Basil and the Library Ghost

by Eve Titus

  “I’m so glad you’re back!” he cried. “Professor Kerr says you’re looking into what happened—well, there’s been more trouble!”

  “Already?” I exclaimed, thinking back to the unearthly howl the previous night and the toppled bookcase a few hours before that.

  “What happened?” Basil asked. “Tell me everything—omit no detail, for anything might turn out to be important.”

  Lewis nodded, wringing his paws. “Where to begin?” he said with a sigh. “When I arrived this morning, I found those chairs moved.…” He nodded to indicate three chairs crammed into a corner. “Several books had been knocked from their shelves. And as I looked at them, I heard the bell on my desk ringing as if to summon me—but when I hurried back here, there was no mouse in sight!”

  “Oh dear!” I exclaimed. “What do you think, Basil?”

  The great detective had already stepped over to examine the chairs. “Where are the fallen books?” he asked Lewis.

  The librarian shrugged. “I returned them to their normal spots, so as not to allow them to become further damaged,” he said. “I’m sorry. Was that wrong?”

  “If anything else happens, touch nothing until I’ve been here,” Basil instructed him sternly. “You might inadvertently disturb some clue that could reveal the identity of the culprit.”

  “Do ghosts leave clues?” Lewis wondered, his voice and whiskers trembling slightly.

  Basil scoffed. “Surely a mouse of letters such as yourself has no true belief in ghosts, sir!”

  “I didn’t think so.” Lewis shook his head. “But Dr. Kerr is so knowledgeable about all things ghostly—if he thinks it’s possible, who am I to argue?”

  “Rupert knows a lot about ghosts?” I asked in surprise. “I wouldn’t think that would fall among his interests.”

  Lewis shrugged. “Well, I suppose a learned mouse such as himself takes an interest in everything.…”

  Basil just let out a soft harrumph, his sharp eyes darting to another part of the room. “I see someone has returned that bookcase to its upright position,” he said.

  “Yes, several strong students helped me take care of that first thing this morning,” the librarian said. “I didn’t want it to be in the way.”

  “I see.” Basil wandered toward the bookcase, which I could now hardly tell from its mates. He stopped near it, bending down to examine the wooden floor.

  “Are there pawprints, Basil?” I asked, for I recalled other instances in which a stray print had been the clue he needed to solve a case.

  “Of course not, Dawson,” he replied rather sharply. “And if there were, I could only assume they belonged to Lewis or the students he just mentioned.”

  I shrugged, knowing better than to ask more questions when Basil took that sort of tone. While he continued his examination of the floor, I questioned Lewis a bit more about the latest occurrences, though he had little to add to what he’d already told us.

  As we were chatting, there was a muffled crash from somewhere farther back in the stacks. “Oh dear!” Lewis cried, leaping to attention.

  Basil was on the alert at once. “Is anyone else back there?” he barked at the librarian.

  “No—not a soul.” Lewis rushed past us into the stacks. “I haven’t seen anyone aside from the two of you go back there. It sounded as if it came from this direction.…”

  He led the way through the mazelike warren of tall shelves. Finally we rounded a corner—and saw that the entire contents of a large bookshelf had fallen higgledy-piggledy to the floor!

  “Stop!” Basil ordered, holding out an arm to keep Lewis and me from moving any closer to the crime scene. “I want to look for clues.”

  He took several moments to look around carefully. Then he waved us forward.

  “I’m finished,” he told Lewis. “You may clean this up now if you’d like.”

  “Thank you.” Lewis knelt beside the pile and picked up one volume. “At least these aren’t among the more valuable books in the collection,” he said with a sigh.

  “Of course not,” I said with a grin. “The ghost is a librarian too, remember? He must still care about books, eh?”

  10 EN ROUTE

  LEAVING LEWIS TO HIS WORK, Basil and I left the library and strolled through the bustling campus toward the Faculty Club. Rupert had told us that a big reunion dinner was planned there that evening—not only he and the C for Cheese Gang would be in attendance, but many other beloved friends and faculty members, as well. I was looking forward to it immensely, though I worried that Basil might be too distracted by the newest developments in our ghostly mystery to enjoy it fully.

  “Have you reached any conclusions about the case yet, Basil?” I asked. “I’m sure our friends will be curious when we see them again.”

  Basil glanced at me. “As a matter of fact, I do have a theory,” he told me with a slight smirk. “But I’m not prepared to discuss it just yet.”

  “What do you mean?” I was surprised—and perhaps even a little hurt. After all, I had been Basil’s confidant and sounding board for many years, and many cases.

  “I mean what I just said.” Basil shrugged and stuck both paws in his pockets. “I don’t wish to discuss it at the moment.”

  I dodged a student rushing past with his snout buried in a book. “But wouldn’t you rather get my input now?” I said to Basil. “As I mentioned, you will surely be asked about it at dinner.”

  “I suppose I might, and I’m sure I’ll have an answer at that time,” Basil said with infuriating calmness. “But at this time, I have nothing to say.”

  I frowned, growing more irritated by the moment. “I hope you’ve come up with something more than your determination that ghosts don’t exist,” I snapped. “Because I watched you look for clues, and I didn’t see a thing!”

  “Didn’t you?” Basil still sounded calm—and still wore that infuriating smirk. “I see.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Basil, Dr. Dawson.”

  I didn’t realize we’d reached the museum until Alfie greeted us. He was on duty still, dressed in his smart guard’s uniform.

  “Good afternoon, Alfie,” Basil said. “Don’t mind us—Dawson is feeling a bit argumentative at the moment.”

  “I am not!” I protested. “I was only asking you to talk about the case, as we’ve done thousands of time before!”

  “The case?” Alfie looked interested. “Do you mean the ghost in the library?”

  “Indeed,” Basil replied. Then he stepped toward the young mouse, leaned closer, and whispered something in his ear. Alfie’s eyes widened, and he nodded and tipped his hat to Basil.

  “What was that?” I asked sharply. “I didn’t hear what you said to our young friend, Basil.”

  “You weren’t meant to.” Basil nodded to Alfie and set off again down the walkway.

  I scurried to catch up. “What the blazes is going on, Basil?” I exclaimed. “You’re acting most exasperating! Why won’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”

  “Better safe than sorry, old friend,” Basil told me as he strode onward. “But don’t fret—all will become clear soon enough.…”

  11 REVELRIES AND REVELATIONS

  AS OUR REUNION CELEBRATION BEGAN, I continued to fume a bit over Basil’s behavior. But the outstanding cheese puff appetizers helped soothe my spirits a bit, as did the congenial company of so many old friends. By the time the second course was served, I’d nearly forgotten about the library ghost.

  Then one of our old professors of natural science turned to Basil with a curious expression. “Basil, old chum,” he began. “Rupert tells me you’re investigating the strange goings-on at the library. Have you figured out what is happening?”

  I wasn’t the only mouse who heard the question. Most of the other diners turned to listen for the great detective’s response.

  Basil paused, glancing around with a slight smile. “As a matter of fact, I have been giving the matter quite a bit of attention,” he told the professor and th
e rest of us. “And through the use of scientific sleuthing—and a bit of common sense—I have solved the case.”

  A gasp went up from all around. “You have?” Rupert cried.

  “Did you trap the ghost?” Cedric asked.

  Basil took a sip of his drink. “This was one of the more… interesting cases of my career,” he said after a moment. “It made me look at things in a whole new way.”

  My eyes widened. What was Basil saying? Had he really changed his mind about ghosts?

  “What are you talking about, Basil?” Rupert asked. “What did you figure out, exactly?”

  “I’m not sure I can do it justice merely by telling you my conclusions.” Basil looked around the table. “I’d prefer to show you—at the library itself. We can go right after dinner.”

  Clive pushed back his chair. “The rest of our dinner can wait,” he declared. “But I can’t wait another moment to hear your conclusions about our library ghost!”

  “Agreed!” Rupert stood as well. “Come along, gang—the staff can keep the rest of our meal warm until we return.”

  There was a general murmur of agreement. Before I knew it, we were all hurrying out of the Faculty Club and along the walkway. It was getting late, and not many mice were around, which was probably a good thing, as I fear our group was rather raucous, joking loudly about ghosts and other matters.

  As we walked, the others continued to pepper Basil with questions. But he refused to say a word, merely striding along with a gentle smirk on his face.

  I knew better than to try to get him to speak before he was ready. So I just walked along with the others. When we passed the museum, the doors were closed and locked, and no mouse was in view outside. It seemed whichever mouse had taken over after Alfie’s shift wasn’t as diligent about his job as our young friend from the train!

  Soon after that, we reached the library, which stood open and welcoming as always. Basil led the way inside, straight back to the main room. Lewis had long since gone home for the evening, and the librarian’s big old desk was unmoused. Basil leaned against it and looked around at us, his audience.

  “Well?” Cyril asked, sounding impatient. “Will you tell us your conclusion now, Basil? Or must we guess?”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be fair.” Basil’s smile widened. “Most of you would never be able to guess who was behind the mischief. But for others, it might be a bit too easy.”

  “What are you on about, Basil?” I was feeling impatient myself by now, especially when I remembered the tasty food still waiting for us back at the club. “Tell us what you’ve concluded, please.”

  “Fine.” Basil stood up straight. “You’ll all be happy to know that there is no ghost haunting this library.”

  “But you said…,” Clive began. He, Cedric, and Cyril were standing at the front of the group beside Rupert.

  Basil raised a paw for silence. “No, as I’ve maintained all along, the mischief all came at the paws of living mice. Specifically—you!”

  With that, he pointed to Rupert and the C for Cheese Gang!

  12 A STARTLING DISCOVERY

  I GASPED. “BASIL, WHAT ARE you saying?” I cried.

  Cyril puffed out his chest. “How dare you accuse us!” he exclaimed.

  “Why, I never!” Cedric added, fanning himself with one paw.

  But Rupert laughed and rolled his eyes. “Never mind, gang,” he said. “I told you he’d figure it out! That means you each owe me a pound of fine cheese!” He pointed at Cyril, Clive, and Cedric in turn before returning his attention to Basil. “Yes, Basil, it was us.”

  “Quite a good prank to play on a world-famous detective, eh, old chap?” Clive added, sounding pleased with himself.

  “I thought he might be falling for it,” Cedric said.

  Cyril chuckled. “I was half-convinced of the ghost’s existence myself!”

  “Wait—you four set this up yourselves?” I exclaimed.

  Basil peered at me. Then he nodded, seeming satisfied by something. “Ah, then you weren’t in on it, Dawson? I hope you’ll forgive me for my earlier secrecy. I couldn’t be sure, and didn’t want you to alert the others that I’d figured out the truth.”

  I nodded slowly, understanding now why Basil had refused to tell me anything earlier. He’d suspected I might be involved in the prank!

  Rupert clapped me on the back. “No, Dawson wasn’t involved—just the four of us.” He gestured again toward the C for Cheese Gang. “I’ve taken an interest in the supernatural lately—merely scholarly, of course. When I mentioned as much to Cedric, he was sure Basil would scoff at my wasting time studying such matters.”

  “Right.” Cyril grinned. “And that gave me the idea for the wager.”

  “Cyril, Cedric, and I thought we could convince Basil that the library was haunted,” Clive went on.

  “And Rupert thought Basil would see through our charade and solve the mystery as he’s solved so many others,” Cyril finished. “It seems he was correct!”

  “But how did you figure it out, Basil?” Cedric asked.

  “Yes, we were so careful!” Clive said.

  Rupert smiled. “You certainly can’t accuse me of not playing my part to the hilt,” he commented to the C for Cheese Gang.

  “No indeed—you were quite masterful,” Cedric agreed with a little bow of respect.

  “We even convinced Lewis to help us,” Cyril added. “He didn’t give us away, did he?”

  “Not at all—Lewis played his part quite masterfully as well.” Basil leaned against the desk again. “However, his near miss with the fallen bookcase was the main clue.”

  “How do you mean?” someone asked. The entire group was gathered around listening, even though a few mice looked a bit confused.

  “It could have been a stroke of luck that Lewis wasn’t badly hurt when the bookcase toppled,” Basil explained. “However, it would take more than luck for the heavy wooden bookcase to avoid damaging the wooden floor when it fell!”

  I gasped, suddenly recalling the careful way Basil had examined the floor. I’d thought he was looking for pawprints, but he was searching for scratches!

  “You caught us,” Rupert said with a chuckle. “Lewis promised to play along—but only if we didn’t cause any real damage to his library.”

  Cyril nodded, waving a paw toward the stacks. “It took five volunteer students to tip over that heavy bookcase without dropping it!”

  “How could we have known that action in itself would give us away?” Clive exclaimed.

  Basil smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. That wasn’t the only thing,” he said. “I couldn’t help but notice that Cedric left dinner early last night—and that the other three of you showed up just in time to witness us hearing that strange howl.”

  Cedric grinned. “You mean this howl?” With that, he let out a piercing yowl that made several of the other listeners move a few steps away.

  After that, the conspirators explained the rest of the spooky pieces of the puzzle. They had simply made up the stories they’d told us upon arrival, of course. But it had been Cedric’s face I’d spotted in the window right after the howl. And Clive had been the one who’d been hidden deep in the stacks to push those books off the shelf earlier in the day.

  Then I remembered a detail that hadn’t been addressed. “What about the cold breeze?” I asked.

  Cyril shrugged. “We told Lewis to say that,” he said.

  “Yes,” Rupert agreed. “It’s well known that ghostly visitors are meant to bring with them a sudden spot of cold air.”

  “No, not the one Lewis mentioned,” I said. “I felt it myself—a sudden, unexplained cold breeze outside the library last night.”

  Basil chuckled. “I suspect that might be attributed to your own active imagination, Dawson. After all, you seemed more than ready to believe in ghosts!”

  I frowned slightly. Could he be right? Had I imagined the chill tickling my fur as I stood on the deserted walkway outside the library?

&n
bsp; Before I could figure it out, there was a shout from nearby. One of our other old classmates had wandered over to look at some of the books on one of the wooden bookcases and was pointing to the floor at the bottom of the case.

  “Are you sure ghosts aren’t real?” he cried. “Because there are glowing pawprints back here!”

  We all rushed to see. Sure enough, several eerie, glowing prints marred the floor! I gulped, flashing back to the unexplained cold breeze I’d felt. Could ghosts be real after all?

  Our old natural sciences professor let out a gasp when he got a look. “Stand back!” he cried. “It’s phosphorus!”

  “Phosphorus?” Rupert looked around at the C for Cheese Gang. “But we agreed not to risk using that, even though it would look terribly ghostly!”

  Cedric nodded. “White phosphorus is far too unstable—that’s why most educated people no longer use the cheap matches made from it. It’s so dangerously flammable that even the slightest friction can set it alight,” he said. “Step back, everyone!”

  We all rushed to obey. But someone moved too quickly, knocking a book off the shelf—right onto the phosphorescent prints.

  Immediately, the book burst into flames!

  13 FIRE!

  ONE OF THE GREAT IRONIES of life is that when one is attempting to light a campfire or a cigar, it seems nearly impossible to convince the flame to take hold. But when one wishes not to burn something, fire can seem hungrier than any cat at the sight of a mouse.

  “Oh no!” Cyril cried. “It’s spreading to the shelf!”

  He was correct. Tongues of flame darted out from the original book, licking at the wooden floor and bookshelf. Before any of us could react, several more books were on fire.

  “Do something!” Cedric cried.