by Helen Wells
“The warning simply has to be published as soon as possible,” Mr. Short said. “Too many people still have the medicine on hand from what you medical people tell me.”
“Yes, they do,” Hal said. “I see that a little delay is unavoidable.”
“I expect to be at the editor’s office for the next half hour or so,” Mr. Short said.
“All right, sir,” said Dr. Hal. “Where can we reach you after that?”
They decided Hal and Cherry should keep telephoning back to the county health office, to make contact through the clerk with Mr. Short.
Cherry sighed. Hal, hanging up, said to her, “No use worrying about the delay. Mr. Short will meet us as soon as he can. Let’s go about our day’s work.”
Starting out each in his own car, Cherry suggested to Hal that they stop first to see Jane. “I’d like to tell her that we nabbed the pedlar, and find out anything we can about Floyd’s moves.”
“Good idea.” Dr. Hal consulted his list of patients. “Luckily, I haven’t any urgent cases today. Let’s go.”
They covered the ten miles to the Barker cottage in record time. On the way they passed the abandoned farm too fast for Cherry to have more than a glimpse. Reaching the Barker place, she noticed that Floyd’s jalopy was not in the yard, but that did not prove he was not here on the premises.
They knocked, and when no one answered except the parrot, finally went in. The parrot was all excited. The bird hopped around in its cage and squawked:
“Never come back! Never come back!”
“What has that bird heard?” Hal said.
“Now, Mike,” Cherry said soothingly to the parrot, but it flew at her against the bars of its cage.
“Won’t tell where! Never come back!” it shrieked.
Something must have happened to send the bird into such a state. Where was Jane? Or Mrs. Barker? They heard sounds of weeping from the kitchen.
Cherry went in there, Hal following her. Mrs. Barker was seated at the kitchen table, crying as if her heart would break.
“Why, Mrs. Barker!” Cherry bent and put her arm around the old lady. “You mustn’t cry like that.”
“You’d cry too, if—if—your son—behaved—”
Dr. Hal took her hand and said, “Now control yourself, Mrs. Barker, and tell us how we can help you.”
Emma Barker sniffled, wiped her eyes, put her glasses back on, and sat up straight.
“Floyd—my son … I never thought he’d just go off someday and leave me! Yes, sir, that’s what he’s done! This morning just before daylight I went into his room—I heard a lot of noise and banging around in there. There he was, packing his old suitcase in an awful hurry. When I asked him ‘Where you going, Floyd?’ he wouldn’t tell me. Wouldn’t tell me where or what for or—or for how long. He was putting everything he owns in the suitcase.”
“Didn’t he say anything?” Cherry asked. She felt terribly sorry for the old lady.
“All he said was—was—‘Kindly get out of my way, Ma, I’m in a hurry.’ As if I couldn’t see with my own eyes that he was running around like the devil was after him! And—and then when I kept pestering him with questions, he only said, ‘I’m going a long ways away and I’m never coming back.’” Mrs. Barker broke into tears again. “Never coming back! Why? What’s he got to run away for?”
Cherry and Hal stood beside Mrs. Barker in silence. They dared not tell her anything, not yet. Not with Floyd at large. Cherry wished fervently that they did not have to treat Emma Barker’s son as if he were a public enemy. But apparently Floyd Barker was exactly that—and his running away pointed up his guilt. From the look on Hal’s face he, too, was sorry to hurt Mrs. Barker, but he asked:
“What time did your son leave, Mrs. Barker?”
“He was up early and out of the house before sunup. Jumped into his car—didn’t even stop to kiss me good-bye until I ran after him—”
It was useless to ask where he had gone. Cherry could guess: he’d probably gone to the abandoned farm with its supply of ginseng plants. Those were too rare and valuable to leave behind. He needed them to continue his racket elsewhere. The reason he was in such a hurry to go away and never come back was all too obvious.
“Mrs. Barker,” Dr. Hal persisted, “did anything happen, or did you or Floyd hear any news, that could have precipitated his going off?”
The old lady looked at him sharply. “That’s a peculiar question. Nothing happened that I know of, except that Floyd went out for a long walk in the woods last evening and came home in an awful bad temper.”
Cherry and Hal exchanged glances. Did this mean that Floyd had gone to the woods to see the pedlar, and found the shack deserted and padlocked?
“What else happened last evening, Mrs. Barker?” Hal asked.
“Well, after Floyd came home from the woods, he hung around here for a few minutes. First he started to telephone somebody, then he changed his mind and hung up. Then he lit out again. I don’t know for certain where he went, but I think he drove into town—”
“Into Sauk?” Hal asked.
“Yes. Because when he came back, a long time later, he had a copy of the Sauk Weekly Courier with him, and a bunch of cigars in his shirt pocket. I especially noticed the cigars. Floyd never smokes anything but that smelly old pipe of his. And I wish to goodness he was here right now smoking it and smelling up the house with it!”
“There, there,” Cherry said softly. She was thinking about the cigars—the Sauk drugstore had the only tobacco counter in town that sold cigars—and the Sauk drugstore was a meeting place where you could drop in to learn the local news. Surely someone in town must have seen the sheriff lead Old Snell in handcuffs into the jail last evening. Someone must have noticed the county medical officer, the county nurse, Mrs. Grisbee, and another man, who was not known to the local people, enter the jail. In a town as small as Sauk, even the most insignificant event drew comment. The pedlar’s arrest would be news indeed. Floyd might have handed out cigars to persuade the men lounging around the drugstore to tell him the details in full. Including, Cherry suspected, anything they knew about a stranger who was the Food and Drug inspector.
“Where’s Jane?” Hal asked suddenly.
Mrs. Barker explained that Jane seemed upset about their family crisis, and had tactfully “made herself scarce.” She was doing some mending out in the yard. Hal seized upon seeing Jane as an excuse to break away from the old lady. Cherry knew he, too, was anxious to follow Floyd.
They found Jane seated in a canvas chair and sewing. Her crutches lay on the grass.
“Floyd left!” Jane said when she saw Hal and Cherry. “Poor Mrs. Barker!”
“It’ll be even more painful for her,” Hal said, “if Floyd is caught and arrested. Assuming he’s guilty….” He told Jane rapidly how the pedlar had been arrested yesterday, and how today’s situation stood. “I think Cherry and I ought to go over to the old farm as fast as we can. Floyd might have gone there.”
“From sunrise, when Floyd left here,” Cherry figured aloud, “to now—that’s three hours gone by.”
“Well, let’s go see if he’s still there,” Hal said. “It would take quite a while to pull up those ginseng beds.”
“You mustn’t enter the old farmhouse!” Jane exclaimed. “Suppose Floyd and those two men are in there—suppose they’re armed. Three men to one—you’re outnumbered, Hal.”
“Hmm. We’d better phone the sheriff,” Hal said. “He’s armed; the Food and Drug inspector isn’t, and hasn’t power of arrest. Jane, to save time, would you …?”
“I’m not going to call the sheriff to arrest my hostess’s son,” Jane said. She was greatly troubled. “I can’t do that to her.”
“Fair enough,” Cherry said. “May I telephone from here to the Food and Drug inspector? Just to notify him that Floyd’s gone off? And to ask him to join us at once at the old farmhouse?”
“We-ell.” Jane looked unhappy. “Since yours and Hal’s safety is involved, I
suppose you’d better.”
“Hurry up,” Hal said.
Cherry ran back to the house and, with Mrs. Barker’s permission, used the telephone to call the Sauk newspaper office. Someone there said Mr. Short had just left with the editor to continue their discussion over breakfast. Cherry asked whether they had gone to Smith’s Restaurant.
“No, they’ve gone to some friend’s house,” said her informant. “No, miss, I’m sorry, I don’t know where you can reach him.”
Cherry asked when or whether Mr. Short would return to the newspaper office, but her informant didn’t know this either.
Another delay. More time for Floyd to get away! And for the two St. Louis men to get away. Cherry left word for Mr. Short at the newspaper office that she and Hal were going at once to the abandoned farm, and to join them there. “And tell Mr. Short,” she said, “the situation is urgent.” She called her own office and left the same message for Mr. Short with the clerk.
Then she called the sheriff’s office, but Mr. Steeley and his deputy were out. What bad luck! Cherry left word, anyway, but this meant that she and Hal would enter the old farmhouse alone, without protection in case of trouble. She hoped that the highway patrolman might be in this area, or that the sheriff would telephone highway patrol headquarters.
Hal was already in his car, with the motor running. They’d leave Cherry’s car here. Jane would explain it somehow to Mrs. Barker. Jane looked after them with an anxious expression as they tore off down the highway.
“Even if Floyd and the men aren’t in the house,” Hal said, driving fast, “they may have left some evidence behind about where and how the remedy has been manufactured.”
“Optimist!” Cherry scoffed at him. “You know they’re too sharp to leave any traces.”
CHAPTER XIV
Through the Trap Door
SIX MINUTES LATER AT THE OLD FARM GROUNDS, THEY were stunned at what they saw. The big ginseng beds were bare! Someone had pulled up every last ginseng plant and root, leaving raw, freshly turned patches of earth.
“Not only to hide evidence,” Hal muttered. “The racketeers must be taking the ginseng with them, so they can start up their racket in a new location,” Hal guessed.
“To poison more people! Oh, Hal! Let’s find them so Food and Drug can stop them.”
They looked around for Floyd’s jalopy or the “sportsmen’s” car with the St. Louis license plates. They saw no cars here, not even any car tracks.
“Well, if they’re in the house, they could have heard our car,” Hal said. “We’ll go in cautiously.”
At the door they peered in and listened. The house was silent. Hal took a step or two down the hallway and motioned Cherry to stay behind. She shook her head and followed him. A floor board creaked. They both halted as if frozen. Nothing happened, no one came. They started to move again.
The living room was empty as they passed it. Hal took a few long strides to look into the kitchen. His lips formed the word “Nothing.” Cherry gained the doorway to the dining room, and nearly cried out in surprise. She drew Hal to look into the dining room. The long, tall, heavy, oak buffet, which stood against the wall adjoining the living room, was awry. Out of place, with one end dragged forward—someone had moved it! Why?
“Look at that!” Cherry whispered.
Hal did not understand what the buffet’s being out of place meant. Cherry ran soundlessly across the dining room and felt along the wall behind the buffet. Under the old wallpaper she touched what might be a joining. She applied a little pressure, then more pressure, and a narrow section of the wall slowly swung in an arc on inside hinges. The opening was barely wide enough for one person to slip through. Cherry saw a narrow, oblong, windowless room.
“Cherry!” Hal whispered. “Don’t go in there!”
“It’s empty. Come on. But what a smell!”
The hidden chamber smelled overpoweringly of ginseng. A kerosene stove was in here. Was this where Floyd, or whoever, had brewed the remedy? Cherry looked around at the empty, stained shelves and the one old stool, with rings where pots and jars must have rested. Everything else was gone.
“Say”—Hal nudged her and whispered—“what’s the reason for a concealed room in a farmhouse?”
“The Underground Railway—it had hiding places and escape routes,” Cherry whispered back. “Look! Look down at the floor! A trap door!”
Cherry knelt and grasped its rusted iron ring. The trap door opened easily. Down below she saw only blackness.
Hal’s hand came down on her shoulder. “Oh, no, you don’t go down there!” Cherry furiously shook her head. “At least let me go first.”
“Leave the trap door open,” Cherry whispered, “so Paul Short and the sheriff can find us—if they come.”
Hal eased his long length down through the opening in the floor. She heard a soft thud as he landed.
“It’s black as pitch in here,” he muttered. “Like a cave. Like the far end of the cave we found—”
“Must be a tunnel leading into the cave!”
Cherry crouched, then eased herself through the open trap door. Hal helped her down. Her foot slipped and landed on something softer than the earth floor. Cherry bent and picked up the thing and held it under the trap door where a dim light filtered through, from up in the dining room.
“Why, it’s a book!” she whispered in surprise. “I can just make out the title page.” It read: The Compleat Housewife, 600 Receipts for Cooking and Remedies, by E. Smith, London, 1753. “Hal, it’s Mrs. Barker’s old home-remedy book! Floyd took it—” She found a marker at the page with a formula for a ginseng remedy.
“Hang on to it.” Hal took her hand. “Hold fast so we won’t get separated in the dark.” He started slowly ahead. After a minute’s silence he said, “This is the other end of the tunnel, all right. But how’ll we get past that pile of dirt and the blockade, into the cave and then into the open again?”
Suddenly they both grasped what must have happened down here. Someone had put up or retained the old barn door as a blockade, to prevent anyone in Riverside Park from entering the old farmhouse through the cave and tunnel. Floyd—or whoever had set up the blockade—evidently had dug earth out of the cave walls in order to accommodate the barn door. That would account for the pile of earth Hal had seen.
“Watch for daylight up ahead,” Hal said softly to Cherry. “If we see daylight, we have a direct route for getting out of here. But if the passageway is still closed, we’ll have to retreat back to the house. It won’t be easy to scramble up through the trap door.”
He meant that if the three men were in the tunnel, they’d need to get away from them fast. Cherry’s heart pounded in alarm, but she said nothing and followed Hal. Presently she whispered:
“Listen! Do you hear something? A muffled sound—”
Hal paused. Cherry could not see him except as a blacker blue in the darkness. Then he said:
“Yes, I hear something. And I think I see a big patch of daylight. Scared? Want to turn back?”
“I’ll go farther ahead if you will,” Cherry whispered. “At least we could edge up closer and see what’s going on. Though I’d rather not come face to face with—”
“Quiet!”
Hal and Cherry shrank back against the tunnel wall as someone—a man, judging by his heavy tread and breathing—ran past them on his subterranean way back to the farmhouse.
Farther down in the tunnel, at the open cave end, judging by the echo, a man’s voice called roughly:
“Where you going?”
The man near them shouted back, “I dropped the formula book somewheres in here! I got to find it!”
It was Floyd’s voice. He struck a match, hunting on the earth floor, his back to them. Hal pulled Cherry away from the light of the matches. They stumbled into a shallow natural niche in the tunnel’s earth wall and flattened themselves against it.
“Barker!” The same surly voice called. “You got the formula in your head by now! Com
e back here!” His voice echoed and re-echoed in the cave, and carried clearly up the tunnel.
“I got to find that book!” Floyd yelled back. He was far up the tunnel by now. “I’m just going back into the house for a minute—”
Cherry began to tremble. If Floyd went back into the house and noticed that the trap door was open, he’d be alerted to their presence.
“Barker!” This time Cherry and Hal saw the figure of one of the men silhouetted in front of the cave’s opening. “We got to get away before those nosy kids bring the Food and Drug dick here! Do you want me to come and drag you back?”
“Okay, Benny, coming,” Floyd called back. “I guess I can remember the formula all right.”
In another minute he passed them again in the dark. Only then did Cherry let out a long breath in relief.
“Hurry up!” a second man’s voice shouted. “I got the boats waiting, but we ain’t finished loading. Give us a hand!”
Hal beside Cherry muttered, “So they’re going to make their getaway down the river. With all the evidence! I want to see what direction they’ll be going.”
He moved nearer the cave, silent as a cat, half pulling Cherry after him. At one place Hal whispered:
“Look out—the old barn door and the pile of dirt should be about there. Don’t stumble on them.”
They picked their way, feeling for every step. But there was no pile of dirt. The passageway was clear.
They moved through the cave toward the glimmer of daylight. All was quiet at the far end of the cave—the three men must be busy loading the boats. Or already gone—? Hal and Cherry took advantage of these few quiet minutes to feel their way rapidly along the craggy cave walls. They came close to the cave’s low, rocky opening.
Here, illuminated by daylight, they saw cardboard cartons full of jars of the fake remedy, burlap bags stuffed with ginseng plants and dried ginseng roots, and some ledgers. Here was the evidence!
“We can still turn back or get away,” Hal said. “Or at least you can.”