The Case of the Etruscan Treasure (Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt Book 5)

by Robert Newman

  “Yes. About the look on Biggs’ face when Cady yelled at him and then went off.”

  “He doesn’t like Cady very much.”

  “It’s more than that. Much, much more.”

  “Yes, I know. But doesn’t that happen fairly often when you’re working for someone and don’t feel that they’re treating you the way they should?”

  “That you feel that violent?”

  “I don’t know. And I don’t know what you’re getting at. Is there something else?”

  “Yes. If you wanted to bring something up here from New York and you didn’t want anyone to know about it, how could you do it?”

  She sat there, smelling the pungent, woody smell of the sawdust, listening to the sough of the night wind and the soft splash of the waves in the river and thinking. She knew that, like Wyatt, Andrew always played fair. If either of them asked you a question, you should be able to answer it. And then it came to her, not just the question he had asked, but the answer to a much more important one. Clutching him excitedly, she told him.

  “Good girl. That’s what I think too.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Before we leave here, I’d like to find out if we’re right.”

  “Now?”

  “No. Everyone’s too worked up about our escaping, and there’s no telling when they’ll go to sleep. But maybe early tomorrow morning.”

  “All right.”

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes. The thing is—I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m hungry.”

  “We had supper before we escaped.”

  “I know. But I was so excited that I gobbled it. And besides, quite a few things have happened since. I know that there’s nothing we can do about it …”

  “No? Here.”

  “What is it?”

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Bread!”

  “That’s right. Gideon’s homemade bread. I was too excited to eat it at supper too, but I thought we might want it later on, so I stuck it in my pocket.”

  “Andrew, you think of everything!”

  “No, I don’t. I’m not Peter—and I’m sure that not even he does.”

  It was a little after five when they awoke. Andrew opened his eyes, stretched, glanced at his watch, then saw that Sara was awake too and looking at him.

  “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

  “Stiff.”

  “Me too. We’ll be all right when we start moving.”

  “Are we going to see if our guess last night was right?”

  “Are you game?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Throwing off the old horse blankets, they climbed down the ladder, slid open the icehouse door and looked out. Though the sun was not yet up, the night was gone and everything was suffused with a pearly, before-dawn light. They listened, but could hear nothing but the sleepy clucking of the chickens in the chicken coop, the faint splashing of the river waves on the sandy beach. Reassured, they stepped out and, walking softly, rounded the corner of the icehouse. The only light on in the castle was in a room next to the kitchen, probably Gideon’s room.

  “Shall we take a chance on it?” asked Sara.

  “I think so. He probably just got up and isn’t dressed yet.”

  She nodded and they tiptoed to the back of the castle. Next to the kitchen door was an areaway with three steps leading down to the cellar door.

  “I’ll go down,” whispered Andrew. “You wait here and keep watch.”

  “Why do I have to stay here?”

  “So you can warn me if Gideon comes out or someone else comes along.”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  He went down the steps to the cellar door and tried the knob. The door wasn’t locked and he eased it open. The cellar was large and cavernous, but what he was interested in lay close at hand. To the left of the steps was a large open bin with loose coal in it. In front of the bin was a shovel and a coal scuttle. This was probably the cooking coal that Gideon had been talking about. To the right of the steps, under the dusty window, was a much larger storage area that was piled high with coal sacks. Andrew peered through the spaces between the slats that formed the wall of the storage area, but could see nothing but the sacks.

  He opened the door that led into it and, bending down, forced his hand between the coal sacks. He felt something, and separating the sacks, he saw that there was a packing case buried under them. A packing case. That wasn’t what he had been looking for. Still, maybe he should look into it. But before he could even start to do so, he lost his opportunity.

  There was an exclamation outside, Sara called, “Nommus, Andrew! Chickie! Run!” and there was the sound of running feet. Slamming the storage door, Andrew ran up the steps. Like a mother bird trying to draw a fox away from her hidden nest, Sara was running back toward the icehouse, still calling and pretending that Andrew was somewhere over there. And running after her was Axel Hansen. Fleet as she was, his legs were too long for her. Reaching out, he caught her by her flying hair and pulled her to a stop.

  “Ow!” she cried. “You pongy abishag!”

  As he took a firmer grip on her, Andrew threw himself upon him. He punched him as hard as he could in the stomach, kicked him in the ankle.

  “Let her go, you po-faced bully!” he said furiously.

  Hansen hit him once, backhanded, and knocked him to the ground. Then, bending down, he hauled him to his feet, holding him with one hand and Sara with the other.

  “Boss, boss!” he shouted. “I got ’em, got both of them!”

  13

  The Mask Removed

  “So you never left the island after all,” said Cady.

  It was about fifteen minutes later and he was sitting at the desk in the castle parlor wearing a wine-colored dressing gown. Biggs, dressed as usual in his dark suit and stiff white collar, was there too, and so was Gideon. The only member of the company who was not there was Sven Hansen.

  “I said, so you never left the island,” repeated Cady.

  Angry and chagrined, Sara and Andrew said nothing, and their silence must have annoyed Axel, who stood behind them, watching them.

  “When the boss talks to you,” he growled, poking Andrew in the back, “you answer!”

  Controlling his anger, Andrew did not turn, still said nothing.

  “It’s all right, Axel,” said Cady. “They don’t have to say anything if they don’t want to. The big thing is that, thanks to you, we’ve got them again. And the only question is where we can keep them so they won’t give us any more trouble.”

  “Where I want to put them in the first place,” said Axel. “Down in the cellar!”

  “That’s no good, boss,” said Gideon. “In fact, that’s bad!”

  “Why bad?” said Axel.

  “I told you why the first time we all talked about it,” said Gideon. “Because the cellar’s dark and cold and damp, and if you keep them there for more than a day or so, you’re going to have a pair of sick chickens on your hands!”

  “So where you want to keep them?” asked Axel.

  “In the storeroom next to the kitchen.”

  “So you can talk to them any time you want, right?”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong,” said Axel, “is that if they can get out from room in tower, why can’t they get out from storeroom?”

  “Because it’ll be easier to watch them there,” said Gideon. “And because we’ll nail the windows shut. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, you stubborn squarehead—”

  “Who you calling a squarehead?” said Hansen angrily.

  “All right, you two, that’s enough,” said Cady.

  “Actually, it’s all academic,” said a new voice. “Because no one’s going to lock them up anywhere.”

  Sara and Andrew both turned, and as Wyatt came in through the French doors they ran over to him.

  �
�We knew you’d come!” said Sara, hugging him. “Golly, we’re glad to see you!”

  “And I to see you,” said Wyatt, looking at them searchingly. “Are you all right?”

  “They are, but you won’t be if you try anything!” said Cady. Recovering from his surprise, he had taken a revolver from his desk drawer and now held it levelled at Wyatt, “So don’t move. Frisk him, Axel!”

  “You should know better than that,” said Wyatt, as Hansen ran his hands over his pockets.“ English policemen don’t carry guns.”

  “Well, this isn’t England,” said Cady, relaxing somewhat. “You didn’t come here alone, did you?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “He’s lying!” said Biggs, who had been watching him intently.

  “How do you know?”

  “If any cops came with him, where are they? It would be just like him to come alone, just as it is for him to come without a gun.”

  “I’ve got a feeling you’re right,” said Cady, putting the revolver down on the desk. “Just for fun, do you want to tell us how you found us?”

  “That should be obvious,” said Wyatt. “Andrew told me where you were in his note.”

  “That’s what I figured. Again, just for fun, would you spell it out for us?”

  “If you like. Do you remember what he wrote?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, in what he claimed was a quotation from one John Henry North he said something about no man being a prisoner. There is no John Henry North, but there was a John Donne and what followed made it clear that he was quoting from the Devotions in which Donne said, ‘No man is an island.’ The North would have been puzzling if it had not been supplemented by the Henry, but together they gave me North River and Henry Hudson, so I then had an island in the Hudson. As to which one, the clue to that lay in the way it was signed. Do you remember that?”

  “Childe Roland, wasn’t it?” said Biggs.

  “Right. The quotation there was from Browning. ‘Childe Roland to the dark tower came.’ So there it was. It didn’t take much research to discover that there was an island in the Hudson on which there was a dark tower. Or, to be more precise, a sham castle.”

  “Well, well,” said Cady. “Now do you see the value of a British education, Biggsy?” Then, as Biggs smiled mirthlessly, “I must say I admire you both for the way you played this particular game. But the fact is, you’ve handed me a real problem, Inspector.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You know why I took the kids. To get you to find that file cabinet for me. But now that you’re here, I don’t know quite what to do. I mean, how can I push you to look for it when—”

  “You don’t have to,” said Andrew, deciding to take a chance on it. “I can tell you where it is.”

  “The file cabinet?”

  “Yes. It’s right here in a packing case, hidden under the coal in the cellar.”

  With surprising and catlike speed, Biggs pounced, grabbed Cady’s revolver from the top of the desk and raised it.

  “No one move!” he said flatly. “I’ll drill the first one who does!”

  “Biggsy!” said Cady, staring at him in astonishment. “You mean it was you …?”

  “Yes, I’m the one who took the file. And used it. And expect to go on using it!”

  “But why? How could you? I mean …”

  “Why?” Biggs laughed bitterly. “If you knew, understood why, maybe I wouldn’t have done it. What do they call you? Dandy Dan. And me? Little old Biggsy. Meaning little old nothing! How many years have we been working together? Over ten! Yes, for more than ten years I’ve been doing most of the thinking and planning—and all the dirty work—and it’s still Dandy Dan, the big wheel, boss of the Tenth Ward—and little old Biggsy. Dandy Dan takes all the bows and the shekels, lives high on the hog, and what does Biggsy get? The scraps, the cat-meat that you’re willing to throw me. Well, I got sick of it, see? I wanted my share of the tenderloin, too. So, after I warned you about the commission’s report, told you what would happen if they ever released it, I put a match to their office. And, while I was there, I took the file. Took it and mean to keep it!”

  “May I ask how?” said Wyatt.

  “I’ll be glad to tell you,” said Biggs. “First of all, there’s this.” He swept the gun around the room. “The man with the gun gives the orders—especially when people know he’ll use it. And the first people I’ll use it on is these two kids that everyone’s so worried about. They’re coming with me, see? They’re going to be my guarantee that nobody makes a wrong move!”

  “You wouldn’t dare hurt them!” said Cady.

  “Yes, he would,” said Sara. “After all, he’s killed one man already—Benny the Monk.”

  “That’s right, Sara,” said Biggs, smiling his mirthless smile. “Out of the mouths of babes. Benny helped me torch the commission office, take the file. Then afterward, when he heard all that talk about it, he tried to put the bite on me, blackmail me. Well, I couldn’t have that, so I took care of him. But that’s enough talk. Gideon, you and Axel go on outside and wait there. You’re going to get the file cabinet and carry it down to the dock for me.”

  “Yes, Mr. Biggs,” said Gideon, and he and Axel went out through the French door, paused outside on the terrace.

  “You two kids go next,” said Biggs. “And while I know you’re smart, I’d advise you not to try any tricks.”

  Sara and Andrew looked at him, at Wyatt, then went out through the French doors too.

  “That’s fine,” said Biggs, edging out after them, the gun ready and his eyes on Wyatt and Cady. “As for the two of you, I’m warning you—” He broke off as a strong hand gripped his wrist and twisted the gun from his grasp.

  “You’re in no position to warn anyone about anything, Biggsy,” said Inspector Decker.

  “Where the devil did you come from?”

  “Why, we’ve been here all along,” said Decker as half a dozen policemen came up on to the terrace from the garden and from around the corner of the castle. “My friend Wyatt asked to be allowed to go in first to see what was what. But once we found out what we wanted to know, I thought I’d better take over. Because, clever as he is, he’s only a visitor and has no jurisdiction here.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to come out here alone,” said Andrew to Wyatt, who had joined them.

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t say so. How did you know the file cabinet was in the cellar?”

  “I’d like to know that too,” said Cady, who had come out onto the terrace with Wyatt.

  “I just put some things together,” said Andrew. “A look on Biggs’ face and that coal he had sent up here from New York.”

  “You mean that’s how he got the file cabinet up here?” Cady shook his head admiringly. “It seems to me I owe someone around here plenty.”

  “Because of the file cabinet or Biggsy?” asked Decker.

  “Both.”

  “I’m not surprised you’re glad you discovered Biggsy wasn’t quite what you thought. But I am surprised that you’re glad about the file cabinet; I had a feeling you didn’t really want it found.”

  “Because there’s stuff about me in it? I can handle that. What was giving me trouble was the other people in it who were screaming because someone was putting the bite on them. So I’m relieved. That’s why I say I figure I owe someone here plenty.”

  “So do I,” said Decker. “And I’m afraid it’s the visiting British—particularly the two youngest ones. I’ll tell you what, Dan. Let’s join forces when we get back to New York and see if we can’t figure out some way of showing our appreciation.”

  “I always hoped you and I could make a deal about something, Sam,” said Cady. “And I can’t think of one I’d like better than that.”

  Turn the page to continue reading from the Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt series

  1

  The Appeal

  The four-wheeler drew
up in front of a house that was very like all the other houses on the square except that it seemed to have fewer lights showing. It must have been the right one, however, for Cortland was opening the cab door. He had been even quieter than usual during the ride from Paddington, but now—abruptly and a little awkwardly—he said, “While you’re here in London, will you be seeing that Scotland Yard inspector you and Chadwick were talking about?”

  “Why, yes,” said Andrew, somewhat surprised. “As you probably gathered, he’s a friend. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” said Cortland, getting out. The cabby handed him his bag. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “Not at all,” said Andrew. “See you back at school.”

  “Yes,” said Cortland. He started to close the door, then pulled it open again. “If I don’t come back at the end of the holiday,” he said, leaning into the cab and speaking very quietly, “will you look into it?”

  “What?” asked Andrew. “What do you mean?”

  But, slamming the door, Cortland turned and started up the steps of the dark, quiet house, and the cab driver shook the reins and set the horse clip-clopping up the street toward Park Road and St. John’s Wood.

  Odd? Yes, it was, but no odder than everything else that had happened that day. The strangeness began early in the afternoon when the local doctor decided that the two boys from Andrew’s house who were in the infirmary had measles. He reported this to the headmaster, and since the spring vacation was to start in three days, the head decided to send all the other boys in the house home early rather than quarantine them. Delighted at this turn of events, they were taken to the railroad station and, at the last possible moment when the train was already in sight, one of the masters arrived with Cortland, whose full name was Benedict Cortland, III. He was not in Andrew’s or Chadwick’s house but, the master explained, the school had just received a telegram informing them of a serious illness in Cortland’s family and requesting that he be sent home immediately. Since he was a bit younger than Andrew and Chadwick, the master asked them if they’d keep an eye on him, and they said they’d be glad to and invited him into their compartment.