The Deserted Library Mystery

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  After two hours of hard work, their job was almost ended.

  Suddenly they heard a thud. Then another.

  “What was that?” Violet asked in a shaky voice.

  Henry laughed. “Did you see the rubber ball sticking out of Benny’s back pocket?”

  “Oh, is that it?” Violet said in relief, listening to the steady bounce of the ball.

  All at once the noise stopped.

  They all listened.

  Benny shouted, “Hurry, hurry! See what I’ve found.”

  They rushed downstairs.

  Benny, bending over a hole in the floor, pulled and tugged at something below the floorboards.

  “What is it, Benny?” Jessie questioned, her brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  “I was playing with the ball, and it rolled into the hole,” Benny panted. His face was beet-red, and he grunted with huge effort. He gave one final pull and lifted out a rusty black object.

  “What in the world did you find?” Violet asked.

  “It looks like the point of the sword,” Miguel said.

  Jessie eagerly seized the metal from Benny. “It is!” she cried triumphantly. “It’s the missing sword piece! Now our Civil War sword is complete!”

  Henry said slowly, “I hope we can get it home without the stranger finding out.”

  Just then the back door slammed.

  Benny jumped.

  Everyone’s eyes darted from one to the other.

  “Is it the prowler?” Jessie whispered.

  “Nonsense!” Henry said with a snort. He ran to the back door and quickly returned. “Not a soul in sight. It was only the wind,” he said heartily. But there was doubt written all over his face.

  The others were doubtful, too.

  “How come the backdoor wasn’t locked?” Violet asked.

  Benny looked sheepish. “I opened it before to look outside.”

  Henry sighed. “Remember I said we have to be careful . . . very careful.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The Prowler

  “We’re leaving!” Henry said. “We’re heading back to the house.” He carefully wrapped the point of the sword in a dust rag. “No telling who’s around here.”

  “I thought you said it was only the wind that slammed the door,” Benny said, his head tilted to one side.

  “It probably was,” Jessie soothed.

  Henry gave a last look at the tidy library—so different from when they’d first entered—then locked the door.

  With the prowler on their minds, everyone hastily mounted their bicycles. As fast as they could, they biked back to Pete’s house. Benny’s legs had never pushed so hard.

  Back in the house, however, they tried to forget the slammed door. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was the prowler spying on them, but whatever it was, they were safe and sound now.

  “One more night!” Benny crowed. “And Grandfather will be here. He’ll be proud we found the rest of the sword!”

  “Thanks to you,” Jessie said, giving his hand a squeeze.

  “Just think,” Violet said happily. “Tomorrow we’ll be going home.”

  “Yes, but we still have tonight to get through,” Miguel said gloomily.

  “No problem,” Henry said. He was worried about Miguel, though. The slim boy was so sad. It wouldn’t be long before he knew whether his father was alive or not. “Miguel, why don’t you help me chop wood?” Henry asked. “We’ll leave a nice stack for Pete.”

  At supper they lingered over their spaghetti and meatballs, enjoying their last night in Pete’s house.

  When they’d finished eating, Henry fit the sword together on a braided rug before the fireplace. Even though the blade was rusty and black, it was graceful and beautiful.

  “I can imagine how the sword will look when it’s polished. The silver and gold will gleam,” Jessie said, admiring it.

  “Such a wonderful sword,” Violet said. “Captain Howard must have been very proud to have been honored with such a gift.”

  “The Civil War was over one hundred years ago,” Jessie said thoughtfully. “I wonder what happened to Captain Howard.”

  Henry, busy polishing the hilt, said, “Oh, he probably retired to his farm near Gettysburg and lived to a ripe old age.”

  “What makes you think the Captain was from Pennsylvania?” Miguel asked.

  Henry shrugged. “Just a guess. He may not have been.”

  “I’ll bet he looked handsome in his uniform,” Jessie said, gazing at the sword.

  Henry chuckled. “You’ve got a vivid imagination, Jessie.”

  Jessie laughed. “I’m not the artistic one.” She glanced at Violet. “Violet is.”

  Violet’s cheeks grew pink. She did love music and her violin, and she did enjoy painting.

  “Time for bed, everybody!” Henry said. “The earlier we go to bed, the earlier we’ll get up. Grandfather said he’d visit us tomorrow, and if I know him, he’ll be here for breakfast.”

  “We need to leave Pete’s house spick-and-span, too,” Jessie said. “Pete will be glad for the wood you left him, Henry.”

  Henry nodded. “And I’m certain he’ll be pleased when he sees how clean the windows and floors are.”

  “I hope so,” Jessie said.

  “I’m sure he will,” Violet said, smiling at Jessie. They had really worked while on their adventure, but now that it was almost over, they felt good.

  Jessie picked up the pitcher. “I’m going out to fill this with water,” she said. “I know Benny will want a drink before he goes to sleep.”

  “You’re not afraid, are you?” Violet asked. “Maybe the hummer will be outside waiting for you.”

  Jessie laughed. “I’m not frightened at all.” She moved to the door. “Besides, I’ll only be gone five minutes.”

  After Jessie left, Benny and Miguel went to bed while Violet set the table for breakfast. She smiled as she set a place for Grandfather.

  Henry carefully rewrapped the sword in the dust rag and waited for Jessie’s return.

  Outdoors, Jessie stepped quickly to the pump. She didn’t intend to tarry any longer than necessary.

  “Hooo, hooo,” came a strange call from the trees.

  Jessie halted, listening intently.

  “Hoooo, hooo.”

  She stared at the large oak. Then a smile broke over her face. The yellow unblinking eyes of an owl stared back at her.

  “Go ahead and hoot, Mr. Owl,” Jessie said as she pumped fresh cold spring water. “I’m not afraid.”

  A twig snapped, but Jessie kept pumping as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

  Footsteps approached. Jessie froze. The stranger was back again! A cold chill ran up her spine.

  All at once she whirled about, flinging the pitcher in the air. She’d almost reached the door when a cloth bag was thrown over her head, blotting out sight and air. Her arms were pinned to her side.

  “Henry!” she screamed, but her muffled voice was lost in the cloth. She struggled for a breath of air.

  “The sword is mine!” the stranger growled in her ear. “Get out!”

  Jessie’s heart thumped against her ribs, but she knew what to do.

  “Do you understand me?” The prowler growled menacingly.

  Suddenly, Jessie kicked the man’s shins hard, and he let go of her arms to grab his painful legs. She yanked off the bag and gulped in air. She yelled, “Help! Help!”

  Yellow light streamed from the house as Henry tore open the door.

  “The prowler!” she shouted, pointing at a shadowy figure disappearing in the brush.

  The bushes violently swayed back and forth. An instant later a car’s engine started, and the intruder sped away.

  Henry dashed to Jessie’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked with concern, throwing his arms around her.

  She nodded numbly, glad for Henry’s warmth. The water pitcher was forgotten as they hurried into the house.

  “Jessie!” Violet said, rushing to her side.


  Once inside, Henry bolted the door. Jessie sank down before the fire with Violet beside her. Henry brought her a glass of orange juice.

  “H-he told us to get out! That the sword was his!” Jessie shuddered. “That awful, awful man! He almost smothered me! If I hadn’t kicked him hard, I wouldn’t have escaped!”

  “It’s over,” Henry said softly. “He’s far away by now!” But his heart was beating rapidly when he glanced at Jessie’s white face. He wondered if the locked door could keep out such a determined stranger!

  CHAPTER 12

  What Did Benny See?

  That night, while Henry stood guard, everyone was restless. Jessie heard a barking dog, Violet heard an owl hoot, Benny heard a scolding squirrel, and Miguel heard the wind in the trees. The children tossed and turned all night, sitting up in bed at each sound they heard.

  In the morning, though, when the sun peeped through the window, they jumped out of bed, eager to greet their grandfather and go home.

  “I can’t wait to see Grandfather,” Violet said, strapping on her watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”

  “I can’t, either,” Jessie said, smiling at her sister.

  “I hear someone in the kitchen already,” Violet said.

  “It’s Henry. He promised to fill the pitcher with water.” Jessie laughed. “If he can find it after I threw it in the brush!”

  Laughing, the girls went into the kitchen. Sure enough, Henry was setting out the glasses.

  Soon Miguel and Benny woke up.

  “Good morning, Miguel,” Violet said.

  Miguel barely nodded. “ ’Morning,” he mumbled.

  “Come sit down,” Jessie said, pouring his orange juice. “You look upset.” Her eyes were sympathetic.

  “Yes,” Miguel said in a low tone, sliding into his chair but not drinking his juice. “Today I’ll find out about my father.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jessie said gently. “I know it will be okay.”

  Miguel smiled weakly. “I hope so,” he said.

  “Here’s the water,” Henry said, putting the pitcher on the counter. He laughed. “I had to search in every bush.” He winked at Jessie.” You’ve got a strong arm.”

  “Yes,” Jessie said, smiling. “Last night, my strong foot could have saved my life.”

  Henry stopped smiling. “I’m glad you’re so quick!”

  Benny, who sat by the window, said, “I see a big car coming around the curve.” He leapt down. “It’s Grandfather!” he shouted.

  Henry opened the door, and they all ran out to greet him.

  When his car pulled up, Benny dashed forward. “Grandfather! We’ve been waiting for you!”

  Grandfather Alden picked up Benny and swung him around. Then everyone crowded around, hugging and kissing. All, that is, except the sad boy in the background.

  “Is this Miguel?” Grandfather Alden asked kindly.

  “Yes,” Miguel answered shyly, moving forward and shaking Grandfather’s hand. “I’m Miguel Morales.”

  “Well, my boy,” Grandfather said, “the Coast Guard is bringing in the two fishermen today.”

  “They are?” Miguel said, his mouth so dry he could barely speak.

  “We’ll drive down to Pete’s Café after breakfast,” Grandfather promised.

  Miguel nodded stiffly. He was uncertain if he really wanted to go.

  “How’s Watch?” Jessie asked.

  “Watch is eagerly waiting for you,” Grandfather replied, “but the dog and I got along fine.”

  “Good,” Jessie said, obviously glad Watch had been taken good care of. “And now,” she announced, “it’s time to eat.”

  “We’re having Benny’s favorite blueberry pancakes in honor of our last day here,” Violet said.

  “Well, well,” Grandfather laughed heartily. “Think of that. Blueberry pancakes are my favorite, too!”

  “I know.” Benny grinned.

  Jessie set a pile of pancakes on the table, and Violet poured the milk.

  Benny wiggled in his chair. He was so excited, he couldn’t sit still.

  While they ate, Grandfather heard all about the library and the sword and the mysterious stranger. He frowned when he realized how close to danger his grandchildren and Miguel had been. The sooner they left, the better!

  After the breakfast dishes were washed, everyone packed his or her belongings.

  Grandfather glanced around the room. “Pete has a nice house. Clean and cozy.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I’m sure you all had something to do with the way it looks.”

  “It was fun,” Jessie said, then added softly, “except for the stranger.”

  Grandfather’s eyes grew serious. “Well, we’ll be leaving soon, and you’ll be safe.”

  “Look, Grandfather,” Henry said, fitting the sword pieces together on the table.

  “It’s magnificent!” Grandfather exclaimed. He ran his fingers lightly over the blade. “No wonder someone is after this valuable sword!”

  “The sword was awarded to Captain Charles Howard,” Violet explained.

  “Yes,” Jessie continued, “because of his bravery at the Battle of Gettysburg.”

  “My, my,” Grandfather said in wonder as he stroked his chin. “Wouldn’t a museum be glad to have this!”

  “It’s beautiful,” Miguel said.

  Grandfather turned to the slim, shy boy. “I know you must be anxious to go to Pete’s Café.”

  “Y-yes,” Miguel stammered. “I guess I am.”

  “Then,” Grandfather directed, “Henry, wrap up the sword, and we’ll put it in the trunk of the car . . . and don’t forget your bikes, too. Let’s get going!”

  “Great idea,” Henry agreed, carefully wrapping the three pieces individually.

  Once in the car, no one said a word for the whole two miles. Everyone’s thoughts were of Miguel. Everyone hoped his father would be alive.

  Arriving at the marina, they jumped out of the car.

  Waving, Pete came out to greet them.

  “Hello, Aldens!” He shook Grandfather’s hand. “How are you, James?”

  “Fine, Pete, just fine,” Grandfather said, looking around. “But where are the two fishermen?”

  Pete jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Inside, drinking coffee.”

  Miguel slipped past Grandfather and dashed into the café.

  The others hurried in behind him. Jessie held her breath.

  Miguel searched the room. Suddenly he let out a yell. “Father!” He rushed into the arms of a man who had jumped up from a back booth.

  “My son,” the man cried. For a moment all was silent, as father and son clung to one another.

  “Father,” Miguel said, “I was worried. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  “Yes, I’m lucky,” his father answered. Even though the man smiled, tears glistened in his eyes. He ran a trembling hand over Miguel’s thick hair. “Poor Joseph drowned.”

  “I-I was afraid it was you,” Miguel whispered, hugging his father even tighter.

  Grandfather moved to Miguel’s side. “We’re happy for you, Miguel.” The Alden children joined him and grabbed Miguel’s hand.

  Miguel broke away, remembering his manners. “This is my father, Pedro Morales.” He introduced Mr. Alden, Jessie, Violet, Henry, and Benny.

  “Thank you,” Pedro said, with shining eyes. “You took good care of my son.”

  “Hurray for Mr. Morales!” Benny shouted. “Hurray for Miguel!” Suddenly his smile vanished as he listened to something and turned to stare at the man at the counter. He moved to Henry’s side. “Look! Look over there,” he whispered. “That man’s humming a funny tune. Maybe it’s the man Jessie heard.” He shivered, reaching for Violet’s hand. “I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Face to Face with the Stranger

  “You’re right, Benny,” Jessie said in a shaky voice, pointing to a lean man at the counter.

  Henry glanced at the tall man hunched over the counter and shrugged. “What�
��s wrong, Jessie?”

  “H-He’s humming.”

  “So?” Henry said.

  “He’s humming that awful tune that I heard the night I went to the pump,” she said softly.

  “You can’t accuse a man for humming. You have to be sure, Jessie.” Henry studied the unshaven man thoughtfully.

  Fortunately the man didn’t notice them. He was too busy reading the menu.

  Violet, too, examined the man from head to foot. “I don’t know,” she said, remembering her encounter with the figure that had dived into the shrubbery. “I thought he was shorter.”

  “It’s hard to tell,” Henry answered, “when he’s sitting down.”

  The lean man stirred his coffee, still humming the eerie tune. He didn’t seem to care who was around him.

  Jessie’s eyes grew big, horrified at being so close to the stranger. “I-I’m sure!” she stammered. “I’ll never forget that funny off-key melody! It’s too weird. He’s the one.”

  Henry gave her a sharp look. “Are you positive?”

  Jessie stared at the man, nodding slowly. “I’m positive!”

  “Then, we’d better phone the sheriff,” he said quietly. He hurried to the table where Pete was sitting with his grandfather.

  “Grandfather,” Henry said, keeping an eye on the lean man drinking coffee. “Jessie says that’s the man she heard at the pump. Should you call the sheriff?” Again Henry glanced at the stranger.

  “Your grandfather told me all about the prowler and his humming,” Pete said. “No need to call the sheriff, though.” He chuckled. “Bill Connors comes in here at ten-thirty every day for coffee.” He tilted his head in the direction of the sheriff. “That’s Bill at the table next to the window.”

  Henry turned to his grandfather. “We’re certain that man at the counter is the intruder,” he said in a low voice.

  “You are?” Grandfather asked, talking in a low voice. “You mustn’t make a mistake.”

  “I’m sure,” Henry said urgently.

  “How do you know?” Grandfather questioned.

  “That man is humming the same tune that Jessie heard at Pete’s house.” Henry’s tone was urgent.

  “Henry, you could be a detective,” Grandfather said proudly.