The Dark Secret of Weatherend (11 page)

"...and I hope you'll realize that I'm doing this to teach you a lesson," she said. "I don't like making up stories and sneaking around. Most of all I don't like your hanging around with somebody who's such a bad influence. Everybody in this town is talking about that old Miss Eells and how crazy she is. Why do you want to pal around with a screwball like that? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Yes, Mom," said Anthony. But actually he wasn't ashamed at all. He went upstairs to his room and bolted
the door. Then he sat down on his bed and cried. How could his mother be so unfair? How could she have misjudged Miss Eells so terribly? Miss Eells was a wonderful person who was in a lot of trouble, and all Mrs. Monday could say was that she was a nut. In the midst of his anger and tears Anthony wondered what his mom would have said if he had told her about the trip out to the Borkman estate.
Yes, Mom, we're trying to save the world from a crazy guy who's using magic statues to cause terrible weather.
Anthony smiled through his tears as he imagined his mother chuckling at this. She would think he was just joking around. The trouble was, the stuff about Borkman was true. Anthony relapsed into gloom again.
What were they going to do?
They had tried Emerson's plan, and it had failed. He and Miss Eells had found the holes in the statues, but now Emerson insisted that there was no need to destroy them, that Borkman was not evil, as they had thought. Emerson's change of heart was very confusing. It had left Anthony worried and disheartened. Could there be something wrong with him? Had he been hypnotized by Borkman? Or was Emerson simply smarter than Anthony? Did he know things that Anthony and Miss Eells didn't?

Anthony's brain was whirling—nothing made sense anymore. With a shuddering sob he pulled himself together. He blew his nose loudly and started undressing. He wanted to take a shower and then go sit in his pajamas in front of the TV set with his father and brother until it was time to go to bed.

But suddenly Anthony heard something: a rattling sound like rain against the wlndowpane, only louder. He rushed to the window and looked down into the yard. Under the apple tree, bathed in the light of a cold, frosty moon, stood a small shadowy figure. Terror clutched at Anthony's heart. Who—or what—was down there, waiting for him? Anthony forced himself to look again. And then he almost laughed—it was Miss Eells! Quickly he raised the window and stuck his head out.

"Anthony!" Miss Eells called hoarsely. "Come on down! I need to talk to you! It's important!"

Anthony wanted to rush downstairs right away and find out what was on Miss Eells's mind. But he hesitated. He was supposed to be confined to quarters, and if his mother caught him sneaking out, she would blow her top like Old Faithful.

"Anthony, please come down!" Miss Eells called again. There was a pleading, desperate sound in her voice. How could he refuse her?

"Just a minute, Miss Eells!" he called. He padded over to the door, opened it, and listened. From downstairs came the sound of the television. His parents and Keith were still watching. Quickly Anthony took off his slippers and bathrobe and got dressed. Then he opened his desk drawer, took out a key, stepped into the hall, and
locked his door. Mrs. Monday was nosy, but when Anthony locked his door, she usually respected his privacy. With the key in his pocket he tiptoed toward the playroom, where he and Keith had goofed around together when they were small. At the far end of the room was a door that led to the attic, and next to it was a tall sash window that looked out over the roof of the back porch. Anthony walked to the window, unfastened the catch, and slid it open. He eased himself onto the shingles and then carefully picked his way down to the edge of the roof. A ladder leading down to the ground was bolted to one of the porch columns for use as a fire escape. Quickly Anthony clambered down, hurried around the corner of the house, and almost ran into Miss Eells, who was pacing nervously under the apple tree.

"Anthony!" she exclaimed in a loud stage whisper. "I'm sorry I had to contact you in such a dramatic fashion, but I'm afraid to use the phone." Miss Eells paused and glanced furtively around. Then she went on, in a hurried, anxious voice. "Look, I'm worried sick. Something's the matter with Emerson. He left a couple of hours ago. Just left, without saying good-bye! I'm really concerned about the way he's been acting lately. You know how fussy he is about his belongings? Well, when he took off today, he left his best camel's-hair overcoat in the front hall closet and all four of the meerschaum pipes! Can you
imagine?
He takes them with him
everywhere!"

"Maybe he was in a hurry," said Anthony. This was
not a very helpful comment, but it was the only one he could think of.

"Hurry, shmurry!" said Miss Eells, waving her hand impatiently. "He's
never
in too much of a hurry to take his pipes! We know that Borkman used his magic to hypnotize me into making a scene in the library. And we're also fairly certain that he did the same thing to you so you would give the diary to him. Well, he's done something like that to Emerson."

Miss Eells paused. Tears came to her eyes, and she shook her head in a grief-stricken way. "Oh, my poor brother! We've got to do something!" She set her jaw and looked very determined. Then she laid her hand on Anthony's arm and stared at him, hard. "And we've got to do it soon!" she added in a low, urgent voice. "You and I will have to go it alone."

Anthony swallowed hard. "Alone?"

Miss Eells nodded solemnly. "Who else is there? Emerson is out of the fight, for now. And we can't very well go down to the police station and say, 'Excuse me, Officer Swett, but there's a man on an estate near here who's planning to use black magic and lousy weather to wipe out the population of the world.' I mean, I'm already suspected of being a dangerous lunatic, and talk like that would only confirm everybody's suspicions. So we have to try to do what we can ourselves. We can't try to blow up the statues, because it would be too dangerous. But there are other things we can do. I want
you to meet me over at my house tomorrow night, so we can—"

"I can't meet you," said Anthony, cutting her off. "I have to stay in nights because I lied to Mom and ran off with you guys."

Miss Eells stared at Anthony in disbelief. "Oh, great! Wait, I know! I'll meet you down at the library. You can go to work, can't you?"

Anthony nodded.

"I know I've been suspended, but I can still walk in and out of the stupid place if I want to. We need to have a place to confer, because we have to go over your copy of old Borkman's journal to see if there's anything in it that can help us. I've been rereading it, and that old buzzard may have had second thoughts about the horrors that he intended to unleash. He says in one place that 'he who can read the riddles contained herein will turn back the storm-tossed waves.' And there are other hints. I know that Emerson thought the journal was mostly nonsense, but I'm not so sure."

Miss Eells paused and scratched her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we can use one of the empty offices. Elvira Pratt owes me a favor. All right. Monday afternoon at the library! In the meantime I'll try to work on the journal at home. Well, you'd better get back to your room before your mom finds out you're missing. God knows what would happen if she found you out here with me!"

Anthony hurriedly said good-bye and started climbing the ladder.
Don't worry, Miss Eells,
he said under his breath.
We'll win!
He had a sudden terrifying vision of a world devastated by windstorms and lightning. Of caved-in houses, roofless barns, and trees mowed down by violent gales. Of floods, and forests set on fire by lightning bolts. How was he, a fourteen-year-old kid, and Miss Eells, an eccentric little old lady who stuck her foot into wastebaskets and knocked plates off tables, going to stop this from happening? Anthony felt hopelessness and despair rising inside him. But he fought them down and climbed on.

On Monday after school Anthony hurried to the library as fast as he could. Miss Pratt was sitting at the front desk, and the expression on her face would have curdled milk.

"She's up in the Winterborn Reading Room," she said through her teeth. "I told her to hang a Room Not in Use sign outside so you two could be alone and do... whatever it is you're supposed to be doing. And you'd better not tell anybody I let you use that room."

Anthony hurried away, walking swiftly along the slippery tile floor. He stopped in front of the Winter-born Reading Room and, after glancing quickly at the sign on the knob, rapped sharply, twice. There was a pause; then the door opened just a crack, and Miss Eells peered out. When she saw it was Anthony, she flung the door wide.

"Hi, partner!" she said, grinning. "Come on in."

Anthony entered, and Miss Eells locked the door. The Winterborn Reading Room was small and comfortable, with a fireplace, lots of overstuffed chairs in flowered upholstery, lamps, and footstools. Not far from the fireplace was a long, old-fashioned library table. It usually stood against the wall, but Miss Eells had dragged it out to the middle of the room so that she and Anthony could use it to look at the copy of Borkman's journal. Piled nearby were books:
A History of Hoosac County, Peculiarities of American Cities,
and
Eminent Minnesotans.
There was a pot of hot coffee on a warmer and Coke in an ice bucket.

For hours Anthony and Miss Eells pored through the books and papers. They scribbled notes and conferred about the meaning of some obscure passage in the journal. Miss Eells spilled coffee on the floor, and once when she tried to stick a pencil in the bun on top of her head, she stabbed herself in the forehead. And, as she often did when she was working hard, she mumbled to herself. She said things like
"Sonorous bus...
now what on earth can that mean?" and
"Pam...
could be some friend of his, but I always heard the old coot didn't have any friends." Anthony leafed through the books and kept wishing he was smarter than he was. He tried to force his brain to work harder, but all he got for his troubles was a headache. Then suddenly it occurred to him that he was overlooking something pretty obvious: there were words and phrases in the journal that kept
repeating. Sometimes the word or phrase would be scrawled across a whole page. Sometimes it would be on a page with other notes but carefully underlined. Were these the riddles that had to be solved, if the evil plan was to be thwarted? Anthony made a list of the repeated words and phrases:

PAM

PAM UNDER THE CRACK OF NOON

THE SIGN OF THE INVERTED TORCH

Does the sonorous bus go ____-____?

FOR THE BLOOD IS THE LIFE

There are openings in the choir of the Blessed Virgin.

Anthony looked at the list and sighed. It really was not terribly helpful.
PAM
was obviously somebody named Pamela, but as for the rest... well, it was utter gibberish as far as he was concerned. He showed it to Miss Eells, and she mumbled some of the phrases aloud. Anthony went to the ice bucket and opened a bottle of Coke. As he swigged, Miss Eells kept looking at the list, leafing through books, and jotting things down on a long yellow legal pad. Anthony glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was almost six, and he was feeling very hungry. But just as he was about to say something Miss Eells let out a bloodcurdling screech.

"This is it! This is it!"
she yelled, waving the battered old volume entitled
Eminent Minnesotans.
"It was right here all the time—I was just too lazy to read all the stupid fine print! Look!"

When she had calmed down a bit, Miss Eells laid the book on the table. She explained quickly to Anthony that it had biographical articles on famous people who had lived in Minnesota and included one on J. K. Borkman. She had read it through once, without finding anything interesting. But the second time she noticed a footnote number in the last paragraph about Borkman's death. Now she flipped to the back and gave the book to Anthony to read:

⁵
Mr. J. K. Borkman made elaborate preparations for his burial while he was still alive. He designed his own mausoleum and gave the builders careful instructions about the decorations that were to be placed on the doors and walls of the tomb. Every detail of the building was personally approved by him. He even designed an elaborate device for sealing the tomb chamber, and the secret of this device was known only to him and the undertakers. The Borkman mausoleum stands in St. Boniface's Cemetery in Duluth, not far from St. Scholastica's College. It is large and impressive and is done in a combination of the Classical and Egyptian Revival styles. Columns with lotus-shaped capitals flank the massive bronze doors, and sculpted on the doors, in high relief, are two inverted torches. These are, as is well known, symbols of mortality...

Anthony looked up. Miss Eells was right—this
was
important!
The sign of the inverted torch
was one of the clues he had picked out. And then, suddenly, another idea hit him, and he laughed.

Miss Eells stared at him. "All right, I give up! What's so funny?"

"It's just that dumb old joke!" said Anthony. "Old Mr. Borkman is buried up in Duluth, and there's this joke that goes 'Does this bus go to Duluth?', and the answer is 'No, this bus goes beep-beep!' "

At first Miss Eells didn't get it. She wrinkled up her forehead and stared off into space. "Does this bus..." she muttered, and then she paused and chewed her lip. Suddenly her face lit up. "Hah! To
Du-luth!
Toodle-
oot!
Not beep-beep! And that's one of our clues, isn't it? The sonorous bus! If there's some way of stopping young Borkman from carrying out his father's plans, it seems we'll find it in that cemetery in Duluth. Well, that settles it! We have to go there."