Soon after that Jonathan and Lewis took the train back to London. They dropped in on Constable Dwiggins, who had been told the story that Sergeant Spiney had settled on: A gas leak had overcome the adults in the Manor, and the boys had not known what to do to help. He apologized for the delay in calling Sergeant Spiney, but as he explained, “My mum is getting forgetful, and night had fallen before she remembered your message. When I couldn’t get through to the Manor, I phoned the Dinsdale police station and spoke to Sergeant Spiney, and the rest is history.”
“Thanks,” said Lewis with a grin.
“Think nothing of it. But that was jolly good work on your part, Mr. Holmes,” said Dwiggins with a wink at Lewis. “And always call upon the Metropolitan Police for a bit of help when you find yourself in a tight spot!”
That afternoon Jonathan and Lewis boarded a plane and flew back to New York. They returned to New Zebedee on a hot, still Monday in August, and Mrs. Zimmermann and Rose Rita met them at the bus stop in front of Heemsoth’s Rexall Drug Store. Mrs. Zimmermann wore a purple-flowered summer dress, and she gave them a wonderful, wrinkly smile of welcome. Rose Rita, a gawky girl with stringy black hair and glasses, had gotten rid of the cast on her ankle and was ready to take on Lewis in a race. The four friends went to Mrs. Zimmermann’s lake cottage for a picnic, but Lewis and Jonathan did not talk about their adventure. Both had been too shaken to feel comfortable discussing it so soon.
However, Mrs. Zimmermann and Rose Rita told them an astounding story. While Lewis and his uncle had been away, Mrs. Zimmermann and Rose Rita had taken a little trip of their own. It sounded frightening and exhilarating, because they had somehow traveled far back into the past, and when they had returned, Mrs. Zimmermann had found a way to recover her lost magical powers. So they had a lot to celebrate.
School began the day after Labor Day, and Lewis discovered that the other kids noticed a change in him. Occasionally one of the popular boys, Dizzy Shelmacher or Beanie Inquist, would pick Lewis when choosing up sides for a baseball game. True, they usually picked him at the end of the roster. He also had to play right field, where he almost never had a chance to catch a ball or make a play. Still, for the first time Lewis was playing baseball, just like a regular guy. He did his best and developed an unexpected talent for bunting runners from first to second. Sometimes he even reached first base. Since that meant he had to run as fast as he could, Lewis worked to keep the extra pounds off, and he was successful. However, he still had no interest in other boys chasing him and throwing him to the ground, so he did not play football after baseball season ended. He could always wait for spring.
At the beginning of October, he finally felt brave enough to tell Rose Rita about the mysterious vault, the invisible servant, and the witch-finder. Rose Rita was full of admiration for the way he had handled things. “You’re getting to be a regular Philip Marlowe,” she said. Philip Marlowe was the hero of one of the detective shows Rose Rita listened to on the radio. He was a tough guy, and Lewis fairly glowed at the comparison.
Jonathan also told Mrs. Zimmermann the story of their adventure. When he showed the Amulet to her, Mrs. Zimmermann let out a low whistle. “Know what you’ve got, Brush Mush?”
“I know it’s powerful enough to knock an evil ghost loopy,” said Jonathan with a grin. “But you’re the amulets expert, Haggy. You know what this doohickey is, so give!”
Mrs. Zimmermann explained that the metallic shape inside the glass tube was a nail from the True Cross. “It’s a relic that dates back to the Roman Emperor Constantine,” she said. “After some centuries in Rome, it wound up in the Holy Land. Then the Crusaders came, and it disappeared. I guess one of your ancestors was a knight in shining iron britches who rode to Jerusalem and came back with it. Lucky for you he did, because a good magician who wields this calls on a great power that can banish the most evil foes.”
“It’s all yours, Haggy,” said Jonathan. “And it’s a relief to get it off my hands. It may be heap big magic, but I’m really just a parlor magician, and using it once was enough for me.”
Rose Rita said, “Something’s bothering me. If Nasty Pruitt hypnotized Cousin Pelham and Mrs. Goodring and Jenkins, why didn’t he do the same thing to the other three?”
Mrs. Zimmermann smiled. “I think there are two reasons,” she said thoughtfully. “First, Bertie can’t see, and I suspect that Pruitt had to look his victims in the eyes for his evil spell to work. Second, both Frazzle Face and Lewis are descended from a good magician. Cousin Pelham is too, but he didn’t believe in his great-umpty-great-grandfather Martin’s magic, and both Jonathan and Lewis did. When you know and trust it, good magic has a way of protecting you even if no one speaks a spell or waves a wand. Of course I could be wrong, but with the wacky witch-finder out of the picture, it really doesn’t matter.”
“Do you think the spirit of old Pruitt is gone for good?” Lewis asked Mrs. Zimmermann.
Mrs. Zimmermann winked. “Gone for good, banished to the outer darkness, and sent packing—and his invisible servant with him!” She sighed. “Isn’t it funny how some of the people who think they are doing the most good cause the most trouble?”
“I don’t think Malachiah Pruitt believed he was doing good,” said Rose Rita. “He was just an evil old man who hated everyone.”
“Well, he’s gone now, and he will never be back, so we don’t have to worry about him any more,” said Jonathan firmly, and that ended the discussion.
Several times that fall Lewis received letters from Bertie. Of course, Bertie had dictated the letters to his mother, and she wrote them out in her beautiful old-fashioned copperplate handwriting. Lewis was always glad to hear from Bertie, and he answered the letters promptly. Unfortunately, Bertie reported, Cousin Pelly was having difficulty in disposing of the coronet. Not even the experts really knew if it had belonged to Charles I. It certainly was not the official state crown, but many of Charles’s other valuables had vanished during the war, and the records of them had also disappeared. It looked like the legal questions could last for months.
Halloween arrived, and then Thanksgiving, and at last Christmas vacation. Mrs. Zimmermann baked heaps of cakes and pies and cookies, and on December 21, Jonathan and Lewis went out and cut a huge Christmas tree. Rose Rita and Mrs. Zimmermann came over to help decorate it. Jonathan hung all the usual ornaments on the higher branches, and Rose Rita and Lewis took care of the lower ones. They draped yards of garlands and tossed strings of tinsel. Mrs. Zimmerman worked a little magic, and the Christmas lights crept out of their Oxydol box and strung themselves on the tree. Then when Jonathan plugged them in, they twinkled in a thousand different colors. Each bulb would shine in one color, like red or green or blue, and then immediately shimmer to a whole different hue, white or yellow or violet. And every so often, all the lights would flash purple at the same time. “Quite a show, Frizzy Wig,” Jonathan complimented.
“Why, thank you, Weird Beard,” said Mrs. Zimmermann with a smile. “Now, who’s for some chocolate layer cake and milk?”
While they were having their cake, they heard the mail slot flap open in the hallway. “I’ll get it,” said Lewis. He hurried out. A few envelopes lay on the hall floor. There were some letters for Jonathan, an electric bill, and a square envelope addressed to Lewis, in a child’s awkward printing. The postmark showed it came from New York.
Lewis frowned. Who could be sending him a card from New York? Inside the envelope was a hand-drawn and-colored card that looked like the work of a six-year-old. The front showed two crudely sketched figures in front of a Christmas tree. One wore a deerstalker hat and stood beside a fireplace, and the other lay in a hospital bed and had a mustache. The message underneath the figures read, “What do I wish you, my dear Holmes?”
Lewis grinned as he opened the card. Inside, in rainbow colors, was the message, “Elementary! A Merry Christmas!” And the signature read, “Bertie ‘Watson’ Goodring.”
“He can see,” breathed Lewis. “He can
see!”
“What came?” Jonathan called from the study.
“The best Christmas present ever!” Lewis yelled at the top of his lungs. And he ran to show the others the wonderful card.
Click here for more titles by this author
PUFFIN CHILLERS BY JOHN BELLAIRS
Lewis Barnavelt Books
The House with a Clock in Its Walls
The Figure in the Shadows
The Letter, the Witch, and the Ring
The Ghost in the Mirror
The Vengeance of the Witch-Finder
Johnny Dixon/Professor Childermass Books
The Secret of the Underground Room
Anthony Monday Books
The Mansion in the Mist
The Vengeance of the Witch-Finder Page 12