The Secret of the Haunted Mirror - M. V. Carey [40]
“I went to see Señora Manolos. Poor lady. She was in tears. I wanted to ask her —
and it is difficult to do such a thing, because she is truly a lady — if I could search her house. Before I could think how best to say this to her, she complained to me of Juan Gómez. She said she had shipped the mirror to her friend in Los Angeles, and that Gómez, when he discovered this, was very angry. He shouted at her. He called her a fool. She said she feared he was going to strike her.
“So then I knew. The negative of that picture must be hidden in the mirror. The only creature to whom Manolos might have told the secret was Gómez — Gómez, the servant of the pig! And when Gómez left Ruffino that afternoon and took a plane to Los Angeles, I was sure!”
“So you followed, and you tried to buy the mirror from Mrs. Darnley,” said Jupiter Jones. “when that didn’t work, you told the tale about being a descendant of Chiavo. And when that didn’t work, and your uncle urged you to act quickly, you hired the magician Baldini to impersonate the ghost in the glass.”
Santora hung his head. “I am ashamed,” he said. “I did not wish to frighten women and children, but I could think of no other way.”
The boys and Santora paused. From outside the warehouse, there came the sound of heavy footsteps. A door opened.
“Here come the police,” said Pete.
He relaxed, starting to get up off Gómez.
“What will we say to the police?” said Santora, very pale. “They will want to examine the mirror!”
“Ha!” Gómez laughed. He twisted away from Pete and Jeff and scrambled to his feet. Grasping the piece of wood which Santora had dropped, he lunged at the mirror.
“I will have my proof!” he screamed, “and then no one will dare …”
Suddenly he froze in a half crouch and stared into the dimly lit goblin glass, where his own face was reflected, distorted with rage and fear. He dropped the wood, screamed horribly, and ran. Then he stumbled, his foot twisting under him, and pitched forward through the open trap-door.
There was a splash from below, and then there were lights and voices and uniformed men.
Again, from the water beneath the warehouse, came that terrible screaming.
“The negative!” said Santora in a hoarse whisper. “Where is the negative?”
Jupe stepped behind the glass and, with thumb and forefinger, peeled a label off the backing. He handed the label, and something else, to Señor Santora. “Microfilm,”
he said quietly. “Of course. It couldn’t be anything else. Microfilm under one of the labels on the back of the mirror. Under the newest label.”
Señor Santora gasped a quick thanks and stuffed the tiny bit of film and the torn label into his coat pocket.
“Jeff Parkinson?” asked a police sergeant “One of you kids Jeff Parkinson?”
“I am,” said Jeff.
Near the trap-door two policemen uncoiled a rope. In a moment they had hauled the struggling Gómez out of the water. The kidnapper collapsed on the floor of the warehouse and sobbed.
The police sergeant scowled at the cringing, dripping man, then turned back to Jeff. “Is that your kidnapper?” he asked.
“Yes. His name is Juan Gómez.”
“And this man?” The sergeant nodded towards Santora.
“This is Señor Santora,” said Jupe simply. He’s a friend. He’s been helping us.”
“What’s the matter with this guy?” called one of the officers who was bending over Gómez.
“The thing!” gasped Gómez, “In the mirror, I saw it! That … that …”
“What about the mirror?” The sergeant looked curiously at the goblin glass.
“It once belonged to a famous sorcerer,” said Jupiter Jones. “It’s supposed to be haunted. The kidnapper seems very much afraid of it, doesn’t he? Perhaps he thought he saw a ghost.”
The policeman snorted.
“A man’s imagination can play strange tricks,” said Jupiter, “especially in this dim light.”
“Yes, I suppose it can,” said the policeman. The boys and Señor Santora looked at the mirror. It stood there in the dusty warehouse