Читать книгу The Lone Footprint - Anna Perot Rose Wright - Страница 3

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“I wish Cousin Bill would hurry,” said Kay Tracey, speaking of the young lawyer who was to lunch with her and her chums.

“Didn’t you say he was a bit mysterious about what he was going to tell you?” asked dark-haired Wilma.

“Yes,” Kay replied. “It seems some relative of ours is in need of legal advice to combat certain strange happenings.”

“And of course you’ll be most delighted to lend your aid!” teased Betty, who with her twin sister Wilma had helped Kay in solving several mysteries.

The three high school girls who sat at a table talking were firm friends. The two sisters, unlike most twins, were entirely different from each other. Lively Betty was blonde, jolly and talkative, while quiet Wilma was dark with a rather wistful expression on her serious face.

Kay, decidedly the leader, had attractive wavy brown hair which framed a clever and interesting face. Her clear, straight-forward brown eyes were distinctive. A compelling personality made her noticeable in any group.

Wilma now turned to her and said, “It is certainly very kind of your busy Cousin Bill to treat us to luncheon today.”

“This is business as well as pleasure,” Kay explained. “Our distant relative, an old bachelor who wants to consult Cousin Bill on some matter, has arranged to eat with us too. He’s really a third cousin, but because of his age we call him Uncle. Perhaps you know him,” Kay added. “His name is Byram Brown.”

“Byram Brown?” puzzled Betty. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“Oh, wasn’t he president of the Lincoln Bank?” asked Wilma suddenly.

“Yes, at one time, but he is retired now,” replied Kay, her eyes on the door watching for the young lawyer.

She failed to see the quick exchange of glances between the twins. Wilma’s eyebrow, significantly uplifted, signalled to Betty. Both girls recalled an old scandal about Mr. Brown’s being the cause of the Lincoln Bank’s unfortunate failure, but they were too considerate of Kay to mention this. In the state where the chums lived, there were people who felt bitterly about having lost money in that bank failure, and they blamed Mr. Brown, justly or not, for the loss.

“Here comes Cousin Bill at last!” said Kay.

The young man, tall and handsome, strode smilingly toward the girls.

“Sorry to be late,” he greeted them briskly, “but I see that old Uncle Byram hasn’t come yet. Perhaps we had better eat, as I haven’t much time.”

He put in an order for sizzling steaks with all the trimmings that made Betty sigh rapturously.

“Before Uncle Byram appears,” said Kay, “do tell me, Cousin Bill, what he is consulting you about.”

“Well,” answered the lawyer, “after Uncle By retired from the bank he grew weary of remaining idle, so he decided to devote his time and money to developing some property he owns along Bass River.”

“You mean that pretty little cove where the river winds through the woods?” Kay asked.

“Yes. Owl’s Hole it is called.”

“Oh,” cried Betty enthusiastically, “we know that place! The cutest cottages are being built there, overlooking the river. It’s most attractive!”

“That’s the spot,” nodded Bill Tracey. “Uncle started it as an investment, sinking most of his money into the project and expecting big profits. Instead, it’s bringing him a lot of worry and excitement.”

“Why is that?” questioned Kay.

“I don’t know exactly,” answered her cousin. “That is what he wants to consult me about.”

“Here he comes now,” announced Kay.

A worried looking, elderly man was approaching with quick, nervous steps. His face was wrinkled with anxiety and he stooped as if he were under a weight of care. As he drew near, the girls could see that he was far from well, for his figure was frail and thin, blue veins showing through his waxen skin.

“Ah, here you are, William,” he exclaimed in relief. “And Kay.”

“Yes, here we are. I’d like you to meet Betty and Wilma Worth. We already have ordered. What will you have for luncheon?”

“Nothing much,” replied Mr. Brown with a sigh. “I suffer from miserable stomach trouble, brought on by nervousness, no doubt.” With trembling fingers he drew a large pill from his pocket and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Just a little clear soup,” he ordered, explaining, “I feel much too upset to eat.”

“What has upset you, Uncle?” inquired Kay sympathetically. “Don’t mind discussing matters before us. These friends, Betty and Wilma Worth, are admirers of Owl’s Hole. Tell us what disturbs you.”

Mr. Brown, who had not noticed the girls before, now turned his anxious gaze upon them and replied abruptly, “GHOSTS!”

“Ghosts!” gasped Kay and Wilma together, while Betty gave a startled squeak and Bill Tracey laughed heartily.

“It’s far from funny!” shrilled the old man indignantly.

“Tell us about it,” coaxed Kay in a soothing tone.

Somewhat pacified, the old gentleman began his tale of woe.

“Owl’s Hole has brought me nothing but trouble since the day I began developing it,” he proclaimed. “It was bad enough at first, what with cellars caving in, pipes bursting, plaster cracking, and what not. But now it is positively supernatural, the goings-on there by night.

“I have rented or sold most of the cottages to very good tenants and now everybody is leaving! They can’t put up with the uncanny things that alarm them after dark. Mysterious fires break out. Things vanish. Weird voices groan. Dark shapes follow people. Gets on one’s nerves. I can’t blame anyone for refusing to stay there.

“Yet I can’t lay my hand on anything definite. That’s the maddening part of it and before I can solve it,” lamented the old man, “I shall be in the poor house. I wish I could sell the whole outfit, but the place has gained such a bad reputation now that nobody would dream of buying it.”

“I doubt whether legal advice will apply to spooks,” chuckled Lawyer Bill as Mr. Brown consulted him on the right of tenants to break their contracts.

Luncheon was being served now, but Kay’s attention remained on the elderly man’s predicament. Here was real mystery! She could not help feeling sorry for him and asked shrewdly:

“Have you any enemies who might want to make trouble for you?”

To this suggestion Cousin Bill added, “I suppose there are people who are envious of your wealth and might wish you harm.”

Byram Brown pooh-poohed this idea as nonsense, but Wilma once more raised an eyebrow significantly at her twin. Betty paused with fork in air as the idea caught her fancy that someone might be taking vengeance for the bank failure.

This idea also occurred to Kay. While Cousin Bill discussed and advised, she became absorbed in this aspect of the problem. By the end of the meal she had a plan to offer.

“Uncle Byram,” she exclaimed, “I have an idea. Why not let us stay in one of your cottages at Owl’s Hole? When we are right on the spot, perhaps we can find a clue to the mystery out there. I am sure Mother would go, and Betty and Wilma too.”

The Worth girls agreed eagerly. The old man seemed pleased at their warm interest.

“I should be only too glad to let you have a cottage as long as you care to stay,” he said. “I should not want you to have any unpleasant experiences, but it certainly would save me from financial ruin if you could solve this strange situation.”

“We’ll do it!” Kay promised gaily. “There is nothing I enjoy as much as a good puzzle!”

The next afternoon the chums with Mrs. Tracey drove up the lovely winding river road to Owl’s Hole. The sunshine was so warm and so bright that nothing seemed more unreal than the notion of ghostly performances by night.

“It is perfectly delightful here,” declared Mrs. Tracey as the visitors trooped into the attractive cottage Mr. Brown had put at their disposal.

Wren’s Nest had a wide screened porch overlooking the sparkling river. A huge stone fireplace suggested coziness for cool evenings. The twins were to share a room with fascinating double deck bunks, Kay to sleep with her mother.

The three chums enjoyed a stroll which gave them an opportunity to meet other cottagers and question them about the place. Some of the tenants were packing up to move out hastily before nightfall, grumbling about mysterious disturbances.

Just before dusk Uncle Byram drove in and ate a light supper. He talked nervously about evil forces working against him and seemed glad to hurry away before it became dark.

The girls laughed lightheartedly at his uneasiness. After tidying up the kitchen, they settled down for a cozy evening. Mrs. Tracey sat knitting placidly in the lamp light. Kay was soon lost in a new detective novel, while Betty industriously scribbled letters. Wilma, inspired by the quiet night with its pine-scented breezes, was intently composing poetry. She was regarding these lines which she had written:

“Oh, clattering Day, you goad us on,

With many tasks hard-pressed.

Oh, Healing Night, you bring sweet peace

To hearts by Day distressed!”

when a violent yawn exploded in her ear.

She realized that her twin was reading the verse over her shoulder and warbling cheerfully:

“Oh, Healing Night, you make me sleepy!

Oh, Spooks, I hope you won’t be creepy.”

This shattered Wilma’s pensive mood, but she could not help laughing. Drowsily she agreed when Kay suggested bed. There was a good deal of shrieking from the twins’ room as lively Betty scrambled aloft to her upper bunk and thumped a pillow down upon the poet, but soon the giggling died away and all was quiet for the night.

Suddenly the silence was torn by a fearful moaning that rose on their very doorstep. It was a blood-curdling wail as if from someone in mortal agony. It rose in horrid crescendo and then died down, only to rise again louder and more frightful than before.

Betty and Wilma were terrified and dived under the covers. Kay, who had been looking forward to some ghostly demonstration, sprang out of bed and seized her flashlight.

“Kay! Do be careful!” her startled mother warned her.

Resolutely the girl dashed to the door and cut the darkness with her flashlight. Nothing was to be seen on porch or path, so she ventured farther. Stepping boldly off the porch, she moved cautiously around in the direction from which the unearthly moaning had seemed to come.

Suddenly her foot struck a soft, black shape that lay huddled on the grass. She jumped back, a quick prickle of fright running down her spine! Then she swung her searchlight. In its glare she beheld a strange object.

A man’s figure lay there, limp and silent.