“We still don’t need a ride.” Benny remained firm.
“Were you driving out here to visit the antique store?” Jessie asked. She stood with one foot on the ground, the other on a bicycle pedal.
“Uh, no,” Mr. Ambrose answered.
“Have you ever been in this store before?” Jessie persisted.
“I was here once or twice when I first began my research,” the author answered. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, if you don’t need a ride, I really must be on my way,” he added. Before the Aldens could say anything more, the author pulled the car away and sped down the road.
“You know I saw a big blue car like that following us to the antique store,” Benny informed his family when they were back on Seymour’s farm. The four were walking their bicycles to the shed to put them away.
“I noticed that car, too,” Henry remarked. “I’m sure it was Blake’s car.”
“But why would he want to follow us?” Violet asked as she walked her bicycle beside Henry’s.
“Well, if he is involved in these burglaries, he probably wants to find out how much we know,” Henry suggested.
“And he probably doesn’t want us to get in his way,” Jessie added.
That evening, after dinner, Violet and Benny decided to take a walk in the orchard with one of Seymour’s flashlights. Benny wanted to hear the ghost for himself, and Violet thought it might be good to keep him company.
It was a windy night and as Violet waved the flashlight at the scarecrow, it looked like he was waving at them.
“Poor scarecrow,” Violet said sadly. “He’s probably going to need to be restuffed after this windy night.”
“I bet we’ll hear the ghost tonight,” Benny said eagerly. He walked into the orchard, with Violet at his heels. At that moment, the two heard some whispering, and a low call that sounded like a long, drawn-out boooooo.
“What’s that?” Benny asked.
Violet listened closely.
“Whooooooo...Whooooooo...Whoooooo.”
“It could be an owl,” Violet answered, but she did not sound very sure. Being out in the orchard after dark was spookier than she had thought.
“No, it’s not,” Benny said stubbornly.
“How far do you want to go?” Violet asked.
“Not too far,” Benny said. His voice was a little quavery as he peered into the dark mass of fruit trees whose branches looked as if they could reach out and grab him. “Are there wolves out here?” Benny wanted to know.
“I don’t think so. In fact, I’m sure there aren’t.”
Just at that moment, Benny and Violet heard a long, low hiss. Benny jumped two feet in the air. “Do you hear that?” he shouted, clutching Violet’s arm. “I bet that’s a snake.”
Violet stopped walking and shone her flashlight on some low bushes behind the trees. Stray leaves were rustling in the wind, making a hissing sound — pssst, pssst, pssst. “That might be the whispering sound we’re hearing,” Violet said hopefully.
“Are you sure?” Benny asked.
“Yes.” Violet’s voice quavered. She wasn’t really sure, but she wanted Benny to believe she was.
To get their minds off the hissing noise, Violet shone her light, which was getting dimmer, on the trees in front of her. Something she saw made her stop short and stare. “Benny, that marking. It wasn’t here the last time we were in the orchard.”
“What marking?” Benny rushed over to the tree where the flashlight shone on its bark. In the dim light, he could see a drawing of a helmet, next to the drawing of the sword the Aldens had seen earlier.
“You’re right,” Benny said. “Do you think the ghost drew this?”
“No, I don’t,” Violet said. “But I hope it doesn’t mean that a helmet is missing from Seymour’s collection.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Benny exclaimed. “We’d better check the secret passageway right away.” At that moment, the flashlight went out. Violet and Benny could not believe how dark it seemed, even in the moonlight.
CHAPTER 9
By the Light of the Moon
“I’m scared,” Benny admitted.
Violet gulped. “Take my hand. We’re not far from the farm.”
Guided by the moonlight, Violet and Benny made their way home, stumbling over rocks and large branches in their path.
“Things sure look different in the dark,” Benny muttered as two bats fluttered over them.
“Ugh.” Violet shuddered. She let go of Benny’s hand and almost dropped her flashlight so she could cover her hair. “I can’t stand bats.”
Benny and Violet were very happy to see the farmhouse in the distance, lit with a warm light from the lamps in the living room.
Twenty minutes later, all the Aldens and Seymour were in the secret passageway. Carefully they shone their flashlights on all the suits of armor.
“Oh, no!” Violet groaned. Just as she had feared, one of the helmets was missing.
“That’s the most valuable helmet in the collection.” Seymour sounded angry. “That thief sure knows what he’s doing.”
That night, before they went to bed, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny met in Jessie and Violet’s bedroom. Jessie sat on the large bed, her notebook in hand. “We have to do something before anything else disappears,” she said firmly. “At least we have some leads.”
Henry nodded. “We suspect Blake Ambrose is involved.”
“And someone from the farm must be helping him,” Jessie added. “Remember, Seymour told us that only the farm workers know how to get inside the secret passageway. Someone from the farm must be involved, too.”
“Now we just have to find out who,” said Benny. He sat with his legs crossed on Jessie’s bed.
“Blake knows Veronica,” Violet said. “I wonder if he knows anyone else who could be helping him.”
“I think Veronica and Blake are our two most likely suspects,” Jessie said. “But we shouldn’t forget about Martin, Mike, and Jeff. I think anyone who works in the orchard is a suspect.”
“Oh, not Martin,” Benny protested. “He’s always been so nice to us.”
“He has,” Henry agreed. “But Martin does spend a lot of time with Veronica. And if she’s involved, chances are he may be, also.”
“I guess so,” Violet said reluctantly.
“What have Mike and Jeff done to make us suspicious?” Jessie asked. She was busy writing in the notebook with a green fountain pen.
“Well, they aren’t very likely suspects,” Henry admitted. “After all, Seymour has known them a long time, and we haven’t caught them behaving suspiciously.”
“No, they seem to work very hard,” Jessie remarked. “Still, if we really want to find out what’s going on, we should probably observe them as well.”
The others nodded.
“Veronica and Martin are usually together, so it shouldn’t be too hard to keep track of them,” Jessie added. “Why don’t Violet and I watch Martin and Veronica, and you two can observe Mike and Jeff,” she said to Henry.
“That’s fine with me,” said Henry. “I don’t want to deal with Veronica. It shouldn’t be too hard to keep an eye on Mike and Jeff. They’re usually in the orchard pruning trees.”
“Who’s going to watch Blake Ambrose?” Benny wanted to know.
“If he is working with someone from the farm, we might as well wait and have one of the workers lead us to him,” Jessie said.
“The only problem with this plan is that it could take a long time for us to catch the thief in action,” Henry said.
“That’s true,” Jessie agreed.
“You know, I have an idea,” Violet said quietly. The others turned to look at her. “The thieves must be making those markings on the tree late at night. I doubt anyone would try to mark it up during the daytime.”
“True,” Henry agreed.
“So,” Violet continued, “why don’t we camp out in the orchard late at night near that tree and see what happens.”
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Benny made a face.
“We’ll take lots of flashlights this time,” Violet said, looking at Benny. “And extra batteries.”
“And extra sweaters and maybe blankets,” added Jessie.
“It’ll be too cold to camp out for the night,” Henry said. “It’s too bad we don’t have a tent or something.”
“A tent would be too noticeable,” Jessie remarked.
“We should probably plan to do this tomorrow night,” Henry said.
The others agreed.
The following day, Jessie and Violet tried to keep track of Veronica and Martin. Henry and Benny found many excuses to go into the orchard to help Mike and Jeff. No one noticed anything suspicious.
That night after dinner, the Aldens waited until everyone had gone to bed before creeping out to the orchard. After much discussion, they had decided not to tell Grandfather or Seymour of their plan. They knew Grandfather would worry, even though he trusted them to take care of themselves. And they were afraid Seymour would forbid them from going.
Tonight the moon was very full and low in the sky. “That’s a Hunter’s Moon,” Henry said. “It usually comes out in the middle of November.”
“It seems brighter out here than it was last night,” Benny remarked.
“There aren’t as many clouds,” Violet observed. “But it’s a lot colder.”
“I’ll say,” Benny agreed as he stamped his feet to keep warm. He could see his breath in the cold night air. Violet pulled up the hood of her purple parka. Jessie rubbed her hands together.
“We won’t get as cold if we keep moving,” Henry suggested as he led the way into the orchard. As the Aldens walked past the scarecrow, they noticed he had fallen over and now lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. Benny noticed his clothes were missing.
“The farm probably doesn’t even need a scarecrow this time of year,” Jessie said. “Not much is growing.”
“Once we’re in the orchard, we should probably turn off our flashlights,” Henry suggested. “We don’t want to attract too much attention.”
“But with all these trees around, it’s hard to see,” Benny pointed out.
“We’ll guide you, if you need the help,” Henry assured him as Benny obediently turned off his light.
“Don’t those tree branches look like claws in the moonlight?” Benny pointed out.
“Oooh, they do,” Jessie agreed, shuddering a little. “And what’s that noise?”
“What noise?” Benny wanted to know.
“Sssh.”
The four Aldens heard the sounds of twigs snapping, then a long, drawn-out, “Whooooooo.”
“That’s that owl we heard last night,” Violet said.
“Whooooo. Whoooooo. Whoooooo.”
“That doesn’t sound like an owl,” Jessie whispered to Violet.
At that moment, a scarecrow came out of the trees and appeared before the Aldens, waving his arms in the moonlight.
“Aaaagh!” Benny shrieked.
CHAPTER 10
Joshua’s Ghost
“It’s the ghost. It’s Joshua!” Benny couldn’t stop shrieking.
Just as suddenly as he appeared, the ghost vanished — with Henry chasing after him.
“Benny, Benny, calm down,” Jessie said soothingly. She hugged Benny to her, while Violet buried her face in Jessie’s arm.
“That was so scary,” Violet groaned.
“I know it was,” Jessie agreed. “I just hope Henry’s okay.”
“Do you think the ghost will try to hurt him?” Benny asked, looking very serious.
Jessie shook her head. “Benny, I don’t think that was really a ghost.”
A few minutes later, Henry appeared, looking discouraged. “He was too fast for me. He got away.”
“You mean he vanished into the air,” Benny said. He knew that was what ghosts did.
“No, he just ran too fast,” Henry said as he turned on his flashlight. “But if we follow his path, maybe we can find some clues.”
“Clues?” Benny asked.
“Yeah, like footprints or something,” Henry said. He walked to the spot where the ghost had been and carefully studied the ground under his flashlight.
“But ghosts don’t leave footprints,” Benny protested.
“This one did,” Henry called. “Look here.”
In the ground in front of Henry were a set of extremely large footprints, much larger than Henry’s.
“The man sure has big feet,” Jessie remarked.
“And I think he wears hiking boots,” Violet said as she beamed her flashlight on one of the footprints.
“Who do we know around here with feet that big, and hiking boots?” Henry asked.
“Not Mike!” Violet sounded shocked.
Henry nodded.
The following day, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny were up early. They had not wanted to wake the others when they came in the night before. The first thing they did was talk to Seymour. They found him in the barn feeding the animals before breakfast.
“You did what? You went out after dark — alone — to try to catch a burglar?” Seymour did not sound happy. “You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt.”
When Seymour had heard the whole story, he shook his head sadly. “I can’t believe it’s really Mike. I don’t understand why he was trying to scare you like that, unless, as you say, he was trying to get you off his trail.”
“I suppose it’s possible it could be someone else with big feet and hiking boots,” Jessie suggested.
“Let’s hope so,” Seymour said. “But the first thing we need to do is talk to Mike.”
On their way out of the barn, Henry spotted something on the ground, under a bush. When he walked over, he saw it was a pile of clothing — the scarecrow’s clothing.
“Come here,” he called to the others. Henry picked up the large flannel shirt, the denim pants, and the black felt hat. “These are the clothes the scarecrow had on last night,” Henry said, handing them to Seymour.
“I might as well take these back to the house,” Seymour said. He sniffed the collar of the shirt. “That musky smell — do you recognize it?” he asked the Aldens.
“Sort of,” said Jessie, wrinkling her nose. “But I can’t place it.”
“It’s an aftershave Mike sometimes wears,” Seymour said sadly.
Two hours later, the Aldens and Seymour found Mike in the orchard raking.
“I need to talk to you,” Seymour told Mike. “Let’s go up to the house.” When Mike saw all the Aldens around Seymour, he turned pale and leaned his rake against the side of the tree.
“I think I know what all this is about,” he said.
“There’s no excuse for what I did,” Mike said, looking at his hands. He sat at the kitchen table with Seymour, Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny.
“So you stole my things,” Seymour said. He sounded more hurt than angry. “Mike, you’ve worked for me all these years. What happened? Did you need money?”
“I did. Rob is very sick. Rob’s my son,” he added for the Aldens’ benefit. “He needs money for a kidney transplant. I guess I was desperate. When that guy approached me, wanting me to help him out, I didn’t think. He offered me so much money I couldn’t refuse.”
“What guy?” Benny asked.
“That guy who’s hanging around town pretending to be an author. He told me he met you in the library.”
“Blake Ambrose,” Benny said.
“Right.”
“He’s not really an author?” Henry sounded surprised.
Mike shrugged. “I think he’s written a couple of horror stories that have sold well. But he makes most of his money stealing antiques and then selling them off to dealers in New York and Boston.”
“So you helped him steal the things from here?” Henry asked.
Mike sighed. “Yes. I didn’t steal from any other places. Blake would leave me messages carved on one of the trees. I would just take what he wanted me to. He’d given me
a list of all the things he wanted from the farm when we agreed to work together.”
“If he did that, why did he need to leave you the messages on the tree?” Benny asked.
“I couldn’t take everything at the same time,” Mike explained. “Blake wanted me to steal the items one at a time, when he was ready for them. He had an odd way of doing things. He hardly ever wanted us to be seen together.”
“And you worked alone. I mean, no one else helped you?” Henry wanted to make sure.
“No, no one else was involved,” Mike said. “And Blake told me that if the pieces I took didn’t sell, I could get them back. I was keeping track of where the pieces went so I could return them to you, someday, if I ever got the money to buy them back,” he said to Seymour.
Seymour nodded sadly. “Mike, you should have told me about Rob. I didn’t know. I might have been able to help you some other way.”
“I know, Seymour.” Mike had tears in his eyes, which he tried to brush away. “As I said, I just wasn’t thinking. I was so worried about my son.”
“So you know where Seymour’s things are?” Henry asked.
Mike nodded. “Most of the letters are with a dealer in Boston. So is the stamp collection. But the sword and helmet are still here in Chassell.”
Violet looked puzzled. “How come a local antique store had one of the letters?” she asked.
“That was a slipup,” Mike explained. “That letter got mixed in with some things I was taking to a yard sale — not any of the stolen goods, but some things from my house I was selling to help raise money. It was careless of me, I admit. Blake was really mad about that letter, especially after it ended up in the local paper. He almost didn’t pay me because of it.”
“It’s funny Mrs. Holmes didn’t remember buying that letter at a yard sale,” Violet remarked.
“Mrs. Holmes is kind of absentminded,” Mike said.
“She sure is,” Seymour agreed, smiling for the first time all morning, but he was serious again when he turned to Mike. “You know, I’m going to have to call the police,” he told his farmhand.
“I know,” Mike said.
The Mystery of the Stolen Sword Page 5