by Charles Tang
I know we must discuss this matter of dividing my father’s sword & armor collection. I have now read his will & diary & see that he wanted me to inherit it. We can discuss this further when I see you.
Sybil, the children, & I so hope you can visit & we await your response.
Your cousin, Gideon
“Does the paper say anything about where they found this letter?” Violet asked.
“Yes, it does,” Henry answered. “The letter was sent to them by a Mrs. Louise Hathaway, head librarian for the Chassell Public Library.”
“I wonder where Louise found that letter,” Rose remarked. “We know her. She would never steal anything from anyone.”
“We should probably pay a visit to the local library tomorrow,” Henry offered. “We can ask her in person.”
“Oh, would you?” Seymour sounded grateful. “I can’t leave the farm tomorrow because I want to supervise the pruning.”
“We’d be glad to go to the library,” Jessie said. “Maybe we can find more clues there.”
CHAPTER 7
A Stranger in the Library
The Aldens were up early the next morning. They helped feed the animals and ate a quick breakfast. Then they borrowed some old bicycles that were in the shed and rode into Chassell.
The library was in a large white clapboard house that was painted white and had green shutters. The Aldens climbed up the brick staircase and entered a large, comfortable reading room.
Luckily Mrs. Hathaway was one of the librarians on duty. She towered over the Aldens, even Henry, when she stood.
“We’re guests of the Curtises,” Henry began, looking up at the librarian, who was staring at him very closely.
“Yes.”
“Well, we were curious about the old letter reprinted in the paper. The paper said that was your letter — I mean, that the letter belonged to you.”
Mrs. Hathaway nodded.
“We were just wondering where you found that letter. I mean, did you know it was stolen property?” Henry continued.
Mrs. Hathaway scowled. “Now, young man, I bought that letter at a respectable antique shop on the outskirts of town — a shop I am sure would not be selling stolen property.”
“But there have been other antiques stolen in town recently,” Jessie persisted.
Mrs. Hathaway nodded a bit impatiently. “Yes, young lady, I am aware of that. But I am sure this shop would not be selling stolen goods, as I’ve said before.”
“Did you buy any other letters with it?” Jessie wanted to know.
“No, I did not, not this time, though I have bought old letters and diaries from that shop in the past. I collect articles on the town’s early history for the library.”
“Are the letters you’ve bought from this shop in the library?” Jessie asked eagerly.
“They most certainly are. You’ll find them on display in the small reading room to the right,” said Mrs. Hathaway, pointing. “Now may I ask why you think that letter in the paper was stolen?”
The Aldens looked at one another. “That letter belonged to Mr. Curtis,” Benny blurted out. “He’s had a bunch of letters and other things stolen from his house.”
Mrs. Hathaway looked surprised, even a little embarrassed. “Goodness, I had no idea.”
Jessie told Mrs. Hathaway about the robberies on the farm. When she was finished, Mrs. Hathaway shook her head. “Poor Seymour. He certainly has been having trouble. I suppose it makes sense that letter belongs to him, since it does concern one of his ancestors. I must return it to him.” Mrs. Hathaway led the Aldens to the display case and unlocked it.
“Here are the other old letters that belong to the library. Many were donated or purchased a long time ago, so I doubt they belong to Seymour.”
Mrs. Hathaway carefully took Joshua’s letter out of the display case. “I will go out to the farm myself to return this to Seymour,” she told the Aldens. “Please tell him I’ll visit tonight when I’m off duty.”
Henry nodded. “We’ll tell him.”
“I must also let the antique store know about this,” Mrs. Hathaway said.
“We’d like to talk to this antique dealer, too,” Henry said.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Mrs. Hathaway remarked. “Seymour is indeed lucky to have you as houseguests.”
“While we’re here,” Violet began shyly, “would it be all right if we looked through these other old letters? We would love to read more about Gideon’s time.” She nodded in the direction of the display case.
“Well, I suppose you could, if you’re very careful with them,” the librarian answered, looking suspiciously at Benny.
“We will be,” Henry assured her.
With the librarian’s permission, the Aldens moved the contents of the display case to a reading table so they could study the old maps and letters more closely.
“Look, here’s the Curtis farm,” Henry said, pointing at an old map. “They sure had a lot of land in the old days,” he said. “Look, they had all the land that now belongs to the Browns — you know, the farm we passed on the way to town.”
“That’s interesting,” Jessie said thoughtfully. “Maybe they had to sell some of their land off because they needed the money.”
“Look at this. Here’s an old drawing of Chassell in 1890. It looks pretty much the same,” Violet remarked as she carefully handed the drawing to Henry.
“Yeah, except you don’t see too many horse-drawn carts in the street now,” Henry joked. “Also, the streets weren’t paved then.”
“Here’s a picture of the old library when it was a house with a family in it.” Violet handed the yellowed photograph to Jessie.
“Look, there are some Curtises in the picture,” Violet said, pointing at the caption.
The Aldens were so intent on their research, none of them noticed the tall man with blond hair and a beard who approached their table. He had been listening to their conversation ever since they had begun talking to the librarian. Finally he cleared his throat.
Violet looked up, startled. “Pardon me,” the man said. “I’m Blake Ambrose.”
The Aldens nodded politely. The name was not familiar to them.
“I’m the author of numerous mysteries and horror stories,” the man continued, looking a little disappointed that the Aldens had never heard of him. “My newest book is set in a small nineteenth-century New England village, much like Chassell.”
The Aldens nodded politely. “Is that why you’re in this library?” Benny wanted to know.
“Well, yes,” the author answered. He acted as if Benny had asked a very stupid question. “I’m doing some research on this town. And I, uh, couldn’t help overhearing your earlier conversation with Mrs. Hathaway. I could perhaps help you in your research. You see, I am an expert on early American history.” Mr. Ambrose stood up very straight as he said this.
Jessie looked at him a little suspiciously but did not say anything.
“How long have you been staying with the Curtises?” Mr. Ambrose wanted to know.
“Not that long,” Violet answered vaguely. “Do you know them?”
“The Curtises are an old New England family. I’ve been reading about them here. Are you going to be staying out at their orchard a long time?”
“A couple of weeks,” Henry answered.
“Have you discovered any skeletons in the closet?” the author joked.
“What?” Benny looked puzzled.
“You know, old family secrets.”
“Well, we’re trying to find out more about what life was like in the ghost’s time,” Benny answered, not noticing Jessie’s warning look.
“Oh, you mean Joshua,” the author replied with a wink.
“You know about Joshua?” Jessie sounded surprised.
“I certainly do,” the author replied. “The story of Joshua and his disappearance is an interesting part of the history of this town.”
“Do you know what happened to Joshua?” Benny asked.
“I’m working on finding out,” the author replied.
“We are, too,” Benny said, looking at the stack of yellowed letters on the desk in front of him. “And so far we haven’t had much luck.”
“We’ll let you know if we have any questions about anything,” Henry told Mr. Ambrose, who was peering at a letter over Henry’s shoulder.
“Good day,” the author said as he walked away.
“Maybe we should have been a little friendlier to him,” Violet whispered when the author had disappeared into the reference section.
“I think he was kind of nosy,” Henry said. “I didn’t like him looking over my shoulder like that.”
“Yeah, I didn’t really trust him, either,” Jessie said. “That’s why I didn’t want you telling him too much, Benny.”
“I don’t think I told him anything he didn’t know already,” Benny pointed out.
“I don’t think you did,” Jessie said reassuringly.
“He may have only been trying to help us,” Violet said as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and fastened it with a lavender ribbon.
Henry shrugged. “It sounds like he spends a lot of time in the library. If we have any questions, we know where to find him.”
The Aldens spent the rest of the morning reading old letters and looking at maps and photographs, but they could find no further clues to the mystery of Joshua’s disappearance.
“We’d better go to the antique store soon,” Henry said finally, looking at his watch. “It’s going to take us a while to get there.”
“Can’t we have lunch first?” Benny suggested. “I’m starving.”
“Good idea,” Jessie said approvingly.
Before they left, Mrs. Hathaway gave the Aldens detailed directions on how to find the antique store. “It’s really a barn with a lot of old furniture and other odds and ends in it,” she said. “And it’s just a little ways outside of Chassell on Old Post Road, the road you took from Seymour’s farm. You can’t miss it.”
“Do you know where we might go for lunch?” Jessie asked as the Aldens were on their way out the door.
“The Doughnut Shop across the street sells delicious sandwiches as well as homemade pies, cakes, and, of course, doughnuts.”
“Let’s go!” Benny almost shouted.
When the Aldens entered the Doughnut Shop, they saw Blake Ambrose seated at a table reading a newspaper.
“That’s funny. I never saw him leave the library,” Henry remarked.
Jessie shrugged. “We weren’t looking at the door the whole time,” she reminded Henry.
The author looked up and waved as a waitress led the Aldens past his table, but he seemed too absorbed in his newspaper to want to talk.
“Let’s not take too long with lunch,” Henry warned as the Aldens sat in a booth by the window. “We want to have plenty of time at the antique shop and still get home before dark.”
“Can’t we at least have dessert?” Benny pleaded, eyeing a plate of homemade chocolate doughnuts behind the counter.
“Why don’t we have lunch here and then take some doughnuts to go,” Jessie suggested.
“Okay,” Benny reluctantly agreed.
While the Aldens were wolfing down their bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, Martin and Veronica walked into the Doughnut Shop. Martin smiled and waved to the Aldens, but Veronica ignored them. To their surprise, Veronica did wave to Blake Ambrose, who nodded and smiled at her.
“How do they know each other?” Henry wondered.
“Yeah, that’s strange,” Jessie agreed. “Maybe we can ask Martin.” Jessie was about to wave Martin over to their table, but he was busy buying two jelly doughnuts at the counter. He quickly paid for them and walked out of the store with Veronica at his heels.
“Very strange,” Violet said. “Maybe we should ask Mr. Ambrose how he knows Veronica.”
But when they turned around to look at Blake Ambrose, the author had vanished.
“How did we miss him?” Henry was surprised. “He was just here.”
Jessie looked over at the author’s table. The remains of his tuna sandwich lay on his plate. The newspaper he had been reading was neatly folded beside his place setting, and he had left money on the table to pay for his meal.
“He sure comes and goes quickly,” Jessie remarked. “I think it’s interesting that Veronica knows him. That may be an important clue.”
“You mean because Veronica works on the farm?” Violet asked.
Jessie nodded. “Veronica could be giving Blake information about the secret passageway and what’s in it.”
“That’s true,” Henry agreed. “But we really don’t have any evidence that Blake is involved in these burglaries. All we know is that he’s nosy.”
“And he knows Veronica,” Jessie repeated as she pulled her notebook out of her backpack. She added Blake’s name to her list of suspects.
When the Aldens were finished, they paid for their lunch at the counter and bought a bag of assorted doughnuts to go. (Benny made sure they were mostly chocolate ones.) Then they walked back to the library to get their bicycles.
Once on the road, Benny was sure he kept seeing the same large blue car not too far behind them. Henry noticed it, too, and wondered if they were being followed.
By the time the Aldens reached the store, the car had disappeared. They never saw the driver.
CHAPTER 8
The Antique Store
“Goodness, I had no idea that letter was stolen. That’s dreadful!” the owner of the antique store exclaimed. Mrs. Holmes was a round, short woman with wiry gray hair. “I would never knowingly sell stolen merchandise,” she told the Aldens. “I must call the police about this.”
“Mrs. Holmes,” Jessie said gently, “do you remember who brought the letter in?”
The owner sighed and looked around her store. “I have so many things in here,” she said wearily. “It’s hard to keep track of who brings in what. I buy most of my things at yard sales and auctions, but I don’t believe that’s where the letter came from. I wish I could remember more. I really do. And I must apologize to Seymour.” Mrs. Holmes was wringing her hands.
“That letter would have come in recently,” Henry pointed out.
“Well, we don’t know that for sure,” Jessie reminded her brother. “Seymour doesn’t exactly know when the letters were stolen.”
“True,” Henry agreed. “But we think it was within the last month or so.”
“Seymour is also missing a stamp collection and a sword dating from the Civil War. You don’t have anything like that around, do you?” Henry asked.
Mrs. Holmes shook her head. “Good heavens, no. That I’m sure of. I just wish I could remember more about the letter. If you’ll give me a few moments, I’ll check my files. Perhaps I can find some record there.”
“Sure, we’ll just look around your store awhile,” Violet offered. “You might even remember more while we’re here.”
“I’ll certainly try to,” Mrs. Holmes assured her. “I just wish I kept better records of things.” The owner vanished behind a large oak desk and started rummaging through some cardboard boxes that served as her filing cabinets.
Henry walked over to a pile of newspapers. Jessie looked at some old glass vases in a cabinet. Violet and Benny went to a corner where there were some old toys: dolls, wooden blocks, and rocking horses.
“These are such old toys,” Violet said as she lifted a doll’s dress to inspect her petticoat.
“Those are the best kind,” the owner muttered. She sat on the floor surrounded by scraps of paper. “Oh, this is useless,” she said sadly. “I’m never going to find anything in this mess.”
Violet came over to her. “Mrs. Holmes,” she began, “do you remember buying the letter from someone?”
The owner nodded and pushed her wire-rimmed glasses on top of her head. “I believe I did. I don’t remember buying that letter at a yard sale. I think I would have remembered that.”<
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“Was this person who sold you the letter a woman or a man?” Violet continued.
“A man, I believe,” Mrs. Holmes answered.
“Did this man have long blond hair and a beard? Did he say he was an author?” Violet asked.
Mrs. Holmes frowned. “No, I don’t remember meeting anyone like that. I usually remember faces. That’s about all I do remember well.”
The Aldens waited while Mrs. Holmes rummaged through a few more cardboard boxes stuffed with papers, but she never found any record of the letter.
“I don’t want to keep you here any longer,” the owner finally said. “I know Seymour’s number. If I find anything, or remember who sold me the letter, I will give you a call, I promise.”
“Thanks for all you have done,” Jessie said as the Aldens waved good-bye and filed out the door. Once outside, they were surprised to find that the sun was low.
“We should try to get home before dark,” Henry warned the others.
“I didn’t realize we had been in that store so long,” Jessie remarked. “Everything was so old in there, it was almost like being in another century.”
The others laughed.
“I wish Mrs. Holmes had been able to remember who brought her the letter,” Violet remarked as the Aldens were mounting their bicycles.
“That would have made our job a little easier,” Henry remarked as he began to pedal away.
Jessie was about to follow when she noticed a large blue car parked under some trees near the antique store’s driveway. The car flashed its lights and began to move toward the Aldens.
“Who is that?” Jessie asked out loud.
The car pulled alongside Jessie, Violet, and Benny. “How about a ride home?” a deep voice asked.
“Mr. Ambrose!” Jessie was so startled she almost shouted.
“What are you doing here?” Benny wanted to know. He was right behind Jessie.
“I was out exploring the area,” Mr. Ambrose answered smoothly.
“We don’t want a ride home,” Benny said firmly.
“It’s true,” Jessie agreed. “What would we do with our bicycles?”
“I would probably have room for them in my trunk,” Mr. Ambrose answered.
