by John Blaine
Gretchen waved delightedly from the next table, and the boys waved back.
A door opened and uniformed guards ushered Kurt, Johann, and the deadly Dutchman in, directing them to railed enclosures where they stood quietly. Johann held his neck stiffly, but Rokin showed no traces of the fight in the canal.
Rick looked at Scotty. His friend still carried faint scratches from Rokin’s nails, and he wished that he had managed to leave some kind of mark on the deadly little squirt. In the same moment, he was ashamed of his vengeful attitude. Rokin would be taken care of by Dutch justice, and would spend most of the rest of his life behind bars.
Vandiveer whispered, “This is only a preliminary hearing. I’ll tell you later what happens. When the magistrate looks at you and asks a question, just nod and say ‘ Ja , mijhneer .”’
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The clerk, also in a wig and black robe, called Gretchen’s name. She rose and walked to another railed enclosure. The clerk read for a good five minutes in Dutch, while Gretchen listened with complete composure. Then the magistrate spoke at length, directly to the girl. When he finished, she gave an old-fashioned curtsy, turned, winked at Rick and Scotty, and walked sedately to where Matron Lieber waited. She and the matron went out together.
Another man in a white wig, set slightly askew, walked to the magistrate’s bench and spoke. The magistrate nodded. He addressed a question to Inspector Vandiveer, who rose and answered, apparently in detail. Rick wondered what was going on.
“Rise,” Vandiveer whispered.
The boys did so. The magistrate peered over his glasses and asked a lengthy question in Dutch. The two responded together.
“ Ja , mijhneer .”
The magistrate seemed pleased. He turned to the three in the prisoner’s dock.
Rick watched Rokin’s face. It was expressionless as ever. The magistrate spoke sternly, then he banged his gavel and rose. Everyone in the courtroom rose, too. The magistrate walked out, and the guard led the prisoners away.
“It’s over,” Vandiveer said.“How about some coffee?” He led them to a small coffee shop in the courthouse basement. When they all had cups before them, he explained, “The clerk read the statement Matron Lieber prepared about Gretchen, and how she helped Scotty. Then the magistrate told Gretchen she had been an innocent victim of a vicious relative, and the court did not intend to hold her for further action. She’ll be taken care of. Matron Lieber is working out the details with the Juvenile Division right now.”
“What did we answer to?” Rick asked.
“Well, the Crown Prosecutor read the charges against the prisoners, and then explained that the principal Crown witnesses were two foreign students here on tour. He asked the court’s permission to take depositions immediately, with the prisoner’s advocate present to cross-examine. This would then become a matter of court record, and would form the principal element of the Crown’s case. However, there would be additional evidence from the police officials in charge of the case, so it would be unnecessary to bring you back fromAmerica for the trial.”
“That’s good,” Scotty agreed.“Unless you want another trip to theNetherlandsat Crown expense, Rick.”
Rick grinned. “The trial will probably take place in midwinter. It gets cold here.”
“Oh, not so very,” Vandiveer said. “But the sun seldom shines. So you’re wise to stay inAmerica .
Anyway, the magistrate asked me to outline what I had witnessed personally, and it seemed to be enough. Gretchen already has agreed to be a Crown witness. So I guess it’s an open and shut case.”
“When do we go through this deposition business?” Rick demanded. “Scotty and I want to hit the road and see the country.”
Vandiveer looked at his watch.“In about a half-hour. Relax and have some food for a snack, with Page 79
another cup of coffee. How about some pannekoek met appel ?”
“I’m learning Dutch,” Scotty said. “That can only be pancakes with applesauce. I’ll have some.” “Same here,” Rick agreed.
The snack was more like a big meal. Feeling stuffed, they went upstairs to a small hearing room. The Crown prosecutor was there, minus wig and robe, a shorthand clerk, and a granite-faced man who was the attorney for the defense. The boys told their story, then the prosecutor asked questions and the defense attorney tried to shake them or find inconsistencies in their testimony. Both were accurate reporters who had learned to say exactly what they meant with a minimum of words, and they weren’t easy to shake. The defense attorney shrugged and gave up. The prosecutor beamed. Finally they were excused, but only temporarily.
As Vandiveer walked to the door with them, he explained, “Now the testimony must be typed, and you have to read it and swear to it before the magistrate. That won’t be until after lunch. Come on back at two. I’ll meet you in the entryway.”
“Will that be it?” Scotty inquired.
“That will be it,” Vandiveer replied.
“Good. Then we’ll check out of our hotel and be ready to travel from here as soon as we sign the transcripts,” Rick told him.
“Fine.Have a good lunch, boys.”
Rick groaned. “Don’t mention food. I’m stuffed to the ears with pannekoek .”
Instead of eating, they wrote long letters home, bought stamps from Piet, and mailed them. Then Rick completed his collection of Dutch publications, including more maps, a Dutch-English dictionary, and a copy of a huge book containing reproductions of the masterpieces in the Rijksmuseum. These were mailed home, too. They packed their knapsacks, said good-by to Piet, checked out, and rode their scooters to the courthouse.
The transcripts were neat and accurate. They read them, were ushered into the presence of the magistrate, and swore that the words they had spoken were true. Then they signed their names, watched the royal seal embossed over the signatures, and the case of the deadly Dutchman was closed so far as Rick and Scotty were concerned.
Inspector Vandiveer bade them a cheerful good-by, congratulated them on their behavior, and wished them well with a promise that they would all meet again. They said good-by a little sadly. Both boys liked the inspector.
Then, as they walked to the rack where their motor scooters were parked, a pretty blond teenager came to meet them.
“Are you going away now?” she asked Scotty.
“We’re on our way,” Scotty confirmed.
“What happened to you?” Rick asked hurriedly. He saw Gretchen’s lip begin to pout and wanted to Page 80
choke off any sentimental comments quickly.
“Oh, I’m fine. Matron Lieber will write to my parents and tell them what happened. Then, if they approve-and they will-I’m to become the ward of the Juvenile Division. Doesn’t that sound silly?
Juvenile? Why, I’m all grown up!”
“Practically,” Scotty said. “And what does being a ward mean?”
“It means I can stay inAmsterdam and go to the art school. Matron will recommend that I be allowed to live in the dormitory with the other girl students, and I have to report to her at least once a week, and I can call her any time I need to talk to someone, or if I have problems. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Just great,” Rick replied. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“You’ll be better off,” Scotty said.
“Yes, and when I graduate, do you know what I’ll do?”
“What?” Scotty asked.
“I’ll come toAmerica to see you! I can hardly wait!”
Rick suppressed a grin. Scotty didn’t flinch. Instead, he counted on his fingers, then looked sad. “Gosh,”
he said, “we won’t be at home the year you graduate. We’ll be on an expedition.”
“Oh?To where?” Gretchen looked just a shade dubious.
“InTasmania.We hope to catch some wombats for the zoo.”
“Tell you what,” Rick put in. “You can go home to see your parents, and we’ll come visit you inSouth Africa .”
Gretchen brightened. �
��That’s better!” She rummaged in her purse for a notebook and pencil. She wrote down her full name and South African address and handed it to Scotty. “You can write and tell me when you’re coming. Of course you can write to me here, too, at the school.”
“Of course,” Scotty said noncommittally.
Rick kicked his scooter into life. Scotty followed suit. The three shook hands, then Rick led the way.
This was no time for lingering good-bys. Gretchen waved and gave them a lovely smile as they steered into the traffic. They waved back, then settled down to ride.
As they picked up speed on Route E-10, Scotty took the girl’s address from his pocket. He rode no-hands for a few moments while he folded the paper carefully, tore it into bits, and let the wind scatter the pieces.
Rick, steering close to Scotty, said, “That’s a fine thing to do with a pretty girl’s address!”
“Pretty she is,” Scotty retorted, “but she has a little too much of her uncle or cousin in her to suit me. The way she calmly announced that she’d have shot Sidneye if he’d killed me made my hair curl.”
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“A chill ran down my spine when she was wishing we’d broken Duif’s back,” Rick agreed. “I guess the only thing that upsets the family calm is biting. Did you hear Vandiveer say it had taken three stitches to close up Rokin’s leg? Good thing you weren’t really hungry or he’d have been a peg leg today.”
“Speaking of biting, I’m getting hungry,” Scotty replied. “Let’s move these beetle bugs. We’ll get to Saur’s just in time for another great dinner.”
“Food makes the vacation,” Rick said with a grin. “And a little excitement helps to work up an appetite.”
He thought of those moments in the dark canal and shuddered, then resolutely put the Group out of his mind. Dark thoughts were nothing to carry on a vacation, and he and Scotty were really only starting, as of now.
THE END
THE DEADLY DUTCHMAN
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY, No. 22
BY JOHN BLAINE
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