CHAPTER XXI
Tragic News
Judy paid little attention to the ugly threat. She had no idea who the man was. The shadow that had passed the tower door had been misshapen and fleeting, but it gave her hope.
“It could be a policeman—or Peter.”
She thought of Cubby and immediately recoiled from the thought. But it had looked like the shadow of a stout man. Peter was not stout. Neither was Horace and, anyway, Horace could hardly be running past the tower toward the fountain. If he were running at all he would be running away from it to get help.
“It must be someone coming to help him,” Judy decided.
She would not let herself believe it was Cubby or any other member of Falco’s gang. They had been cruel to Dick Hartwell. Horace could expect no mercy from them. In her thoughts Judy could hear what they had said to each other all over again. Edith Cubberling’s threat to quit the gang meant nothing unless she could take the treasure with her. “Maybe I’d like to wear some of those precious rubies and diamonds,” she had said.
Could Lorraine’s ruby be in the collection? In spite of her cold and discomfort, Judy found herself still trying to solve her friend’s problem. It kept her from thinking about her own. But if the ruby had been stolen, why was Lorraine afraid to say so? Was it because of some ugly threat to her life or the life of someone she loved? Arthur, for instance. But that didn’t make sense, either. She’d called Arthur a cheat. His name had been forged. Judy mustn’t forget that. It might be a clue to the whole mystery.
“I’ll tell Peter. He’ll figure it out. Oh, why doesn’t he come? I need help. I can’t move without feeling chilly all over. If only someone would bring me my coat!”
Judy tried to think where she had left it, and suddenly it all came back to her. The coat she needed so much was back there under the fountain, covering Dick Hartwell. All at once she thought of the diamond she had found. She had tied it in the corner of her handkerchief and put it in her coat pocket. Was it still there? Judy didn’t care any more. She almost wished she had never found it in the first place.
“A frozen tear!” she thought, “and now I’m nearly frozen! Where is Blackberry?” The warmth of the cat’s soft fur would be some comfort even if he hadn’t delivered their message. But perhaps he had! The tower hadn’t been mentioned. Whoever came in answer to Horace’s SOS would hurry right to the fountain.
“It will be safe now. Falco didn’t turn it back on! I did one thing,” Judy told herself. “I kept them from turning that valve. They threatened me on purpose to make me afraid of them, but they’re the ones who have the most to fear. I’ll be all right in a minute, and then I’ll follow them and see who that man was.”
The minute passed. Another followed it and then another. More shadows passed by the door, but when Judy opened her mouth to call to them nothing came out, not even a hoarse croak.
“I’ll have to get outside where Peter can see me,” she decided. She was so used to having him come when she needed him that she couldn’t believe her helplessness now. There was no pain in her bruised foot, but she simply could not stand on it no matter how bravely she tried. Suddenly she was seized with a violent chill. It was all she could do to drag herself from the gloomy tower out into the sunshine.
The day was sunny but cold. It was the penetrating cold of early December. Judy’s wet clothing had started to freeze while she was still in the tower. Now it felt as if she were encased in ice like a mummy.
“This can’t be happening to me,” she thought.
Never, in her whole life, had she felt so alone and helpless. She felt it was her own fault, too, for not calling Peter and telling him where she was going. But wouldn’t Honey tell him? She knew, and so did her father. Didn’t anyone care?
Tears filled Judy’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. But they fell into no enchanted fountain. “It wasn’t enchanted. It was haunted. I wish I’d never seen it. I wish—”
As if in answer to her wish she heard the sound of a twig breaking. Someone was coming along the path from the fountain. Judy’s heart began hammering in anticipation. Even Falco would be better than nobody. But would he? To her dismay, it was the gang leader’s voice she heard.
“We can’t get near it,” he was snarling. “The police have it roped off. They’ll search every inch of it, and we’re helpless, thanks to you!”
“Why me?” asked Mrs. Cubberling. “Why blame everything on me? It’s that redheaded girl. She wasn’t as weak as we thought she was. She’s gone!”
Evidently they hadn’t seen Judy. Maybe it was just as well, but somebody had to see her! She knew now that her strength was not enough, that she would have to attract the attention of the police who had come to rescue Horace and Dick Hartwell. Had they been in time?
“They can’t let me just lie here and die,” thought Judy. She had never thought very much about dying. She had always felt so vibrantly alive. But now, suddenly, it seemed possible. And yet help must be very near. Falco had mentioned the police. He and Edith Cubberling were now hiding inside the tower. If they climbed the stairs and crawled into the big tank it would make an even better hiding place, now that it was empty. But now the voices suddenly sounded nearer.
“Look!” Falco exclaimed. “She didn’t get away. I told you she couldn’t. There she is lying on the ground. Just wait till I get my hands on her!”
He started for Judy, but Mrs. Cubberling screamed at him. “You fool! Don’t you touch her! Do want to get us all sent up for life? The place is surrounded! You have enough crimes to answer for already. If you have any sense you’ll give yourself up and send that man we followed back here. He says he’s a doctor.”
“Yeah? He also says someone found a cat with a note on its collar and telephoned him. I suppose you fell for that, too.”
“Why not?” she replied. “If it’s the same black cat I caught prowling around here last night, it came with that G-man who traced the phone call. He’s this girl’s husband. Didn’t you hear him asking about her?”
“Peter! He’s come!” Judy whispered.
“What’s that?” Falco questioned, leaning closer. “What do you know about that cat?”
“Where—is he?” croaked Judy.
“I don’t know, but I’d kill him if I could find him. It’s bad enough to be trapped by a girl, but a cat!” He spat out the word and made a violent gesture.
“And a black cat at that. I’ve always heard they were bad luck,” put in Mrs. Cubberling, “especially this one. He belongs to Judy Bolton, of course. Yes, I’ve guessed her name. Roger Banning told us about her, remember? Her family moved into the house where old Vine Thompson used to operate. Roger said this girl and her brother helped Chief Kelly round up most of the gang, and Roger said they’d get you, too. It was when you held the gun on him and made him bring us his friend with the prison record. I’d like to see you talk yourself out of this mess when that G-man finds this girl.”
“Let him!” growled Falco. “We didn’t hurt her. She hurt herself diving into the fountain. It was turned on full force. I don’t see how she ever got through it. That water has power. For my money it was all the protection we needed.”
“If Dick Hartwell is dead—” Edith Cubberling began.
“He’s dead all right. Real dead,” Falco interrupted, “but I don’t have to answer for that. You turned on the fountain, Edith. I’m not forgetting that.”
“Don’t think you’re going to blame everything on me!” she screamed. “And you’re not going to get me in any deeper! I’m going back there and get that doctor. But not until you clear out. I don’t trust you. ‘If anyone goes near that fountain, turn it on!’ you said, and so I turned it. But is that man back there real dead, as you say, or isn’t he? It makes a big difference. They were still working over him when we left.”
“That’s routine,” declared Falco. “The doctor was just pullin
g two of them out of the pool when we caught up with him. ‘Neither one of them will do much talking,’ he said. Both drowned, I guess.”
“Do you think the other one was her brother?”
“Horace—drowned? Oh, no!” gasped Judy. “It can’t be true!”
“What’s she saying?” asked Falco. “Maybe we’ve still got a chance if we listen.”
“Don’t be a fool! It was listening to all her made-up talk about a haunted fountain that spoiled our chances,” declared Edith Cubberling. “I’m going for her father. You hide in the empty tank. They’ll never find you there!”
“What if she tells them where I am?”
“She won’t. She’s unconscious. She won’t bother you.”
Moments elapsed in which Judy was dimly aware of retreating footsteps. The last thing she heard was Edith Cubberling’s triumphant chuckle. “Don’t worry, my dear,” she seemed to be saying, “Falco won’t bother you either.”
CHAPTER XXII
Afterwards
Many hours later Judy opened her eyes and looked up to see Peter standing beside her bed. His blue eyes were regarding her anxiously. His face came into focus.
“Peter!” she gasped.
“I’m here, Angel. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. How are you feeling?”
“Hot,” she said. “That’s funny! I was so cold before. Is it a fever?” She looked around the room and saw that she must be in a hospital. An oxygen tank was also standing beside her bed, but the funny little cage was no longer over her nose. “I guess I was pretty sick,” she concluded.
“You were pretty brave,” Peter said, his voice husky.
A nurse she knew came in quietly. Judy moved her foot experimentally and discovered that it was in a cast.
“Oh!” she said. “No wonder I couldn’t walk. I guess I broke it against the fountain.” Then, all at once, her nightmare experience rushed back to her and she added sorrowfully, “It was no use. I limped back to the tower as fast as I could and turned off all the valves I could find—but it was all for nothing. I still can’t believe it, Peter. Horace—drowned—”
“Who said so?” Peter interrupted quickly. “Why, Horace is in the room right next to this one. He’s in better shape than you are. They even let him have a typewriter. Hear it?”
Judy listened a moment. She had never heard a sweeter sound.
“That brother of mine!” she said with tears in her eyes. “I guess he’s polishing up that story he had in his pocket.”
“Wrong again, Angel!” Peter was smiling at her now and holding her hand. “That story is already spread all over the front page of the paper. You’ll read it as soon as your father thinks you’re strong enough. You have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I know. I still feel weak when I think of it. Falco said something about two dead men, and I guess I fainted or something. Peter, he’s hiding in the water tower—”
“Not any more,” Peter broke in gently. “He was fished out of the tank, half drowned himself. Edith Cubberling told us where he was, but not until after she’d turned on the pump and the tank started to fill up. He had a taste of his own medicine. She was following his orders, she says, when she turned on the fountain. If it hadn’t been for you and that blessed cat of yours, Angel—”
“Please,” Judy stopped him, laughing a little and feeling more like herself. “Angels don’t keep black cats, or go exploring under fountains.”
“Your kind of angel,” Peter told her, “goes wherever she’s needed. I ought to scold you for rushing headlong into danger. I’ve warned you again and again that the FBI deals with dangerous criminals and that I don’t want you involved—”
“Please, Peter, believe me. I didn’t know it was dangerous. I didn’t know you were investigating anything at the Brandt estate until I found Blackberry and heard Stanley say two government men had been there. Then it made sense. I thought you had brought him.”
“And I thought you had.”
Judy sighed and gave up. “I guess Blackberry himself is the only one who really knows why he went there. You did let him out of the attic, didn’t you? I hope he’ll forgive me for shutting him up there. I thought you’d find him.”
“I did.” Peter didn’t say when. “I went up there to investigate a noise I heard, and there was poor Blackberry all tangled up in your sewing things. I unwound him and let him out the front door, and away he went! The next thing I knew he was looking at me from the front page of the paper.”
“They photographed him? Oh, Peter! How wonderful. Whose idea was it?”
“Well, you might say it was your brother’s. He thought it would please you. He said black cats deserved a little favorable publicity. He even quoted what you once said about Blackberry being unlucky for criminals. It was certainly true of Falco. The whole gang is being arraigned in court tomorrow morning. They’re all willing to talk, even the Cubberlings. That woman has been talking a blue streak ever since we picked her up.”
“You know why, don’t you?”
“Well, no,” Peter replied in a puzzled voice. “I can’t say that I do.”
“She thought she had murdered two persons by turning on the fountain,” Judy explained. “She did it on his orders. She told Falco she’d be as free in prison as she was working for him.”
“This has taught her a lesson then.” Peter’s grip on her hand tightened as he added, “You taught me one, too. I know now you’ll never be a meek little housewife who will stay home and dust the furniture while I go out solving the world’s problems. You’ll be right there solving them with me.”
“It wasn’t the world’s problems I set out to solve,” Judy objected. “It was only Lorraine’s. She seemed so troubled. She doesn’t trust Arthur. It’s a terrible thing for a girl who’s still practically a bride to be haunted with fear and suspicion the way she is.”
“I know,” Peter replied. “Arthur had told me. We had quite a talk one night. When you went to the movies with Honey, I can tell you now, I spent that evening with Arthur, too. We traced a telephone call from Lorraine and confirmed his suspicions. She went back there to the Brandt estate and gave Falco more of her jewelry.”
“So that was what happened to her ruby? Why did she do it, Peter?”
“That,” he replied, “is something I had been hoping Lorraine would tell you herself.”
“She didn’t. Lois said she had a problem, but she wouldn’t tell me a thing about it. I didn’t notice that her ruby was gone until I found that diamond. Was it still in my coat pocket?” Judy asked.
“It was.” Peter looked at her a long moment and then added, “It was still tied in the corner of your handkerchief. I found it before I found you. But now you’ve talked enough. I’d better leave and let you get some rest.”
“I can listen, can’t I? Tell me more, Peter. Tell me what’s in the paper. Can’t I see Blackberry’s picture?”
Peter hesitated. Judy saw an anxious expression on his face. He went out, and after quite a few minutes he returned with her father. He also had a copy of the Farringdon Daily Herald.
“Just one peek!” Dr. Bolton said after he had checked Judy’s breathing and given her an injection. “I didn’t expect you to recover quite this fast,” he admitted. “You really had us worried for a while, Judy girl.”
“I know, Dad.” Judy wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. Peter spread the paper before her. She looked at the picture of her precious pet for a long time before she asked, “What’s that white thing on his paw?”
“It’s a cast,” Peter told her. “He wanted to imitate his mistress, so your father put a cast on him, too. Seriously, a car hit him. Don’t worry! Only his paw was hurt.”
“Poor Blackberry! I wonder if he walked out into the road on purpose so someone would see him,” mused Judy. “We didn’t think he’d be much help to us at first, D
ad. But he did carry our message. Horace wrote it, and I tucked it under his collar. We were lucky he had the collar on. I was going to wait until Christmas to give it to him and have his name engraved on it, but it looked so cute. Dogs have collars, and I think collars make cats look important, too.”
“Blackberry doesn’t need to look important. He is important,” Dr. Bolton said.
“I know,” his mistress agreed. “He could tell we were in danger. Cats hate water anyway, and when he saw us trapped by it he was right there waiting until we needed him. It is a shame, though. We tried so hard to save Dick Hartwell. He said he wanted to die—”
“Your father disappointed him then,” Peter broke in, smiling. “He’s alive but still on the critical list. It looks now as if he might pull through.”
Judy could hardly believe she had been in time to save Dick, too. “I don’t understand this at all,” she said a little later. “Why would Falco think they were drowned if they were really alive? Dad must have told him they were dead. Why?”
“Perhaps he’d better tell you.” Peter kissed Judy lightly on the forehead. “Did I tell you how brave you were, chatterbox? Did I tell you how much I love you?”
“You showed me,” Judy said. “You came and rescued me, didn’t you? I thought it was a dream, but after I fainted I seemed to feel myself in your arms. Peter, is Dad—”
“He is,” Dr. Bolton interrupted before Judy could finish asking the question.
“Then everything is all right,” Judy said, and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER XXIII
Lorraine’s Confession
Everything was not all right, as Judy soon discovered. When she awoke Peter was not there, and neither was her father. She had a younger nurse—a student whom she did not know. “Are you feeling well enough to have visitors today?” the nurse was asking. “Mr. and Mrs. Farringdon-Pett are here to see you.”
“Arthur! Lorraine!” exclaimed Judy as they came in. “I’m happy—so happy you came together.”
The Third Girl Detective Page 26