Nabbed!: The 1925 Journal of G. Codd Fitzmorgan (7 page)

In my opinion, the only people who run away have something to hide.

I think I am fairly courageous but no fool. This man was easily three times my size. Charles and the chauffeur were waiting
to be interviewed.

“We have to stop that man! He might be a suspects!” I called to them. The three of us headed out the door. Moments later,
Charles and the chauffeur each had one of the man's arms and were escorting him into the Great Hall. The man had dark curly
hair and a mischievous look on his face. It was as if he knew a wonderful secret and was just bursting to share it.

I thought, now we're getting somewhere! A suspect.

The Scotsman

I asked him to take a seat in the chair opposite me, and I began the interview.

“Who are you?” I asked. “John Baird”. It was clear at once from his thick accent that he was Scottish.

“What were you doing by that airplane?”

“Is it not the one? Ence mare I lest”, the man said.

I had no idea what he meant. “I'm sorry”, I said. “But what did you say?”

“Ence mare I am lest, are ye def, laddy?” The man's Scottish accent was so thick, it was difficult for me to make heads or
tails of what he was saying. He continued, “Ded ye and the other kiddies enjoy the poppet shew?”

Before I could ask about this odd question, I was interrupted by Mang, who was standing within earshot. “Listen to ze funny
vay he iz talking!”

“Please, Mr. Mang, let me complete my interview!” I snapped. I thought I might be getting somewhere with this Scotsman.

Mang

Suddenly, lightning flashed and reflected off the Scotsman's crystal lapel pin–and there was a sparkly flash of blue light!
The Scotsman must be the figure I saw appear and vanish in the parlor!

Now I would get some answer!

And then the lights went out. The Great Hall was plunged into total darkness.

People screamed in terror. Near me ther was a loud scuffling sound and a muffled cry as if someone was shouting through a
piece of cloth—

“Who is there?” I shouted, but doubted my voice could be heard over the guests as they panicked and tried to find their way
out the room.

Just as I thought the screaming was becoming unbearable, the room exploded with light.

Men and women around me stopped yelling. I gaped at the empty seat in front of me.

The Scotsman was gone.

“Where is he?” I asked the man in the fur coat, who had crawled under a table. He shrugged.

From the sounds I had heard when the lights were out, I was betting someone had nabbed the Scotsman. And just as I was getting
close to some answers! “What is it?” Judge called from the top of the grand staircase. Spotting me, she rushed down the steps.
“What is it?” G. Codd? Why were so many people shouting? Have you found John?”

I quickly told her about the recent events. I started with the Scotsman's appearance by the plane and finished with his mysterious
vanishing.

Judge shook her head in confusion. “A Scotsman? Do you think this man iis somehow connected with John's disappearance?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don't know what to think. It's what I feel”.

A small smile touched Judge's lips. “Now you sound like your father. A detective's heart is one of his most powerful assets”.

“How are you holding up, Judge?”

Judge put a cooling hand to her forehead. “I finally calmed Mr. Hatherford. A nurse is with him, watching over him while he
sleeps. But…I need to do something, G. Codd. Otherwise, I'm going to go crazy with worry”. She took a deep breath. “I need
to find out what happened to John”.

If a plan oof action would help Judge get through this, then I was her man. “I think our first step is to find the Scotsman.
He was involved in the most recent disappearance. The clues will still be fresh”.

I asked Charles to join us. Together, we organized a few of the guests remaining in the Great Hall into a search party. Twenty
of us fanned out across the room, knocking on the floor, looking for hidden trapdoors, and pounding on walls, searching for
signs of secret doors. We scoured the Great Hall looking for any sign of what had happened to the Scotsman.

But there was nothing.

The searchers grew bored with a game that offered no immediate reward. They began to scatter. Judge and I met near one of
the fireplaces.

Virgil gazing at Asyla

”I'm going to check on Mr. Htherford. I'll be right back”, Judge said. She Was leaving the room when I heard Asyla's sarcastic
voice. “This is a great Party, Really swanky!” she was telling Virgil, who gazed at her with dreamy fascination.

They were lounging on one of the fur-covered couches in front of the dying fire. Asyla was picking up party favors, like hats
and noisemakers, and throwing them onto the flames. Lazily, she crumpled up a streamer and tossed it toward the fire. The
paper bounced off the high back wall of the fireplace and rolled by my feet.

“What are you doing?” I asked Asyla. She ignored me and turning to her boyfriend, said,

“Make him go away, Virgil”.

Obediently, Virgil made a small gesture that I should shoo. But I didn't need him to tell me. I had had enough of Asyla's
games and left on my own.

Deciding to update my journal, I took a seat on a nearby sofa.

Now, as I try to stop yawning, a plan of action is taking shape in my head. It might put me in more danger than I've ever
encountered.

It's important that I stay awake to work on the plan.

I have to stay aw

Asleep in the Great Hall

I must have fallen asleep!

I jerked awake. It took me a second or two to remember where I was and what was happening.

How could I have slept? I guess the events of yesterday must have been too much for me. The scare on the ferry, the séance,
the party—John's disappearance!

Instantly, I felt a sharp pang of guilt. I had let Judge down. I had fallen asleep when I should have been cracking the case.

Outside, it was so dark it could have been early evening. But according to my pocket watch (a gift from Dad), it was morning.
Rain pelted the room's only window, and I could see tree branches swaying back and forth in the violent gusts of wind. The
chimneys of the now-cold fireplaces moaned as the wind blew through them, like instruments in a creepy orchestra.

The Great Hall was nearly deserted. One or two other guests had fallen asleep on couches, and a large man snored loudly in
the far corner. The rest of the guests must be in their rooms.

Someone, probably Judge, had covered me with a blanket.

I was just getting up to find Judge when she entered the Great Hall. Wearing a simple gray dress with a purple scarf, she
came quickly down the stairs to join me. She carried herself with perfect posture, as always. But there were dark circles
under her eyes.

“Judge!” I stood up as she approached and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Good morning, G. Codd,” she said. Reading the look
on my face, she added, “Don't be upset that I didn't wake you earlier. I need your mind fresh and rested. We still have to
find John.”

“So, there's been no sign of him?”

“No, nothing,” Judge said sadly.