“Not as far as I know.”
“I wish he would. I don’t like the idea of small children wandering in there. I think he’d do it pronto, if you threatened to put an item in the paper.”
Was Phil making too much of a small thing?
“Why don’t you do it, Phil? You’re the local correspondent. And if he doesn’t put it back, send in the item, and we may use it. That way it won’t be just an idle threat.”
“All right, Ted, I’ll do that. You made me forget for a while that I was a reporter here, too. I take it you’re about ready to leave, then?”
“Very soon. But we’ll be in touch with you before we go.”
Back at their cabin they threw themselves on their beds for a short rest. Nelson made several remarks, but Ted was so unresponsive, he asked:
“What’s the matter with you, Ted? Too much ice cream?”
“I want to talk about Phil,” Ted answered, looking unhappy. “Did you notice that when he dished up our ice cream his hands were dirty?”
“Is that all?” Nelson was about to explode into laughter, then quickly subsided as he realized there was more to it than that. “What are you getting at?”
“Phil had that same kind of dust in his knuckles that we have even after a good scrubbing. I think he was down in the mine this morning.”
“Go on, Ted.”
“Let’s review everything that has happened to us in East Walton, and try to see it in a different light. At first we thought that perhaps Phil would be bitter about my coming into his territory, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been friendlier or more cooperative.”
“No harm in that, is there?”
“In Phil’s place I might have been annoyed at another reporter’s coming into my territory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it was because he had to give all his attention to hiding something big from us.
“First the gun was planted on us. Phil certainly had the opportunity. He was at the Canteen with us, and left before we did. He could easily have gone out to the parking lot and put the gun inside your car. You admit your door wouldn’t be hard to force.”
“He had the opportunity, Ted, but did he have the gun?”
“He said the gun was taken from his store in a burglary, but how do we know that it was ever stolen, that there even was a burglary?”
“This was before he knew we were coming to East Walton, Ted. He couldn’t have known then that he would want to plant a gun on us.”
“I wonder if maybe he did know, stumbled across our car parked near the mine or something like that. It’s true that he came down to the station and apparently did his best to clear us. What else could he do? But how do we know he wasn’t the person who called the station anonymously? Assuming that the plot took a little advance preparation, who else knew ahead of time that we would be at the Canteen?”
“It could have been done by someone who didn’t know, but was out looking for an opportunity, Ted.”
“Yes, I know. All right, here’s my next point: the phone call I got about Doctor Clifford. I wonder if Phil didn’t push his luck a little too far on that? We assumed that it was someone else trying to make his voice sound like Phil’s, but how do we know it wasn’t Phil, trying to disguise his voice? If it was anyone beside Phil, he was taking a big chance. How could he know I hadn’t just talked with Phil? How could he know that I wouldn’t refer back to something that had been said between us that would expose him? All right, let’s just say he took a chance because he didn’t have anything to lose—I probably couldn’t catch him anyway. He would have to know so much about what had happened between Phil and me, and how our newspaper worked, about my intention to call the Town Crier—it’s just incredible that anyone else could have done it. This idea has been nagging at the back of my mind, long before I noticed Phil’s dirty knuckles.
“My next point has to do with my notebook. He left the tennis game and went back to the drugstore. But we returned before he expected us, and my notebook wasn’t in my pocket. I didn’t miss it at once, and he called to say I dropped it. But isn’t it more likely that he took it out himself?”
“Why, Ted?”
“The maps, I suppose. He wanted to see if we had gone, or were likely to go, anywhere near the secret tunnel. But we went back into the mine again yesterday, and this time he didn’t have much hope of getting my notebook again. Still there were the chalk marks you had made on the wall. We had told him how we were doing it, and he could follow those marks to see how far we had gone.”
“I wonder if he knew that we were trapped there in the dark, Ted?”
“I don’t think he would have found it out today. When the marks ran out, he would assume that was as far as we had traveled, and then turned around and gone back.”
“You believe he knows about the tunnel, Ted?”
“He must have. As a reporter for the old East Walton paper, he helped investigate the explosion, so he had an excellent chance to find out. And of course if he’s the blackmailer—” Nelson sat bolt upright. “Yes, I was leading up to the blackmail, of course. If he was the blackmailer, then it was his secret, too, as much as Mr. Sorrel’s, and he wouldn’t want us to find out. That was the reason he was anxious to get us out of town as soon as he could. I think he gave us the item about Doctor Clifford to help make Mr. Dobson impatient with us so he would call us home.
“And my final point. He showed special interest in getting that barricade back up again. He probably didn’t want Alice taking that short cut over to the other side of the river, and giving away the whole show.
“That’s my case, Nel. How does it sound to you?”
Nelson considered for several minutes. “You’ve got a good many points, Ted,” he admitted finally. “The trouble is you don’t have any real proof, nothing that you could accuse Phil of, nothing that you could take into court.”
“I know,” Ted agreed, “but I think I know how we can get some proof. Want to try it?”
Nelson agreed with a wave of his hand, and Ted went to the telephone to dial the drugstore’s number.
“Phil, this is Ted. We’re leaving a little sooner than we planned, so I wanted to say goodbye and thank you for everything you did for us. Nelson says to thank you especially for the ice cream, so you know where his mind is.”
“Oh, I didn’t do very much, Ted. I’m sorry you’re going, but look me up again whenever you’re in the neighborhood.”
“I’ll do that, Phil, and you do the same in Forestdale. . . . Oh, a funny little thing just happened. The Llewellyns called to tell me their mule got out again, and wanted to know if I’d seen her. They must think I’m in the mule-finding business. I’m afraid I won’t have any time to bother with that now. Anyway, Alice always seems to find her own way home.”
They said goodbye, and hung up.
Nelson had been hanging close to Ted’s elbow. “What do we do now?” he demanded.
“We race out to the mine. If Phil is really interested in keeping Alice out of the mine, he’ll be rushing out there to head her off.”
They got out to the mine as fast as the speed laws would allow, drove a little past it and pulled off the road to a spot where Phil could not see the car but from which they could see him. They did not have long to wait. Phil’s car soon came roaring up. He, too, pulled off the road where his car was reasonably concealed, then hurried up the hill toward the mine entrance.
“I guess that clinches your case,” said Nelson. “What’s the next step?”
“I like to handle my own stories, but it’s only smart to know when you need help. I’m going to put in a call to Mr. Dobson.”
CHAPTER 16.
TIME TO BAKE THE PIE
TED put through his call to Mr. Dobson and explained matters briefly. It seemed to the editor that it would be best for him to come up to East Walton at once. As Ted relayed this information to Nelson, he felt he had taken on a good deal of responsibility. Never before had he run to his editor for help in quite this mann
er, but they were facing a grave situation.
Since it would be several hours before Mr. Dobson would arrive, they had supper, and then Ted went to work at his story in a desultory fashion, while Nelson puttered with his pictures and other odds and ends.
When a knock came on the door, they knew it was too soon for Mr. Dobson. Rising to answer, Ted hoped fervently that it wouldn’t be Phil, for he didn’t yet know what to do about him.
But it was Professor Thomas.
“I’m not going to give you my name, because I’m sure you know it already. I’ve got that much respect for your detective ability.”
“And I might add the same about you,” Ted conceded.
“Yes, I was wondering who those two persons were who frightened me away from my lunch in the mine. I wasn’t sure, until I noticed your unusual interest in me in the park. Just what attracted you?”
“The orange lunch box,” Nelson explained.
Professor Thomas laughed. “So that was it. I hadn’t thought you came far enough into the room to discover it. At any rate I decided it would be just as well to let you get my license number, while I waited outside the parking lot to get yours.”
Then the three of them laughed together as the professor fitted names to faces.
“Ted,” he began, “I might say that though I’ve never met your Mr. Dobson, I’ve heard a good deal about him, and have the highest respect for him. Now let me ask you a question: what do you know about the coal pirates?”
“I understand there is a continuous operation going on down there,” said Ted.
“There’s the cautious journalist. Continuous, of course, but on how large a scale? Do you know how they are hauling their coal away?”
Ted studied the professor and could see that he already knew about the barge.
“I believe they do it on the river.”
“Of course, of course.” Professor Thomas nodded his approval. “I see I didn’t make a mistake in coming here. Now why is it that Mr. Winslow isn’t worried about the pirate operation?”
“Because he doesn’t know about the barge?”
“Right, Ted. Any other reason?”
“Not that I know of,” said Ted in surprise.
“Well, it’s a relief to me that I do know something you don’t know. The truth is, Ted, that even if Mr. Winslow knew about the barge I don’t think he would be greatly concerned. He would still figure it couldn’t be a big enough operation to worry about. But he would be wrong. There’s a big secret down there that he doesn’t know about.
“I’m sure that the pirates began on a small scale and in a quite random fashion, digging a little here and a little there, without getting away with much. But that isn’t what they are doing now. The digging is all centralized at a certain location. The pirates discovered a rich new vein of coal of better quality than the mine was producing before, and in a location that offers fewer engineering problems. I’m certain that if Mr. Winslow knew about this fresh lode, he would have reopened the mine years ago. He couldn’t afford to keep it shut.”
“Well!” Ted was flabbergasted, and Nelson shared his amazement. They had thought that Mr. Sorrel’s million-dollar secret was large, but this seemed to be even bigger.
“I’m a geologist and not an engineer, but I’m pretty sure of what I’m talking about.” He drew several sheets of paper from his pocket and handed them to Ted. “Here’s my preliminary report on the matter. You may keep that copy. The figures and things may not mean much to you, but if you were to take them to a competent engineer, I’m sure he would back me up.”
“May I publish your report, Professor Thomas?”
“Certainly, you may, and call it mine. I have some reputation in my field, and I don’t think this matter would be dismissed lightly.”
“This is extremely kind of you, Professor,” said Ted, gratefully. “I’m not used to having scoops like this dropped in my lap.”
The professor laughed. “I’m not dropping it in your lap, Ted. You smoked me out. Didn’t you discover me in the mine? I suppose the vacationing geology professor puttering around in a coal mine would form an amusing anecdote. However, if you are going to mention me at all, I would prefer to have my work properly appreciated. It was my intention to release my figures a little later, and in a different fashion, but you forced my hand.”
Ted still felt overwhelmed by the story the professor had given him. Ted invited him to stay until Mr. Dobson arrived, and he agreed. When the editor arrived, they had an interesting talk. Finally, the professor stood up and announced he had to go. He made his farewells, waving aside the thanks they tried to thrust upon him.
“I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of this matter,” he said with a grin. “We’ll be meeting again.”
Then Mr. Dobson and the boys settled down to discuss the situation. After the boys had explained in greater detail just what had occurred, Mr. Dobson had something to add.
“I think I can supply the last link. Phil did know you were coming to East Walton. After you left, I decided it would be better for me to call him and smooth things over for you.” He paused. “Let’s invite both Phil and Mr. Sorrel over here for a conference. I have an idea they’ll come.”
This prediction was correct, and a little later they all sat down in the cabin, having borrowed extra chairs from the motel manager.
“An editor often faces certain problems,” Mr. Dobson began. “I don’t expect you to solve my problems for me, but sometimes it helps to consult the persons most directly concerned, just to see how they feel about things.
“I want to tell you about a young man I know. I may even know a little more about him than he realizes. I also know his father. The father was willing to train the boy in the profession that he himself followed, if that was what the boy wanted, even though it meant considerable sacrifice. So the boy went to college, but he didn’t stay there long. He has let it be known that he left for lack of money, but this isn’t the truth. He flunked out. I have only one explanation for it: that the young man thought he saw a better way to get started without the work and self-sacrifice a professional career would have demanded: in short, by blackmail.”
Mr. Sorrel started and gave Phil a sharp look. Phil was sitting without moving, giving no hint of what he was thinking.
“I don’t think it necessary just now to go into the nature, method, or victim of this blackmail. I’ll pass on instead to a matter that directly concerns my newspaper. Two of my employees were suspected of participation in a robbery because of a gun that was planted on them. It now appears that this gun, previously reported stolen, was in fact never stolen, and that there never was a robbery.” He looked at Phil.
“Yes, there was a robbery,” Phil insisted. “I made a mistake about the gun, though. It was put away in a different place, so I reported it stolen. Later I found it, but I didn’t report I’d found it to the police, as I suppose I should.”
“That’s a good story, Phil,” Mr. Dobson went on. “A few hours ago I wouldn’t have dreamed of questioning it. Now I just don’t know. At least I ask that you make a report to the police, and admit that you planted the gun on my men. Will you do that, Phil?”
“Yes, sir, I will.” Phil’s manner was neither disrespectful nor sullen. He was simply reserved. He did not deny the charges, nor admit the blackmail.
“Why did you do it, Phil?” Ted asked him.
“I felt that the story belonged to me,” he answered, but no one believed him. The story seemed a small thing; it was exposure about the blackmailing that he feared.
Then Phil got to his feet. “Is that all, sir? Do you have anything else to say?”
“No. I will, of course, check with the police before I leave East Walton, to make sure you do report the matter.”
After Phil left, they stared a moment at the closed door.
“What will happen to him now?” Ted speculated.
Mr. Dobson sighed. “He may have learned his lesson and go back to his career. Or he migh
t go from this to something worse. It’s really up to him.”
He turned to Mr. Sorrel. “You weren’t considering a prosecution over the blackmail, were you?”
“How could I? My own hands are none too pure in this business. And it would be difficult to prove in court. I’m willing to forget about what he took from me.”
“I’d feel more generous about it if he had wanted the money for his education.” Nelson pointed out.
“And now we’re faced with your problem, Mr. Sorrel,” Mr. Dobson went on. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“What can I do? I knew after I talked with Ted last night, something that I probably suspected right along, that I couldn’t get away with it. As time went on there was a greater and greater chance that someone would discover that tunnel. I once advised Mr. Winslow to take his losses and go on from there. It might be a good thing for me to take my own advice.”
“I’m no lawyer, Mr. Sorrel, so I can’t advise you, but I feel that if you did sell property that had a secret and dangerous defect, you might find yourself in trouble.”
“But that’s the whole point,” Mr. Sorrel protested. “There is no danger. The explosion cleared up the gas pocket, and even then the surface wasn’t disturbed.”
“Have you ever had an official inspection of that old mine to make sure of that?”
“Well, no, how could I do that? I was relying on my own knowledge of the situation.”
“Then I think you should get some official safety certificates. Maybe it will be necessary to redesign your plans so that no house will be actually built over a tunnel.”
Mr. Sorrel acknowledged this argument with a nod.
“There’s something else, too,” Ted pointed out. “You can prove now that you didn’t set off the explosion.”
“How can I prove that, Ted?”
“Because you were the last person in the world who would have wanted to open a tunnel between the two mines, and possibly reveal the trouble with your own property.”
“You’re right, Ted. Maybe it’s best to get back in step with the rest of the community.”
The Abandoned Mine Mystery Page 12