The Mystery of Jockey Hollow

by Cleo F. Garis

  CHAPTER XII A Strange Discovery

  There appeared to be a spirit of uncertainty among the workmen. They werenot like the Negroes and Italians who had previously "seen ghosts." Thesenew workmen were not superstitious. But even they, white-collar-class, asthey were called, seemed suddenly given to some strange and nerve-rackingfear. They wanted to hurry away from the old Hall where such a strangething had seemingly just happened, but felt they owed a certainallegiance to their missing fellow worker if not to the burly and baffledboss, Callahan.

  "I say, fellows," one of the men began, "I wonder if we shouldn't dosomething about Jim before we leave."

  "What can we do?" faltered the man who had dropped the heavy bar.

  It was here that Arden Blake saw her opportunity. Stepping forward with amanner and air that her girl friends warmly complimented her about, shecalled:

  "Are you going to leave without trying to find that missing man?"

  "But how can we find him?" a voice from the huddled group asked. "He justdisappeared. We can't find him. There's nowhere even to look."

  "But have you searched?" Arden demanded.

  They seemed confused at that straightforward question.

  "No," one finally murmured.

  "Then come back to the house with me!" insisted Arden. "We girls will gowith them, Mr. Callahan," she promised. "We'll have another good look allaround. There is nothing in that house to harm anyone. And we don'tbelieve in ghosts, so the man must be found."

  "If it comes to a question of ghosts, miss," said a tall, lanky man, "Idon't believe in 'em myself. But when a man is snatched away, you mightsay, right from under your nose, why, that's something different."

  "Sure is," his friends muttered.

  "Could it not very well be," asked Sim, "that this Jim Danton might havegone to some other part of the house without telling any of you, and havebeen hurt there?--his hammer may have slipped and hit him on the head,knocking him unconscious. That could have happened."

  "And he may be up in one of the old rooms now, injured, suffering," addedTerry.

  "This certainly is getting interesting, to say the least," spoke Dorothy."I must give you girls credit for getting up some good theatrical effectsin this mystery. That's quite a mob scene," and she pointed a ratherlanguid finger at the group of workers.

  "Don't make fun, Dot," said Terry in a low voice. "This may be serious."Dot was inclined to be theatrical at the wrong time.

  "It is serious," declared Sim.

  Arden still held the center of the stage. She felt the need of prompt,effective action.

  "Well, let's go make another search," she proposed. "And don't wastetime."

  "We'll do that with you," said a young fellow. "But Jim didn't go to anyisolated room and hit himself on the head with his hammer. In the firstplace, he didn't have any hammer. He was using a crowbar."

  "That's right," came in a murmur, a proper mob-scene murmur, Dorothythought, though she did not dare mention it.

  "And in the second place," went on the same young fellow, "he was in thatcloset. I saw him go in."

  "And nobody saw him come out, and there isn't even a rat-hole in thatcloset yet," declared another. "We haven't started ripping there."

  It looked as though the fear and mystery would start all over again. ButArden was not going to give up.

  "Let's go have a look," she proposed.

  "That's the idea!" boomed Mr. Callahan. He was getting hopeful once more."The girls'll put you fellows to shame! Let's all go in."

  The Hall was quickly invaded with more persons than it had housed in manya long day. On the two lower floors no work of demolishing the place wasvisible. The men had first started tearing out the top or fourth floor.It was from the third floor that Jim Danton had disappeared.

  "I wonder how much longer Mrs. Howe is going to leave some of herpossessions in here?" said Sim as they reentered the big lower entrance.

  "She'll have to be getting it all out pretty soon," threatened thecontractor, "or I'll have to set it out for her. I don't want to damageanything of hers and have her sue me, for she's a determined woman,though, in ways, as nice as my own mother. But she sort of feels that sheis being cheated. It's none of my doing. She claims this place, and shetold me she was going to leave stuff in here to enforce her claim. Butit'll have to be got out of here pretty quick now. The men'll soon bedown to the second floor. There's hardly any of Mrs. Howe's stuff on thethird floor now. She took it away before I began my work this week." Hewas saying this as they tramped into the echoing old hall.

  The party, scattering, though the girls kept together, looked all overthe first floor. There was no sign of any missing man, though it tooksome little time to establish this fact, for there were many nooks,corners, passages, closets, and rooms in the lower part of the ramblingold place.

  The second floor, where the "ghosts" had been said to appear, waslikewise devoid of any missing person, man or otherwise. They looked, oneafter another, calling back and forth like scouts in the woods.

  "Well, he isn't here," Mr. Callahan finally announced.

  "No," Arden was forced to agree, with a sense of disappointment. She hadreally hoped to find the man and so dispel the unreasoning fears aboutthe place as well as to save Jim Danton.

  "Now, we'll try once more to see how it could happen that Jim couldpossibly have vanished out of a closet that you say hasn't even arat-hole," spoke the contractor, as they all went up to the third floorlike some awkward brigade. Some of the rooms there were open to theweather, their outer walls having been torn away in uneven patches.

  "There's where he went in but where he didn't come out!" said the man whoclaimed to have heard the weird ghostly howling through the ash-chute.

  One by one the men, the girls, and the contractor looked and steppedinside the closet. As before, it seemed as solid as any such place alwaysseems. There were rows of old hand-forged iron hooks on the two sidewalls and the back, but it appeared solid; unbroken in walls and, as hadbeen said, there wasn't even a rat-hole for escape.

  "A collector would give a good deal for those hooks," said Dot. "They'rereal antiques."

  "We're looking for a man, not antiques," said Sim, under her breath.

  Mr. Callahan and some of the men stamped on the floor and kicked at thebaseboards. Everything was solid. The door was the only visible means ofegress.

  "And Jim didn't come out of the door!" declared several of hiscompanions, at which all of them shook their heads in positive agreement.

  "Well, it sure is queer," the contractor had to admit when they hadfinished inspecting the third floor, including a big room next to the onecontaining the closet that seemed to be the starting point of themystery. This room had an immense fireplace, and one of the men evenstooped within it and peered up the chimney.

  "He isn't up there," he announced, scraping some soot and dirt down theuncovered ash-chute with his foot. "Jim isn't there."

  This was terrifying. Workmen might be familiar with accidents, but thegirls could hardly stand such suspense.

  The entire third floor, at least the undemolished rooms, was thoroughlysearched, with no result. The fourth floor and the roof over it were sonearly destroyed that it required but the briefest of inspections to makesure no missing man was there.

  Baffled, the party went down to the lower hall, Mr. Callahan becomingmore serious and even showing alarm now that his workman could not betraced or located.

  "What do you think now, Arden?" asked Terry in a low voice.

  "I don't know what to think, but he must be some place."

  "There's no use in our staying here any longer, is there?" asked Dorothy.

  "I can't see what good we can do," agreed Sim.

  The contractor was talking to his men off a little to one side. He wasarguing against their desire to quit.

  "If you go," he threatened, "you'll lose the bonus I promised toeverybody who'd work a week straight here and not be scared
away by sillystories. Besides, we've got to keep on looking for Jim."

  "A man vanishing isn't a silly story," snarled one man.

  Sim, Terry, and Dorothy were interested in the efforts of the contractorand realized that he was trying desperately to keep his force together.It was a sort of last stand with him, since so many of the more ignorantworkers had left previously. Arden, hardly knowing why, wandered out andaround to the rear of the old Hall. She was tired of the confusion butdid not want to give up.

  "I wonder if I could think this out?" she reasoned. "There must be someanswer."

  In a sort of mental fog, Arden walked on a little farther into the field.She found herself in a tangle of weeds where once had been beds offlowers. There was one of the entrances to the great cellar under the oldmansion, just under a little back porch.

  Arden peered down the crumbling stone steps and looked past the sagging,rotting, open door into the blackness. A damp, musty smell floated up toher; perhaps the remains of the aroma that must have clung to the cellarsince its days of full and plenty.

  As Arden stood there, she was surprised to see a little flickering lightin the darkness of the cellar. Suddenly the light, which was bobbingabout like a will-o'-the-wisp, came to a stop.

  "Somebody's down there!" gasped Arden. "Oh----"

  A moment later she heard a scream. It was the high-pitched and frightenedvoice of a girl.

  Then, out of the black cellar, with horror showing on her face, camerunning--Betty Howe!

  "Oh! Oh!" she screamed. "It's terrible! Down there--in the cellar--a deadman!"

  "A dead man!" repeated Arden, her mind now working fast. She wanted to besure of her ground. "Are you sure, Betty?" she asked.

  "Yes! Oh, yes! I saw him--as plain as anything!"

  Betty rushed toward Arden, all but falling upon her, the flashlight stillglowing. At the same moment Arden became aware of the approach of an oldwoman from around the corner of the house, at the rear.