XIV--BEN AT THE GABLES

  Ben that afternoon had a long, cool glass of lemonade on the porch ofthe Gables while his friend Roderick Fitzhugh introduced him to the menand women who were sitting in wicker easy chairs. It seemed to Ben thattheir names were somewhat fantastic, but then so were their clothes, andthe names did appear to suit the costumes.

  "This lady," said Fitzhugh, nodding to a rosy-cheeked girl, who wore herbrown hair in two long plaits down her back and whose dress was ofprimrose yellow, "is the fair Maid Rosalind. She can sing like anightingale and dance like a wave of the sea, and when she churns butterit comes out pure gold."

  The girl stood up and made a curtsy. "Thanks, kind Master Roderick," shesaid. "But perhaps your friend Master Ben doesn't care for gold on hisbread."

  "The more fool he," answered Fitzhugh.

  "However, he can eat plumcake." And Ben's host pushed a plate ofdelicious-looking cake toward his guest.

  "Yonder man in the high boots, with the fierce mustaches," Fitzhughcontinued, "bears the high-sounding name of Sir Marmaduke Midchester. Helooks like a sword swallower, but he is really as gentle as a lamb. Hehas been known to eat crumbs out of Maid Rosalind's hand."

  "Glad to meet Master Sully," said Sir Marmaduke. "I wrote a song thismorning--words and music both--perhaps he would like to hear me singit."

  Fitzhugh held up his hand. "Not just now, Marmaduke, please. Let myguest digest his plumcake in quiet."

  So the introductions went on, with all sorts of jokes and banter. It wasa jolly crowd, and Ben was enjoying it hugely. He began to find histongue and make retorts of his own. But when he had finished thelemonade and the cake he turned to his host. "I'd like to stay, but Ithink I had better be getting back," he said. "I've got to go out toCotterell's Island."

  "No, no, Master Ben. If you'd like to stay, you shall stay. Cotterell'sIsland can wait. We need you here at present."

  "Well, but----" began Ben.

  "There are no 'buts' about it," answered Fitzhugh. "List to me, my lad.This place is a green oasis in a desert of modern things. Here we do aswe please. And it pleases us now to be ladies and gentlemen of goodSherwood Forest and Nottingham." Fitzhugh stood up. "Come with me. I'llfind you more fitting clothes than those simple togs you have on."

  Ben grinned. He was fond of dressing up and had often acted in schooltheatricals in Barmouth. He didn't know what Fitzhugh and his friendswere planning, but he thought he would like to take part in the game.After all, his car would take him quickly back to town and he couldpaddle out to the island by moonlight, if necessary. So he followedFitzhugh indoors and up a wide staircase to the second floor.

  When he came down again he wore brown doublet and hose, with a browncloak slung from his shoulders and a broad-brimmed brown hat on hishead. There was a chorus of approval from the group on the porch.

  "Master Ben, apprentice to an armorer," Fitzhugh introduced him. "Andnow, my lads and lasses, let us hie us out to the greenwood tree."

  There was nothing formal about Roderick Fitzhugh's friends. The crowdhad hardly more than descended the steps of the porch when the girlcalled Maid Rosalind and the man called Sir Marmaduke Midchester eachtook one of Ben's hands and raced across the lawn. Luckily Ben hadpulled his broad-brimmed hat on tight. His cloak flew back from hisshoulders. And he heard shouts and laughs from the rest of the party asthey followed pell mell.

  The lawn of the Gables was wide and gently sloping. When Rosalind andSir Marmaduke finally slackened speed Ben found they had come to acorner where poplars and spruces made a background against a road. Oneoak tree stood out by itself, and there was a small house withpicturesque criss-crossed windows and a door with big curved hinges.

  "There," said Sir Marmaduke, "behold the Forest of Sherwood! Therearen't so many trees, but each of them is a giant."

  Rosalind flung herself down near the oak. "Oh, Master Ben," she panted,"fan me with your hat."

  And while Ben gallantly flapped his hat close to the red-cheeked lady,the others came bounding into the glade, like so many children just letout from school.

  In a few minutes Fitzhugh, a paper in his hand, was calling outdirections. Ben, observing everything, saw a couple of men crossing thelawn with what looked like a big camera. He turned to Rosalind. "I knowwhat it is," he whispered. "You're moving-picture people doing a play."

  "Good for you," she answered. She nodded toward Fitzhugh. "He wrote theplot, and we've been dressing up and doing it every day this week."

  The play began, and went on for an hour or so, with frequentinterruptions. Some scenes were done over and over again before Fitzhughwas satisfied with them. He found a part for Ben, and instructed himcarefully how to act before the camera. And whenever the company gottired the cameramen turned off their machine, and the actors lounged onthe greensward while somebody sang or did a fancy dance.

  It was great sport, and Ben was surprised when, glancing toward thewest, he saw that the sun had set behind the trees.

  "I must be going," he said to Fitzhugh. "I've had a splendid time."

  Fitzhugh waved his hand at the cameramen. "That's enough for to-day. Wealways end with a woodland dance, Ben, and then, back to the house fordinner."

  "I can't stay to dinner," began Ben; but before he could say moreRosalind and another girl had each caught a hand of his and the wholecompany had spread out in a ring. Rosalind started to sing, and all theothers took up the song. There followed a dance, in which Ben did hisshare, and then the crowd formed into a line, each with his hands on theshoulders of the one in front, and led by Fitzhugh they wound across thewide lawn and back to the Gables.

  "Now," said Ben to his host, when they arrived on the porch, "I'll getinto my own clothes and dash back to Barmouth."

  "What? Without dinner? I can't let you go hungry." Fitzhugh turned to aservant. "Show this gentleman up to the yellow guestroom and get himwhatever he wants."

  It was difficult to argue with such a positive man as that; and moreoverBen was thoroughly enjoying his adventure. To be shown up to the yellowguestroom, and later to dine with such a company of moving-picturepeople would be a new and delightful experience. He would have a storyto tell Tom and David and John Tuckerman when he got back to the islandthat would make them open their eyes. So Ben followed the servant intothe house, where the lamps were already lighted.

  There was a gallery on the second floor, with ever so many rooms openingfrom it. The servant went to a door and turned the knob. "This is theyellow room, sir. You'll find clean towels in the bathroom. If you wantanything, there's an electric push button."

  Ben went in and shut the door. He had never seen a more luxuriouslyfurnished bedroom. He switched on an electric light and a littleorange-shaded lamp on a table shone forth. He threw his hat on thebureau and rolled up the sleeves of his doublet.

  The door of a bathroom stood open. He went in, turned on the water, andwashed his face and hands. As he was drying them with a towel he walkedover to a window. Looking out, he saw a garage and a circular driveway.Beyond that was a lane that led back of a big barn. And on the stonewall on the opposite side of the lane two boys were sitting.

  Ben stopped using the towel, and stared. The two boys lookedsurprisingly like Tom and Lanky Larry. They were at some distance fromthe house and the shadow of the barn fell across the stone wall. Butthey did look like Tom and Lanky. However, it was inconceivable thatthose two should be sitting there. He must be mistaken. For what couldpossibly have brought those two to the neighborhood of the Gables? Andwhy should they perch on a stone wall as if they had nothing to do?

  Ben turned to go back to the yellow room; but in the doorway he stopped.Someone was there, at the bureau, a man in a brown hat and cloak. He hadpulled a bureau drawer out and was looking in it. Some one of the guestsmust have mistaken this room for his own.

  "Hello," said Ben, "I didn't know there was anyone here."

  The man looked over his shoulder. "My mistake," he said. "I thought thiswas my ro
om. I beg your pardon. My room is next door."

  "I don't wonder you didn't know the right one," Ben said politely. "Inever saw a house with so many rooms. I say, in that cloak and hat youlook very much like me in my costume. I don't remember seeing you in themoving-pictures."

  "I changed my things," muttered the man. "Sometimes I wear one set andother times another." He walked to the door, opened it, and went downthe hall.

  "That's funny," said Ben, half-aloud. "He keeps his hat on in the house.I suppose he thinks, because it's part of his costume, it's a perfectlyproper thing to do."

  Before the mirror at the bureau Ben put on his own broad-brimmed hat,turned on the light at a wall-bracket, and surveyed himself in theglass.

  "The hat does help to make a fellow look different," he said to himself."I guess I'll keep mine on when I go downstairs; though I don't supposeit would be the right thing to wear a hat to dinner."

  He switched off both the lights and went out into the hall. The galleryand the lower floor of the big house appeared to be empty; he supposedthe guests had all gone to make ready for dinner. He walked around thegallery to the staircase. The afterglow of sunset partly lighted thelower floor, and here and there soft lamps shed circles of radiance, butfor the most part the house was pleasantly shadowy, which made its finefurnishings all the more interesting.

  Ben went down the stairs and stopped in the large hall to look at agrandfather's clock that stood opposite the front door. Above the dialwas a painted ship that sailed on a deep-blue sea. He was admiring theship when somewhere in the upper part of the house someone gave ascream.

  Ben waited a moment. There was another shout. Doors on the galleryopened. He heard people calling "What's the matter?" There was confusionabove-stairs. Someone shouted "Lock the doors! Don't let him get away!"

  The front door was open. Ben dashed across the polished floor to shutit.

  His hand was on the knob when someone caught him from behind. A rugslipped under his feet and he came down hard on the floor.

  Someone had fallen on top of him, someone had tackled him tight aboutthe knees, a regular football tackle.

  There was a babel of voices. Someone shouted, "We've got him all right!"

  Ben tried to speak, to explain. "Hold on there!" he grunted.

  But someone else was explaining. He heard someone say, "We heard theyells, and we came in at the side door, and we saw this fellow dashingfor the front door."

  Then Ben heard Fitzhugh's voice. "Well, he won't get away now," Fitzhughsaid. "Suppose you let him up."

  The fellow who had made the tackle released Ben's knees and Ben turnedaround and sat up.

  "My eye! If it isn't Ben Sully!"

  Ben saw Tom and Lanky Larry staring at him in wide-eyed wonder.

  "Of course it is, Tom, you goat!" Ben responded. "Who did you think itwas?"

  "We thought you were one of the men we tracked here from the cove," saidTom. "They wore cloaks and hats like yours; and you did look as if youwere trying to escape."

  "I was going to lock the front door," said Ben, getting to his feet."What's the trouble anyhow, Mr. Fitzhugh?"

  "Two of the ladies found things missing from their rooms--jewels,"explained Fitzhugh. "And one of the men saw a fellow sneaking down apassage." He turned to Tom and Lanky. "I don't know who you two are, butBen seems to, so that's all right. Let's see if we can find the thief."

  Immediately everyone was busy. Some went outdoors, some hunted throughthe house. The Gables blazed with light; the garage and the otheroutbuildings were thoroughly searched. But no thief was found, andhalf-an-hour later the whole company met on the porch to talk over thematter.

  Tom and Lanky by turns told their tale, how they had seen the three menat the cove put on cloaks and hats and how they had followed the men tothe Gables. The butler, looking rather sheepish, admitted that the boyshad spoken to him about the strangers and that he had not thought theirstory merited his attention. Then Tom said that he and Lanky had sat onthe stone wall until they heard shouts in the house, and had then run inat a side door, and in the hall had seen a fellow dressed just like thethree they had followed apparently making his escape. "We didn't knowBen was anywhere near here," he added; "and anyway we wouldn't haverecognized him in that blooming hat."

  Ben told about his finding the stranger, dressed like himself, huntingthrough the bureau drawer in the yellow room. The guests who had missedtheir jewels and the man who had seen someone stealing along a passagerepeated their stories. "Well," said Fitzhugh, when they had allfinished, "you remember we couldn't find some of the things we left inthe playhouse the other day. I believe these fellows took them, andthought they could pass themselves off as some of my guests and ransackall the rooms in the house."

  "They did it," said Marmaduke Midchester. "And they must have got awayby one of the back doors while we were all here at the front."

  "Do you suppose they've gone back to the cove?" asked Lanky. "They mighthave. They didn't know we were following them."

  "That's an idea," agreed Fitzhugh. He spoke to the butler, and in a fewminutes the chauffeur and two other men were receiving instructions totake the car and drive to the cove, look for the men, and if they werenot to be found there to drive on to Barmouth and report the thefts tothe police.

  "And now, my friends," Fitzhugh added to his guests, "let us havedinner. Master Ben's two pals must need sustenance after their longtramp. Come, the soup will be getting cold."

  They were still at the dinner table when a motor horn sounded outside.Everyone ran to the door. It was not Fitzhugh's car, however, but a muchsmaller one. From it descended David, John Tuckerman and Mr. Perkins.

  "Well, I declare," exclaimed Tuckerman, "here's Tom and Larry! And thatfellow in doublet and hose--why, I do believe that's Benjamin Sully!"

 
Rupert Sargent Holland's Novels