Dig Here!

  III

  Craven House

  WHEN I opened my eyes to a roomful of sunlight and sea breezes, Eve wasgone. My watch had stopped. What with one thing and another, I hadforgotten to wind it. But I knew by the look of things that the morningwould never see seven o'clock again!

  Stealing downstairs a quarter of an hour later, I beheld Eve seated atthe kitchen table consuming food. No one else was in sight except alarge gray cat folded up comfortably by the stove.

  "Where is she?" I whispered, poking my head cautiously through thedoorway.

  "Gone to market," Eve said, resugaring her oatmeal. "I told her you hada basketball wrist and the doctor said you needed lots of sleep."

  "Oh, Eve!" I ventured toward the stove and helped myself to oatmeal.The gray cat rose and began twining himself about my feet. "I didn'tsee any cat last night," I remarked.

  "He comes and goes, Aunt Cal told me. I asked her, by the way, if Imight call her that and she said she didn't mind."

  Eve continued to talk as I ate. "I told her about the suitcases gettingmixed," she remarked presently.

  "You did!" I regarded her admiringly. I had been worrying about thisever since I woke up, wondering how I was going to make my mistakesound plausible. "What did she say?" I demanded anxiously.

  Eve grinned. "Oh, just that she could not possibly understand suchcarelessness and not knowing one's own baggage and so forth and so on."

  I nodded gloomily. I was off to a bad start with Aunt Cal, there was nodoubt of that. First this suitcase business and then oversleeping.

  "She left word," Eve continued, "that in case you rose in time, youwere to take the suitcase over to the bus station and make inquiries ofthe driver when the morning bus gets in."

  "What time will that be?" As I spoke, I glanced at the clock and washorrified to see that it was long past eight.

  "About nine. It only makes two trips a day so we'd better be startingsoon or we'll be late."

  Fishers Haven in the morning light was somewhat more prosaic than inthe golden glow of the evening before. Just a straggling little villagewith a sprinkling of comfortable homes and a half dozen stores or so,it made no pretensions to the importance of a seaside resort. But Evedid not seem to find it prosaic. She was interested in everything fromthe list of sundaes in the drug store window to the funny littlecupola-like balconies on top of some of the older houses, built so thatthe wives of fishermen could look out to sea and watch for the returnof their men.

  "Just think how thrilling when they saw a sail," I said.

  "But pretty tragic too if it didn't turn out to be the right one," Evereturned. "And the next day maybe the same."

  We reached the bus stop ahead of time and sat down on the woodenplatform to wait. Shortly after nine, the bus rolled in. To my relief,I saw that the driver was the same one who had brought us over fromBerkshire Plains the afternoon before. A detached person in leggings,he listened to my tale without emotion. "So," he broke into the middleof my story, "you think this guy with spectacles took yours?"

  I nodded meekly.

  "Well, he'll likely turn it in at Company Headquarters over inMillport. Better inquire there." He was turning away when Eve spoke up."You didn't, by any chance," she inquired, "happen to notice where thespectacled gentleman got off, did you?"

  The driver paused and looked at her. "Well, say, now you speak of it,"he said, "I do remember. Little chap, wasn't he, with big specs and astraw hat? Carried a suitcase too. I recollect now--he got off atBeecham Corners, next stop up the line. Maybe stopped at the Inn there."

  "Then I think the best thing for us to do would be to ride over thereand inquire," Eve said.

  The driver nodded and hurried away. But he was back shortly, and fiveminutes later we were rolling inland. The sandy road gave place to anuneven dirt one and the smell of the sea to the mingled odors of dustand gasoline, with now and then a whiff of clover fields or floweringwayside bush. Not until we had embarked had either of us considered howwe were to get back. I fondly hoped that, in case we had to walk, Iwould not have a case full of bottles to carry at any rate.

  It proved to be quite a short ride, however, and in less than tenminutes we were climbing down at a country crossroads. When the driverhad spoken of The Inn, my imagination had pictured a thrivinghostelry--cars drown up at the door under a porte cochere, tables on aterrace, etc. It was with somewhat of a shock, therefore, as the busrolled away that I perceived that there was neither a car nor a humanbeing in sight. There were four houses, to be sure, but the nearest ofthese was boarded up and the others looked as if they might have beenpermanently abandoned.

  "Quite a metropolis," remarked Eve cheerfully. "Wonder which is theInn?"

  I picked up "Harry's" luggage and trudged after her up one of thecrossroads. In the yard of one of the houses, I perceived a womandigging dandelion greens. The sight cheered me greatly.

  Over the wall, Eve inquired the way to the Inn. The woman rose from herstooping posture and surveyed us with some curiosity. "I 'spect youmean Trap's place," she said. "It's the big house over on the othercorner. But I wouldn't recommend the rooms and they say the meals----"

  "Oh, we weren't thinking of stopping," Eve assured her hastily. "It'sjust--just an errand."

  From behind a damaged screen door, voices issued as we approached theside door of "Trap's place." Entering, we found ourselves in a narrowstore. A woman sat behind the counter adding a column of figures on abrown paper bag. In the rear two men were smoking. A hurried glancetold me that neither resembled the gentleman we sought.

  Eve advanced to the counter and stated our errand.

  "I guess likely it's that Mr. Bangs you want," the woman said when shehad finished. I was aware as she eyed us of the same lively curiositywhich had animated the dandelion digger. "He come in last night," shewent on. "I didn't hear him say nothin' 'bout no suitcase. Realestate's his line, he said. He was makin' inquiries about the oldCraven House up Old Beecham way and I seen him start off in thatdirection this mornin', though it's the first I heard the place was forsale and what anybody'd want an old rattletrap like that for----"

  This was rather of a facer; after we'd come all this way to find ourbird flown. The woman must have seen the disappointment in our faces,for she added, "If you walked up there right away, maybe you couldcatch him. He ain't been gone more'n half an hour."

  "Is it--far?" I asked weakly with a hostile glance at Mr. Bangs'baggage on the floor at my feet.

  "Not more'n ten minutes' walk. You can leave the case here if you want."

  This seemed an inspired suggestion. And so without further delay, weset off in the direction the woman indicated. The road branched off theregular motor highway and climbed casually upward, between uneven stonewalls and dusty foliage. "I never expected," Eve remarked, "to spendthe first day of my vacation trailing a barber!"

  "Mrs. Trap said he was in the real estate line."

  "I know. But don't forget the bottles of hair tonic."

  "I'm not likely to, if I have to lug them about the country much more."

  We walked for perhaps ten minutes without appearing to be gettinganywhere in particular. But as we neared the brow of the hill, we spiedabove the trees at a distance back from the road the gray roof of ahouse. "This must be the place, don't you think?" Eve said. "It doesn'tlook as if anybody lived here."

  It certainly didn't! The big front yard was a perfect jungle of coarsegrass and overgrown bushes and a generally deserted and gone-to-seedair hung about the whole place. But as we paused there a moment in thedusty road surveying it, there drifted out to us a wave of delicateperfume--the scent of flowering rose bushes in the sun--which was likea gesture of welcome.

  Plain but substantial and built to last, as the early settlers werewont to build them, Craven House stood staunchly waiting for what fateheld in store for it. The blinds were closed and the weatherbeatenshingles showed more than one gap where the wind and weather had made
headway.

  Suddenly there came over me that curious feeling one has at times ofhaving been there before. "What's the matter," Eve inquired. "You lookas if you expected to see a ghost or something!"

  "Oh, nothing," I returned hastily. "Come on, let's go in. Is the gatelocked?"

  But Eve had not stopped to discover. Already as I spoke she was halfwayover the wall. I followed her, dropping down into a thicket on theother side that fairly reached to my waist. I pointed silently to adingy sign nailed to a tree. "No Trespassing," it said.

  "Oh, never mind," said Eve lightly. "We've got to find the elusive Mr.Bangs, haven't we?"

  "But where is he? I don't see him anywhere about. Maybe this isn't theplace after all," I added, stooping to detach a rose branch from mystocking.

  "It's the place all right," Eve returned. "Look, here's a letterbox onthe gatepost!" CRAVEN, I read the faded lettering. I wondered how manyyears it was since the mail carrier had left a letter there.

  But Eve was now forging impatiently ahead. We crossed the yard and madeour way through a forest of bushes around the corner of the house. Inthe rear, the ground sloped gradually down to what had once evidentlybeen a quite elaborate garden. The outlines of paths and flower bedswere still discernible. And half hidden among the bushes, I caughtsight of a stone urn and of a blackened stone figure on a pedestal. Andin the middle of it all, was the leaf-filled bowl of a fountain. Thescent of honeysuckle mingled with that of the roses. How sweet it was,but sad too!

  Suddenly I felt Eve gripping my elbow. "There he is!" she whispered."Look! There on the other side of that stone thing--creeping on theground!" She gave a stifled giggle. "Seems to be one of the quaintcustoms of the country!"

  Creeping! Yes, she was right, I saw him now. A small, intent, bent-overfigure of a man, on his hands and knees in the tall grass.

  "He seems very busy," I murmured. "Perhaps we ought not to interrupthim."

  "Nonsense, you want your suitcase, don't you?"

  Mr. Bangs did not see us approaching. He was, as I have said, very muchabsorbed. But it was not until we were nearly upon him that we saw thatthe thing over which he was bending so intently was a tape measure. Fora full minute, I should say, we stood and watched him. His lips weremoving as if he were making calculations.

  Then without warning, he jumped to his feet, dusting his hands on histrousers. It was then that he saw us.

  Well, of course nobody likes to find that he has been watched when hethought he was alone. Still I did not think that this alone was enoughto account for the convulsion of anger which darkened his face. Hisknobby Adam's apple began to work up and down in a really frightfulmanner, and for a moment I thought he was going to choke.

  It was Eve's velvety voice that broke the rather appalling silence."I'm afraid we startled you, Mr. Bangs," she said easily.

  A sort of cackling gurgle issued from the man's throat, which presentlyformed itself into words. "Ain't you seen the sign on the post?" hesnapped, "where't says 'No trespassin''? This here's private property."

  "I know," returned Eve gently. "And we'd never have thought of comingin if we hadn't been looking for you. It's about the suitcase, youknow--the one we took by mistake."

  At these words, I was relieved to see the convulsive twitching of theman's face subside somewhat. "So," he snarled, "you're the party thatrun off with my baggage! Well, what you done with it?"

  "It's down at the Inn," I answered. "It's rather heavy to lug aroundand besides I'm tired."

  "Well, I ain't ast you to lug it, have I?" he retorted. "'Twas your owndoin'. Say, what's your game anyway?" he added suspiciously. "I couldhave you arrested, I s'pose you know, for 'propriatin' goods that don'tbelong to you."

  "Could you?" inquired Eve, sniffing at a white tea rose. "But of courseyou wouldn't since you've got it back all safe. By the way, where isours?"

  He glared at her for a moment as if he could not at all make her out.Then with a shrug he turned away. "It's standin' in the hall down toTrap's," he said over his shoulder. "And the next time you go travelin'round the country without a nurse, I advise you to look sharp and seewhose bags 'tis you're grabbin'."

  "We certainly will," returned Eve cheerfully. "It has taught us alesson, I'm sure. And thank you so much, Mr. Bangs. We're awfully sorryto have put you to all this inconvenience--without your hair tonic andall!"

  Though the last words were uttered in a half whisper, instantly theman's right hand shot upward to his head. And it was then that Inoticed for the first time that the hair that covered it was thin andgraying. But his only answer was another shrug and a grunt as he walkedaway.

  It seemed the moment for us to depart. Looking back, I saw that Mr.Bangs had again fallen on his knees in front of the stone figure.

  As we turned back toward the house, I noticed that the back door stoodajar. The real estate agent had evidently been taking a look aroundbefore entering into his mysterious calculations in the garden. "Let'stake a peek inside," I suggested. "He'll never see us."

  "All right," Eve agreed. "I'll bet there are plenty of perfectly goodfamily spooks living there!"

  "Ghosts," I retorted, "are out of date."

  The door led directly into a big old-fashioned kitchen. The air smelleddamp and more than a little stuffy. One look around was enough for me."Oh, it's just an ordinary old place," I said. "Let's not go in afterall. We must get back in time for dinner, you know."

  "Nonsense, we've got loads of time," Eve said. "Come on, I want to seewhat the front part is like. I adore old houses, they're so full ofatmosphere!"

  "Nasty dank atmosphere, I call it!" I followed reluctantly as she ledthe way into the hall. It was a big wide hall, running the full lengthof the house, and I could well imagine that with the doors wide openand the sunshine and fresh air pouring in, it might have beenattractive. But it was anything but that now, and I shivered in spiteof myself as our feet echoed on the bare boards. Why in the world had Iever suggested coming in here!

  "This must be the parlor," Eve was saying with her hand on a door atthe right of the hall.

  "Oh, never mind if it is," I urged. "Don't let's bother now."

  "It's now or never, I suspect," Eve returned coolly. "What's the matterwith you, Sandy, haven't you got any curiosity?"

  "I don't like old houses when nobody lives in 'em," I confessed. "Theygive me the creeps."

  Eve seemed to think this funny, and the sound of her laughter echoedback from the wide stairway. It was uncanny--as if somebody else hadlaughed. And now she was opening the door and stepping across thethreshold into the room which she had correctly guessed was the parlor.

  It was a wide, bare room. The windows were shuttered and at only oneplace, where some of the slats of the blind had been broken, did anylight come in. This was just enough for us to see by, though in truththere was little to see. An old horsehair sofa and chairs, a low carvedcabinet in front of a broad fireplace, and above the fireplace, a giltand white mantle. The wallpaper showing a pattern of faded rosebuds waswarped and ragged in many places.

  "I guess probably people have had lots of good times in this room!" Evemurmured dreamily.

  "A good place for a funeral, if you ask me!" I retorted crossly. "Oh,do let's get out, I don't like the place a bit."

  "Oh, all right," she said, turning toward the door. "Though I shouldlove to take a look around upstairs," she added with a glance towardthe stairway. "I think it's a love----"

  The sentence was never finished. A sound suddenly broke in upon thestillness. It came from the direction of the kitchen. A sound like theclosing of a door. As we stood there in the middle of the hall, hardlyrealizing what was happening, it was followed immediately by anothermore ominous one--the unmistakable click of a key as it turned in alock.

  Then Eve was speeding down the hall. Across the kitchen, and poundingon the closed door. "Mr. Bangs!" she called. "Oh, I say, wait--wait!"

  But there was no answer and no sound from without. Our jailer'sretreating footsteps were already de
adened in the thick grass outside!

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