Mr. Deranian produced his silk handkerchief again and wiped his eyes. He smiled at Tia and patted Tony on the shoulder.
“How about it, you two? Would you like to go abroad and live in France for a while with your Uncle Lucas? I've a nice house in southern France; you'd love it there. We can fly over as soon as we get your passports, but they shouldn't take long.”
Tony had been listening with astonishment to the man's easy and convincing flow of words. What an operator ! he thought. What a smooth-talking, fast-thinking operator ! But what's he up to?
He realized suddenly that he and Tia were in a very bad predicament, and that they might need help to get out of it. I'd better call Father O'Day, he thought. Right now, before it's too late.
Mrs. Grindley was saying, “Your niece and nephew don't seem to appreciate what you're doing for them. We'll give them a few days, and maybe they'll wake up. Anyway, it may take longer than you think to get legal custody of them. In a case like this the court would require—”
“Oh, that's all settled,” Mr. Deranian hastened to say. “I've been promised custody by tomorrow. You see, my lawyers have been working on this for quite a while. They finally located the children through the welfare office. I was in Rome when they called me about it, and I told them to take it up with the proper authorities immediately. I flew over from Paris yesterday, and got here this morning from New York. So…” He paused, and touched Tony on the shoulder again.
“I don't blame you, young fellow, for being a little balky about accepting me. Fact is, if I were in your place, I expect I would be flabbergasted to discover I had a relative who was going to take me abroad to live with him.”
Tony was indeed flabbergasted. Legal custody by tomorrow! He glanced at Tia, and saw the growing fright in her eyes.
“No!” she whispered soundlessly. “I've remembered more about him. We can't let him take us!”
FLIGHT
Tony looked despairingly at Mrs. Grindley, wondering if there was any way he could convince her of what was really happening. It seemed impossible. The truth, he realized, just wasn't the sort of thing that most people would believe. Certainly the matron would never accept it.
“Please,” he said. “Do we have to go with him just because he says he's kin to us?”
“What's the matter with you?” she snapped, obviously baffled by the way he was acting. “You'll do what the court tells you, and no back talk. You ought to be thankful you have someone who's willing to look after you. Don't you want to live in a decent home—or don't you even realize how lucky you are?”
Tony ran his tongue over dry lips, and tried to get his thoughts in proper order. Suddenly he said, “May I make a phone call, please?”
“To whom?”
“Father O'Day, of St. Paul's Mission.”
Her eyebrows went up. “What in the world for?”
“I—I want some advice.”
“Advice!” she exclaimed. “Advice about what? About being grateful? About how to treat a relative who has been searching for you for years? Tony, you make me tired.”
“I've got a right to call him!” he cried. “No one wants to listen to our side of it, and we need help. He's not our uncle, and we can prove it!”
For the first time Mrs. Grindley's square features showed signs of softening. “How?” she asked quietly.
The change in her was so unexpected that Tony floundered a moment. “By—by lots of things,” he began. “The fact that we recognized him on sight and remembered his name ought to prove something. Please,” he hastened, as Mrs. Grindley started to shake her head. “I know you think it's impossible, but Tia's memory is practically perfect.”
“Perfect?” said Mr. Deranian, smiling. “How perfect?”
“She—she can recall everything that happened the day you left us at Granny Malone's. Where you brought us from, what you said, everything.” Tony swallowed unhappily. He hadn't wanted to mention Tia's memory, but there seemed to be no way out of it.
There was a curious flicker in Mr. Deranian's eyes. It seemed almost like awe. He believes me, Tony thought. He not only believes me, but he knows something about us, something important.
But almost on the instant Mr. Deranian became his smiling self again. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, as if he were very much amused by Tia's memory. “And where did I bring you from that day, young lady?”
Tia glanced at Tony, then quickly took a pad of paper from her star box and wrote: You brought us from a ship.
“From a ship!” Mr. Deranian echoed. He chuckled and winked at Mrs. Grindley. “So I brought you from a ship! Well, well! It's nice to know my niece has an imagination to go with her memory.”
Tony glared at him. “She wrote the truth! And that isn't all. We've learned we have a real relative somewhere, and we're trying to locate him. That's why I've got to call Father O'Day.”
Mrs. Grindley said curiously, “What's this about a relative? Does Father O'Day know him?”
“Not exactly, ma'am. But he'll know how to find Sister Amelia—she's the one who got the letter.”
“What letter?”
Tony swallowed again. He hadn't wanted to mention Sister Amelia and the meeting at Heron Lake, at least not in front of Mr. Deranian, but there was no way out of it now. He plunged in and told what had happened, and explained about the double star on both the letter and the box.
Mr. Deranian listened intently. Slowly he began shaking his head. “I hate to disappoint you, my boy, but I'm the only close relative you and Tia have. Furthermore, our family has never used the double star as an emblem.” He shrugged. “There's no reason why they should. It's a common design on Balkan leatherwork. You'll find it—”
“I don't believe you!” Tony cried. “I want to call Father O'Day. He—”
“Quiet!” Mrs. Grindley ordered. “If there's any phoning to be done, I'll do it myself.” She sat back in her chair, frowning from one to the other. “No one's going to be satisfied till we clear this up. And we don't need Father O'Day's help. I happen to know that St. Agnes School is in Baywater. I'll call them direct.”
Tony's hopes suddenly rocketed. He watched her pick up the telephone and dial long distance. Presently she was speaking to someone at St. Agnes School and asking for Sister Amelia.
There was a pause while Mrs. Grindley listened. Then she said, “That's too bad. I'm so sorry. When was this?… I see. Well, maybe I had better talk to the Mother Superior. It's about a letter…”
Tony was hardly aware of the rest. All hope had crashed abruptly. Something had happened, and it was worse than Tia had thought. Tia was fighting back tears. Sick at heart, he sank down on the office bench beside her and took her hand.
Mrs. Grindley finally replaced the receiver. “It's too bad,” she said. “Sister Amelia has been in poor health for a long time. She was taken to the hospital last week and died the next day. The Mother Superior doesn't know anything about a letter with a star design on it, but she gave me to understand that Sister Amelia may have imagined it. Seems that Sister Amelia's mind has been wandering lately, and that we shouldn't take anything she said too seriously.”
Mrs. Grindley frowned at Tony. “I'm really sorry,” she said patiently. “But now I think it's time to face facts. I don't know any more about Mr. Deranian than you, but I'm certain the court isn't going to turn you over to him unless he's able to prove he's all right, and that he can give you a good home. As for being your uncle, what real difference does it make what you believe? He's giving you a home, isn't he? A good home is mighty hard to find for young people your age—and especially with your background.”
She turned to Mr. Deranian and said, “That poor old nun had them all excited, so of course it was hard for them to accept you. Just give them a chance to think things over. They'll be glad to see you by tomorrow.”
Mr. Deranian nodded, smiling. There was something about the smile that, along with the lean face and thin curving lips, the sharp nose and dark hair, suddenly made Tony thin
k of a picture he'd seen of the devil.
Tony could hardly eat his dinner that evening. Afterward, instead of following the others into the main hall to watch television, he went out to the playground with Tia so they could talk alone. He had never felt so discouraged.
Tia whispered, “What are we going to do?”
“I haven't figured it out yet.”
“Well, I'm not going with him. They can't make me. I'll run away first.”
“That's OK with me. Only, I don't know where we'd go. And we can't waste our money.”
“But, Tony, we've got lots of money. Why don't we just—just take a chance and start south for the mountains?”
He shook his head. “No, that wouldn't be very smart. Anyhow, you heard what the Mother Superior said. Maybe there wasn't any letter after all.”
“There was a letter! I'm sure of it. Tony, I know Sister Amelia wasn't well, but there was nothing wrong with her thoughts—not when she talked to us. If she'd been imagining things, there'd have been more to it. Don't you see?”
He considered this a moment, then nodded. Tia might not be practical, but it hardly mattered with the way her brain worked. And if she felt a certain way about a thing, that was the way it was.
Suddenly the future seemed brighter. “O.K. And do you think the letter was written by someone who is really related to us in some way?”
“Of course I do! And, Tony, I believe we can find him.”
“How?”
“Sister Amelia gave us a lot to go on. We ought to be able to guess his name.”
“Maybe, but that won't take us far. We don't even know what state he's in. Tia, what we need right now is for you to remember more about us. That would be the biggest help in the world.”
“Well, I did remember about the ship, and leaving it with Mr. Deranian.”
“Go on,” he urged.
“There was a cab waiting, and we drove straight out to Granny's. Only, he made the cab driver take us in. I was so little I could hardly walk. ‘The driver said to Granny, These are the kids Mr. Doyle phoned you about,’ and he handed her an envelope with fifty dollars in it.”
“Who was Doyle?”
“Oh, that was just a name Mr. Deranian gave for himself, so Granny wouldn't know his real name. But I knew his real name because some men on the ship called him that.”
“What men, Tia?”
“I can't remember.”
“If you think hard, you're bound to remember. Were we on the ship long? And was Mr. Deranian on it with us?”
Tia closed her eyes, then shook her head almost as if she were in pain. “I—I can't remember any more. When I go back to that time I—I get all scared and sort of sick.”
Tony scowled at the traffic surging past in the deepening twilight. “It's crazy. I can't figure it. A person with a memory like yours just doesn't have it stop cold all of a sudden, at a certain spot, like a tape recorder. There has to be a reason why it stops.”
Her small face puckered in thought. “Maybe it's because I don't really want to remember.”
“Huh? What's that again?”
“I mean, something awful must have happened, something I wanted to forget. They say that's the way the mind works at times. I was reading about it in one of those reference books in the library.” Tia paused, then asked worriedly, “What are we going to do, Tony?”
Tony had already decided what to do, but he did not answer immediately. Swinging slowly past on the sidewalk just beyond the fence was the area policeman following his beat. He could not help eyeing the man distrustfully, for the watchful presence of the law could make things difficult later in the evening.
When the policeman had gone, he said, “We're going to need help to get anywhere. Before we do any traveling I think we'd better talk it over with Father O'Day.”
“But—but suppose he makes us come back here?”
“He won't make us do anything—he'll just advise us. He's a pretty good guy. I know we can trust him.”
They planned to leave for the mission an hour after the lights were out, taking their extra clothes in paper bags. They were going over the details when Winkie appeared.
Tia picked him up. “Oh, Tony,” she said earnestly, “what are we going to do about him? We can't leave him here!”
“Don't be a dope. How could we ever travel with a cat?”
It was getting dark now. He frowned at the house. “I'll go in first and get some bags from the pantry. Then we'd better slip upstairs and pack 'em while no one's around to ask questions. For Pete's sake, don't try to take everything you've got, or you'll be sorry later.”
In the pantry he found two sturdy shopping bags with handles, one of which he gave to Tia. Everyone was still watching television, and they were not noticed as they separated in the main hall and climbed their respective stairways.
In the boys' dormitory he quickly packed his bag with one change of clothing, some extra socks and handkerchiefs and a thin jacket, then hid it in his locker.
It seemed forever before the television program ended and the other boys came upstairs. Presently the last bell sounded. A few minutes later the lights went out.
Tony had made only a pretense of getting undressed. Taking off his sneakers, he stretched out on his cot until he heard Mrs. Grindley's footsteps on the stairway as she began her final rounds for the night. Now he pulled the sheet over him to hide his clothing, and pretended to be asleep when her flashlight swept the rows of cots.
When she was gone he threw back the sheet and tried to speed the slow minutes by visualizing scenes. But tonight all he could see was the dim face of the clock down in the main hall. The position of the hands suddenly reminded him that, even if they left immediately, it might take them until nearly midnight to travel across the city and reach St. Paul's Mission.
Abruptly he sat up, drew on his sneakers, and eased his bag out of the locker. Very carefully he moved to the stairway, and crept down to the first landing.
The main hall was just below. By the glow of the night light he could clearly see the opposite stairway leading to the girls' dormitory. Tia was waiting on the landing.
Her voice was like a tiny bell in his ear. “I thought you might be early, but we can't leave yet. Mrs. Grindley is in her office, and Miss Devon is fixing a snack for her in the kitchen.”
He could hear movements in the distant kitchen. Suddenly light spilled through the house as the pantry door was thrust open. He crouched behind the banisters as the tall figure of the matron's assistant came through the dining room with a tray in her hand, and crossed the main hall. When Miss Devon had vanished in the direction of the office, he whispered to Tia and they tiptoed down the stairs and hastened to the kitchen, where an overhead light still burned. Seconds later they were outside, crossing the service yard to the iron gate, which opened to the alley.
The big iron gate was securely fastened with a padlock. Tia gave it an impatient tug, and the lock snapped open. They began groping through the darkness of the alley toward a distant patch of light marking a side street.
Tony was relieved to find the side street nearly empty at this hour. They turned left here and began to hurry. Three blocks away was a bus stop on a busy avenue.
With the avenue and final freedom in sight, Tony failed to notice the bulky form standing in the shadow of an unlighted doorway. Then the policeman he had seen earlier stepped suddenly in front of them.
“Something after you?” the officer inquired pleasantly. “Or are you just running away from a bad conscience?”
“We—we've got to catch the bus,” Tony said, trying to angle around him. “Please, we're late!”
“Not so fast, my friends.” The officer held out a restraining hand. “If you're from Hackett House, you're going in the wrong direction.” He grinned. “Would you like me to show you the way home?”
Tony was aware that Tia was whispering urgently into her heavy shopping bag. Abruptly a black and furry shape popped out, scrambled across the astounde
d officer's arm, and went bouncing down the street. It was Winkie.
As Tia raced after the cat, Tony found his wits and cried, “Hurry—catch him!” as he dodged the policeman and ran.
Long minutes later, after reaching another side street through an alley, they came to a bus stop on the avenue. They were safe for the moment, and Winkie was miraculously back in the bag, where he had returned without urging.
No bus was in sight. Rather than risk waiting, Tony hailed the first taxi, and they scrambled inside. Now he looked grimly at Tia's shopping bag.
“Didn't I tell you we can't take a cat?” he reminded her. “For Pete's sake, use your head!”
Her chin went up. “Winkie goes where I go.”
“This is crazy! A cat isn't like a dog. You can't make him obey. Honestly—”
“He helped us get away, didn't he?”
“That was just an accident. We couldn't possibly carry him on a bus. He'll never—”
“Winkie will do exactly as I tell him,” Tia insisted. “He's not an ordinary cat, any more than we are ordinary people.”
If she hadn't reminded him how different they were, he would have argued further. But the sudden thought of their many differences held him silent. It was a little frightening to realize their strangeness, and to know that it was probably the cause of all their troubles.
On upper Water Street, before the clicking taxi meter had devoured more than half the five dollars in Tony's pocket, they got out and caught a southbound bus. No one would have suspected Winkie was with them. During the long ride he lay curled in Tia's bag, apparently asleep.
It was well after midnight when they left the bus and hurried across the street to their destination.
St. Paul's Mission was in an old store building near the docks, with a reeking beer parlor on one side, and a pawnshop on the other. It was an unpleasant neighborhood to be caught in at this hour, and Tony was a little jolted to discover that the curtained windows of the mission were dark. He tried the door, and found it locked.
Escape to Witch Mountain Page 3
