The Mystery of Sinister Scarecrow - M. V. Carey [12]
She broke both hips. They’ve never healed properly, so she’s in a wheelchair.”
“And the Burroughs couple?” Jupe questioned.
“Fairly new employees. Mrs. Chumley hired them in February. That’s all. That’s the household. There are gardeners, but they come in twice a week. Same for the pool man. Gerhart Malz comes across the road quite often to play chess with Mrs.
Chumley, but I can’t imagine that he’s a threat. Someone is plaguing Letitia Radford, and I don’t know why. She blames me, and if she succeeds in having me thrown off this property — well, she might be sorry.”
“Sorry, Dr. Woolley?” said Jupe. “Just what do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I don’t know too much about the ants here. Are they a new subspecies? Are they a strain of mutants? One thing is certain. They are army ants, and army ants will eat anything living.
“The colonies here on this hill will eventually divide,” Woolley went on. “Young queen ants will leave the home colonies and take worker ants with them to set up new colonies. I want to be here when that happens. I want to see how many new colonies there will be and how large they will grow — and how fast. How far will they migrate eventually? You haven’t seen a migration of army ants, but can you picture a stream of ants a yard or more wide, rippling over the ground, devouring everything in their way?
Perhaps they will even invade buildings.”
“You’re … you’re saying that they’re dangerous?” said Pete.
“Possibly,” Woolley answered. “These ants have already eaten several small animals — moles and field mice. They are killer ants. I find the little skeletons out on the hill with the ants still swarming on them. When the ants finish, there’s nothing left but bones!”
“In other words,” said Jupe, “you may have a time bomb here. A time bomb of ants!”
“Precisely,” said Woolley.
There was a wordless sound from the open door of the laboratory. The boys looked around. Letitia Radford stood there. She made an elegant picture in her white linen dress — except that her eyes were wide with terror.
“Horrible!” she said. “That’s just horrible! Killer ants right in my home! I can’t stand it!”
And she began to cry.
Chapter 7
A Tale of Terror
“LETITIA, HAVE YOU ever considered just not having hysterics for a change?” said Charles Woolley. He helped
her to a seat on one of the
stools near the lab table and
handed her a box of tissues.
“Wipe your eyes like a
good girl and calm down,” he
said. “I promise you, nothing
awful is going to happen with
those ants as long as I’m here
to keep an eye on them.
Now, these boys are going to
try to help us with the
scarecrow problem.”
The woman took a tissue
and dabbed at her eyes.
“What do you mean, help us?” she demanded. “Who is us? You and me?”
“Certainly. We’re the ones being victimized,” Woolley pointed out. “The scarecrow keeps popping out of the shadows at you, and it has hit me on the head and stolen ajar of ants. I think we have to do something about it.”
Letitia Radford hiccupped. “All right,” she said. “But these boys are . . . are just boys!”
“Would you like to go to some ordinary private detective and tell him you are being bothered by a scarecrow?” asked Woolley. “I imagine he’d be glad to take your money — if he were the taking sort — but would he do anything for you?”
“Probably not,” Letitia admitted. “He’d think I’m crazy.”
“But I know you’re not crazy, Letitia,” said Woolley. “The scarecrow hit me on the head, remember?”
She shuddered. “Scarecrows!” she said. “They’re horrible! All dirty and full of spiders!”
“Full of spiders?” said Jupe. “Most people think that scarecrows are full of straw.”
“Well, that too, of course,” said Letitia Radford. “But spiders live in the straw.
You’d know if you’d ever had a scarecrow fall on you.