“Yes, ma’am. The fingerprints belonged to Tip and Lenny. When I questioned the Macklins about it afterward, they finally said their boys had found the stolen articles during the afternoon when they were playing in the woods. They’d taken them to the barn. Mr. Macklin says when he learned about it, he made the boys return the things to the cedars, and hide them exactly as they’d found them. He says he was afraid they might be accused of the theft if they reported it.”
Miss Josie asked, “Did you find any of Jon O’Connor’s fingerprints on the stolen articles?”
“No, ma’am. But they could easily have been rubbed off by so much handling from other people.”
“Did you find Jon O’Connor’s fingerprints in the Holliday house?”
“No, ma’am. I did find Tip’s and Lenny’s prints in there — but Mr. Pitts tells me the boys had been in the house a number of times. The doctor had them do odd jobs about the place.”
“I see. Now, what have you learned about Jon O’Connor?”
Anderson Bush smiled. “There is no such person, Miss Josie. I checked with the Marines. It is true that there was a Captain O’Connor, that he was Mr. Bean’s friend, and that he was killed recently. But he had no children.”
“Very well,” said Miss Josie. “That states things clearly. Thomas, what have you to say?”
Thomas Bean swallowed. “It’s true that I lied to Mr. Bush. But I had good reasons. Miss Josie, before I try to explain, I wish you’d read those notes I gave you. They’ll prepare you —”
Little Jon clutched his arm. “Please — not yet. Miss Josie,” he spoke earnestly, “before you read that, will you let me say something first?”
She nodded. “Yes, Jon. We want to hear your side of it.”
Little Jon took a long breath. This was not going to be easy. Because of Anderson Bush, he was forced to say and do certain things he abhorred. But, if only for Thomas’ sake, he had to go through with it.
“Miss Josie,” he began, “Mr. Bean has been trying to protect me ever since he found me Saturday evening over a week ago. I cannot remember anything that happened before that day. I had been in some kind of accident, for I was badly bruised. And I was frightened, because I didn’t know what had happened or where I was — except that I was somewhere on a strange mountain. I followed a doe and her fawn down to Mr. Pitts’s field, trying to find someone to help me. Mr. Pitts tried to kill the doe, but I spoiled his aim, and —”
“That’s a lie!” Gilby cried. “I never shot at no doe!”
“Gilby,” Miss Josie said icily, “hold your tongue, or it will give me great pleasure to fine you. Jon, please continue.”
“Mr. Pitts caught me, but after Mrs. Pitts came, I broke away and ran. I wandered all day through the mountains until I came out on the road where Mr. Bean found me.”
“Jon,” said Miss Josie, “during your wanderings that day, did you find the Holliday house and enter it?”
“No, ma’am. I haven’t yet seen the place. Besides, I was looking for someone to help me.” Little Jon smiled. “I would hardly have expected to find any help in two fishing rods, a heavy tackle box, and a rifle. I knew nothing about such things at the time, and I couldn’t have carried them if I’d wanted to. I needed a stick to walk.”
He paused to plan his next move. Over in the corner he saw Mr. McFee, the long-nosed probation officer, whistle softly and shake his head. “I’ve heard some wild ones in my day,” McFee said under his breath to Mrs. Groome, “but this kid’s tale has ’em all beat.”
“Mr. McFee,” Miss Josie said coldly, “keep your opinions to yourself. Jon, you’ve just told me you knew nothing of fishing rods and rifles. For a boy of today, I find that a very strange statement.”
“I’m sure you do, Miss Josie. But it’s true. You see —”
“Jon,” she asked suddenly, “how old are you?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
She studied him a moment, puzzled, then said, “Well, continue your story.”
“That’s about all, Miss Josie, except for finding the stolen things. After being taken to Mr. Macklin’s house that night, I knew exactly where they were.”
Miss Josie raised her eyebrows. “You did?”
“Yes, ma’am. Here is how I knew. Will you think of a number, Miss Josie? I believe it will be better if you think of a large one.”
“Very well. I’ve thought of one. What about it?”
“The number you are thinking of is three million, seven hundred and forty thousand, nine hundred and seventy-six.”
Miss Josie opened her mouth, closed it, then sat perfectly motionless while she looked at him. The room had become deathly still.
Little Jon said, “I’m not sure my pronunciation is right. I haven’t known English very long, and Mrs. Bean has had so much trouble with people interrupting her lately that she hasn’t had time to teach me certain things. Is the number I gave correct?”
She nodded, her lips compressed.
“Do you want to try another number, Miss Josie — or something else?”
“It isn’t necessary,” she answered, almost in a whisper. “It’s obvious, Jon, that you can read my thoughts.”
“Yes, Miss Josie. It is very unpleasant to have to tell you this, but the thoughts of everyone in this room are so — so loud right now that they might just as well be shouting. So how can I help but know what the Macklins have done?”
“I don’t believe it!” Anderson Bush grated. “This smooth-talking kid is full of more lies than any kid I ever—”
“Please, Mr. Bush,” Little Jon said quickly, before Miss Josie could speak, “I’d rather not have to say any more. But if you won’t take numbers for proof, I’ll have to convince you another way. Years ago you were in the army. You were ordered to drive a truck somewhere. On the way you had a bad accident. You —” Little Jon swallowed. “Must I tell what you did, and what happened to you afterward?”
The deputy’s jaws were knotted; his face had paled. “No!” he said hoarsely. “I’ve heard enough.” He glared at Angus Macklin. “What about it, Macklin? Have you been stringing me along all this time?”
“No — no — honest I ain’t!” Angus had lost his smile. His hands were shaking. “My boys wouldn’t —”
The deputy snapped, “You crazy fool, this kid really is a mind reader! Don’t you realize what that means? You can’t keep a secret from him. Nobody can!”
Emma Pitts suddenly cried, “I told you that kid’s unnatural! Let me out of here — I don’t want nothin’ to do with no mind reader!” She and Gilby were on their feet, backing away. There was fear in their faces.
The room was in an uproar. From somewhere in a drawer Miss Josie produced a gavel. She pounded it vigorously on the desk.
“Sit down!” she ordered. “Quiet, all of you!”
When the room was restored to order, she said, “Angus Macklin, I’ve known you all my life and I happen to remember things about you I’ll not mention here. Let’s have the truth. Did Tip and Lenny break into the Holliday place and take those things?”
Angus swallowed and nodded. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Where did they hide them?”
“In the barn at first. Then — then I got to worrying about it, and had ’em take the things over in the cedars.”
“I see. You thought all the blame would fall on this strange boy everyone was talking about. Angus, this is a very serious matter. The value of those stolen articles is over five hundred dollars. I want you and Tip and Lenny to go home and think about how serious it is. Tomorrow I have a full day, but Wednesday I want you all back here at ten o’clock, and I’ll decide what to do about you. I’m afraid Tip and Lenny are badly in need of corrective measures. You, Angus, could be prosecuted.”
She turned and glanced at Mrs. Groome and Mr. McFee. “Does what I’m doing meet with your approval?”
Mr. McFee nodded; Mrs. Groome started to speak, then nodded also.
Miss Josie said, “All right, Angu
s. You and the boys may go. Gilby, you and Emma may go. But let me warn all of you not to say one word of what you’ve heard in this room this morning.”
When they were gone, it was Mrs. Groome who spoke first.
“Miss Josie,” she began disapprovingly, “I don’t know what to make of this boy. He may be a mind reader, but I’m not at all convinced he isn’t a delinquency case himself. He sounds entirely too clever to be up to any good. Furthermore, if he’s really lost his memory and doesn’t know where his home is, he’s a Welfare case and I should be the one to handle him.”
She looked coldly at Thomas. “Mr. Bean, I think you’ve taken a lot on yourself. Why didn’t you come to me in the first place when you found this boy?”
Thomas said, “Mrs. Groome, I did what I thought was best for Jon. If Miss Josie will read what I’ve written for her, I’m sure she will agree with me.”
Suddenly Little Jon found Miss Josie smiling at him.
He smiled back, loving her. “I think you’ll find it easier to understand now, Miss Josie,” he said.
He Is Threatened
MISS JOSIE took a pair of glasses from her bag, wiped them and put them on, and unfolded the paper. It was filled with Thomas’ small, neat handwriting, the facts carefully arranged as if he were making an official report. As she read, her mouth opened slightly and she bit down on her lower lip. Other than that, she gave no indication of the shock and astonishment that Little Jon knew she felt.
Thomas had listed all that the Beans knew about him — the way he had learned English, his ability to speak to animals, his strange clothing, his total ignorance of some things, and his familiarity with others. It was a long list, and Thomas had even given the value of the gems in Little Jon’s knife and clip. Nothing had been omitted but the cave.
Thomas had headed the paper:
Secret—for Judge Josephine Cunningham.
At the bottom he had added:
After exhausting all possibilities, we are convinced that Jon is an accidental visitor from another planet. He is sure of this himself. A few scraps of returning memory give proof of it, and indicate how he arrived and how he may be returned. We are working on that now. Our main problem is to avoid further publicity and give him a chance to get his memory back. Our one fear is that some government agency may learn of his abilities and take him away and hold him for study. We feel this would be a tragedy. Please help us all you can.
Thomas Jamieson Bean.
Miss Josie read the paper a second time. Anderson Bush crossed and recrossed his legs, and Mr. McFee began tapping his fingers impatiently on the table beside him. Mrs. Groome seemed to be swelling momentarily. Little Jon knew she was burning with resentment and curiosity.
Suddenly Mrs. Groome said, “Miss Josie, if this boy — whatever his name is — is a Welfare case, I have a right to know whatever there is to know about him.”
Miss Josie ignored her. Before saying anything, she carefully folded the paper and put it in her handbag with her glasses. She looked thoughtfully at Thomas, then her eyes met Little Jon’s. He smiled back at her, and knew he had another conspirator on his side.
“Thomas,” she murmured, “it’s fortunate I’ve known you as long as I have. You did a lot of Intelligence work in the Marines, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Miss Josie.”
She turned to Mrs. Groome. “Jon is not a Welfare case,” she said quietly.
“But — but of course he is!” Mrs. Groome protested. “He’s a lost boy — he doesn’t even know who he is.”
“He was lost for one day,” said Miss Josie.
Mrs. Groome seemed to swell even larger. “Miss Josie, I don’t understand this at all. What right have the Beans to keep a boy like this —”
“Jon happens to be visiting the Beans,” Miss Josie replied firmly. “That’s all that is necessary for anyone to know.”
“Well! This is certainly very strange. If the boy’s parents are unknown, who gave him permission to stay at the Beans’? I think this should be looked into. I also think there should be a medical report on the boy. I think I have a right to insist —”
“Mrs. Groome,” Miss Josie interrupted quietly, “I quite understand your feelings about the matter. But much more is known about Jon than can ever be told here. He has every right to visit the Beans for as long as they wish. It is very unfortunate that he happened to be drawn into the public eye when so much depends upon — secrecy.”
Miss Josie uttered the last word as if she were touching upon high matters of state. It had an immediate effect upon her audience. Anderson Bush and Mr. McFee blinked, and Mrs. Groome was visibly deflated.
“So I must insist,” Miss Josie continued, “that all of you say nothing whatever about what you have learned here — not even the fact that Mr. Bean has done Intelligence work. Your silence is extremely important. There’ll be questions, and you can help by making light of this — and saying it was all a mistake. And it was a mistake — a terrible one.”
She stood up. “Thomas, I’ll be out to see you as soon as I possibly can. Mr. Bush, please escort the Beans outside and keep those foolish people away from them.”
It was over, this part of it at least, but the rest of it was just beginning. Little Jon knew that as they started for home. Miss Josie had ordered secrecy from everyone, though not for an instant had she believed no one would talk.
Money was bound to make someone talk. That thought had been in Miss Josie’s mind when they left.
He said to Thomas and Mary, “I’m sorry for what happened in the courtroom. But I couldn’t think of any other way to solve things.”
“You had to do it,” said Thomas. “There wasn’t any other way.”
Mary said, “You certainly gave Anderson Bush a jolt — and the rest of them too. Anyway, you prepared Miss Josie for what Thomas had written. She was able to make up her mind quickly and decide what to do. She’s a remarkable woman. I wish we’d gone to her when we first found you.”
“That was our mistake,” Thomas mumbled. “But we had no idea something like this was going to happen. Now too many people know Jon’s a mind reader.”
“Oh dear,” said Mary. “If the papers ever get it …”
“They’ll get it. The first reporter that waves some cash under Gilby’s nose will learn all about it — with trimmings. The same goes for Angus — in spite of the trouble he’s in.”
They turned into the driveway at last. It was good to be back, and hear Rascal barking a greeting. Little Jon got out and started happily for the enclosure, then stopped as the kitchen door flew open and Brooks and Sally raced toward them.
Something was wrong. Sally looked frightened. Brooks was angry.
“Hey, Dad! Look what somebody threw on our porch a few minutes ago!” Brooks thrust out a crumpled piece of wrapping paper. “It was folded around a stone.”
After his lessons, Little Jon had no difficulty reading what was on the paper. Thomas held it for all to see. Crudely written in large letters were the words: THIS IS A WARNING. GET RID OF THAT WILD BOY AND DO IT QUICK.
He heard Mary’s gasp, and was aware of Thomas’ sudden fury. “Mr. Bean,” he said, before Thomas could speak, “if I stay here, I might be a danger to all of you. Maybe it would be better if I went to — to that place we found. I could camp there with Rascal —”
“No!” snapped Thomas. “This is your home. I’ll be hanged if I’ll let any weaselly bunch of idiots drive you away from here! Brooks, did you get a look at the person who threw this?”
“No, Dad. Sally and I were in the garden when it happened. We heard Rascal bark, then the stone hit the porch. There wasn’t anybody in sight. But a little later I heard a car start up somewhere down by the fork. Did you pass anybody on the road?”
“No. He must have taken the west fork when he drove away, after sneaking up here through the trees. It had to be Angus or Gilby, or a relative. There’s a bunch of them, counting the Blue Lake people, and they’re all related. And they’re a
ll afraid now.” Suddenly Thomas laughed. “After Jon’s exhibition in court this morning, they all know what he can do and they’re scared to death of him.”
Mary said worriedly, “I don’t see anything funny in this, Thomas. Some of those people are moonshiners. They could be dangerous.”
“If they threaten us again, I’ll have to show them that Jon and I can be more dangerous.”
“Daddy,” said Sally, “did Jon read minds in court this morning?”
“He sure did, honey. That’s why those people are afraid.”
Sally laughed. “They’d be more afraid if they knew he came from Mars or someplace, wouldn’t they?”
“Sally!” Mary exclaimed. “What ever —”
Brooks said, “I told you it couldn’t be Mars, Sally. There’s not enough air on it. It has to be a planet like ours. Isn’t that right, Jon?”
“I think so,” Little Jon answered. “But since I can’t remember —”
Thomas was staring hard at Brooks, and suddenly Brooks burst out, “Aw, Dad, stop trying to hide it from us! Sally and I have had plenty of time to figure it out. Why, anybody who can do all the things Jon can just couldn’t be from our planet! He’s too smart.”
“O.K., son. You know the answer — but keep your hatch battened on it. Too many things are being learned about Jon already, and tomorrow the papers may be full of it. Before anything else happens, he’s got to get his memory back.”
Little Jon thought of the cave. He was anxious to return to it, but it was too late to start and get back before dark. They would have to wait until morning.
Every visit had produced something, if only another carving. He had done three: the head of a man older than the first, and another of a woman who Mary Bean believed was his mother. He hoped so. She was so beautiful, and she seemed so wise. Strange how his fingers seemed to remember things that his mind couldn’t. But the thought shadows were always there. Soon they would take form. He was sure of that.
Rain was slashing down in torrents the next morning. Little Jon stared out at it in dismay. Thomas said, “It ought to pass in an hour or so. We’ll get ready, and leave the moment it clears a bit.”
The Forgotten Door Page 8