The Forgotten Door

by Alexander Key

  It was barely daybreak and they dawdled over breakfast. They were hardly finished when the telephone rang.

  Little Jon answered it. Miss Josie was calling.

  “Jon,” she said, “I don’t suppose any of you have seen the morning papers yet.”

  “No, ma’am. Mr. Bean doesn’t take a daily.”

  “Well, I’ve just seen two, and I’ll try to get more. I think we’d better have a conference. Tell Mary I’m inviting myself to lunch. It’s the only time I can get away.”

  In spite of the rain, it was a busy morning. Two cars containing out-of-town reporters and photographers came. Thomas had an unpleasant but firm session with them on the porch. They left the the house, but refused to leave the area. Long-distance calls began coming over the phone. A publishing syndicate wanted exclusive rights to Jon O’Connor’s story. A nightclub offered a staggering amount of money for two weeks of personal appearances and mind reading. By the time Miss Josie’s little car spun into the lane, Thomas was fit to be tied.

  Miss Josie said, “I wish I wasn’t in such a rush, but everything seems to be happening at once for all of us. Thomas, look at these.”

  She spread an Atlanta paper and two others on the table. On the front page of two papers were pictures snapped at the courthouse. Under them were long stories. One was headed: MIND-READING GENIUS DISCOVERED IN MOUNTAINS. Another began: WILD BOY READS MINDS, CLEARS SELF OF THEFT CHARGES. The one without pictures had a two-column box headed: WHO IS JON O’CONNOR? All the known facts had been printed. These were filled in with highly colored rumors and questions.

  Mary gasped. “It’s worse than I ever —”

  “It’s what I was afraid of,” said Miss Josie. “And it’s only the start.” She looked at Brooks and Sally. “How much do they know?”

  “Everything,” said Thomas. “We didn’t tell them — they guessed it.”

  “If they guessed,” said Miss Josie, “others will too, in time. Jon, have you any idea how valuable you can be to some people?”

  Little Jon was shocked by what she was thinking. “I — I didn’t realize that this country has enemies. You believe they might — is ‘kidnap’ the word?”

  “Yes. I’m just looking ahead, Jon. Nothing at all may happen, but we’ll have to plan for the worst. There are some smart people in this world, and some of them are very dangerous. You said one thing in court yesterday that didn’t worry me at the time, but it frightens me now. Somebody was bribed to tell it; it’s in all three papers. Here it is: ‘The thoughts of everyone in this room are so loud that they might just as well be shouting.’”

  “Good grief!” Thomas exclaimed. “I should have realized the danger of that myself. Why, there are agencies in our own government that, if they knew what Jon can do …”

  “Exactly,” said Miss Josie. “Thomas, I had a call from my brother in Washington this morning.”

  “The one in the War Department?”

  “Yes. He had just got up; he saw a piece in his paper about Jon, and read that it had happened in my court. He was so curious he phoned me immediately. He was entirely too curious, Thomas, and he mentioned that we might have a visitor.” Miss Josie paused, then asked, “Did you ever hear of a Colonel Eben Quinn?”

  “H’mm. I once had to deal with a Major Eben Quinn. Tall, thin, very pale. The only thing I’ll ever repeat about him is that I’m glad he’s not working for our enemies.”

  “Well, he’s a colonel now,” said Miss Josie. “No one knows what department he’s connected with, but he has power. Entirely too much for a colonel. Thomas, I think we’d better hide Jon. For his own safety, I think we should get him away from these mountains to someplace where he won’t be recognized.”

  Little Jon said, “But I can’t leave, Miss Josie. I have to stay here.”

  “Why, Jon?”

  Thomas said, “Let me explain. Miss Josie, he doesn’t dare leave here, or he’ll never get back where he came from. There’s a — a connection in this area, something magnetic, that forms his only means of return. He has to regain his memory here, and be close by when his people come looking for him — and from what we’ve learned, we’re sure they will.”

  “Oh my, this does complicate things.” She frowned and looked at Little Jon, and said almost absently, “I wish you had your memory, and that I had hours to talk to you instead of minutes. I must have read what Thomas wrote about you a hundred times last night. It gave me a glimpse of what a peaceful and wonderful place your world must be — and how strange and terrible ours must look to you. Jon, the awful part is what people here would do to you if they could. They’d use you. They’d pay no attention to the good you could give; they’d use your mind to help fight their secret battles. And no matter which side got you, nothing would be changed. It would still go on …”

  Miss Josie shook her head suddenly. “I’ve got to think of something. Thomas, there’s a legal side to this that worries me. By law, you and Mary have no real authority to keep Jon. Before some agency tries to take him away, I’d better have papers drawn up giving you temporary custody of him.”

  She stopped and stared out of the front window. “Oh, no! Look at those cars on the road. Silly people coming to gape. This settles it, Thomas. You’ll have to have a guard here.”

  Brooks said, “Miss Josie, I think we need a guard. Look what someone threw on the porch yesterday.” He showed her the piece of wrapping paper with the warning on it.

  Her face tightened as she read it. “I don’t like this, Thomas.”

  “What can they do?” said Thomas. “One of Gilby’s bunch wrote it, I’m sure. They’re just scared. Still —” Thomas paused and began snapping his fingers. “After what’s in the papers, someone may try to use them. They’re fools enough to let some clever person …”

  “Yes,” said Miss Josie. “That’s exactly why they’re dangerous. Thomas, I’m going to send a deputy out here this afternoon, and try to get another one for night duty. I’m not sure I can manage a night man — you know how our sheriff is: if he smelled smoke, he wouldn’t believe there’s fire unless it burned his nose. Anyway, I’ll fix up those papers as soon as possible.”

  That afternoon a young deputy drove out, parked his car near the edge of the lane, and stood waving traffic on while he barred the lane to visitors. His presence, however, did not prevent a television truck from stopping under the trees at the far side of the road. Its crew set up a camera on a high platform and began taking pictures of the growing traffic and everything happening on the Bean property.

  When the young deputy went off duty that evening, no one came to take his place. He had been gone hardly ten minutes when a stone crashed through one of the front windows. Wrapped around it was a piece of paper covered with another crudely lettered warning: GET RID OF THAT WILD BOY — WE MEAN BUSINESS.

  “Where’s this thing going to end?” Thomas muttered angrily, as he nailed a board over the broken pane.

  He Is in Danger

  THE NEXT DAY started badly. They had planned to leave early for the cave, but when Thomas went out to the barn at dawn he discovered that his one milk cow was missing. She had gone back into the pasture the night before; this morning the pasture was empty, and the gate to the road at the far end of it was open.

  It was obvious that the cow had been stolen, and most certainly for spite. Little Jon knew that Thomas never expected to see her again. The road was jamming with cruising sightseers, and the young deputy, back on duty, was having trouble keeping a fresh batch of reporters out of the yard.

  The deputy had brought Mary a paper from town. There were pictures in it showing the Bean place and the deputy standing in the lane. The story was captioned: MYSTERY BOY’S FAME SPREADS, HOUSE GUARDED. In a separate column a new question was asked: IS MIND READER FROM MARS?

  Thomas glanced worriedly at the headlines, and glared at the passing cars through the unbroken window. Little Jon, watching him, was sick at heart. Who would have dreamed that his presence here would cau
se so much trouble? He was wondering what he could do to repay the Beans when he saw Thomas stiffen.

  A long black car, driven by an army chauffeur, had turned into the lane past the protesting deputy. Two officers in uniform got out.

  “That’s Quinn!” Thomas exclaimed. “If he thinks he’s going to see you, he’s got another guess coming.”

  Little Jon peered uneasily at the officers from the corner of the window. Colonel Eben Quinn was the tall, pale one. The colonel paid no attention to the guard. “Official business,” he snapped, without turning his head, and strode up to the house as if he owned the world.

  Thomas met him on the porch.

  Colonel Quinn was very pleasant at first. He shook hands with Thomas, introduced his aide, a Major Gruber, and said how delighted he was to see Captain Bean of the Marines again. It was all surface talk, Little Jon knew, for the colonel was far from pleased with the thought of having to deal with someone like Thomas.

  “My department,” the colonel said finally, “is much interested in Jon O’Connor. Aren’t you going to invite us in to meet him?”

  “No,” said Thomas. “I am not.”

  “You are being very inhospitable, Captain Bean.”

  “Sorry,” said Thomas. “I’ll have to remain inhospitable.”

  “You are not acting wisely, Captain. I understand the boy has lost his memory. We have some fine doctors in Washington. We’d like to help that boy …”

  Thomas’ voice hardened. “Tell me another tale, Colonel. I know exactly what you want with him. You’ll not have him.”

  Colonel Quinn suddenly chilled. “We’ll see about that. Are you his guardian?”

  “I am,” said Thomas. It was stretching a point, for Little Jon knew Miss Josie had not yet prepared the papers.

  “I doubt it,” the colonel snapped. “I had a talk with Mrs. Groome before I came out. She’s of the opinion that Judge Cunningham has been exceeding her authority in the case of Jon O’Connor. The whole matter is very curious, and we’ve been investigating it. The fact remains that nobody knows where Jon O’Connor came from, and no one can claim him. But the government has a certain priority.”

  The colonel paused. Little Jon was aware of Mary standing close; now he felt her hand on his shoulder, tightening. Brooks and Sally had crept nearer, and Brooks was thinking, What right has that tall guy got to come here and try to take Jon from us?

  “Under the circumstances,” said Colonel Quinn, “I think you would be wise to consider our proposal. Jon O’Connor has a rare gift we can use. In return we will give him the best of homes and care — anything he wishes, in fact. If the boy wants you and your family with him, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  “No,” said Thomas, turning away. “You’re wasting your time. Good-bye, gentlemen.”

  “Not so fast,” Colonel Quinn said icily. “If you persist in being stubborn, we’ll very quickly find legal means to take the boy off your hands.”

  “Try it,” said Thomas. “And I’ll fight you with every dollar I’ve got. Jon has some rights, and I intend to protect him.”

  “We’ll see about that. In the meantime I’ll warn you not to let that boy out of your sight. There are others just as interested in him as we are. You were in Intelligence — you know what they’re like. If anything happens to him before we get back, we’ll hold you responsible.”

  Colonel Quinn spun on his heel, and, followed by his aide, strode quickly out to his car.

  It was a very grim Thomas who reentered the room.

  For long seconds no one spoke. Then Brooks, wide-eyed and half frightened, said, “Good grief, Dad, who’d have thought — I mean, what can we —”

  “Yes,” said Mary. “What can we do, Thomas? This is getting to be perfectly awful!”

  “I’d better phone Miss Josie,” said Thomas.

  It was past noon. Thomas managed to get Miss Josie at her home. While Thomas talked, Little Jon tried to think. Everything was so unbelievably tangled on this world, with their laws and their money and their hates and their fighting for power. He could see only one solution that might help the Beans.

  Thomas hung up at last. He shook his head. “Miss Josie’s trying to work out something, but all this publicity — and Quinn on top of it — has stirred up a hornet’s nest. Mrs. Groome is making trouble, and if the government steps in …”

  “But, Thomas,” Mary cried, “they just can’t take him away.”

  “I’m afraid they can, honey. If this were Jon’s world, and Jon’s country, it would be an entirely different matter. And if Miss Josie had more time, and could give us a chance to adopt Jon legally as our son, we’d have some rights. But there isn’t time. Quinn wants Jon, and Quinn’s going to get him — unless I can hide him somewhere, and fast.”

  “No,” said Little Jon. “I’ve caused enough trouble, Mr. Bean, I think it would be better for everyone if I go with Colonel Quinn and do what he wants.”

  “Absolutely not! If Quinn gets his hands on you, you’ll never see home again. We’re going to that place we discovered. No one can find you there — and it’s mighty important that you be there anyway. Mary, get us some blankets while I fill the knapsack. Jon, maybe you’d better change into your own clothes — we’ve nothing to compare with them for camping.”

  There was no changing Thomas’ mind. In a very short time they were slipping out past the garden fence, carrying their equipment. Rascal trotted beside them.

  They edged around the barn, skirted the pasture, and reached the road a quarter of a mile beyond the house. They crouched in the brush until no cars were in sight, then hurried across. In the woods on the other side they began angling up the slope toward the gap trail.

  They were still some distance from the gap when Little Jon stopped at a warning from Rascal. “Mr. Bean,” he whispered, “we’re being followed.”

  Thomas froze. “It must be reporters,” he muttered.

  “No, it’s Mr. Pitts and — some strangers. Men I haven’t met or seen around. I — I should have known about this earlier, but there were so many people on the road …”

  His mind went out, searching, and his small hands clenched as he became aware of the danger they were in — Thomas especially. They would kill Thomas to get Jon O’Connor. It shocked him to realize that men would place such terrible value on Jon O’Connor’s ability.

  He said quietly to Thomas. “They’ve been watching the house with — with field glasses, waiting till we left. They can’t see us here, but they saw us cross the road. Mr. Pitts thinks we’re heading for the gap.”

  “If we hurry,” Thomas whispered, “we can lose them on the other side.”

  “No — they’ve stopped, waiting for others to come. There are four — five in all. Mr. Pitts is talking to them. He’s telling them we’re bound to get away, once we cross over. He’s going back and get a dog — that bloodhound you once had. If the others can’t catch us, they’ll wait for him at the gap. He — he thinks they’re some sort of government men he’s helping.”

  Muscles knotted in Thomas’ jaw. “A fool like Gilby would swallow that. They’ve got us checked. We can’t go to the cave. That bloodhound could trail us anywhere.”

  There was nothing to do but circle back, as quickly and as quietly as they could, and return to the house.

  The sun had gone down over the ridge when they finally slipped in through the kitchen door. Mary paled when Thomas told her what had happened.

  “You’d better call the sheriff,” she urged. “That young deputy has gone home for the night, and Jon’s got to have some protection. This is an attempted kidnapping.”

  Thomas made several calls, all without result. The sheriff was away from town, and there were no deputies immediately available.

  “If I know Quinn,” muttered Thomas, “we’ll soon have more protection than we want. He’ll get a company of military police out here and sew us up tight.”

  “He was thinking of doing that when he left,” Little Jon told him.


  Thomas locked the doors, and began limping about the room, snapping his fingers. Once he went into the bedroom and came back with a pistol thrust into his pocket. Little Jon knew he hated weapons; Thomas had used too many in the past …

  Little Jon studied the road through the windows. The twilight was deepening. A knot of coldness gathered in him as he considered what might happen to the Beans. So long as he was with them, Brooks and Sally and all of them would be in danger — unless the military police came, and that probably wouldn’t be till morning. Danger was out there; it wasn’t close yet, but it would surely come upon them after dark. The road would be clear, and the one remaining car containing watching reporters would be gone.

  Already the unknown men with Gilby had discovered that he and Thomas had not taken the gap trail.

  He wished he could understand what they were planning. But they were scattered about, and there were more men gathering. So many thoughts were confusing …

  Thomas came over beside him. “Jon,” he said softly, trying not to show his growing worry, “what’s going on outside? Any idea?”

  “I’m trying to find out.”

  It was hard to concentrate. Something was stirring in his mind. He tried to thrust it away, for at the moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was to draw danger away from the Beans.

  As he studied the twilight again, he was aware of Rascal’s uneasiness. Suddenly he knew that Gilby Pitts was somewhere over on the edge of the pasture, in the shadows. Gilby had Angus Macklin with him, and some of their friends. They were going to help the outsiders, as soon as dark came …

  What was their plan?

  He tried to reach Gilby’s thoughts, but other thoughts kept intruding. There seemed to be a whispering in his mind.

  Little Jon! Little Jon! Where are you?

  All at once he gasped, and stood rigid as understanding came.

  Mary, seeing him, cried, “Jon! What’s wrong?”

  “The Door — it must be open!” he managed to say. “My people — they are here — they are calling me…”