Читать книгу Treasure of the Romarins - Ronda Williams - Страница 6

Natalie stood up suddenly and made a pronouncement. “I think it’s time we performed another detail of Uncle Richard’s will. Tomorrow we must go to the Bodleian.”

Calvin looked up, startled. “I forgot all about that! We’re supposed to clean out his office as soon as possible,” he told Julien. “We have very specific instructions about it.”

Natalie went to the desk and opened the top drawer with a set of keys that she kept in her pocket. “Here it is,” she said, pulling out the will and handing it to her uncle. He perused the papers for a few minutes and nodded curtly.

“He was indeed specific,” Julien declared. “You have certainly done your duty thus far, and been very diligent executors.” He glanced meaningfully at the manuscript still resting in his lap.

“Let’s hope that’s all he meant for us to find in this room,” Calvin said with feeling. “I’ve done enough dusting to last the rest of my life.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Natalie said, “and we will certainly benefit from a change of scene. But our first priority is this poem, and maybe we’ll find information in his office about what Uncle Richard intended us to do with it.”

“Good idea,” said Uncle Julien. “I defer to you both as executors of his will, and offer my help and guidance as far as you require it.”

Calvin grasped his hand, thanking him sincerely. “We couldn’t have come this far without you, Uncle. If it wasn’t for you, we’d probably have sent the poem to some lab, and who knows what may have happened to it then!”

Natalie shuddered at the idea that they might have left their discovery to strangers. “That’s why you were summoned so cleverly by Uncle Richard,” she added. “He wanted you to help us.”

Calvin looked out the window and was surprised. “Why, it’s already dark out. No wonder I’m so hungry.”

“Let’s go find Mrs. Murphy and see what she’s cooked up for us,” suggested Uncle Julien. He smoothed his thick mane of silvered hair and headed out the door with a smile of anticipation.

They gathered in the kitchen once more, where Mrs. Murphy was preparing a stew to ward off the chilly November night.

“You must have read my mind, Annie,” Julien said, using Mrs. Murphy’s given name for the first time. “On a night like this, a good, hearty stew is just the thing!”

She blushed in a most unaccustomed manner. Natalie and Calvin gave each other furtive smiles. They had never seen their old nanny disconcerted by any man. Natalie rummaged in a cupboard and brought four champagne glasses and a bottle of Moët & Chandon to the table.

“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” sighed Julien.

She poured four glasses and handed them round the table. “I propose a toast,” she said. “To Uncle Richard, who we sorely miss, and to Uncle Julien, who we treasure all the more.”

“Hear, hear!” Calvin added added cheerfully.

Two bottles and a few celebratory hours later, the little party shuffled sleepily upstairs.

~

The next morning, Calvin was up at first light, despite consuming prodigious amounts of champagne and staying up till almost two. He had always been an early riser, unlike his sister who often stayed up much too late and slept until noon. Calvin decided not to wake anyone just yet, and crept down the hall in his robe and slippers to Uncle Richard’s old room. The door creaked when he pushed it open, and he stood just inside the room, gazing around sadly. It was still hard for him to believe his uncle was gone from their lives. He was the only father Calvin had ever known. How he’d miss their late night discussions! Uncle Richard was a learned man on a great many subjects but he was particularly fond of history, as was his nephew. He had an especial interest in the history of the Middle East and India, where he had spent a great deal of time in his youth. Julien had always been content to keep residence in Paris, but Richard was an adventurer, and as soon as he came of age, he bought an airline ticket to India, where he remained for two years. How vivid were his descriptions of the jungles found there, especially the Bandipur, which was established as a national park by the Mysore Maharajahs. His uncle well knew his fondness for wild animals, and nurtured in Calvin a love for the earth and all her creatures.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Calvin whispered into the empty room, and shut the door softly.

After showering and dressing in his favorite pair of wooly gray trousers and a warm sweater, he left his room to rouse his sister and uncle.

“Let’s get some food and go,” he urged them in turn. “I’m anxious to see Uncle Richard’s office. I haven’t been there in years.”

After a hearty breakfast, they waved goodbye to Mrs. Murphy and set out. They piled into Natalie’s vintage Triumph, given to her by Uncle Richard on her sixteenth birthday.

Uncle Julien crouched in the front seat and clutched his cane. “I can’t believe you still have this infernal piece of machinery,” he griped, longing for the spaciousness of his Bentley.

“Oh, Uncle! I love this car. It’s a classic! I’ll never get rid of it,” said Natalie with feeling.

“Just as well,” sighed her uncle. “It’s better than those beastly, gas-guzzling American monstrosities, I suppose.”

“Don’t worry, we don’t have far to go,” she said soothingly.

She sped off down the road, which was wet with rain and autumn leaves, and headed for Oxford’s grand old library, twenty minutes away. When they arrived in town, Julien asked her to park on Holywell Street, near the Clarendon Building. “I know Richard’s office is at Radcliffe Camera,” he said, “but I would enjoy a walk.”

“A fine idea,” Calvin agreed, jumping lithely from the backseat to help his uncle emerge from the low-slung car.

As they strolled leisurely down Catte Street, towards the Old Library and Radcliffe Camera, Natalie remarked how unusual it was for Uncle Richard to eschew the Clarendon building as his choice of office. “Wouldn’t it have been more convenient to have an office in the administrative building, rather than on the other side of the Old Library?”

“He had his reasons, I’m sure,” concluded Julien. “but I don’t doubt that his colleagues sometimes wished he was closer at hand.” He told them a little trivia about Catte Street, and all the name changes it had endured over the centuries. “First it was named Kattestreet in the thirteenth century, later becoming Mousecatcher’s Lane, then to Cat Street, Catherine Street, and finally what it’s called today, Catte Street.”

Natalie smiled. “I like Mousecatcher’s Lane best.”

They passed New College Lane and glanced to their left at the Bridge of Sighs. “Such a curious sight to see in England,” Julien noted.

“An unfortunate misnomer,” Calvin said with a derisive snort. “Looks more like the Rialto Bridge to me, but I guess that doesn’t sound as poetic.”

They continued on, past the Divinity School, the Old Library, and finally stopping at Radcliffe Camera. Towering before them was an elegant, circular structure made of stone. There were three levels to the building: the bottom circled with arched niches and the second comprised of windows topped with pediments, with Corinthian columns between.

They stood on the wet pavement for a few moments and gazed with admiration at the old building. “The heart of Oxford,” Calvin mused.

When they climbed the steps to the entrance and opened the door, a young porter greeted them courteously and asked how he might be of assistance.

“We are the family of Richard Romarin,” Uncle Julien told him. “We came to remove his personal effects, as was stipulated in his will.”

The porter’s eyes brightened in recognition, but Natalie thought he looked somewhat tense and discomfited by their sudden arrival. “You are Mr. Romarin’s niece and nephew?” he asked hesitatingly. Calvin said it was so.

“I’ve been expecting you.” He inclined his head slightly towards Julien. “And I presume you are Mr. Romarin’s brother?”

“Julien Romarin,” their uncle said briskly, extending his hand.

The porter shook it, saying, “I’m Seth Conley. I’ve heard good things about you from Mr. Romarin, and I’ve also read a few articles concerning your recent work on The Alchemist forgery. I’m writing a paper about the affair, in point of fact.”

“How very excellent!” Julien said kindly. “I’d be happy to contribute to your endeavor if you wish. That was one of my more complex cases.”

“Would you?” replied the porter in a delighted voice. “I would be honored! But let me show you to Mr. Romarin’s office.” He glanced at Natalie and Calvin once more. “I know I’ve seen both of you before, but not lately, am I correct?”

“It’s been a few years,” Calvin admitted. “Both my sister and I have been out of the country quite a lot lately.”

They followed him into the expansive chamber of the Radcliffe Camera. Covering the entire curved surface of the interior were shelves and shelves of books, with many desks and long tables arranged across the ground floor. It was a quiet morning, with just a handful students and researchers occupying the main room. Seth led them to a graceful, curving staircase and proceeded to the upper gallery, also lined with a profusion of books.

“We’re going to add a lift soon,” Seth informed them. “It’s quite a necessary improvement, but I hope it won’t take away from the beauty of this place.”

“Ah, progress,” Julien commiserated. “I’m afraid it’s a double-edged sword.”

When they reached the top of the stairs, Seth stopped and looked around. Except for the four of them, the gallery was quite deserted. “I must speak,” he said suddenly, twisting his fingers nervously around a ring of keys.

“Go on, young man,” Julien nodded encouragingly.

“I know I’m just a porter here,” Seth began, “but I’m also a graduate student, and I want to say that your uncle was a great man, and very kind to me. He helped me quite often with my work. I am more grieved than I can say about his passing.” He looked around the gallery, a trifle nervously. “I must tell you that a few days before he died, Mr. Romarin called me into his office. He said he had something important to convey.”

“May we speak in private for a moment?”

“Of course,” answered Natalie. “I have the key to his office.” She retrieved an iron keyring, similar to the one Seth carried, and fit the largest key into the lock.

They filed into the room and looked around. “No one has been in here since Mr. Romarin,” Seth informed them. “When news of his death reached us, a woman showed up at Radclife Camera and commanded us all to leave his office undisturbed until you arrived. That woman is now the Bodleian’s Head Librarian, the first female ever to occupy the job, in fact.”

“I’ve heard about her,” said Natalie. “She’s an American, isn’t she? Also a first.”

“I must say, I like her just fine,” commented Seth, “but still, it’s not the same.” He bit his lip in evident distress, tugging distractedly on the forelock of his bright red hair.

“You had something you wished to tell us, young man,” urged Julien gently.

“Yes, umm …” Seth looked uncertain how to proceed. “You see, the thing is …”

“Go on,” Calvin prodded.

“Well, Mr. Romarin called me in here and told me that he … uh … was sure he had only a few days left to live.” The last words came out in a rush, and upon speaking them, Seth’s face turned quite red. All three stared at him mutely for several long moments.

“What are you talking about?” asked Calvin, finally. “Our uncle would have told us if he was seriously ill. He would have wanted us to be prepared.”

“That’s right,” agreed Natalie. “Besides, he was about to leave for South America. If he was really sick, he would not have attempted such a trip.”

“That’s … that’s not what I mean,” Seth stammered. “What I mean is that he was under some kind of outside threat. He told me someone had written him a letter threatening to kill him unless he gave them something they wanted.”

“I can’t believe this!” Natalie said angrily. “Our uncle died of natural causes. It was heart failure.” She eyed Seth scornfully. “Why are you trying to mess with us?” she asked him. “What’s your motive for causing us such pain?”

“No, no!” he cried, alarmed at her reaction to his confidences. “I’m telling you the truth!”

Julien and Calvin said nothing. Both were too appalled and disconcerted to speak. Seth pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his uniform. “I’ve been holding onto this for weeks. Mr. Romarin gave me this letter when he told me about the death threat, and gave me strict instructions to hold onto it until you came here in person. When I found out he had died, I desperately wanted to find you and deliver this letter immediately, but he had been so adamant that I wait until you came to the Bodleian yourself.” He held out the letter, and Natalie took it from him reluctantly.

“Thank you, young man,” Julien finally said in a solemn and mournful voice. “You have fulfilled your duty admirably, and we are very grateful to you. I realize how much distress you must have been under these last weeks.” Seth nodded and smiled weakly.

“I don’t get it,” Calvin interrupted. “Why didn’t Uncle Richard call the police? Why didn’t you?” he asked Seth, with some accusation in his voice.

“I wanted to!” Seth told them. “I begged Mr. Romarin to call them, but he said that he would handle it in his own fashion, and that I had to trust him.”

“That does sounds like something our uncle would say,” observed Natalie grudgingly.

“Well, I only did as he wished out of respect for him,” he explained miserably. “Now I wish I hadn’t been so compliant.”

“You did correctly,” comforted Julien. “Now will you excuse us so we might read my dear brother’s last words to us?” He patted Seth’s arm in an effort to soothe his distress, and led him to the door.

“Of course,” Seth said with readiness. He was anxious to get away, now that his task was over. “I hope they’re words of comfort, but I also hope they tell you who did this,” he said fervently. “I asked him who wrote the letter and what it was they wanted, but he wouldn’t say.” He stood looking somberly at them from the doorway. “If there’s anything further I can do to assist you, you have only to ask. If something sinister has happened to Mr. Romarin, I would do anything to help you find justice for him.” He closed the door softly behind them, leaving the three stricken family members alone in Richard’s office.

“Sit down, Uncle. You look pale,” Natalie instructed gently, looking about the room. She noticed a small refrigerator, inside of which were some bottles of mineral water. She took out three of them and passed them around to her sad little family. Calvin collapsed into a leather armchair and buried his head in his hands.

“This isn’t happening,” he moaned, looking up at his sister beseechingly. “Tell me our uncle wasn’t … murdered.”

“Read the letter, Natalie.” Uncle Julien’s voice was subdued. “It was his last communication to us that we know of.”

The envelope had her name on it, as well as her brother’s, and it was definitely her uncle’s handwriting. She recognized his elegant script, with the flourishes he normally gave to their names on his letters and birthday cards. She unsealed the envelope with trembling hands and found two sheets of paper inside, one typewritten, and one in her uncle’s hand. She took the latter and unfolded it revently.

“My dear children,” she began…

If you are reading this, it means I am dead. I am sorry to be so blunt, but there it is. I hope my brother Julien is with you. If he is not, please have him come to you immediately. My dear family, I’ve instructed Seth to give you this letter in order to explain a few important things to you.

First, I was murdered. It feels very eerie to write these words about oneself, but it can’t be helped. I have just received a letter promising my imminent death if I do not produce something of value, currently in my possession. I trust it is now in your own hands. If it isn’t, I have faith that it soon will be, if you’ve followed my instructions. Since I absolutely refuse to hand over what they demand, I expect I haven’t much longer to live. I enclose the letter from the blackmailers. I don’t know who they are, I’m afraid. There is a black veil over their faces. I am more worried about you than myself. You must take every precaution to guard your lives. I have been carrying my firearm as protection, but I don’t know if it will serve me in the end. I don’t fear death, my dear children. But you are young and I want you to experience all that life has to afford you. My worry is for you, not myself. I have sent the evildoers on a wild-goose chase to buy you some time. Read the letter enclosed and do what must be done. You must guard what you’ve found at all costs. You will be served by your intellect, as well as your instincts. Trust them, and me. Good luck. I love you all very much, Richard Romarin

Natalie could barely read these last words from her beloved guardian. Calvin and Uncle Julien both wiped away tears. “Well, there it is, in his own words,” said Calvin. “There doesn’t seem any question now. It’s too late to know for sure how he died, because he was cremated, but it must have been poison. I know his heart was in good condition because he was bragging about it after his last checkup.”

“Yes, our family has never had a history of heart disease,” added Uncle Julien. “We Romarins generally die of old age … either that or from accidents. We’ve always been inveterate travelers. I suppose we must look at the other letter, if we are to know what danger we’re in.”

“I’ll read this one,” Calvin said, and unfolded the letter grimly. It was typewritten and very short.

If you value your life, and that of your family, you will bring the manuscript of John Milton to Temple Bar at precisely noon, three days from today. If you involve the police or anyone else, we will know. We are watching you at all times. If you fail to bring the manuscript, you and your entire family will die.

“Poor Uncle Richard!” Natalie shook her head disbelievingly. “He must have been so afraid. Oh, why didn’t he get help?” she wailed.

“To protect us,” answered Calvin, standing up and looking around the room. “We have to search this office, and fast. I think he wants us to find something in here. It was also part of the will, remember? We had to clean out the library to find the manuscript. Maybe we have to clean out the office to find something else.”

“Just so.” Uncle Julien rose from his chair and headed for a file cabinet. “Seth said no one has been in here since Richard, so maybe the murderers are still on the false trail that my brother set up, but I’m sure our grace period is fast ending. It’s been over a month now since Richard—” He stopped, unable to complete his thought.

They began searching the office with a new sense of urgency. Calvin rummaged through the desk while Uncle Julien looked through the file cabinet. Natalie started removing books from the shelves, in hopes that another secret compartment could be found behind them. “I wonder what kind of wild-goose chase he invented,” she said. “I bet it was something really clever. He must have convinced them that it wasn’t possible for him to retrieve it himself, and even devised some proof that it was hidden elsewhere, somewhere far away from his own home.”

“That sounds logical. And maybe they killed him as soon as he revealed the hiding place,” Julian added. “The blackguards! I’m glad Richard triumphed over them in the end. They didn’t get what they wanted.”

“Yet,” Natalie added ominously. “And we better make damn sure they never do.” She jingled the iron keys in her pocket. “I wonder,” she muttered, and pulled them out, examining them closely. There were four keys on the ring. One of the keys unlocked the library at home, and another the desk in the library. The largest key opened his office, but there was a very small key for which the will didn’t explain the purpose. “This little key must open something in here,” she said, and examined it more closely. “This reminds me of the type of key that came with the diary I got for my thirteenth birthday,” she mused.

“I remember that diary.” Calvin looked at the key. “Ethan was always trying to pick the lock on it.” Jake Zinman was Calvin’s best friend from childhood, and always found it great fun to irritate Natalie as often as possible.

Uncle Julien came over to where they stood and examined the key. “Tres curieux!” he declared. “This does look like it belongs to a diary or journal of some kind.”

Natalie was deep in thought, chewing on her nail, which is what she always did when trying to sort something out in her head. “There’s a black veil over their faces …” she whispered quietly. Suddenly she ran to the bookshelf and pulled out a slim volume, a collection of short stories by Nathaniel Hawthorne. “The Minister’s Black Veil!” she cried. “I thought it was an oddly poetic thing for Uncle Richard to write in his letter, and he had underlined the words, too. He was trying to give us a clue!” She opened the book and gave a triumphant smile. “This book has a stash box inside!”

“Well, it certainly is a fitting story in which my brother would hide something. The black veil has long been a symbol of man’s sinful nature. A very Puritan, and therefore Miltonian, concept.”

To all appearances, the book was like any other, with several stories printed inside; but instead of the story “The Minister’s Black Veil,” there was a very slim box, just thick enough for a few sheets of paper. The box had a minute lock attached and Natalie’s little key fit snugly into it. She turned the key in the lock and it clicked open easily. A small bundle of papers was inside, tied with a thin black ribbon.

Uncle Julien took one look at the book’s contents and made a pronouncement. “We must depart from here immediately! And take this book with us. We’ve found what we were meant to find.”

~

They emerged from Richard’s office and found Seth standing guard outside. He looked a little sheepishly at them. “I thought it might be prudent to stand watch for you,” he said.

“Thank you, Seth. I’m grateful our Uncle had such a friend in you.” Natalie smiled and touched his arm. She felt badly now about her earlier suspicion that he was somehow trying to make fools of them.

The young man blushed deeply and handed her uncle a card. “If you should need me further, this is my contact information. I want to repeat my offer of assistance.”

Julien thanked him and tucked the card into the inner pocket of his coat, assuring Seth that they would call him if needed. They made their farewells and walked quickly back in the direction of Natalie’s Triumph. As they approched the corner where they had left it, however, Calvin brought them to an abrupt halt. “Step back around the corner,” he commanded them urgently, pulling them back from Holywell Street. “What are you doing?” asked his sister. “What’s the matter?”

“There are a couple of men at the car,” he hissed. “Didn’t you see them?”

“No, I was looking at some students I recognized.”

“I saw them,” Julien said. “Two men, and one was examining your license plate. They most certainly did not look like parking officers. They were too well dressed for that.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Calvin urged. “We’ve got to leave the car.”

Natalie looked pained. “Very well, but if anything happens to it I shall be very put out.”

They turned back down Catte Street and hurried onto New College Lane. “We’ve got to get out of sight,” advised Uncle Julien. “Let’s wait in the bridge,” he suggested, pointing towards the Venetian-styled structure they had derided earlier. “We can observe Catte Street from its windows.” They entered one of the buildings of Hertford College that connected with the Bridge of Sighs and climbed the steps, huddling together at one of the bridge’s arched windows.

After a few minutes of watching the corner, they saw the two well-dressed gentlemen pass. They appeared to be in a great hurry and were headed straight for Radcliffe Camera.

“There they are,” Calvin said, frowning.

Natalie looked at her uncle and asked, “Do you think we can make it back to my car before they come back?”

“It’s too risky.” Uncle Julien looked thoughtful. “There could be another person waiting by the Triumph. I think we’ll have to abandon it, my dear.”

“I was afraid of that,” she frowned. “Well, it can’t be helped, and no car is more important than our lives.”

“But where should we go now?” Calvin asked. “We can’t stay in this bridge all day.”

Natalie considered the dilemma for a moment and suggested they get her friend Mckella to pick them up. “She’s still trying to get her doctorate,” she added. “I know she’s got to be on campus somewhere.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Calvin agreed. “Do you have your phone?”

Natalie nodded, and pulled it out of the knapsack where the Nathanial Hawthorne book was resting. She dialed Mckella’s number and engaged in a hurried conversation with her friend.

“She’s asking if we can meet her at the Sheldonian Theatre,” Natalie told them after hanging up. She’s attending a lecture there, and her car is parked on the opposite side. She’ll take us wherever we wish to go.”

“The Sheldonian?” Calvin asked. “That’s quite close, but we’ll have to cross Catte Street again, and we could very easily run into those men.”

“We’ll just have to risk it,” Natalie said decidedly. “We could wait for a large group to pass, and try to blend in with them.”

They decided to make their move before the sinister strangers had a chance to double back. Fortune was with them, and when they emerged from New College Lane, an animated group of students were passing, headed in the direction of the theater, and they casually joined their ranks.

Their hearts were racing as they headed out into the open. It was hard to look unconcerned and unhurried when they knew they might be seen by possible assasins, but they soon passed the Clarendon Building without incident, and approached the Sheldonian Theatre. All three sighed with relief when they passed through the entrance and found Mckella waiting for them, wringing her hands in a worried manner.

Natalie rushed up to a willowy, blond young woman and gave her a warm hug. “Thank you so much!” she said effusively. “We were really in a fix.”

“What’s going on?”Mckella asked. “You sounded terribly anxious on the phone. That’s not like you.”

Uncle Julien interrupted, “Might we explain our situation in the shelter of your vehicle? I’m afraid the need to depart is dire.”

“Of course, it’s just this way.” Mckella ushered them through another exit. “The lecture was boring me to tears anyhow,” she said as they hurried from the theater. “I don’t know how I’ll ever finish my dissertation if I keep falling asleep at these events!”

After glancing around furtively outside, they made their way to Mckella’s mini. Uncle Julien gave a grimace and said, “We are most grateful for your assistance, young lady; however, I can’t understand this penchant for such petit conveyances.”

As they squeezed into the car Mckella gave him a sympathetic look and assured him, “Oh, I only drive this little thing for economic reasons. What I’d really fancy is an Aston Martin Volare!”

Calvin laughed. “That’s not exactly spacious either, Mckella.”

“No, I guess not,” she replied. “but it’s fast!” She put on her seat belt and maneuvered the little car around pedestrians and surrounding traffic, but as soon as they were on Broad Street, she put her foot down and zipped through Oxford’s busy streets, veering in and out of traffic until Calvin begged her to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I was under the impression we were in some kind of a rush.”

“Yes, but …” He didn’t finish his thought as she sped past a man on a bicycle with inches to spare, and gripped his seat belt tighter.

Natalie looked back at him and said, “She always drives like this. It’s lucky her father gives her such a generous allowance. She needs it for all her speeding tickets!”

“I’m not normally a speedy driver myself,” Julien chimed in, “but in this case I think it’s warranted.”

“So now can you tell me what’s going on?” asked Mckella. “You said you were running from someone. Who?”

“Well, we’re not sure yet,” Natalie answered. “But we’ve just gotten some alarming news about Uncle Richard’s death, then when we got to our car, some sinister-looking men were examining it. Our instincts told us they were up to no good, and we stayed out of sight until we got to you.”

“What was the news about your uncle?” asked Mckella. She hadn’t seen her friend for several months, but she and her father had sent a bouquet of lilies to the funeral.

“It’s a long story,” Natalie sighed. “I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

As they wended their way through the streets of Oxford, she told her friend as much as she could of their uncle’s letter and the death threat. Mckella didn’t ask what he was being blackmailed for. She was an uncommonly discreet young lady, and didn’t think the question was appropriate or any of her business. She could easily tell that Natalie had glossed over that part of the story and didn’t press her for details about it, though she was naturally very curious. And Natalie, in turn, didn’t want her friend to be in any danger because she had information about the whole sordid affair. She would only say that it concerned an important artifact, and left it at that.

“Well, if these men are still searching for this artifact, and they think you’ve inherited it or something, then you can’t go home. You’d better spend the night at my house.”

“We’d be delighted, young lady,” Uncle Julien declared unexpectedly from the back seat, surprising both his niece and nephew. “I believe we’ll be needing a safe harbor to sort out our present difficulties.”

“I guess you’re right,” added Calvin after a moment of consideration. “If those men had something to do with Uncle Richard’s death, and they’re now looking for us, it means that the false trail he set them upon has now reached a dead end.”

“And they’ll be angry they were tricked,” Natalie added ominously.