The Witchmaster's Key
Page 12
All the while Mrs. Goodman was watching with piercing eyes. Suddenly Joe realized where he had seen those eyes before.
“Mrs. Goodman,” he accused her, “you’re the palmist from the London witch collection. You were disguised when you stuck the needle into Frank’s hand. The game is up. By now your husband has been arrested on the Isle of Man. He Goat is out of circulation along with the witchmaster, Dr. Burelli!”
Joe’s words struck the housekeeper like a thunderclap. She became hysterical, and finally confessed.
Pickenbaugh, she said, resented playing second fiddle to Craighead and poisoned him so he could be witchmaster. When he died, Burelli was next in line.
“And the doc didn’t like us trying to find out what was going on here,” Frank said.
“Yes, yes.” the woman sobbed. Both she and her husband, at Burelli’s order, had lain in wait in London. “He was disguised, too,” she said. “We followed you to the underground.”
“You also poured the oil on the castle steps, no doubt,” Joe said. “And did you have Mary Ellerbee accuse us of malicious mischief?”
The woman hung her head.
“You’ll have to come with me,” the policeman said as he led Mrs. Goodman downstairs. First, he phoned the coroner, then the police station, with his report.
The boys and the professor, meanwhile returned to his home. Frank felt the usual letdown that came over him whenever they solved a case. Would there be a new adventure? He would have cheered up if he had known that soon they would be traveling to Zurich and Mexico in The Jungle Pyramid.
When they arrived at the professor’s house, Sears served tea. He was shocked to hear that his sister was a witch.
“Her husband must have talked her into it,” he said weakly. “Oh, it’s terrible, just terrible!”
“Now tell us about the meeting,” Joe said to Rowbotham. “What happened?”
“Everything is fine now. Ah–we caught the scoundrels!”
“For goodness sake, professor, give us the details. Who were the scoundrels?”
“The ones you suspected.”
In what was virtually another interrogation, the Hardys pulled the story out of the professor. When he confronted Hopkins with the truth about his shady operation, the Londoner denied it all. But Nip Hadley came forward to confess his part in the arson plots.
“Said he did it under ah–duress,” the professor said. “The law will go lightly with him.”
“Then what?” Frank prodded.
Their host said that Hopkins and McKnight tried to sneak off. “They were about to drive away in McKnight’s red MG when the infuriated artisans surrounded them.”
“The red MG!” Joe exclaimed.
“Yes. Ah–I remember. It had the Motor Club emblem, as you once mentioned. There is now a charge against McKnight! By the way, he also admitted releasing his savage dog to frighten you after your visit to his shop.”
“So Eagleton Green is saved,” Frank said, grinning. “But, professor, there’s still one thing that bothers us. What became of the poison?”
“What poison?”
“The stuff that was stolen from your museum. The jars of hemlock, aconite, and I don’t know what all. We’ve got to find it before somebody else gets killed!”
Rowbotham held up a hand. “Ah–ah, there is no need to get excited.”
“Why not?” Joe demanded.
“Because there is no poison. The jars were empty!”