“She never goes anywhere without that hat….”
FOURTEEN
_
Neil and Graham set out to search the remaining rooms. Eventually, Neil knew, they’d have to face the cellar.
There was nothing more of interest on the second floor, so they headed for the next floor up. Graham switched on the flashlight. He’d been saving the batteries, but now they needed it – the moon peeking in the windows was not enough. The castle had power and it was tempting to turn on some lights, but they couldn’t risk attracting attention.
On the third floor, they found a number of smaller guest rooms, the furniture covered with sheets, like the ghosts of the less important visitors who’d been relegated there. They went into every room, looking in cupboards and in shared bathrooms, but all they discovered were spiders in the bathtubs and droppings under the beds from the field mice who’d made cozy nests in the mattresses for the winter.
The main staircase ended at the third floor, but they found back stairs leading up to the fourth floor. “Stairs for the servants, I guess,” Neil said, as he followed Graham’s circle of light up the steep narrow stairway.
The servants’ quarters on the fourth floor were small poky rooms, each with one dormer window. The slanting ceilings forced Graham and Neil to crouch in places. Again, they searched every room. There was only a faded note in one dresser drawer, scribbled in pencil. Colin, love, it said. Come tonight at one o’clock. I’ll leave the door unlocked. Betsy.
“Uh-huh, hanky-panky in the servants’ quarters,” Graham said. “Not nearly as much as in the guests’ quarters below, I’ll bet.”
They finished searching the fourth-floor rooms. Apart from the cellar, the only place left was the attic. At the end of the hall, a rope dangled from the ceiling. Neil pulled on it and a hatch on hinges, with a folding ladder attached, swung down. They looked up apprehensively at the dark opening above.
Graham took a deep breath, climbed the ladder, and stuck his head in. “Hotter than all hell up here,” his muffled voice came back. “I can’t see a thing. Hand me the flashlight.”
Neil passed it up and Graham switched it on. “Yikes!” he shouted, half-falling, half-sliding down the ladder. Something light and translucent drifted down with him.
Neil looked at the object on the floor. It was long and scaly and paper-thin. “Holy smokes! Is that what I think it is?”
Graham nodded. “A snake skin. Gave me quite a start. There’s a whole pile of them up there.”
“How could snakes get way up there?” Neil wondered aloud.
“Snakes can climb,” Graham said. “They probably crawled up between the walls looking for warmth and hibernated there over the winter. Then they shed their skins in the spring and away they went.”
“Jeez, maybe there’s live ones still up there.”
Graham started back up the ladder. “Not likely at this time of year.”
Neil followed him reluctantly. There was just room to stand. Cobwebs brushed their faces and dried snake skins crunched underfoot. Graham swung the light around the acres of attic. It picked out old steamer trunks with worn leather straps and boxes overflowing with books. Then, in a far corner, something big and black. In the weak beam of light, it looked like a figure without a head.
They scrambled for the ladder.
Neil stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute,” he said, as recognition sunk in. “I know what that is. My mother has one in our attic. It’s a dressmaker’s dummy.”
Graham climbed back up the ladder. “Of course. Difficult to tell what it was in the dark….”
“Of course,” Neil said.
Roaming the attic, they came across a rocking horse, its mane and tail moth-eaten, and boxes of expensive-looking toys, barely used. Armies of colorful lead soldiers – British Grenadier Guards, with their tall fur hats, and mounted U.S. Cavalry – were carefully lined up in formation, facing German soldiers with their First World War spiked helmets. Except for the layer of dust on the soldiers’ hats, someone could have just finished playing with them.
Neil remembered hearing the story of the young son of the second owner, who vanished mysteriously from the castle years ago. “I’ll bet these belonged to the boy who disappeared,” he said. He could imagine the boy spending hours in the attic, refighting the Great War with his soldiers. They looked like they were patiently waiting for him to come back and give the order to attack.
In another corner, they found a small suitcase – a smart beige traveling case. Its shiny newness contrasted sharply with the other dusty things in the attic. Graham dropped to his knees and clicked open the latches. The suitcase was jammed with clothes – slips, blouses, skirts, stockings – that appeared to have been stuffed in haphazardly.
“Your aunt’s?” Neil asked.
“I suspect so.” Graham stared at the case.
“What do you make of its being up here?”
“My guess is that someone hid it here because they wanted Mrs. Ruff to think she’d left on her trip.”
They were silent, thinking what this implied.
“Maybe she had two and didn’t need this one,” Neil said, trying to offer a hopeful suggestion.
Graham gave him a withering look. “So she stuffed this one full of clothes and hid it in one of the farthest corners of the attic?” He stood up. “Well, there’s only one more place left to search.”
“I know,” Neil said. “The cellar.” Probably a cold, clammy, creepy place, with dripping water, monster spiders, and scuttling centipedes. He wasn’t looking forward to it.
FIFTEEN
_
Confident they would easily find the stairs leading down to the cellar, Neil and Graham scoured the ground floor, opening every door, peering into every alcove. “There’s got to be cellar stairs somewhere,” Neil said, as he stood in the hall scratching his head. “Who ever heard of a castle without a cellar?”
Graham agreed. “A dark clammy spooky place usually, like in an Abbott and Costello movie. Maybe the entrance is outside.”
So they skirted the outside of the castle, shining the flashlight on the foundation all the way around, without finding any sign of an entranceway “Baffles me,” Graham said. “I can’t help feeling we’re missing something….”
Back in the kitchen, he sighed. “We’ve done all we can for now. Might as well get some shut-eye before we have to beat it. I wonder what time Mrs. Ruff and the slave get here in the morning.”
Neil yawned. “Dunno, but I’m exhausted.”
They went back to the second floor. “Pick a bed room,” Graham said. “There are dozens to choose from. I’ll take my aunt’s room – maybe it’ll give me inspiration while I sleep and I’ll wake up with the answer.”
They separated, and Neil flopped on the bed in the room next to Graham. Despite his exhaustion, the rattling and grating noises of the old castle kept him awake. What was that creaking sound? Someone coming up the stairs? Were those footsteps outside his door? He had to keep reminding himself that Graham was in the next room, just a step away. Sleeping soundly, no doubt.
Neil didn’t fall asleep until the sky began to lighten in the east. Then he slept so soundly that he didn’t stir until he heard an abrasive voice calling loudly, “Leonard, where are you?” It was Mrs. Ruff.
Neil leaped out of bed.
A shaft of sunlight was streaming in the bedroom window. What a time to sleep in! He tiptoed into Graham’s room. His friend was spread-eagled on his aunt’s bed, dead to the world. “Graham,” he whispered. “Wake up. They’re here!”
Graham’s eyes opened slowly. “Huh? Who?”
“Shh. It’s the Ruffs. Keep your voice down.”
Graham sat up. “Holy cow! It’s morning already?”
“Yeah. We both slept in.”
They crept to the head of the main staircase and listened. From below a swishing sound drifted up, then Mrs. Ruff came into view, wielding a mop. She was pushing a bucket along with her foot as she moved down
the hall. They ducked back out of sight. When a floorboard creaked under them, the swishing sound below paused momentarily, then resumed.
“The servants’ stairs,” Graham mouthed, and Neil nodded. With Mrs. Ruff busy mopping the hall, the kitchen would be empty. They peered cautiously over the banister. She was now mopping the front hall, her back to them. They scooted past the top of the main staircase, where they were in full view from below, and sped along the hall to the back stairs.
At the bottom, Neil eased open the door to the kitchen. Empty! He nodded to Graham, and they made a quick dash across the kitchen and out the door. There was still Leonard to watch out for. But the steady clip, clip of hedge shears told them where he was. Under the cover of bushes, they got by him.
Once they reached the cove at the back of the island, where Crescent was to pick them up, they breathed easier. “Rather hard on the nerves, this detective business,” Graham said. “And we’re still no further ahead.”
“But you did spot your aunt’s favorite hat,” Neil reminded him, “and her suitcase.”
Graham stared out at the placid blue water of the cove, frowning. “Funny though, we never found the cellar. I keep thinking we’ve missed something.”
Neil shrugged. “I don’t see how. Maybe there isn’t a cellar. Maybe it was too rocky to put one in.” He eyed the sky. “The sun’s getting up there. Must be ten or so. Where’s Crescent, I wonder?”
“I hope she remembers to bring food,” Graham said. “I’m starved.”
There was nothing to do but wait, keeping an eye out for Leonard. Neil watched the point, around which Crescent would come, willing the bow of Discovery to appear. It seemed like hours went by. Finally a boat came around the point, but it wasn’t Crescent’s.
They heard the putt, putt, putt of an engine, then a long narrow double-ended launch, like the ones used by fishing guides, appeared.
In the front, in comfortable wicker chairs one behind the other, sat an older couple. In the center, beside the small inboard engine, a guide steered; behind him sat a teenage boy, and in the stern was a curly-haired girl.
Neil stared. Crescent!
SIXTEEN
_
Crescent waved. The guide shut off the engine, and the launch drifted to a halt in the middle of the cove. The small dinghy it was towing sat rocking in the swell. As Neil and Graham watched, Crescent hauled in the dinghy, climbed into it, and fitted the oars in their slots.
The boy said something to her and she nodded, holding on to the side of the launch while he stepped awkwardly in beside her, rocking the little dinghy so violently that he almost lost his balance. When it settled down, Crescent rowed to shore.
Meantime the older couple in the bow picked up their fishing rods, the guide baited their hooks with minnows from a bucket, and they dropped their lines into the water.
Neil and Graham waited at the water’s edge. “Good to see you, Crescent,” Neil said, when the dinghy reached shore. “I was getting worried.”
“Sorry I’m late, guys,” Crescent replied. “I’ll explain later. This is Daniel. Daniel, meet my friends, Neil and Graham.”
Daniel, who was clutching the gunwales as if his life depended on it, said hi and let go with one hand just long enough to give them a quick wave.
“Climb in,” Crescent said.
There was barely room in the little dinghy for the four of them and the gunwales were now mere inches above the water. Daniel looked apprehensive.
“Daniel’s from New York,” Crescent said, as if that explained everything.
“New York!” Graham exclaimed. “Must be neat to see the Empire State Building. A marvel of engineering – they say the top sways only one and a half inches in a 110 mile-an-hour wind.”
New York! Neil thought. He’d never met anyone from New York before, the ultimate big city in his mind. It seemed so far removed from Kingsport that it might as well have been on another planet. Not only did it have the world’s tallest skyscraper, but also Broadway Radio City Music Hall and the Rockettes, the Yankees with Joe DiMaggio, and all those movies that open with shots of Manhattan traffic and horn-honking yellow cabs. New York.
Now here was a New Yorker in person. Neil wanted to ask him if there really was a billboard on Broadway that blew smoke rings, but he didn’t want to seem like a rube. Who was this guy? he wondered. And why had Crescent come in a launch with him instead of in Discovery? Was he after her too?
“The only boats I’ve ever been in before are those pedal things in Central Park,” Daniel said, still clutching the sides tightly. “But they don’t rock around like this. My grandparents come up here every year-they’re nuts about fishing. Why, I don’t know. Sit in a boat all day and dangle a minnow overboard, hoping some fish will come along that’s dumb enough to grab it. They’re always after me to come with them, so this year I did. I really like them and all, but jeez, fishing!”
Neil could see that Daniel liked talking – a lot more than he liked fishing.
“Hey” Daniel said. “I hear you guys are terrific gumshoes.”
Neil wasn’t sure whether this was a compliment or an insult.
“You know – detectives, private eyes,” Daniel added. “Like in Raymond Chandler’s books.”
The dinghy pulled up to the launch. They climbed aboard, and Crescent introduced Neil and Graham to Mr. and Mrs. Lonsberg and to Charlie, the guide. Now it was Charlie’s boat that was crowded. Neil and Graham sat on the floorboards in the stern with Crescent.
“All set?” Charlie said, poised to start the engine.
“Wait a moment, Charlie!” Mrs. Lonsberg said. “I’ve got a bite.” She jerked on her line and began reeling it in, the rod bending and dipping as the fish fought back gamely. It leaped once, flashing silver and dark green in the sun, then shook the hook loose and was gone. The line hung limp.
“Rats!” Mrs. Lonsberg said. “A nice big bass, too.”
“Never mind, dear,” her husband said. “Charlie knows where to find lots more.”
“We’ll just mosey on over to the campground on Lovesick Island,” Charlie said. “Then you folks can relax while I fry up some of this fresh catch for lunch.” He held up a long string of perch and bass that had been dangling over the side.
They landed at the public dock on the island beside Deadman’s. Charlie set up chairs for the Lonsbergs, got a fire going, then began cleaning fish at the water’s edge.
“You kids, feel free to explore,” Mrs. Lonsberg said. “Come back when you smell fish frying.”
“Sure, Gran,” Daniel said, and off they went.
Neil and Graham were bursting with curiosity. “So what’s happening, Crescent?” Neil said, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Yeah, we expected to see Discovery sail around the point,” Graham said. “Why are you in Charlie’s boat with the Lonsbergs? Are you keen on fishing?”
Or keen on Daniel? Neil wondered.
Crescent sighed. “Poor Discovery. She was stolen last night. The police think it was the German prisoners of war.”
“German POWs!” Neil exclaimed. “From the fort?”
Crescent nodded. “Two of them. They escaped yesterday. The police think they’ll try to cross to the United States. They probably took the sailboat because a motorboat would have been too noisy. I kept thinking of you guys waiting for me and I didn’t know what to do. Then the Lonsbergs – they’re in the cottage next door – came to my rescue. Came to your rescue, I should say.”
“That was magnanimous of them,” Graham said. “They must be wondering what we were doing on Deadman’s Island.”
“They were kind of curious,” Daniel said. “I figured maybe you were just horsing around – you know, summer holidays, nothing to do and all that – but then Crescent told us about the castle and your aunt that you’re worried about.”
He must have caught Graham’s look of concern because he held up his hand. “Hey, don’t worry,” Daniel said. “I won’t tell anyone, neither will my
grandparents. I think it’s nifty what you’re doing. Sneaking around a spooky castle at night looking for clues – sure beats fishing for excitement.”
“I hope it was worth it,” Crescent said. “What did you find out, Graham?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Graham said. “We scoured the whole place, top to bottom. There’s a gazillion rooms.”
“He did find his aunt’s favorite hat,” Neil added, “which is odd because he says she never goes anywhere without it. Yet there’s no sign of her. We found what we think is her suitcase too – in the attic.”
“I guess you guys searched the underground passage too, huh?” Daniel said casually.
Graham’s head jerked up.
SEVENTEEN
_
“What underground passage?” Graham said. “We looked all over for a cellar and couldn’t even find that.”
“Oh, well, maybe Gramps is confused,” Daniel said. “I mean, sometimes his memory’s not so hot. But he said there was an underground passage from the castle to the river.”
“But what would your grandfather know about the castle? He lives in New York.”
“Yeah, weird, isn’t it? The guy who built the castle way back? Gramps was a friend of his – they went to Princeton together. The guy was loaded – something to do with railways and all. Back then, when they were rich, they were real rich.”
Daniel gestured across the water to where the castle loomed. “He had to be real rich to build that. Anyway, Gramps says his friend was always talking about this castle he was building in the Thousand Islands. He showed Gramps the plans one day and told him there’d even be a hidden passageway to the river. Maybe he thought he’d have to escape from the law in a hurry one day. I mean, they didn’t called them robber barons for nothing.”
“It’s an enigma,” Graham said, puzzled. “If your grandfather is right, there’s an underground passage. But we couldn’t find a cellar, so how do you get to this passage? From the river end?”
The Castle on Deadman's Island Page 5
