The Golden Eagle Mystery (25 page)

“No sir,” Djuna said. “I live in Edenboro with Miss Annie Ellery. I’m just visiting Miss Annie’s sister, Mrs. Juniper Silvernails, over on Dapplegray Road. Miss Annie hasn’t been feeling well.”

“That’s too bad,” Socker said, politely. “I suppose you’ll be in the Square to give me another shine before I go to work tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes sir,” Djuna said, eagerly.

“Well, good night, boys,” Socker said and solemnly shook hands with both of them. They went out to the street with him and he said, “Well, tomorrow maybe we can get close enough to those ghosts to sprinkle a little salt on ’em, eh? Then we’ll have ’em. Good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Furlong,” they said in chorus.

“Gee. It’s getting late,” Djuna said. “I hope Mrs. Silvernails won’t be cross. I’ve got to scoot.”

“So have I,” Ben said, “and I bet you know where I’m going to scoot the fastest.”

“You could go around the block,” Djuna said. “Then you wouldn’t have to go by that house.”

“Naw,” Ben said. “I’ll stay on the other side of the street. Good night.”

“So long,” Djuna said. “See yon in the Square tomorrow.”

Mrs. Silvernails was sitting in a big, upholstered chair in the living room of her little house on Dapplegray Road when Djuna arrived home. She was such a little bit of a woman that she looked almost lost in the big chair. When Djuna came in she pushed up her spectacles and smiled at him and her little, red button of a nose bobbed up and down just like the nose of a rabbit when it smells carrots.

“Land’s sake! I’m glad you’re home, Djuna,” she said, but Djuna could tell from the way she smiled that she wasn’t cross at him. “I had a letter from Annie today and she writes that she is feeling much better. I forgot to tell you about it at supper time. I was hoping you’d get home early so I’d remember to tell you before I forgot it again.”

“That’s fine,” Djuna said. “Did she say anything about Champ?”

“Yes. She said to tell you that Champ missed you very much,” Mrs. Silvernails said. “She said he spent most of his time sitting on the front stoop looking down the road for you.”

“Gee, I wish I’d brought him with me,” Djuna said. “I miss him something
terrible
.” He blinked his eyes twice, very quickly and started to say something else when Mrs. Silvernails spoke.

“I’m afraid it’s just as well you didn’t, Djuna,” she said. “There’s no place to keep him around here, and dogs make me nervous.”

Djuna didn’t say what he was going to say. He knew there wasn’t any use. He was going to ask Mrs. Silvernails if he could send for Champ if he could think of some way to get him there.

“Dogs are happier in the country, anywhy, I think,” Djuna said and he changed the subject because he couldn’t imagine why dogs would make anyone nervous. Unless, of course, they were fierce dogs. He snickered to himself at the idea of his little black Scotty being fierce, except when he barked hard to try to make himself think he was fierce.

“I’m awful glad Miss Annie is feeling better,” he said.

Mrs. Silvernails pushed her spectacles up on her forehead again and smiled at him. “You’re very devoted to Annie, aren’t you, Djuna?” Mrs. Silvernails said.

“Gracious, yes,” Djuna said. “She’s always been awful nice to me. I guess I’ll go to bed now.” He stood up and rubbed his eyes.

“You go right ahead, Djuna,” said Mrs. Silvernails. “I’m going to sew awhile longer.”

Djuna climbed wearily to his room with the thought in mind that when he got into bed he would try to figure something out about the little girl and the man who were in the haunted house. But after he got into bed he put that off for a few minutes while he wondered if Champ was sleeping well and was happy. And the next thing he knew he didn’t know anything, because he was very much asleep.

D
JUNA WAS AWAKENED
the next morning by the sunlight that was dancing all over his room, and especially into his eyes. He opened one eye and looked at the clock on the table beside his bed. When he saw that it was ten o’clock he sat straight up like a jack-in-the-box. He wondered why Mrs. Silvernails hadn’t called him earlier.

He couldn’t hear anyone moving around downstairs when he jumped out of bed and ran to the window in his bare feet. He stuck his head out and looked up and down the street because he had only been there for a couple of days and everything was new to him. Every time he stuck his head out of the window in the morning he found something new, up or down the street.

The big clock with four faces on the tower of the newspaper building where Socker Furlong worked was tolling ten o’clock as Djuna put his head out the window. Automobiles and busses and trucks were hurrying along Dapplegray Road and Djuna couldn’t help wondering how in the world there were so many different places for all of them to go.

Then, down on the corner, he saw a man with a hand organ and a little monkey with a cap cocked on the side of its head, and he slid into his clothes and was downstairs in two jumps.

“For land’s sakes!” Mrs. Silvernails exclaimed as Djuna bounced into the kitchen so hard that the dishes in the pantry rattled. “I thought there was a tornado coming. You had a nice long sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Djuna said. “Is it all right if I–”

“A growing boy needs lots of sleep,” Mrs. Silvernails said. “Now you get washed and I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Djuna said, and he began to edge toward the back door. “Is it all right if I–”

“Would you like the same thing you had yesterday morning–dry cereal with strawberries and cream?” Mrs. Silvernails asked, interrupting Djuna again. An expression of indecision that was very closely akin to pain appeared on Djuna’s face at the mention of strawberries and cream, but he continued to sidle toward the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said again. “Is it all right if I go aeross the street for a minute to see a monkey?”

Mrs. Silvernails pushed up her glasses and stared at him as though she thought he had taken leave of his senses. Then the squeaky strains of a hand organ came to her ears and she said, “Why, yes. Why didn’t you say so? Hurry back, because your breakfast will be ready in a moment.”

But Djuna hadn’t heard what she said. He had gone out the back door with the speed of a Fourth of July rocket when he saw the assent in her eyes.

He ran up to the corner and stood and watched while the hand organ ground out “The Sidewalks of New York” and some of the kids who were watching danced, and the monkey danced with them. It was the first time Djuna had ever seen a monkey up that close and he was amazed at how much it looked and acted like the old, old man who lived in a shack back of Lost Pond in Edenboro.

After awhile the man with the hand organ and the monkey and all the kids moved on up the street and Djuna went back to Mrs. Silvernails’ because Miss Annie had told him that he must never cause his hostess any trouble when he was visiting.

His breakfast was waiting for him on the table, and Mrs. Silvernails had just finished cutting an orange, a grapefruit and a lemon into small pieces to make marmalade.

“Gracious,” he said as he sat down. “There are so many things to do and see in a city! I just don’t see how you find enough time for all of them.”

“I guess nobody ever has time to do everything they want to do,” said Mrs. Silvernails. She sighed. “All my life I’ve wanted to pickle some capers to use for flavoring and I can’t
ever
seem to get around to it.”

Djuna thought that was a pretty funny thing to want to do but he didn’t mention it. But when he started thinking about it he remembered something Miss Annie had told him and he said, apologetically, “Miss Annie says pickled nasturtium seeds are just as good as capers.”

Mrs. Silvernails stared at him for a moment and then she said, “Well, I declare! Why didn’t she tell me! I have loads in the yard.”

“Probably she didn’t even think of it,” Djuna said. He looked up at the old clock on the shelf above the kitchen sink and saw that it was half past ten.

“Gee! I better hurry if I’m going to get any shoes to shine today,” he said. “I’ve had such a late breakfast, do you mind if I don’t come home for lunch, Mrs. Silvernails?”

“Why, no,” said Mrs. Silvernails, “if you don’t think you’ll get awfully hungry.”

“If I get a lot of shoes to shine I’ll buy some peanuts,” Djuna said.

“Don’t you go filling your stomach up with a lot of trash,” Mrs. Silvernails said, and she shook her finger at him and pretended to be very severe. “Annie would never forgive me if you got sick while you are here.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Djuna said. “Good-by.”

“Well, I
do
declare!” said Mrs. Silvernails as Djuna whizzed around the corner of the house with his shoe-shine box slung on a strap over his shoulder. “
Imagine
him remembering about those nasturtium seeds!”

When Djuna arrived at the Square the prospects of finding any customers were worse than they had been the day before. There were a half dozen men sitting on scattered benches but the shoes of all of them looked as though their owners had spent all of their time trying to avoid having their shoes shined.

After he had solicited their trade and had been curtly refused, or received no answer at all, he went across the street to the newspaper building. He saw a couple of men talking on the corner who looked like the kind of men that like to have their shoes shined and hopefully went up to them.

“Shine, sir?” he said briskly. “Shine ’em up?”

They both looked at him as if they didn’t see him and shook their heads. The shoe-shine box was getting heavy and Djuna was beginning to be a little discouraged as he moved away. Around the corner he saw a regular two-chair boot black stand and both chairs were empty. He wouldn’t have thought anything more about it if it hadn’t been for the short, burly man who stood in front of it with his legs widespread and his arms folded across his chest. When Djuna met his gaze he was glaring at Djuna so ferociously that he almost jumped out of his shoes.

“You keepa away from dis corner!” the man shouted suddenly and he threw his hands out so violently that if Djuna’s heart hadn’t been pounding so hard he would have been worried for fear the man’s arms would come loose and go floating away.

Djuna’s face grew red and he was so embarrassed that he wished he wasn’t there, as people turned to stare at him. He scuffed the sidewalk with his toe a couple of times and then went slowly across the street and back to the park. He sat down wearily on a park bench and wished that he was back in Edenboro.

Then his dejection passed as quickly as it had come as he spied Ben Franklin coming across the park, whistling as he walked. He stood up and waved at him and Ben waved back and headed toward him.

“Hi,” Ben said.

“Hi,” said Djuna.

They sat down side by side and didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes.

“Oh!” Djuna said suddenly. “Did you knock on the door of that old house this morning?”

“Yes,” said Ben. “And it was awful early in the morning to go knocking on that door, too.” He giggled. “I waited until there were a lot of men coming up the street and then I ran up on the porch and pounded hard on the door for a miuute, and then went back on the steps to wait.”

“Did anyone come to the door?” Djuna asked, breathlessly.

“Not a single soul,” Ben said. “So I waited until there were some more men coming and ran up and knocked again.”

“No one answered that time, either?” asked Djuna.

“No one,” Ben replied, and added worriedly, “I think two times was enough, don’t you?”

“I should think so,” Djuna said and he looked frankly puzzled. “Only, they may have been in bed and didn’t have time to get downstairs.”

“Oh, the man must have been up,” Ben insisted. “He must have to go to work some place.”

“Maybe he’d already gone to work,” Djuna argued, “and the little girl was still in bed.”

Ben’s eyes grew round. “In bed,
alone
, in that house?” he asked. “Besides, she must have a mother.
She’d
have been up to get the man’s breakfast.”

“That’s so,” Djuna admitted and he looked even more puzzled.

They sat silent until Ben said, suddenly, “Say, did you see any furniture in the house last night when you went to the door?”

“I could hardly see in at all,” Djuna said. “The little girl just had a lantern and I couldn’t see behind her because it was so dark.”

“It’s the funniest thing I ever heard of,” Ben said, shaking his head from side to side.

“What’s funny to me is that the man who wants to rent the house told Mr. Furlong it was haunted,” Djuna said. “He ought to know that
no one
would want to live in a haunted house.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ben said. “Some people are awful funny. Besides, the man didn’t want Mr. Furlong to write the piece for the paper so that someone would rent it. He thought that if a lot of people heard about it one of them might know how to chase the ghosts out of it.”

“That doesn’t make much sense either,” Djuna said and he giggled. “From all I’ve heard and read about ghosts, ghosts don’t
get
chased. They chase people.”

“Gee, that’s right!” Ben agreed. Suddenly he dug one hand down into his pants pocket hard and then he uttered a little moan and sat back on the bench dejectedly.

Djuna looked at him in alarm and said, “What’s the matter?”

“Gosh,” Ben said miserably. “You don’t know how I miss Waterbury. He was an
awful
lot of company. I used to take him with me and talk to him all the time when I ran errands.”

Djuna flushed, gulped and looked uncomfortable.

“I—I guess I ought to tell you, Ben,” Djuna said.

“You ought to tell me what?” Ben asked.

“Waterbury is
in
that house!” Djuna said.

“
In that house
!” Ben shouted so loud that a man on the next bench turned and looked at him.

“Yes,” Djuna said, miserably. “You handed Waterbury to me just a couple of seconds before we saw that light last night. I guess you forgot. I had him in my hand when I went up to the door. When the little girl’s father shouted to close the door I thought there was something awful funny about everything and I pretended I had to tie my shoe. So, I—”