In a moment the fire was out, and the room was once again in darkness, but before the light had died away Fred Criley recognized Robin. Just as she dropped the book and began to back away, he spoke again, not frightened now, but hard and angry. “What are you doin’ here?” Robin heard him move closer in the darkness. “Come here!” He was so near that, as Robin turned to run, she felt the rush of air as his hands swept past her.
He probably would have caught her before she even reached the door if she hadn’t been so familiar with her surroundings. When she reached the door, Fred was still stumbling over furniture and swearing somewhere in the darkness behind her. For a terrible minute she couldn’t find the doorknob, but then her fingers grasped it and she was out the door and on her way down the hall.
She was part way down the staircase to the first floor, feeling her way on the dark stairs with desperate haste, when there was a shout from behind her. “Hank! Jess! Stop her! Head her off!”
Robin stumbled at the bottom of the stairs, picked herself up, and dashed toward the front door. One of the big double doors was open; but just as she almost reached it, a figure appeared in the doorway, and she was caught in a blinding glare of light. Before she could stop, Robin almost collided with the man who held the light. With a startled yelp, the stranger raised the flashlight as if he meant to hit her with it, and in terror Robin threw up her hand to protect her head. Her upflung hand crashed against the flashlight with painful force, and there was a spinning arc of light as it flew from his hand. Darkness and silence followed the crash of the flashlight to the stone floor of the portico.
Realizing that she must be almost close enough to the stranger to touch him, Robin began to back away as silently as she could. She had gone only a few steps when the stranger shouted, “Hey, Fred! What’s going on? Who’s in there?”
Fred’s voice was close now, too. He must be almost down the stairs. “It’s a little kid from the Village. We got to catch her. Where’s Hank?”
“Right here.” The other one had apparently reached the door.
Only a few feet away Robin continued to edge backward, step by step. She knew that the door to the drawing room was very close. Her fingers touched the wall, and she turned and felt frantically for the door and the doorknob.
“Shhh! Listen, I heard something. Over that way.” Shuffling feet were feeling their way toward her when at last she found the doorknob. The click when it turned brought shouts from her three pursuers, and they lunged toward her. Robin slipped through the door and ran. If she could only find her way to the adobe wing and the secret door behind the bookcase before they caught her!
She had the advantage of knowing her way around in the big house, and she might have eluded them entirely in the darkness except for the old doors. Each time her shuffling, groping pursuers fell a little behind, there was another door to go through; and the squeak of the stiff old hinges brought them after her again in stumbling haste. Then the door into the adobe wing stuck and she had to jerk it several times before it would open. By that time the footsteps were very close. “Here she is,” a voice shouted. “I got her!” But the door came open, and Robin ducked down and slipped through. The three followed very close behind.
“I saw her,” someone yelled. “She went over that way.”
“Good,” it was Fred’s voice this time. “There’s no door on that side of the room. We’ve got her trapped. Spread out and close in on her.”
Sobs of fear tore at Robin’s throat as she felt frantically for the catch to the secret door. She found it, swung the bookcase out, slipped behind it and closed it, just as someone reached the other side. As she leaned against the back of the bookcase and fought to quiet her sobs, she could hear the brushing sound of groping hands on the front of the shelves.
“I got her! I got her!” someone yelled.
“Turn loose, you fool, it’s me.”
There were more bumping, stumbling noises, and then Fred said, “You must’ve have let her slip between you. I know she was here. I heard her bawling.”
“Well she’s not here now. I don’t know who let her get past, but she’s gone.”
“She can’t get far. Not if we don’t let her get back to the front door. There ain’t no other way out of this place. Jess, you go back and guard the front door. Hank, go back the way we come. I’ll go this way. She has to be here some’eres.” The shuffling footsteps began again and slowly faded away.
When all was quiet on the other side of the bookcase, Robin felt her way to the stone steps that led down to the tunnel. Part way down the stairs her breath began to come in quick hard gasps and her legs shook so violently that she could hardly control them. Now that she had eluded her pursuers and was no longer running, perhaps for her life, a reaction set in. Several times she had to stop and lean against the wall. She couldn’t seem to get enough air, and the top of her head felt as if it had come loose and was about to float away. After a while, without quite knowing how, she found herself climbing the ladder that led out of the well. The next thing she remembered was being in the orchard, stumbling on the furrowed ground, and hanging on to the branches of the orange trees to keep from falling. There were glimpses of other things: the eucalyptus trees, the barnyard, the gravel road under her feet. Somewhere along the way she realized her hand was hurting and tears were pouring down her face. Finally, there was the smoothness of mowed grass under her feet, and then she was pounding on the back door of the McCurdys’ house.
Lights came on in the house, and the door was opened by Mr. McCurdy, with Carmela peeking out from behind him.
“Mr. McCurdy,” Robin gasped, “Palmeras House. They’re trying to burn it down. You’ve got to stop them!”
Dreams—Lost and Found
WHEN ROBIN WOKE UP, she was lying in a big soft bed in a strange room. It was a bright sunny day, but there was a late feeling, as if she had been asleep for a long time. There was a dull throbbing in her hand. She pulled it out from under the covers and saw that it was wrapped in a heavy bandage. She wondered vaguely what had happened to it.
“Robin.” It was Mama’s voice. “How do you feel, honey?”
Robin turned her head. Mama was sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. She looked different at first, tired and sad, until her same old smile brightened the faded prettiness of her face. Robin smiled back. “I feel fine,” she said. “My hand just hurts a little.”
Mama came around and sat on the edge of the bed and took Robin’s unbandaged hand in hers. Suddenly Robin remembered. All at once everything that had happened came back. “Mama,” she asked, “did they burn it down? Did Palmeras House burn down?”
“No, honey,” Mama said. “Nothing burned down at all.”
“But what happened?” Robin begged. “Did Mr. McCurdy get there in time to stop them?”
“I don’t know just what did happen. I’ve been in here with you most of the time, and I haven’t had a chance to hear what’s been happening. But your dad did tell me that nothing burned down. Don’t worry about it.” Mama got up. “I’m just going to run downstairs and tell everybody that you’re awake and feeling better. They’re all worried about you.”
By now Robin had recognized the room as one of the guest rooms in the McCurdy house, but she still couldn’t remember how she had gotten there. In fact, she couldn’t remember anything at all from the time she reached the McCurdy house. There had been Mr. McCurdy’s startled face and her own voice screaming, “You’ve got to stop them! You’ve got to stop them!” After that there was a faint memory of being carried somewhere and of her hand hurting and hurting, and that was all.
It seemed strange to be lying in bed in the middle of the day when she didn’t feel a bit sick. Robin threw back the covers and sat up. She was wearing a soft nightgown with a tucked yoke and ruffles. One of Gwen’s, she decided. When she tried standing up, there was a weak feeling somewhere in her middle, but it felt mostly like hunger.
The door flew open, and Gwen dashed in,
a whirlwind of dimples and bouncing blond curls. “Hi!” she said, and just stood there glowing.
“Hi,” Robin grinned back.
“Gee, I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been dying to talk to you. How’d you stop them from burning down the house? What happened to your hand? And what did you do—Hey,” she broke off, “do you feel all right?”
“I’m just a little dizzy,” Robin said. “I guess it’s because I’m hungry. What time is it, anyway? I feel as if I haven’t eaten for a year.”
“No wonder,” Gwen said. “It’s almost four o’clock. Let’s go down and get Carmela to fix you something. Here, lean on my shoulder.”
“O.K.,” Robin said. “I don’t know what made me sleep so long. I always wake up early, no matter what.”
“You had a sleeping pill,” Gwen said. “Don’t you remember? When you first got here last night, you were crying and fainting and everything; so, when Doctor Woods got here, he said you were hysterical, and he gave you a pill.” They started down the stairs with Robin’s arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “Boy!” Gwen went on, “I sure wish I’d been awake. For once, something exciting happens around here, and I don’t know anything about it till it’s all over.”
When they were almost to the bottom, they met Mama and Dad and the McCurdys coming up. Everybody started talking at once, and Robin couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. Pretty soon, though, everyone was telling everyone else that they mustn’t ask Robin any questions until she’d had a chance to eat something.
In the dining room the big table was set for just one person. Mr. McCurdy pulled back the chair for Robin, and Carmela came in with a tray. After Robin sat down, everyone else sat around the table, watching her as if she were singing a song or saying a poem, instead of just eating some bacon and eggs. When she was almost finished, Mr. McCurdy said, “There’s a police officer waiting to talk to you, Robin, as soon as you feel able.”
Robin gulped and almost choked on a mouthful of toast. “I’ll talk to him now,” she said. “I feel O.K. —I think.” Suddenly, what she was really feeling was—scared. With the mention of the policeman, it occurred to her for the first time that she was going to have to explain her own presence in Palmeras House last night. And how could she do that? How could she even explain how she’d gotten in without giving away Bridget’s secret?
She was just wondering if anyone would believe that she had walked in the front door after the robbers had gone in, when Mr. McCurdy took something out of his pocket and laid it on the table. It was the key to the tunnel! Robin’s hand flew to her throat. Sure enough, the key was gone. Mr. McCurdy smiled. “Yes, that’s where we found it,” he said. “Before I call Officer Talbot in, I certainly would like to know where you found it, Robin. I have one just like it, but I never even knew there was a duplicate until last night when Doctor Woods found this hanging around your neck.”
Possible explanations, none of them very believable, flopped around in Robin’s mind. She couldn’t tell Bridget’s secret, but she had never been very good at telling a lie. Even Shirley always knew when she was fooling. But she had to try. As she started to stammer something, Mr. McCurdy’s question came back into her mind. “Found it?” she said. “Oh yes ... I found it ... in this old box ... er ... way down in the bottom ... under some things.” To her amazement, everyone seemed to be listening respectfully, as if she were making sense. She hurried on before anyone could ask where the box had been. “And then I found out that it opened the well, sort of by accident. I was sitting on the well lid one day, and I just happened to notice the padlock. So I tried the key, and it worked, and then I started just going into the house sometimes, through the tunnel ...
Mama gasped and shook her head reprovingly.
“Oh, I never hurt anything or took anything,” Robin said. “I just went in there sometimes. I’ve been doing it ever since last summer, and I’ve never hurt anything. But last night ...
At that point Mr. McCurdy got up. “Wait a minute, Robin,” he said. “I think Officer Talbot would like to hear the rest of your story.”
Robin put her hand on his sleeve. “Mr. McCurdy,” she said quickly. “Did you get the things back? The pictures and things that belong in the glass case?”
“No, not yet. Just as I got there last night, I got a glimpse of the car. It was leaving the gate, and I caught it in my headlights for a split second. I was able to get part of the license number, and the police are working on that; but so far they’ve had no luck. It would help if you were able to describe the men.”
Robin thought a moment. “No, not two of them. I heard their voices, but I didn’t get a good look at them. But I could describe Fred Criley.”
“Fred Criley!” Mr. McCurdy banged his fist down on the table. “I knew it had to be someone who’d had a chance to have those keys copied.” He hurried out and returned with a policeman. “Robin,” he said, “this is Officer Talbot. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The policeman wanted to know how many men there were and what they looked like and what the car looked like. Some of the questions Robin could answer, and some she couldn’t. Then the policeman said, “There’ll probably be some more things we’ll have to know later, but I’m going to get this out right away. It ought to help a lot. Thank you, Miss; you’ve been a big help.”
When the officer had gone, Mrs. McCurdy said, “Now suppose we all keep quiet and let Robin tell what happened in her own words. Right from the beginning.”
So Robin started at the beginning: when she had decided to stop at Palmeras House for a short visit on her way home from Bridget’s. She told about the robbers coming right into the room while she was hiding behind the drapes in the alcove, about nearly colliding with one of the men in the doorway of Palmeras House, and about knocking the flashlight down. At that point she suddenly realized what had happened to her hand.
“That’s it,” she said. “That’s how my hand got hurt. I thought he was going to hit me with the flashlight, and I threw my hand up. I remember its hurting when the flashlight hit it, but then I don’t remember even feeling it again until I was almost to the McCurdys’ house.”
When Robin had told everything she could remember, Mr. McCurdy told what had happened after Robin had given the alarm. “Catherine and Carmela took Robin up to bed and called Doctor Woods, and I jumped into the car and headed for Palmeras House. Just as I got to the gate, I saw an old car roar out of the drive and down the highway. I managed to get the first three numbers of the license, but I didn’t try to follow, because at that point I was more interested in trying to save what I could in the old place, if it really was on fire. When I got to the house, there wasn’t any fire, but in the library I found that someone had tried to start one with a pile of books. And I also found that the whatnot case had been broken into and robbed. I was puzzled by the fact that the locks on the front door and the padlock on the gate had all been opened and showed no sign of damage, as if the thieves had had the keys. But I knew that the only keys were in the safe here at home.”
Just then Gwen broke in excitedly. “Fred had the keys last Saturday when his mother was cleaning in the house. Remember, Robin, Fred unlocked the doors for his mother and Carmela? And remember how interested he was in the portraits because there were jewels in the frames?”
“He must have kept the keys while his mother and Carmela cleaned,” Mr. McCurdy said. “They were there most of the day, so there was plenty of time for him to take the keys to town and get copies made.”
“I guess he didn’t try again to start a fire,” Robin said.
“Well, there wasn’t much point in a fire to cover up the robbery after you’d gotten away to tell on them. My guess is that when they finally realized you’d escaped, they got panicky. They didn’t even bother to close the doors behind them.” Mr. McCurdy shook his head ruefully. “If those stupid kids had only known—some of the old books they were planning to burn up are worth a good deal more than the things they took. And, of cours
e, the historical value of the things in Palmeras House and of the house itself, for that matter, is immeasurable.”
“Perhaps you know, Robin,” Mrs. McCurdy said, “that my husband’s fondest dream has been to make Palmeras House into a county museum. So, you see, you saved a dream last night.”
Robin felt her face getting hot, so she looked down and away. “Well, I guess things were just meant to happen the way they did,” Dad said. “I was just thinking that the weather deserves some credit, too. Those boys might have staged their robbery several nights ago if it hadn’t been for the cold spell. They wouldn’t have dared to risk running into the smudging crews.”
“That’s right,” Mr. McCurdy said. “They had to wait for a warm night. I hadn’t thought of that.” After a moment he laughed. “I’ll bet it’s not often that a citrus rancher has a reason to be thankful for a spell of freezing weather. But most of all, we’re grateful to Robin.”
“We certainly are,” Mrs. McCurdy said. “But right now I’m afraid that Robin ought to be getting back upstairs. Doctor Woods said that she was to spend the day in bed.”
Dad walked back to the room with Robin and tucked her in. “When did you and Mama get here?” she asked him. “Did the McCurdys tell you I was here?”
“Well, last night, when it began to get late and you hadn’t come back from Bridget’s, I walked over there to get you. But when I got to the cottage, Bridget said you’d been gone for over an hour. That really scared me, but I thought you might possibly have come over here to see Gwen. So I came on over. I guess I got here right after you did, because Doctor Woods was just bandaging your hand. I tried to talk to you, but you’d had a pill and were pretty groggy. After you went to sleep, I went back home for a while, and this morning Mama and I came back.”
“Bridget!” Robin said. “She must be worried. Has anyone gone over to tell her that I’m all right?”
The Velvet Room Page 16
