The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints - M. V. Carey [45]
Jupiter raised his voice. “I’m sorry you’ve decided to leave, Mrs Dobson,” he said.
“Huh?” said Eloise Dobson.
“Act frightened,” whispered Jupiter.
“Oh!” said Mrs Dobson. Then she raised her voice. She became almost shrill.
“Jupiter Jones, if you think I’m going to hang around here while somebody burns the house down around my ears, you’re crazy.”
She put her cosmetic case down on the ground beside the car and opened the boot.
“So far as I’m concerned,” she announced, for all the world to hear, “I wish I’d never had a father. I wish I’d been born an orphan.”
Mrs Dobson energetically hurled suitcases into the boot of the car. “And if I never see Rocky Beach – or this house – again, it will be soon enough for me! Tom, give me that box!”
Tom handed the box of old letters to his mother, and she started to cram it into the car. Suddenly, “Hold it!” said a voice from beside the Potter’s shack.
The Three Investigators and the Dobsons turned. There, in the dense, golden light of the sunset, stood the jaunty fisherman, holding a gun.
“Everybody just stand quietly,” said Farrier. “Don’t move and you won’t get hurt.”
The fisherman trained his gun on Eloise Dobson.
“I think,” said Pete, “that something went wrong with our schedule.”
“Give me the box,” ordered Farrier. “Better still, open the box and dump it out on the ground.”
“It’s only some old letters to my grandfather,” said Tom Dobson.
“Open it!” snapped Farrier. “I want to see.”
“Don’t argue with the man,” advised Jupiter.
Tom sighed, hauled the square carton out of the boot, opened and upended it. A mass of envelopes slid out into a heap on the ground.
“It was filled with letters!” exclaimed the jaunty fisherman. He sounded genuinely surprised.
“You were expecting a diamond tiara or something?” asked Tom Dobson.
The man called Farrier took one step forward. “What do you – ?” he began. Then he checked himself. “The suitcases,” he ordered. “Take them back into the house. I think they’re too small, but we’ll see.”
Eloise Dobson knelt and scooped the letters into the cardboard carton, while the boys removed the suitcases from the boot of the blue convertible. Then the Dobsons and The Three Investigators marched back into The Potter’s house, with Mr. Farrier and his gun bringing up the rear.
In the hallway, Eloise Dobson fumed as the boys were forced to empty her suitcases out on to the floor. Young Tom’s bag was also opened, and its contents spread out for the inspection of the insolent Mr. Farrier.
“So you didn’t find it,” said Farrier at last. “I was sure, when I saw that cardboard box …”
“Find what, for heaven’s sake?” demanded Mrs Dobson.
“You don’t know?” said Farrier. His voice was very smooth. “No, you really don’t know. Just as well. In fact, my dear, charming Mrs Dobson, it’s just as well if you never find out. Now, everybody down in the cellar!”
“I will not!” cried Eloise Dobson.
“Yes, Mrs Dobson, you will,” said Farrier. “I have already searched the cellar. The walls are solid brick, the floors are cement, undisturbed for decades. It will make an excellent resting place for you while I finish my business. You see, there are no windows in that cellar.”
“It was you who searched the house on Saturday,” accused Jupiter.
“Unfortunately, I did not have time to finish,” said Farrier. “I found only one treasure on that occasion.” Farrier took a huge bunch of keys from his pocket.
“The Potter’s keys,” said Jupiter.
“The second set, I assume,” smirked Farrier. “It was thoughtful of him to leave them in his desk. All right, everybody. Move!”
The Dobsons and the Investigators moved, down the hall and through the kitchen and then into the cellar. Mrs Dobson stopped only long enough to click the light switch at the top of the stairs before she went down into the bare, brick-walled place.
“You shouldn’t be too uncomfortable here,” said Farrier from the top of the stairs.
“And no doubt someone will miss you before long and come looking for you.”
With that, the jaunty fisherman closed the cellar door on them.