Ravana in the story. Is that what you think, you young rajah?”
Paul grinned as if he liked being called a rajah and said, “Mom knows that story, too. She told it to me because my name is Paul Riker for my uncle Paul, not the old uncle that built the tomb, but the young uncle she used to play with. She didn’t tell Penny about young Uncle Paul, because Penny can’t keep secrets.”
“Was it a secret?” the magician asked.
“Oh, yes, Mom never told anyone but me. When you love two people and can only marry one of them you have to keep it a secret that you still love the other. Besides, Mom meant to give back the statue of Sita, because it belonged in the collection. But now she can’t, because those bad men stole it.”
“Where did she get it? Do you know?”
“My father gave it to her when she was just a little girl,” Paul replied. “I can tell it now, because I heard her telling Judy. I still don’t get it, though. In the story Ravana told Sita he could change himself into Rama at will. But he wouldn’t do it, because he wanted her to love him for himself. Sita knew that would mean loving evil instead of good, and so she kept repeating, ‘Rama! Rama! Rama! I seek thee within me and my senses are sealed.’”
“I know that part,” squealed Penny. “The name, Rama, magicked her so she could see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil. We have the three little monkeys. They aren’t green like Sita. They’re on a desk blotter Mommy bought in the ten-cent store.”
“I’ve seen those three little monkeys on desk blotters lots of times!” exclaimed Judy. “Horace used to have them on his desk. I never knew where the idea came from, though.”
The magician laughed.
“Well, now you know. They were part of the monkey band who rescued Sita from the demon’s cave. You’ve taught us something, Penny.”
Judy, turning around, could see a puzzled expression on the little girl’s face as she replied, “But you already knew.”
Peter had appeared to be concentrating on his driving, but Judy could tell he was listening with interest to the conversation that was going on behind him. When Judy told how the children’s mother remembered playing the story of the “Ramayana,” the magician said, in an oddly different voice, “Ask her to write it down just as she remembers it, please. We may have time to put it on as an extra attraction.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” exclaimed Judy. “I’d love to see it. But who will take the parts? Do you think the children will have time to learn them?”
“A narrator can read them,” he replied, “but without the little idols the play may not have much meaning. We must all look for them.”
There it was again! They were supposed to look for things in spite of the warning. Judy was determined to find out the truth.
“We were warned not to,” she said. “Did you warn us?”
Now the magician seemed puzzled.
“Not towhat?”
“Not to look for it. We weren’t told whatitwas we weren’t to look for. The voice came from the trees,” Judy told him.
“The trees on your place?” he asked.
They had reached their destination, but the conversation held them as they started walking toward the ruined mansion.
“Yes,” Judy replied. “I thought maybe you could throw your voice or something. Were you ever there?”
“I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure,” he replied. “The children were talking among themselves about having a magic show in some barn or other, but I don’t remember throwing my voice for them. And we were near no barn. Mr. Brown offered his home for the magic show, because it does have a large recreation room. I told him I would need a stage and he promised to build one. Some of my tricks are rather elaborate. They need props. But everything is there.”
“Then it is just an ordinary magic show. Nothing unusual?”
“I hope,” he replied, and Judy was sure he and Peter exchanged a glance, “there will be something very unusual. Something very unusual indeed!”
Judy was beginning to understand. But something was wrong somewhere. She puzzled over it as they walked on toward the ruined mansion.
When they finally reached it, the scene before them appeared even more desolate than she remembered it. The snow that had fallen the day before was melting fast, so that only patches of it remained in shady places. There was none left around the burned house and very little under the blackened trees. But the vault was covered with it as if the cold from within had penetrated the cold without.
“Look!” Penny cried out as they climbed the steps toward the statue. “His face is just like the face in the magazine!”
“I don’t like him,” Paul said. “Why is he looking like that?”
“He’s meditating,” the magician explained.
“He isn’t alive, is he?” asked Penny. “What does that—that big word mean?”
“It means to think hard about the same thing over and over the way Sita did when she thought about Rama. It’s a little like wishing. You don’t always get your wishes, but you do feel quiet and peaceful inside so that outside things don’t hurt you any more. It’s hard for a little girl to understand,” the magician continued, “but the meditation of Sita kept all evil from her so that she was returned to Rama as pure and lovely as when the demon first snatched her away. It was the magic of her lover’s name that did it. When she called, ‘Rama! Rama!—’”
“Quiet!” a voice commanded.
They all stopped dead still to stare at the concrete face above them. The lips had not moved. There had not been a sign of life and yet the voice stopped them so still that Judy could hear her heart beating.
“I should have told you we would be protected,” Peter said from behind them.
“If this is protection,” Judy retorted, “I’d rather be thrown to the lions. Where did that voice come from? It even startled Blackberry. There he goes, up to the top of the statue to explore!”
“I doubt if he will find anything. The voice you heard was probably that of the chief deputy, and I believe it came from inside the vault. He and his rangers are determined to find out who set that fire, if it was set, and how it happened that the mansion was so conveniently emptied just before the blaze. I knew they’d be there,” Peter explained. “They’re on the lookout for the thieves—”
“But you said there weren’t any thieves,” Judy reminded him.
Again the magician and Peter exchanged glances.
“That remains to be seen. Anyway, the magician believes something strange is going on here, and he is in a position to know.”
“Howcanhe know?” gasped Judy, and added, laughing, “Has he mystical knowledge from the mysterious East?”
But Peter was serious when he said, “Our plans went wrong somewhere. They may have been too obvious. At any rate, we know the police are somewhere in the vicinity. It should be perfectly safe to explore.”
“Do you think this mystical knowledge of yours will help us find the cave?” asked Judy. “I’m like Blackberry. I prefer to look in high places. I think I’ll climb up on top of the vault and see what’s there.”
“Blackberry sure looks as if he’s trying to show you something,” agreed Peter. “Be careful, though. It may be slippery.”
Judy was halfway up when she thought she heard a noise from the statue. It sounded likebreathing. Then suddenly it sneezed!
Startled, Judy lost her footing. She grabbed for one of the bushes growing on top of the vault, missed it, and began to slide. A moment later she landed, dazed but unhurt, in the ivy where the others were searching.
They were all pulling away ivy leaves like so many excited terriers looking for a bone. By the time Judy realized what they were doing, Peter, with the help of the magician, had turned back a flat stone which looked suspiciously like a tombstone. On it was chiseled a mysterious sign.
“It’s the sign of Om,” the magician was explaining. “In India it stands for the highest form of mysticism. He may have used it as a marker.”
“Who?” asked Judy. “The statue?”
Paul glanced up at it, but none of the others paid the slightest attention to what Judy was saying. They were busy removing the stone.
“This must be the entrance to the cave,” declared Peter. “It was completely covered with ivy. We never would have found it if Judy’s shoe hadn’t scraped against it when she fell.”
“You were determined to find it, with or without me,” she retorted. “Isn’t anybody going to ask me if I hurt myself?”
Apparently nobody was. The rough-hewn steps they had discovered descending to what looked like a hole in the ground looked anything but inviting. But they caught everyone in their spell.
“Who goes down first?” the magician asked.
“Let me—” Judy began eagerly.
But Peter was saying, “I think I’d better. Nobody knows what we may find at the bottom. I’ll give the signal as soon as I’m sure it’s safe.”
It looked as if he were descending into a bottomless pit. The flashlight he held sent a weird circle of light ahead of him. It flickered and danced in an eerie fashion as he waved it and called out, “Come ahead!”
Judy, followed by the magician, Penny, and Paul, had descended no more than a few steps when a voice from the statue roared, “Stop where you are!”
Judy stopped. It was bad enough to have a statue sneeze at her. But to hear it roar out a command was a little too much. She stood frozen. Then she called down to Peter:
“Peter, come back! I’m afraid to move.”
She was part way down the steps, but could not decide whether to go up or down. Either way held terrors for her now.
Penny and Paul were both hiding their faces in the magician’s coat. His own face was noticeably whiter. But he kept on a downward course.
Peter was very far down now. Judy suspected her voice had not carried to him. He called back, “The jade collection is here! It is inside some sort of cabinet. It’s locked, but you can see through the glass doors. Come on down! It’s quite a sight.”
“The jade collection is here,” Peter called“The jade collection is here,” Peter called
“The jade collection is here,” Peter called
Peter seemed so certain it was safe that Judy obeyed. The children, big-eyed with wonder, held onto the magician’s coat to steady themselves as they descended. Step after step they went, down, down, down!
“Are we to the center of the earth yet?” Penny finally asked.
Judy’s laugh sent back a strange echo. From the direction the steps had taken she judged they must be directly under the vault.
“I’ve reached the bottom,” she told the children. “It’s all right. Peter is here. Didn’t you hear me?” she asked him. “What did you mean when you said we were protected? If that was the chief deputy or one of his forest rangers up there, why did he tell us to stop?”
“He may have mistaken us for the thieves,” replied Peter, “but don’t worry about it. We’ve arranged a signal. One shot from my gun and he’ll come running.”
“You may need to fire that shot,” declared the magician. “That voice was no forest ranger. I’d know it anywhere. It was the voice of Paul Riker.”
“Me?” cried little Paul. “I didn’t—”
“Of course you didn’t, little rajah. It was your old uncle Paul, my boy. But don’t be scared. We’ll have a look at his jade collection anyway.”
“It’s right here,” Peter told him, turning his flashlight on a cabinet which appeared to be nothing more than one of the sections of a sectional bookcase. It was of mahogany badly in need of polishing. The glass could stand cleaning, too. But behind it Judy could see the elaborately carved little figures of many of the gods and goddesses that had been pictured in the magazine.
“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” asked the magician.
“It sure is,” agreed Peter. “A quarter of a million dollars worth of jade buried under an old vault with nothing but a thin piece of glass for protection.”
“Why?” asked Judy, unable to understand the millionaire’s motives. “What good are they down here?”
The magician’s reply was startling, to say the least.
“They are no good here to the living,” he replied, “and I doubt if they will do Paul Riker much good after he’s dead. But he’s determined to keep what is his. He would rather burn or bury anything than share it. I know him. Yes, I was the one who had the contents of his house removed. I saw that the forest fire was burning in this direction, and so I hired men to remove his treasures and put them in storage. Call it robbery if you like, but no one knew where he was, and how else could I save them? I noticed the jade collection was not in the house, and decided he must have hidden it somewhere before he went away. And here it is. Do you see that little figure there with the elephant’s head?”
“I see it!” cried Paul, standing on tiptoe. “That’s my favorite next to Rama.”
“Do you know his name, son? That’s Ganesha, the Remover of Obstacles. We’re going to need that little fellow to remove some of the obstacles your uncle Paul is up against. But never forget this. He put those obstacles in his own way. His relatives were welcome here only when he could bend them to his will. It angered him when his nephews refused to follow the Riker tradition and deal in tombstones. They preferred to raise monuments to the living. You two children are a monument to your father, and to your old uncle, too, if only he had the eyes to see it. But no! Everything had to be quiet. He had no use for a business like mine that provides fun and entertainment. Finally he became suspicious of everyone. He’s become a bitter, cruel old man. And yet in a way I loved him. Poor Uncle Paul!”