The Ghost Wore White

Connie is willing to believe almost anything about the

eerie old mansion on top of Eagle Rockbut a violinplaying ghost is too much for even her vivid imagination.
On vacation in aristocratic Newport, Rhode Island,
Connie and her twin sister Kit are invited for a moonlight
sail with their cousins Tom and Randy. Passing the longdeserted mansion, Connie and Randy are sure they see a
strange light in a window, and Connie is determined to
search the imposing old house the first chance she gets.
Her chance comes all too soon, and almost spells disaster
for our intrepid sleuth. Only her quick wits and daring
resourcefulness save her and her friends from something
more dangerous than a musical ghost.

The CONNIE BLAIR Mystery Stories

The Clue in Blue
The Riddle in Red
Puzzle in Purple
The Secret of Black Cat Gulch
The Green Island Mystery
The Ghost Wore White
The Yellow Warning
The Gray Menace
The Brown Satchel Mystery
Peril in Pink
The Silver Secret
The Mystery of the Ruby Queens

A CONNIE BLAIR MYSTERY

The Ghost
Wore White
By
BETSY ALLEN

Grosset & Dunlap

PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

 1950 BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.

Little Old Rhode Island

The Mysterious Light
Eagle Rock
The Ghost Walks Again
Enter Mark Eastham
The Clue in the Library
The Cave
A Blow in the Dark
Meet the Bosun
Moonlight Sail
Connie Meets the Guardian
A Lone Expedition
The Ghost Helps Out
Tom Translates
The Capture
Alls Well

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15
26
39
51
64
76
89
100
113
128
137
148
160
169
184

CHAPTER

Little Old Rhode Island

Fill er up?
Connie Blair, who had been driving for a hundred
miles through rolling Connecticut countryside,
nodded brightly in response to the gas station
attendants conventional question. Please.
Connie turned to her twin sister Kit. Want to
stretch a little?
Kit opened the door on the other side of the car
and got out to saunter up and down in front of the
pumps. While the man held the nozzle of the hose in
the mouth of the gas tank, he looked from one girl to
the other in frank astonishment. The sisters looked
confusingly alike. Each had bright blond hair falling
almost to her shoulders; each had brown eyes
sparkling with enthusiasm and intelligence; each had
a slim young figure worth a second glance. Connies
skin, however, was tanned to a smooth golden tone
1

which almost matched her hair. In contrast Kit

looked pale, as though she had been spending too
much time indoors.
And this was precisely the case. Connie still
showed the effects of her Bermuda sojourn, when
she had spent many hours in the sun in the course of
solving The Green Island Mystery, but Kit had been
working especially long hours at Blairs Hardware
Store in Meadowbrook, helping her father with a
sudden rush of business that was as exhausting as it
was gratifying.
You need a vacation, Kit, Mr. Blair had insisted
finally. Skiddoo! Get out of here. Call Connie in
Philadelphia and see what you two can cook up. She
ought to be due for some time off pretty soon.
As a matter of fact, the vacation schedule at Reid
and Renshaws, the advertising agency where
Connie worked, had just been posted, and Connies
two weeks were imminent. It was the matter of a
few minutes to decide that it would be heaps of fun
to go away together. But where?
Mrs. Blair came through with the perfect
suggestion. What about Helen? she asked, naming
her husbands sister, who had long ago deserted
Pennsylvania for Rhode Island, where she had
married a Providence newspaperman. Shes always
wanted to have the girls for a visit. Wouldnt this be
the perfect time?
2

By George, youre right! Mr. Blair had snapped

his fingers, the laugh lines deepening around his
eyes as he smiled happily at his wife. Young Tom
would be just a couple of years older than the twins
by now. He might show them a right good time.
Connie and Kit, consulting each other, could
remember their cousin Tom only vaguely, when he
and his mother had visited in Meadowbrook a few
years ago. There had been a younger boy, tooa
mischievous imp named Randywho had raced
through the house like a frisky puppy, leaving chaos
in his wake.
Shall we see if it can be arranged? Kit had
asked Connie over the telephone.
And Connie, always ready for a new experience,
had cried, Lets!
Now, just two weeks later, they were on their
way, driving the family car, which Mr. Blair had
insisted upon lending them. Both Connie and Kit
were good drivers, and they had spelled each other
on the three hundred miles they had covered since
leaving Meadowbrook after breakfast that morning,
each driving a hundred miles at a stretch.
Its my turn again, Kit said now, rounding the
car as Connie paid the gas station attendant out of
the pocketbook containing their mutual funds.
Connie slid over. Im not a bit tired, she
mentioned. If you are?
3

Who, me? Kit laughed. Just because I look

like a ghost next to you doesnt mean I feel like one!
Besides, we may need to do some map reading soon,
and it makes me dizzy to read while were driving.
Of course! Id forgotten you never like to read in
a train or a car. Speaking of reading, remember that
envelope Dad gave us? Want to see whats in it as
we ride along?
Connie was fumbling in her handbag as she
spoke, and as they turned out of the gas station into
Route 84 again she drew a white oblong envelope
from a side pocket. Mr. Blair had been almost as
excited about their trip as the girls were themselves,
and even before she opened the envelope, Connie
could guess what it contained.
Their father was a methodical man and he had
enclosed a folded sheet of notepaper filled with
carefully penned suggestions. Things to do and see
on Narragansett Bay and in Newport, Connie read
aloud. Isnt that just like Daddy? He always
wanted his daughters to come home from a trip
richer than when they departed.
Kit nodded, chuckling. He was talking about
Newport the other night. Said hed been there as a
boy and hes never forgotten it. What was the word
he used? It sounded so strange, coming from Dad.
Fabulousthat was it!
Connie looked up from her fathers notes
4

dreamily. Fabulous, she repeated. I guess it

probably is all of that. The Cliff Walk, especially,
with those big estates. He says to be sure and see
that.
What else does he say? Kit swung out to the
left, seeing clear road ahead, and passed a lumbering
truck.
Connie returned her attention to the paper in her
hand. He mentions The Breakers, which is
apparently open for visitors. Thats the most
magnificent of all the big 1890 summer residences.
Then he lists the Old Brick Market, Old Trinity
Church, the Old Stone Mill. Golly, everything seems
to have old in front of it, she chuckled.
I can see were expected to go sight-seeing! Kit
sighed. Personally, Id rather sit quietly on a
beach.
Pooh, youll be rested in a couple of days.
Connie, herself brimming with energy, felt none of
Kits qualms. He wants us to go quahoging,
whatever that is, and he wants us to be sure to look
up the old Butterworth mansionclipping
attached.
Clipping attached? Kit repeated.
Yes. Connie lifted the notepaper and examined
the newspaper column cut out and attached by a
paper clip.
5

BUTTERWORTH TREASURES
SACRIFICED AT TAX SALE
She read the two-line head aloud. Butterworth.
Where have I heard that name before?
Kit replied without taking her eyes from the road.
Dad went to school with a boy named Tim
Butterworth. I think he was a relative of the
Newport Butterworths. Anyway, when Dad visited
in Newport he had lunch with Tim at a big house
called Eagle Rock. I cant remember how it
happened. Maybe Tim was staying there or
something.
Connie consulted the clipping again. Eagle
Rock. Thats the name of the Butterworth house. All
is explained. He just wants us to look it up for
sentimental reasons, I guess.
He described the place as fairly fantastic. Too
bad it will be empty, now.
Connie shrugged. Maybe somebody else has
bought it and fixed it up. You cant tell.
Maybe, Kit agreed idly.
But I rather hope its empty, Connie added. I
adore empty old mansions! Her eyes grew very
bright.
Kit glanced at her twin sister and laughed.
Connie, youre incredible. Will you never grow
up?
6

NeverI hope!
She put away her fathers notes and glanced at the
passing landscape. Long since, New London had
been left behind them, and more recently they had
crossed the Rhode Island border and turned into
Route 3.
Shouldnt we turn off soon, on the road to the
Saunderstown Bridge? Connie consulted the road
map. I can almost smell salt water, right now.
No wonder youre a success in the advertising
game, Kit teased. You have such a wonderful
imagination!
Here, here! Connie pretended to be stern. Cast
no aspersions on my first love.
First love? In her turn, Kit assumed an
expression of surprise. Don Fitzgerald and Larry
Stewart and three or four other boys I know would
be disappointed to hear that.
You win, Connie told her twin, chuckling.
Connie liked the game of wits she and Kit often
played together, tossing banter back and forth like a
ping-pong ball. It was fun to look forward to being
with Kit for two long weeks. Her sister was closer to
Connie than any other girl could ever be, and the
wrench of leaving her in Meadowbrook when she
fared forth to Philadelphia and the advertising
business had been greater than anyone had ever
guessed.
7

The winding road from the highway to Saunderstown seemed especially long, but finally they were
driving across the high span of the silver bridge,
looking down on blue water dotted here and there
with a sailboat or a power launch.
Connie looked out of the window ecstatically.
Smell! she cried. Doesnt it smell just like
summer? And look like a vacation ad?
You and your ads! But Kit was smiling happily.
Oh, isnt this going to be fun!
Gulls and terns winged above them, and a cluster
of puffy white clouds rode serenely in the sky. The
shore line was low and green, and Jamestown, when
they reached it, was as quaint and sleepy and
charming as Mr. Blair had promised it would be. On
the ferry ride to Newport, Connie and Kit began
talking about Aunt Helen and Uncle Pete, whom
they remembered rather more clearly than the boys.
Their aunt looked enough like their father to make
people remark on the family resemblance. She had
the same easy manner, the same laugh lines around
her eyes. Peter Ridgeway, her husband, was a tall,
rangy man with a high forehead and penetrating blue
eyes. He had the typical newspapermans probing
nature, and Connie had an idea that she would enjoy
getting to know him better. She almost always liked
men who were interested in the writing profession.
Kit was more interested in the boys. Randy will
8

be ten by now, she figured out, and Tom should

be just about twice his age, I should think. I wonder
if hes still going to school?
Didnt Mother say he was studying at Brown?
That would mean hed be free to take us around a
bit, unless he has a summer job.
The old-fashioned ferryboat was passing Goat
Island. Far off to the left Connie could see the Naval
War College and some anchored battleships. But the
section of Newport toward which they were heading
looked far from wealthy. Wharves crowded the
shore line, and close-packed buildings lined the
narrow streets of the commercial section of town.
The ferry unloaded slowly, and traffic in the
shopping district was thick, but finally the Blair
twins left Thames Street behind them and turned
into the road which led toward the outskirts of town.
The bay was no longer visible but they could
sense its closeness, because they began to pass the
tall iron fences that were the trade-marks of waterfront estates. Here and there, through stone pillars,
Connie could glimpse a curving white gravel drive,
and once in a while she could even see the turrets of
a house through the sheltering trees. Most of the
grounds were impeccably manicured, but there was
one strip of spiked iron fence through which weeds
straggled and morning-glories twined. Neglect and
decay were brilliantly lighted by the afternoon sun,
9

and Connie involuntarily shuddered.

How sad it must be, she murmured to Kit, to
lose great wealth and see a show place like that fall
into rack and ruin. Im glad we were born just
middle-class Americans, arent you?
Kit nodded, paying little attention because she
was concentrating on driving. In ten more minutes,
with the help of Uncle Petes concise map of the
immediate district, they had made several turns and
curved back to the bay again, entering a less
pretentious countryside, where simple farmhouses
were the rule.
A hand-lettered sign at the end of a short lane
said Ridgeway, and Connie cried, Here we are!
Both girls peered eagerly through the windshield at
a rambling stone and frame house beyond the
sloping lawn of which stretched the blue expanse of
the bay. Isnt it sweet! Kit breathed. I didnt
dream wed be right on the water. What luck!
And do you see what I see? asked Connie. Do
you see what I see! Her eyes were sparkling with
excitement and her attention was absorbed by a
small sailboat bobbing at anchor just off a narrow,
rickety little wharf. If the Ridgeway house had been
a castle, and if Connie had been greeted by liveried
footmen, she couldnt have been more delighted.
Nobody ever told us there was going to be a
sailboat! she sighed.
10

Kit, more cautious than her twin, said as she

turned into the driveway, Maybe it belongs to
somebody else.
But Connies enthusiasm was not to be checked.
Nonsense! she cried. Oh, Kit, wouldnt it be
grand if we could get Uncle Pete or Tom to teach us
to sail?
Kit didnt have time to reply. She was pulling on
her brake as Connie spoke, and as though in
response to a signal the side door opened and a
slender, tanned woman, looking surprisingly young
for her forty years, came down the steps with a
welcoming smile. Behind her bounded a springer
spaniel puppy, and behind the dog came a boy easily
recognizable as the Randy that Connie and Kit had
known several years before.
Connie opened the car door and a moment later
was caught in her aunts quick embrace. Then Helen
Ridgeway held her off by the shoulders. Ive been
watching the lane for an hour, she confessed.
Which are you, Connie or Kit?
Connie. It was a question each of the twins had
grown to expect, particularly from people who saw
them infrequently.
Then youre Kit. Aunt Helens greeting to her
other niece was equally warm. Are you exhausted,
with the heat and that endless drive?
It didnt seem long, Kit said honestly. We had
11

a lot of catching up to do. Then she turned her

attention to the house and the bay beyond. But its
good to be here, she added, stretching. And isnt
this a divine spot.
You like it? Aunt Helen sounded pleased. We
all adore it, but of course were water rats, all four of
us. We cant imagine living inland, ever again.
Then it is your sailboat? Connie cried.
The cat? Mrs. Ridgeway glanced toward the
water. Yes. Do you like to sail?
Love it, Connie replied. But I dont know
much about it. Id like to learn more.
You will, her aunt promised. Toms an
enthusiastic teacher when he has a pretty girl as
pupil.
Connie dropped a mock curtsy. Even when the
girls a cousin? Then she turned to Randy and held
out her hand. Remember me?
Randy said, Sure! but he looked rather
helplessly from Connie to Kit, while the twins burst
out laughing. Im the paleface, Kit told him
ruefully. Connies the one with the tan.
Youll even lose that distinguishing difference in
a couple of days, Aunt Helen promised as Randy
shook hands with Kit in turn. But what are we
standing here for? Come on in. Randy will bring
your bags.
Half an hour later, ensconced in a cheerful guest
12

room that overlooked the bay, Connie and Kit

congratulated themselves anew on their luck. Aunt
Helen was even nicer than they had remembered,
genuinely hospitable and easy. Randy had grown out
of his puppy-dog wildness and had attained a less
awkward age. Tom had gone fishing with a friend,
Mark Eastham, but was due home shortly. Uncle
Pete would return from the newspaper office about
six.
The girls were still unpacking when a tall, dark
boy with a wicker fishing basket slung over his
shoulder came whistling across the marshy strip of
land between the lawn and the bay.
Connie paused in her trips from suitcase to closet
and looked out the window. That must be Tom
now, she said.
Kit peered over her shoulder, and both girls liked
what they sawa thin, pleasant-faced boy with the
Blair brown eyes and an easy way of striding along.
He looked as though he belonged in the clothes he
wore, old duck pants and a T-shirt. His arms and
face were brown as an Indians, and as he drew
closer, Connie was conscious of a competent
manner of which she highly approved.
Toms likeability was confirmed by his voice
when the twins met him a few minutes later. Sorry
I wasnt on hand when you arrived, he apologized.
I might have helped carry in your gear.
13

Oh, Randy was a fine pinch hitter, Mrs.

Ridgeway told him. Then she asked briskly, Are
you going to have to clean those fish, or will you
have time to take the girls for a short swim before
dinner?
Tom, in typical country fashion, glanced not at
his watch, but at the sinking sun. The fish do have
to be cleaned, he said thoughtfully. Would you
settle for a moonlight sail instead?
Would we! It was Connie who answered.
Wouldnt we just!

14

CHAPTER

The Mysterious Light

The moon looked like a big yellow tiddlywink,

pulled by invisible wires through the sky. The stars
were so close they were startling, and the bay was
whipped by a breeze Tom pronounced perfect.
But you girls better wear a couple of sweaters or
something, he suggested as they made ready to go
sailing. Nights around here are apt to get cool.
After the heat of the day it seemed impossible
that they would need woolens, but Uncle Pete
confirmed Toms judgment and Connie and Kit each
took a sweater and a jacket along. Randy led the
way over the planks that went across the marsh to
the dock, the twins followed him in single file, and
Tom brought up the rear.
Connie, as usual, was full of questions. How
long is your boat? she asked her cousin over her
shoulder as they walked along.
Eighteen foot, Tom replied.
15

And it will ride four? From this distance the

bobbing, slender craft looked deceptively small.
Six, even, if theres enough breeze.
Really? Connie whistled softly.
You girls ever do much sailing? Randy asked
from up front, sounding amusingly superior.
Kit said, No. Were landlubber Pennsylvanians.
Youll probably be shocked to know Ive never been
in a sailboat in my life.
Never in a sailboat? Randy did sound horrified.
Golly, what a lot youve missed!
How about you, Connie? Tom asked.
I went sailing in Bermuda a few times. And
loved every minute of it!
Bermuda? Randys superiority gave way to
envy. Bermuda! Boy, you really do get around.
They talked, as they rowed out to the sailboat in
the dory, about Connies recent trip, which sounded
equally exciting to Tom and his younger brother.
When Randy discovered that his cousin had actually
flown home, across all those miles of ocean, he was
definitely impressed. But Connie refused to let the
conversation dwell too completely on herself and
brought the talk back to sailing as soon as she
courteously could manage it.
Tom knew a great deal about the theory of the
sport, and he explained things well and logically.
Kit, after the first few minutes, found it difficult to
16

follow his reasoning, but Connie was alive with

curiosity and interest.
Ever handle a tiller yourself? Tom asked.
Never. But Id like to.
Tom grinned. Thats easy enough to arrange.
Not tonight! Kit begged, suddenly timid. It
isnt that I dont trust you, Connie, but
But you trust Tom more! Connie laughed, not
in the least offended, and let Randy give her a hand
as she climbed from the skiff into the larger boat.
Seen thus closely, the catboat looked much bigger
than she had expected. It boasted both a mainsail
and a jib. The hull was white as a gull in the
moonlight, and the name Sea Swallow was painted
in dark green along the side.
Both boys ignored the girls for a few minutes as
they began to work at duties they apparently took for
granted. Randy tugged at the boom crotch while
Tom untied the sail cover. Kit sat down on a kapok
pillow, keeping well out of the way, but Connie
watched everything with fascination.
Here. Stow this away forard, Randy ordered,
handing her the forked length of wood that had held
the boom. Please, he added belatedly.
Connie crawled over a cork life preserver and
found a place for it under the deck, then came back
to the stern bent almost double so that she would
escape the slowly swinging boom.
17

Now Tom was tugging at the halyards, trying to

pull a rope free so that he could hoist sail. Here,
hold the tiller a minute, he told Randy when he
came back to the stern. Ill get the centerboard.
The nautical terms were captivating to Connie.
She tried to interpret them as Randy followed Toms
directions obediently. A few seconds later the mainsail was up, Tom had payed out the sheet, and they
were swinging away from the anchored skiff in a
shallow curve.
The bay was swelling gently, and the breeze was,
as Tom had prophesied, becoming brisk. Connie
turned her head and let the wind blow her hair
straight back from her ears, breathing in the good
salt smell of the bay.
Kit was smiling faintly, looking relaxed and
happy, confident that her cousins knew their
business and that her only obligation this evening
was to enjoy herself. She had none of her twins
impulse to explore new experiences to their very
marrow. She was quite content to just sit and absorb
this new sensation so akin to flying, and to store
away in her memory the moonpath on the bay, the
brightness of the stars, the mystery of the dark water
through which they were gliding with everincreasing speed.
Well wait to hoist the jib until we see what this
breeze is like, Tom was saying to Randy.
18

Maybe we wont need it.

Maybe, Tom agreed.
Considering the difference in their years, the
brothers seemed companionably attuned. Perhaps it
was because Randy was old for his age, Connie
decided, more responsible than she had expected,
and more interesting. It could be that living near the
sea developed such qualities in a boy.
The Sea Swallow was skimming through the
water like a dragonfly now, leaning far over, the sail
taut. Connies eyes were bright with excitement.
Tom grinned at her appreciatively.
Like it?
Mm!
After a few more minutes Tom began watching
his sail. Ready about! he called suddenly, and to
Kit, Randy added, That means duck.
They all ducked quickly as the boom swung over
and the boat came about on another tack. Connie
could see the lights of Newport now, winking in the
distance, some bunched together in a long, low
rectangle, others scattered along a curve of land like
minute, unblinking stars.
Spray whispered across Connies face and she
lifted her head to taste the salt on her lips. She felt
like a bird, no longer an earth-bound human.
No need to hoist the jib. Swell breeze, Tom was
saying. He headed for a lighted buoy in the distance
19

and began to help the girls get their bearings in the

moonlit bay.
The town of Newport lay almost behind them to
their portside, and a ribbon of land curved around in
a semicircle before them. Randy pointed out a yacht
club, and the lights of some huge summer
residences, while Tom named the islands and the
coves. They tacked again, and came into a sheltered
bit of quiet water, in the lee of a high promontory of
land. Their speed slowed, and Connie looked up at
the great bulks of houses scattered along the
headland. This was the Newport her father spoke of,
the summer colony of the fabulously rich.
Tom identified the estates by name, and he
described them to the girls, while Connie listened
idly. The names, famous perhaps in the New York
social register or on Wall Street, meant little to her
until her cousin spoke of the Butterworths.
I wish you could have seen Eagle Rock when it
was still a show place, Tom said. It was really
something. One of the most exciting locations
anywhere around, to my way of thinking. Hangs
right over the water, on the bluff above us here.
Both Connie and Kit looked upward in the
direction Tom indicated. The moon was behind
them, and only faintly illuminated a turreted castle
that might have been haunted by Lorelei.
For a moment neither spoke. Then Kit asked
20

softly, What was that poem we had to learn in

school, years ago?
Hast thou seen that lordly castle,
That castle by the sea?
Golden and red above it
The clouds float gorgeously.
Connie could always cap a quotation. She had a
memory even better than Kits.
Well I have seen that castle,
That castle by the sea,
And the moon above it standing,
And the mist rise solemnly.
There was lots more, Kit murmured.
I know, but Ive forgotten most of it. Except one
line. But I heard on the gale the sound of a wail
It was a sad and eerie sort of poem.
Definitely unmerry. Tom chuckled. As a
matter of fact, Eagle Rock itself is a little
forbidding.
Spooky, Randy put in. Always has been.
Connie looked at the younger boy sharply. What
do you mean?
He doesnt mean anything, Tom said.
I do too. Randy was insistent. Wait till you set
21

it in the daytime!
Tom laughed. I thought ghosts walked at night,
Small Fry.
Kit shivered. Change the subject, cant you?
she asked in a voice half-teasing, half-serious. She
was still looking up at the castle on the rock. I can
see what Randy means.
The moon, riding high behind them, dodged
behind a cloud as she spoke and the bay was
suddenly darkened. No white path danced on the
water; no light fell on the faces in the sailboat.
Connie found herself following Kits glance, leaning
back against the side of the cockpit and looking,
with strange inevitability, upward. She felt awed,
almost afraid, as though on the breeze that was
certainly far from a gale she might actually hear the
sound of a wail, as the German poet had in years
gone by. But instead, to her surprise, she saw a light,
a wan and flickering light that seemed to move
slowly from window to window beyond the
mansions stone walls.
Look! Connie whispered, and pointed.
Look at what? Tom was busy with the tiller and
he didnt recognize the urgency in her voice.
But Randy responded with gratifying promptness.
Hey! Theres a light!
Where?
In the Butterworth place. Honest, Tom!
22

Nonsense, Tom said. There hasnt been a soul

living there since old Mrs. Butterworth died six
months ago.
But look! Connie insisted.
The boat had shifted around just enough so that
the sail hid the bluff from Toms view. He came
about as quickly as possible on a new tack, but by
then the light had disappeared.
Youre seeing things! he teased Connie.
No, really. There was a light. Randy saw it.
Randys got an imagination like Edgar Allan
Poes, Tom chuckled. Did you see it, Kit?
The moon, emerging again, lighted Kits earnest
face. She was frowning, puzzlement creasing her
usually smooth forehead. Im not sure, she said
slowly. Maybe it was imagination, but for just a
minute or two I did think She stopped and
looked at Connie with a question in her eyes. Would
it be wise to pursue the subject any further?
Connie took the hint. Oh, well, lets pretend
there was a light, anyway. It makes everything so
much more interesting to have a haunted house to
speculate about. She tousled her young cousins
hair affectionately. Doesnt it, Randy?
You bet!
If its old Mrs. Butterworths ghost, the poor
soul must be hungry. Tom took Connies cue and
began to treat the matter as a game. The last of the
23

Butterworths died without a nickel to her name. That

is, except for whatever the furnishings were worth.
Eagle Rock itself, I understand, was heavily
mortgaged.
Who were the Butterworths, anyway? I mean,
where did all the money to build a castle like that
come from? Kit wanted to know.
Tom shrugged. Lots of people have asked that
question, around here, but I dont know that
anybody ever got a satisfactory answer. There are
some interesting theories, though.
Such as? prodded Connie lightly.
Oh, they arent very savory. Scarcely worth
repeating. Tom had glanced at his younger brother
and the avid interest explicit in Randys expression
made him cautious. He changed the subject abruptly.
Come on, Connie, you take the tiller now for a
while.
Connie didnt need a second invitation. She let
Tom hand her the sheet and moved into the position
he had been occupying in the stern.
Keep her headed for a point just to the starboard
of that lighted buoy, Tom advised.
Starboard?
Right, to you. Port is left.
Oh, yes! Connie felt a little dismayed at her
ignorance, but she promised herself she would learn.
In two weeks she could learn a lot!
24

But she didnt dream, on that first moonlit, starstudded evening, that she was to have a most
unusual vacation, and that she was to learn a great
deal about something quite differentand even
more excitingthan how to sail a boat.

25

CHAPTER

Eagle Rock

The bay, when Connie and Kit awakened in the

morning, was as smooth as glass. The breeze had
died with dawn, and the day to come was bound to
be hot and still.
But this did nothing to dampen the girls spirits.
They were used to hot, still days in Pennsylvania,
when midsummer temperatures were apt to soar into
the nineties and stay there for a week at a time.
Dressing alike, in blue denim shorts and openthroated plaid gingham shirts, they came down to
breakfast in time to say good-bye to Uncle Pete
before he left for Providence.
It hadnt occurred to them that their identical
costumes might prove confusing, but they had to
correct their uncle twice when he called Connie Kit,
and Kit Connie.
Well have to make a rule around here, he told
them with an amused shake of his head. One of you
26

will have to wear a blue ribbon, if you intend to

dress alike. I dont like seeing double at eight in the
morning. Its too nerve-racking for an old, worn-out
newspaperman like me.
Since Uncle Pete, whose eyes were both merry
and shrewd and whose slender figure was almost as
boyish as Toms, looked neither tired nor old
enough to be the father of a young man nearly out of
his teens, Connie and Kit both laughed at him and
continued to tease him. Finally, feigning utter
despair, he fled, but not before threatening to paint
one of the girls blue when he came home that night.
Give them a day in this sun and theyll be
scarlet, Aunt Helen called after him.
Better be careful, Uncle Pete warned. That
wont be fun.
Will you be home for dinner? his wife wanted
to know.
I think so. Unless I call you. The screen door
slammed behind him and he was off.
Tom, who was doing some part-time work at
what Randy called the clam factory, had gone off
before the rest of the family breakfasted, and the
younger boy became the twins self-appointed escort
for the day. Along with the springer spaniel puppy,
appropriately named Pogo, he took them on a tour of
the immediate neighborhood, helped them pick a
quart of wild blueberries, and brought them back
27

home in time for a swim before lunch.

The tide was high, and all four of them, including
Pogo, dived from the end of the dock. Both Connie
and Kit were strong swimmers, and this, added to
the fact that they didnt patronize him, as older
people were sometimes apt to do, seemed to increase
their prestige in Randys eyes.
He expressed his approval in typical ten-year-old
fashion. For girls, youre all right, he told Connie
as they sat together on the dock, swinging their legs
above the water. Pogo shook himself, showering
both of them with salt spray. Hey! Randy plunged
in again, making a tremendous splash.
Later, when Kit had climbed up the ladder to
stand above her, and Randy was beyond hearing
distance, swimming out to the skiff, Connie repeated
Randys remark.
I take that as a real compliment! Kit nodded,
smiling. Oh, Connie, isnt this all just perfect! She
stretched her arms wide to the sky and the sea.
Just how perfect she thought it was Connie tried
to say in a letter to her mother and dad early that
afternoon. Kit wrote to them at the same time and
together they drove to the post office at Newport to
mail the letters.
Randy went along as guide, and on the way home
he proposed something that had apparently been in
his mind all morning. Howd you like to explore
28

Eagle Rock?
Explore? Connie questioned.
Randy nodded, his eyes bright with mischief.
Now that he had accepted his cousins as virtual
playmates he could tell them his secret. I know a
way to get inside.
You do? Connies immediate interest was
explicit in her tone of voice. When she was excited
she always spoke in italics.
Yep. Down on the basement level theres a
broken window. Us kids found it one day.
Just who us kids happened to be Connie didnt
stop to inquire. Looking at Kit she cried, Lets!
But Kit was the more cautious twin. Mightnt it
beillegal, maybe?
Were not breaking and entering. Were just
entering, Connie replied with a chuckle. Anyway,
as Aunt Bet always says, she said, recalling the
young aunt with whom she lived in Philadelphia,
anything thats fun is almost always illegal or
fattening. Come on, Katy, be a sport!
Kit shrugged. Just so you promise to get me out
of jail in time to enjoy the rest of my vacation.
Its a deal!
Nobody cares, Randy insisted, bouncing up and
down in impatience. The house is a wreck,
anyway.
So a few minutes later, at her young cousins
29

direction, Connie turned off the main thoroughfare

to a winding road that led them closer to the shore.
The country was hilly here, and they were soon
riding along a ridge of land high above the bay,
which was only occasionally visible through the
trees. The sun once more, as on the previous
afternoon, was beating down with merciless
brilliance on the well-kept lawns of large estates,
and it made the rust splotches on the great iron gates
of Eagle Rock seem sad and ugly by comparison,
the chipped cement of the once impeccable
driveway a malformation in an otherwise tidy world.
With conspiratorial foresight, Connie parked the
car on the main road at some distance from the
gates. She was careful to put it in the shade of a tree,
because the sun would make an oven of the body
before their return. Then she and Kit and Randy set
out with assumed nonchalance, and turned in to the
abandoned estate on foot.
Grass grew between the spreading cracks in the
cement. Weeds choked the shrub border.
Honeysuckle entangled the lower limbs of rare trees,
creeping up to strangle and kill them. Such ravage
made Connie feel almost ill. It was frightening to
see how quickly nature could reclaim and destroy
man-made grandeur. She said as much to Kit.
Her sister nodded, but Randy paid no attention to
such philosophizing. He was imbued with one
30

increasing purpose. He wanted to investigate the

possible source of that weird light he had seen last
night.
Connie knew just what was in the boys mind.
She was almost as curious, if not quite so impatient,
as he. But she mentioned nothing of this to Kit,
because she knew her twin would never condone
such childish mystery chasing. This was her
vacation and she did not intend to become embroiled
in such activity. Not Kit!
They walked for quite a distance along the
curving drive before a turn brought the house into
sight. Then Connie stopped with a gasp. Its
crumbling magnificence was even more shocking
than she had imagined, but its past glory was
apparent. It must once have been fabulous indeed!
Great jardinieres, so heavy that it must have taken
a dozen men to lift one, flanked the once-elegant
porte-cochere, but no flowers bloomed in them now.
Ivy trailed dismally up a pillar to the gallery which
seemed to encircle the house at a higher level than
that on which they stood. The lower windows were
barred but the upper ones were uncurtained and
staring. It was easy to see that they were made of
plate glass and that they must once have been draped
with damasks and satins.
Its like a castle on the Rhine! Connie
murmured, half to herself. Pink and green marble
31

was laid like tile in intricate patterns along an oval

terrace that formed an approach to the main door. It
was a temptation to walk across it on tiptoe, as
though the clip-clop of loafers might be an insult to
such sumptuousness.
Can you imagine living in a shack like this?
Randys boyish question exploded in the still air
and made Connie and Kit both laugh. It might be
fun for a week end, Connie replied.
But it would be an awful lot to live up to, Kit
added, realistically.
Wait till you see it in daytime from the bay
side, Randy told the girls, almost as though he were
bragging about his own private possession.
Hanging out over the rock the way it does, its
really something!
A bee dive-bombed at Connies nose, and she
ducked. A mosquito settled on her arm hungrily, and
she slapped at it. Insects seemed to be the only
tenants left at Eagle Rock. I have a theory, she
said as she followed Randy across the terrace.
Maybe the light we saw last night was just a swarm
of lightning bugs.
He had the good sense not to take her seriously.
Phooey. That light came from inside the house.
Connie didnt argue the point because she was
convinced of the same thing, and she was glad that
Kit didnt demur when their young cousin led them
32

down some twisting stone steps to a lower level,

then along a semicircular balcony that hung out over
the bay. The view from here was positively breathtaking. Near by, to their right, the green lawns of
estates sloped down to the shore whenever absence
of rock permitted, and in the distance, almost
directly across the bay from the point at which they
stood, the business district of Newport sweltered
under the heat haze. The ferry on which Connie and
Kit had crossed the bay only the day before was
once more passing Goat Island, and a schooner
under power was bound for the open sea, just visible
in the distance. Few small sailing craft were abroad,
however, and those in evidence seemed almost
entirely becalmed.
Come on! Randy tugged at Connies plaid shirt.
He led the girls to a side window which lacked the
forbidding bars of most of the others, pushed it open
with ease, and clambered through into the dim
interior of a room which must once have been a
pantry. Connie followed, and so did Kit.
The pantry led to a kitchen which in its day must
have been the last word in convenience, but which
seemed antiquated and hotel-sized to the girls. They
didnt linger, but followed Randy upstairs to the
main floor, which interested them far more.
Connie, as she ascended the stairs, kept sniffing.
A tantalizing fragrance, strange in a closed house,
33

seemed to hang in the air. It was stronger than the

dusty, musty odor which anyone might have
expected. She stopped midway. Do you smell
something? she asked.
Smell something? Kit, whose senses were less
alert, hadnt caught it.
Like perfume, Connie said.
Kit stopped and took a deep breath. I see what
you mean. Thats strange.
But Randy was bounding on ahead like an eager
puppy. Waitll you get an eyeful of this! he said
over his shoulder as he hurried them on.
His enthusiasm was certainly justified, Connie
and Kit agreed. The main hall was truly magnificent.
Floored in imported marble, illuminated at one time
by an enormous crystal chandelier which glittered
high above their heads, and flanked on either side by
a sweeping staircase, it looked fit for any prince.
More to Connies taste was an oval reception room
just off it, painted above the wainscoting with
French court scenes. Incredibly elegant, its domed
ceiling also bore scenic paintings, and the whole
apartment was as perfect as a regal gem.
The reception room contained not a stick of
furniture, but the vast entrance hall held two
ordinary oak office desks, apparently abandoned by
the auctioneers who had sold the interior furnishings
of Eagle Rock at the tax sale Connie and Kit had
34

read about in their fathers newspaper clipping. The

mahogany-paneled library, however, a semicircular
room which looked out over the bay, still contained
an upturned inlaid table, a French chair staggering
crazily on only three good legs, and a number of
books which had been spilled out of the shelves and
were lying forlorn and unwanted on the parquet
floor.
Connie bent and picked up one open, yellowpaged volume in distress. Taught to treat books with
respect, it seemed dreadful to her that these should
have been abandoned in such a rude manner. She
closed the book in her hand and read the title. It
seemed to be a book of sermons, oddly out of
character with the worldliness of the sumptuous
house. The Very Nature of Sin, she read aloud.
What? Kit looked over her shoulder.
Oh, come on! Randy was urging. We havent
got time for any old books!
Understanding his impetuousness, Connie put the
book gently on one of the shelves and followed
Randy on the tour of inspection, which led them
through a damask-lined drawing room, a huge
dining room with a marble fireplace, and several
other smaller apartments back to the entrance hall.
Randy leaped up the stairs like a rabbit, Connie not
far behind, but Kit came along more slowly, feeling
like an interloper.
35

There might be tramps living up there, she

murmured to Connie. Do you think this is quite
safe?
But the question occurred to her too late. Randy
was already so far ahead that there was no stopping
him, and despite Kits qualms the trio discovered no
sign of recent occupancy. In one or two bedrooms
massive Victorian beds, tortuously carved in black
walnut, had apparently defeated any effort made by
the auctioneers to effect a sale. They remained,
relics of a heavy-handed past, along with some
faded satin draperies and an occasional ornate
marble-topped table too large to be interesting to a
present-day buyer of antiques.
Looking out once more on the bay, Connie and
Randy discussed the points at which the light had
appeared, and settled on a group of guest bedrooms
less elegant than the master suite.
Lets look for a clue, Connie proposed,
indulging Randys taste for detection, but they could
find nothing distinctively unusual.
Maybe the house is haunted, Randy proposed
to the twins intense surprise. Maybe the old ladys
ghost walks at night.
Randolph Ridgeway, you ought to be ashamed,
talking like a six-year-old! Connie scolded him.
You dont believe in ghosts, at your age!
Well, there was a light, Randy pouted. You
36

explain it then.
But Connies mind was engaged with a much
more interesting question. How did it happen that
here, on the second floor, no fragrance perfumed the
air. Had a woman wearing a heavy scent quite
recently walked through the lower chambers? What
else could account for the odor both she and Kit had
noticed?
Listen, Kit said suddenly. You two may not
feet like burglars, but I do. Its all very interesting,
but Ive seen enough. Think how foolish wed feel if
somebody should catch us! Im getting out of this
house.
She meant it too. She ran downstairs quickly,
Connie and Randy trailing behind. As they retraced
their steps through the rooms of the main floor to the
stairs leading down to the kitchen Connie kept
looking for some trace of the perfumed visitor, but it
was unlikely that the lady would have conveniently
dropped anything so revealing as a handkerchief or a
pair of gloves.
Had they imagined the flowerlike fragrance?
Connie began to wonder, but the next moment she
became acutely conscious of it again.
Kit, that is the smell of perfume. She spoke
sharply, as though she were trying to convince
herself.
Kit frowned and nodded. I dont understand it.
37

Neither do I, Connie confessed.

Perfume worn by some person or persons
unknown, her sister teased, feeling easier now that
they were about to leave the house.
It isnt a joking matter. What woman could have
been here, and why?
I cant answer either of those questions, but I
can tell you one thing, Kit replied. Whoever she
was and for whatever reason she came, she doesnt
explain your light on the second floor.
Why not? Randy wanted to know, asking the
question just for the sake of asking a question.
There was no perfume odor upstairs.
Connie nodded, proud of her sisters perspicacity.
She let Kit crawl out of the window first, turned, and
took one more deep, thoughtful breath. Then she
snapped her fingers and her eyes sparkled. Lily of
the valley! she cried.
Thats it! Kit was stopped in mid-flight.
But Randy only gave a disgusted grunt and,
revising his previous decision, muttered, Girls!

38

CHAPTER

The Ghost Walks Again

When Connie, Kit, and Randy reached home, Mrs.

Ridgeway was busily making sandwiches and
deviling eggs.
Peter wants me to meet him in Providence for
dinner, she told the twins, so Im packing a picnic
supper for you and the boys. When Tom comes
home he may want to call Mark Eastham, too. Then
you can take the boat and go wherever you please.
Such spontaneous parties always appealed to
Connie, and she looked forward to the picnic with
pleasure. Tom fell in with the plan readily when he
returned in the late afternoon, but he couldnt reach
his friend Mark. So the four of them set off in the
Sea Swallow, with the picnic basket and gallon
thermos of iced tea stowed under the deck.
The bay, Connie decided, changed with every
passing hour. A modest breeze had come up, just
enough to fill the sails, and their trip to the beach
39

where they intended to picnic was relaxed and

peaceful. By tacit agreement neither she nor Kit nor
Randy spoke of their exploration of the Butterworth
mansion, but Connie couldnt get Eagle Rock out of
her mind. When they passed the cove, from a
distance, she kept glancing up curiously at the
rococo old castle on the cliff. A mysterious light, a
perfumed visitor, a broken window latch. What did
it all add up to? Who was haunting the mansion, and
to what purpose? She discovered an urge to know
more of the history of the Butterworth family. She
must remember to ask Uncle Pete. . . .
For Connie had already discovered that her
newspaper-trained uncle typified men in his
profession. He loved to discuss local lore and he was
as informative as, and far more entertaining, than a
history book.
Come back, Connie! Youre a million miles
away! Tom, holding the tiller with a steady hand,
chided her.
Not a million. Only about a mile, Connie
wanted to reply, but she kept her own counsel for
the moment.
Randy, sprawled on his stomach along the deck,
waved to a passing boat, then turned his head and
called back to his brother. Theres the Bosun,
Tom.
Tom waved too, and a gray-haired, distinguished40

looking man in a commodores cap waved back.

The Bosun? Kit murmured.
Thats just a nickname for Mr. Meredith. I dont
know why everybody calls him that. Maybe because
he was in the Navy years ago.
He certainly has a pretty boat, Connie said
admiringly. Her eyes swept the trim powerboat that
was passing some distance to starboard. The bright
work, as her cousins called the brass trimmings,
gleamed in the setting sun, and the paint was fresh
and white.
Hes a charter boatman, Randy explained.
Whats that?
A guy who takes out fishing parties, Tom
explained. Its sort of a strange occupation for Mr.
Meredith. He looks to be several cuts above that sort
of thing. But he apparently likes it.
Every man to his taste, Connie murmured.
Me, I think it would be a slick kind of life,
Randy said over his shoulder. All day, every day on
the water. Why knock yourself out?
Why, indeed? Whats money? Tom snapped his
fingers and grinned at the girls. But I think Randy
would make a better beachcomber than a charter
boatman. It would be such an effort to take the fish
off the hook.
Randy, realizing that he was being teased, made a
sound between a grunt and a snort. When are we
41

eating, and where? he asked, changing the subject.

Thought wed tie in at the Websters dock and
use their beach. We have a standing invitation,
Tom explained to Connie and Kit.
In half an hour more they were all settled on a
sheltered rocky beach, far different from the sandy
Jersey beaches with which the girls were more
familiar. They were seeing the bay from still a
different point of view now, and they watched boats
come and go in the distance. Large cabin cruisers,
sloops, ketches, even schooners were on the water
tonight, and Connie tried to learn their
distinguishing characteristics.
Its hardest to tell the difference between a ketch
and a yawl, she decided aloud. Im afraid Ill
never really learn.
But Tom encouraged her. Youve learned a lot
already. Just wait a few more days.
After supper they climbed into the boat again,
feeling lazy and replete. The early evening was
pleasantly cool after the hot, still day, and the
twilight seemed to linger endlessly.
Tom sailed back toward the Ridgeway dock on
short tacks. The breeze was still so light that the boat
moved very slowly. The girls chatted with their
cousins in desultory fashion about a number of
things, and not until one tack brought them directly
into the cove below Eagle Rock did Connies
42

thoughts stray back to the mysterious house.

Then she shifted her position so that she could
look up at it, gray and monumental atop the cliff, its
windows no longer painted gold by the setting sun.
Tom intercepted her glance. See a light tonight,
Connie? His eyes were merry.
No, Connie admitted, but then, it isnt dark
yet. She refused to be teased.
Idly, Tom let the boat drift closer and closer to
shore. The tide was low, and the sloping beach
below the cliff had broadened. The house from here,
rising almost above them, looked overpowering.
Kit shivered a little. That place gives me the
creeps, she said.
From the bay side there were three semicircular
galleries or balconies curving, one over the other,
above the cliff. At high tide, Connie said
thoughtfully, the house must hang right above the
water, but at low tide theres really quite a strip of
beach.
On this side, yes, Tom agreed. But on the
other side of the rock theres a little inlet that rarely
runs dry. He broke off short. Say! Look up there!
His gaze was fastened on the upper balcony, but
Connie, for a moment, could see nothing. Then a
shadow seemed to move behind one of the pillars,
and ever so slowly, as though pulled by invisible
hands, a window that had been open was closed.
43

Speechless for a moment, not one of them quite

believing his own eyes, the four cousins sat in the
sailboat and stared upward. Then Tom started to roll
up his pants. Im going to anchor and see whats
cooking. Theres somebody in that house, he said.
Randy looked confused. Somebody or
something, he muttered, a small-boy fascination in
the supernatural coming to the fore.
Oh, act your age! Tom scolded. He was already
dropping anchor. Quickly he began to tie a couple of
stays around the lowered sail.
Im coming with you! Connie started to pull at
the laces of her sneakers.
Tom didnt try to dissuade her, but he said, Then
youd better keep your sneaks on. There are
thousands of barnacles on this beach.
The thrill of a chase was irresistible, even to Kit.
She followed the rest over the side of the boat,
slipping into the knee-deep water soundlessly. In a
couple of seconds they were invisible from the
house because they were almost immediately
beneath it. The shrub-covered hillside on the left of
the mansion looked unscalable to Connie, and as she
followed Tom up the sloping beach she said so.
I know a path, her cousin said shortly. Ive
been here before.
He led them to an outcropping of rock and
zigzagged up it to an apparently impenetrable
44

thicket. After searching for a moment he parted

some bushes with both hands. O.K. Here it is.
Connie, then Kit and Randy, followed him from
the twilight into a dark-green tunnel, and found steps
cut in the shaly ground. All three were soon
breathless as they climbed this natural, curving
staircase, and Connie wondered what sturdy soul
among the opulent Butterworths had caused the path
to be built.
Then, as suddenly as they had entered the tunnel
of green, they emerged from it to the lowest of the
semicircular balconies. Tom turned, a cautioning
finger to his lips, and pointed to the stairs which led
to the next level. A jerk of his head indicated that
they were to follow him soundlessly.
Just once, Connie glanced back toward the bay.
The sailboat lay at anchor below them, but from this
height it was out of sight unless one went to the
stone railing and looked directly down. She had a
small qualm of doubt. It was one thing to explore
Eagle Rock in the daylight, but it was quite another
to steal upon a window-closing ghost unaware.
But Tom did not seem to be considering the
consequences. His curiosity thoroughly aroused, he
was as eager as a boy on a treasure hunt. From one
level to another he led them, then started up the
second set of steps.
It was then that they heard the music. All four of
45

them stopped simultaneously. It came from

somewhere above them, thin, eerie, haunting.
Wraithlike, the notes from a violin floated on the
twilit air, and to Connie it occurred that there was no
distinguishable tune.
Toms eyes widened in astonishment. Well, can
you beat that! he whispered. Dyou suppose some
guys got a radio on?
Immediately Connie knew that he had been
pursuing the theory that a tramp or a homeless bum
was camping out in Eagle Rock, but she knew that
there had been no evidence of any such thing this
afternoon. And her good sense told her that this was
not radio music, this eerie, tuneless wail.
Tom didnt wait for an answer to his own
question but crept on up the steps. Connie could
hear the water sloshing gently in his sneakers, but
aside from the music, this was the only sound.
Then, just as Tom reached the top balcony, an
unfortunate thing happened. With absolutely no
warning, Randy gave a Gargantuan sneeze.
Ka-choo!
As though it had been a prearranged signal, the
music stopped dead in the middle of a high, piercing
note. Golly, Randy, you would do something like
that! Tom whispered in disgust. Then he sprinted
along the balcony toward the window they had
noted from the bay.
46

No longer at great pains to keep quiet, Connie

followed, but Kit and Randy had lost some of their
previous enthusiasm. Night was closing in fast now,
and this game of chasing a shadow lacked its former
appeal.
At the same moment it apparently occurred to
Tom that he might be leading his cousins into real
danger, because he pulled up short and grabbed
Connies arm. This isnt smart, he whispered.
Wed make perfect targets from behind one of
those plate-glass windows.
But Connie was not to be dissuaded. Oh, Tom,
whod want to shoot at us? she whispered back,
and broke free, streaking along the balcony ahead of
the older boy.
There was nothing for Tom to do but follow his
impetuous cousin, who had the window they were
seeking spotted just as definitely as he. When she
reached it Connie had the foresight to stop and peer
cautiously into the room, but when she could see
nothing in the gloom she didnt hesitate to try the
sash, and she wasnt really very much surprised
when the lower pane slid upward at the pressure of
her palms.
A second later they were in the room.
She had been in this same room this afternoon,
but Connie had the immediate feeling that
something was changed.
47

Then she remembered.

She had closed the door on the way out. She was.
certain of it, because she had been careful to close
all the bedroom doors, leaving the house just as they
had found it so that there would be no record of their
intrusion. Now the door was open on the hall that
led to the grand staircase. Quickly she tiptoed across
the room.
Tom, right behind her, was in time to see a
formless white something fade into the darkness of
the stair well like a receding ectoplasm. He was
witness to the fact that she didnt imagine it,
although Kit and Randy were not on hand to confirm
Connies first sight of what they later all referred to
as the ghost.
Afraid of nothing, she would have given
immediate chase, but once more Tom grabbed her
arm, and this time he held fast. Were getting out of
here. Right now! There was command in his voice.
Unsuccessfully, Connie tried to pull away. Then,
impatiently, she whispered, Thats no ghost!
Punctuating her imperative announcement came
the bang of a door from the lower regions. Sharp as
a pistol crack, the sound echoed and re-echoed in the
empty house. Kit was in the bedroom behind Tom
and Connie by now, and Randy was close beside
her. Suddenly, with instinct unfettered by advancing
years, the little boy turned and ran. He didnt need
48

Tom to tell him it was time to get out of here. He

knew!
There was nothing for the twins and his older
brother to do but to follow. Randys thin bare legs
twinkling ahead of them, the three raced down the
balcony steps from one level to another until they
reached the thicket which concealed the path down
the side of the cliff.
It took courage to plunge into the pitch darkness
of the leafy tunnel, through which now not a flicker
of light came. Now Randy hung back and Tom
edged past him and went ahead, finding his way
more by intuition than by knowledge down the
slippery, moss-covered, uneven footholds which led
to the beach.
Now, for the first time, Connie felt a sharp thrill
of fear. They were so hemmed in, so captive in this
perpendicular passage. Roots writhed and twisted
beneath her feet, ready to pitch her headlong
downward at the slightest misstep.
How had it grown dark so quickly? Why had they
ever launched forth on such a ridiculous quest?
What had possessed Tom, previously so sensible, to
yield to such a childish impulse and lead them all
on?
Connie could hear Kit panting behind her, and
she wondered whether her twin sisters breath was
coming as short as her own. Blood was pounding in
49

her ears and she had a frantic desire to scream and to

pull at the vines above her head, clawing her Avay
out of this murky passage. She was beginning to
understand what claustrophobia must be like.
Yet Connie didnt speak; nor did anyone else.
They all seemed to realize how readily they could be
trapped.
Slipping, sliding, righting themselves by grabbing
at roots and branches, they made their way
downward. Mosquitoes buzzed around their heads
and swarmed about their bare legs. Brambles tore at
their ankles. Swinging ropes of fox grapes slapped
their faces and twigs caught in the girls hair.
But by now, so great was their desire for freedom,
they were almost impervious to pain. When Tom
finally pushed aside the final curtain of vines the
sight of the shining beach was like the discovery of
Shangri-La.
Connie stumbled out on the stones with such
thankfulness that she never thought to glance
upward, to see whether a light now shone from
Eagle Rock.
So far as she was concerned for the rest of this
evening, the ghost could walk alone!

50

CHAPTER

Enter Mark Eastham

Great Scott! cried Peter Ridgeway when the four

cousins, bramble-scratched, mosquito-bitten, and
generally the worse for wear, walked from the outer
darkness into the lamplit living room. What under
the sun have you been doing?
It wasnt under the sun, said Tom ruefully, and
the rest of them laughed.
Connie had torn her shorts; Randy had snagged
his T-shirt; Kits right cheek was decorated with a
long red welt. As a group, they looked as though
they had been fighting a private war.
Randy would have spilled the whole story of their
evening adventure, but Tom hustled him off to bed
before he had a chance. Connie and Kit were
relieved, because they had no desire to admit to such
a childish pastime as ghost chasing. They
appreciated the fact that Tom undoubtedly felt the
same way.
51

Their Uncle Pete, however, wasnt inclined to let

them dodge the issue. With a reporters inclination
to ferret out the truth, he asked the girls some
leading questions.
Where did those sons of mine take you?
Oh, we went rock climbing, Connie said.
Exploring, added Kit unexplicitly.
Both the twins nodded and smiled at each other
and at their uncle.
Peter Ridgeways eyes narrowed and his
answering smile was wry. Never saw a rock scratch
a girl like that. He was looking at the welt on Kits
cheek.
Oh, that was a bramble. Kit continued to smile
with assumed cheerfulness. She hadnt yet had a
chance to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror,
and she had no idea how utterly disheveled she
looked.
Connie, however, burst into spontaneous
laughter. We were playing a sort of game with
Randy, she explained without really explaining. I
guess were getting a little too old for that sort of
thing.
But her uncle was not easily fooled. Youre up
to something, the lot of you. But if you dont intend
to tell me, I suppose I can bide my time. Murder will
eventually out.
Murder? Kit looked so startled that Connie
52

burst into laughter again. She went over to her uncle

and gave him a quick hug, thanking him wordlessly
for not pressing them further.
Come on, Kit, she said to her twin. What we
both need is a good bath.
A good nights sleep, too, did much to restore
Connies usual self-confidence. The memory of their
harrowing flight faded with a new day, cooler by ten
degrees than yesterday, but the curiosity that had
attended them on their climb to Eagle Rock
remained.
At the breakfast table she showed her fathers
clipping about the Butterworth tax sale to her uncle.
By the way, she said, pretending to be very casual,
Daddy met these people once. Went to their house
with a friend when he was a young man. He was
wondering what had happened to the family.
Just died out, said her uncle succinctly. Oh,
there probably are relatives, but the last Mrs.
Butterworth, the old lady who lived alone in Eagle
Rock, passed away just a few months back.
Was Eagle Rock really so grand? Without
admitting that she already knew the mansion both
inside and out, Connie was trying to get Uncle Pete
to tell her what he knew of its history.
Pretty spectacular. On a scale thats fairly absurd
today, of course. Lots of Louis XV and gilt and
marble.
53

Where did people get so much money? Connie

asked innocently.
Peter Ridgeway chuckled. Well, they do say the
first Butterworth to make a pile was a
privateersman. You see, the name goes back to
Colonial days, long before the big influx of summer
people came and the palaces along the Cliff Walk
began to take shape. The early history of the family
wasnt very savory. The Butterworths may even
have done a little slave smuggling on the side. There
was money in that sort of thing, a fortune even.
Slave smuggling?
Sure. This was a major port, remember, even in
the 1600s
Spurred on by Connies occasional questions, her
uncle described what he knew about the rise of the
Butterworths,
which
was
accomplished
simultaneously with the rise of Newport.
Families are quick to forget their beginnings,
he said. By the time the Butterworths were
entrenched at Eagle Rock, the ships bursting with
silk, spices, slaves, and rum were pretty well
discounted. Then along came the panic and
depression of 93 and money got mighty scarce, but
did the Butterworths decamp?
Decamp?
Nope. They did not. And this has always
interested me! Uncle Pete said with a shake of his
54

finger. Just in the nick of time up sprang a

throwback, a chip off the old block, so to speak. At a
time when the Butterworth fortune was sagging, this
fellowNelson was his namehit on some sort of
get-rich-quick scheme that put them back on easy
street.
What was the scheme?
Uncle Pete shrugged. I wish I knew. Someday
Im going to write a history of Newports old
families. If I ever find out, Ill let you in on the
secret, Connie.
Looking at his watch, Mr. Ridgeway whistled in
alarm. Youll get me fired, young lady! Im already
twenty minutes late.
He picked up his hat from a chair in the hall,
slapped it on the back of his head, and went off
whistling, leaving Connie and her questions behind.
Half an hour later he had forgotten the conversation,
but Connie kept puzzling about Nelson
Butterworths money-making scheme as she
wandered alone down to the dock. She wondered
what more recent turn of fate had caused the family
to fall on evil days, and she wondered what person
or persons were haunting the mansion and for what
reason. Could there be any connection between the
Butterworth history and the present turn of events?
Hello, there!
A voice from directly under the dock made her
55

start.
Hello. Connie looked down as a young man,
with high cheekbones and intense blue eyes,
emerged from between the pilings and grinned up at
her.
You must be Toms cousin.
Connie nodded. I am.
My names Mark Eastham.
Oh, yes! Ive heard Tom speak of you. Connie
smiled genially and sat down, cross-legged, on the
edge of the dock. Do you live under there? Her
eyes were mischievous as she indicated the spot
from which Mark had emerged.
No, the boy answered quite seriously, I was
quahoging.
Connie snapped her fingers. Splendid! Now you
can tell me what that peculiar word means.
Now Mark laughed. Peculiar? Its mighty
common around here. Quahogs are big clams. We
use them to make chowder. He reached into a split
wood clam basket and showed her one.
Connie examined it with mild interest. Then the
clams live under the dock!
Mark laughed again. Some of them do. They
live all along shore here. You dig them with a clam
fork like this. He brought his into view.
Very interesting!
We have plenty of littlenecks around here too.
56

Do you mean to say Tom hasnt dug you any yet?

he asked as though he considered the possibility
quite shocking.
Connie shook her head, and her corn-colored hair
rippled on her shoulders. Nary a littleneck. But I do
know what they are, she added, and I love them!
Mark promised to remedy Toms oversight
himself, if necessary. Then he heaved his basket of
quahogs onto the dock, laid his clam fork beside it,
and swung himself up to sit beside Connie and
dangle his legs over the side.
Which twin are you? Connie or Kit?
Connie was amused that he knew their names.
Connie.
First time youve ever visited on Narragansett
Bay?
Connie nodded. The first time. And I love it! I
work in the city, she went on to explain. You
dont know how lucky you are, living where
everything is so clean and fresh.
But Mark didnt look as though he felt lucky. He
looked faintly envious. What city?
Philadelphia.
Oh! His eyebrows lifted, as though he had more
than a cursory interest in this particular city. Then,
just as Connie thought he was going to pursue this
conversational tack, he became unexpectedly quiet,
and sat staring moodily out over the bay. His hands,
57

long-fingered and sensitive, gripped the edge of the

dock and he swung to and fro slightly, looking
remote and unhappy and even a little glum.
As the silence lengthened, Connie began to
search for something to say, Do you go to college
with Tom? she asked finally.
Mark shook his head. I do not. But Im apt to
end up there, if my guardian gets his way.
Whats the matter? Dont you want to go to
college?
asked
Connie
in
considerable
astonishment.
I dont want to go to college at all.
To anyone else, Connie would have put a further
question. Why not? But somehow she sensed that
Mark would resent such prying. She waited to see
whether this moody young man would offer any
further information about himself, and meanwhile
she, too, stared out at the bay.
Guardian. Mark had mentioned his guardian and
the very name fascinated Connie. She had never
known anyone who had a guardian before. Most of
the boys and girls of her past acquaintance had been
equipped with families, or with at least one parent. It
made Mark, somehow, rather special and interesting.
After a while Connies forbearance proved
effective. I dont know why some people seem to
think college is an absolute must, Mark said with
a thoughtful frown. My uncle is positively hipped
58

on the subject. Just because he went to M.I.T., I

should go to M.I.T. I should be an engineer, I
suppose. He shrugged. When I refused pointblank he agreed to settle for Brown, but thats not
much better, from my point of view.
Arent you being a little hasty? Connie asked.
After all, you dont dismiss the chance to get a
college degree just like that! She blew an
imaginary feather from the palm of her hand.
No, but I dont want to spend four years getting
a liberal education. He emphasized the last two
words.
Oh, you dont think you need it? Connie felt a
little annoyed.
I want to specialize, Mark explained.
Oh. She waited for him to go on but he broke
off short again, his blue eyes looking dreamily
beyond her.
Goodness, she thought, hes attractive enough in
a gaunt, artistic sort of manner, but hes really
impossibly difficult to talk to. She began to consider
breaking away and walking back to the house.
Mark, however, apparently anticipated some such
move, because he changed the subject abruptly. By
the way, he said, Tom gets home from his job at
noon today, I think. Why dont we all get together
and swim this afternoon? Or, if it stays decently
cool, we might do the Cliff Walk.
59

Kit and I would love that, said Connie frankly,

responding to the latter proposition. Not that we
dont like to swim, but Dad will skin us alive if we
dont go sight-seeing at least once!
Tell Tom to call me, then, Mark suggested, and
swung down from the dock into the shallow water
again. Ill be trotting along now, or my quahogs
will cook in the sun instead of the chowder pot.
Slowly, Connie walked back across the strip of
marshland on the wooden footpath. Mark certainly
seemed like a strange boy, yet at the same time there
was something definitely appealing about him.
Appealing and rather lonely. Connie shivered under
the summer sun. She was certainly glad she hadnt
been raised by a guardian.
Tom, when he came sauntering across the lawn at
noon to throw himself down in a garden chair and
share sandwiches and milk and a great bowl of fresh
raspberries with his two pretty cousins, was
completely agreeable to Marks proposition.
Connie and Kit changed from shorts to cool
cotton dresses, and Tom bathed and dressed, then
drove them in the Blair car to Marks uncles home,
a gloomy brownstone and clapboard dwelling,
which, like the pleasant Ridgeway house, had a lawn
sloping down to the bay. One house was just visible
from the other, and Connie decided that it was no
wonder that Mark, needing young companionship,
60

had become friendly with her cousin Tom. She

wondered how long they had known each other, and
how intimately. She must remember to ask Tom
what it was that made Mark so adamant about
refusing to go to college. She must find out, too,
whether the uncle was really the ogre Mark made
him sound. But right now there was no opportunity
for any such investigation, so with happy good will
Connie set out to enjoy their tour.
The Cliff Walk was quite different from what the
girls had imagined. Its greatest charm, Connie
decided as they walked along the narrow footpath
which wound and curved, dipped and climbed along
the sea, was that no ugly modern fabrication broke
its spell. On the right, along a four-mile ocean front,
were green lawns and gardens, exotic shrubs, and
the astonishing, palatial architecture of the great
Newport villas. On the left was the dashing surf,
eternally attacking and retreating.
I feel like Alice in Wonderland after she fell
down the rabbit hole, Kit murmured as they passed
a fantastic feudal castle.
And think of it, youre only seeing the back
yard! Connie cried.
She was so spontaneous that the boys thoroughly
enjoyed acting as guides, and Tom and Mark vied
with each other in rolling famous names on their
tongues, then laughed at the expression on Connies
61

face.
At cozy little Belmont Beach they rested, then
walked on to the picturesque Chinese Tea House at
the cliffs edge, on an estate aptly named The
Marble Palace. Down they went into a spooky
tunnel which ducked under the house, then up again
to blink their eyes in the sunlight and gaze at another
sweeping view of seascape and millionaires estates.
This stuff, Tom said, waving his hand
inclusively toward the great houses, makes Eagle
Rock look like small potatoes, doesnt it?
At the name Eagle Rock Mark stiffened, and Tom
glanced his way sharply, then gave a short chuckle.
Sorry, old boy. I was forgetting your middle name
is Butterworth.
Butterworth? Connie repeated.
Oh, the relationship isnt especially close. Mark
seemed anxious to discount it. As a matter of fact
Ive never been particularly proud of my connection
with the family. Even if they were rich as Croesus at
one time.
Kit looked surprised, because she hadnt been
present at the breakfast table when Uncle Pete had
sketched the Butterworth background for Connie.
She stood twirling the big metal disk that hung from
a gold bracelet on her wrist. Her nickname was
etched across it in her own handwriting. Connie
always wore a similar bracelet and they jokingly
62

called them their identification tags.

The metal glinted in the sun, and Mark glanced at
it, then bent to examine it, seeming to welcome a
chance to change the subject. Clever! he said.
Suddenly Connie gave a little cry. My bracelet!
Its gone!
You havent had it on all day, Kit told her
quietly. I wondered why.
But I had it on last night!
The twins looked at each other, thinking back.
When we leftyes, you did. But not when we
came home.
Good grief! Connie murmured. I must have
dropped it somewhere at Eagle Rock.

63

CHAPTER

The Clue in the Library

The minute the words were out of her mouth Connie

realized that Mark would have to be taken into their
confidence. She wanted to find the bracelet before
anyone else found it, and that meant wasting no
time.
Of course there was the possibility that she had
lost it in her headlong plunge through the thicket of
green that concealed the rocky steps, but she had a
fairly definite hunch that she hadnt had the bracelet
on her arm then. It would have caught on bushes and
brambles as she tried to brake her descent, and she
would have been aware of it.
With the name Connie scrawled boldly across
the flat metal disk, she didnt relish the thought of it
being found anywhere within the house. Besides,
she really valued the bracelet. Exchanged by the
twins at Christmas time, the keepsakes had real
sentimental value for both Connie and Kit.
64

So, with complete forthrightness, Connie told

Mark the story of their twilight expedition. Theres
only one chance in a dozen I would have dropped it
inside that bedroom window, she said as she
finished. Its probably on one of the balconies or
even on the beach.
Or in the boat, Mark suggested.
Or in the bay, Tom added discouragingly.
Anyway, Connie proposed as they retraced
their steps toward the spot where they had parked
the car, lets stop and look. Well have plenty of
time.
Mark didnt try to dissuade them, but he did
shake his head over Connies story. For three
people who are practically adult, you sure acted like
a bunch of crazy kids, he said.
Maybe we were influenced by Randy. Tom
flushed, embarrassed.
Or maybe not. Do you ever outgrow the desire
to explore an abandoned house? Connie asked
sincerely. I dont think I ever will.
Kit smiled. If there isnt a mystery lying around
handy, just trust Connie to go dig up one.
Mystery? Mark asked. You dont really
believein the clear light of daythat you actually
saw thiserghostly figure?
I know we did, Connie insisted.
Tom? Mark looked to his friend to deny such
65

arrant foolishness.
Tom was in between two fires. We saw
something, he admitted. But Ill be darned if I
know what.
In any event, Connie said, lets get over to
Eagle Rock as soon as possible. And Ill make a
bargain with you! She chuckled slyly. If I find my
bracelet Ill promise to give up the ghost.
Because Mark was practically a member of the
family, according to Kit, who set great store by
names, she felt less like a trespasser when the
quartet turned boldly into the crumbling drive in the
Blair car. This time Connie parked right under the
porte-cochere, and they were at no special pains to
be quiet as they got out and shut the doors.
But somehow the air of mystery clinging around
the strange old house made them lower their voices
as they searched the balconies, and by the time they
reached the bedroom window through which they
had climbed the night before, they were talking
instinctively in whispers.
Tom tried the sash, but it was easy to see that the
window had been locked on the inside. Heres a
fine point, he murmured. Can a ghost throw a
window catch?
Connie giggled, because she knew all their ghost
talk was just so much horseplay. She was quite
certain that their haunt was completely mortal,
66

and that he or she must have returned to the room

last light after they had sailed away from the cove.
The sunlight was still so bright that it was
impossible to see whether the bracelet lay on the
floor within the dim room. Tom and Mark both
considered it unlikely, and proposed that they search
the path to the beach. But though they went
carefully over the ground, which seemed far less
hazardous in the daylight, they found nothing.
Its too bad, Connie, Tom said sympathetically,
but we may as well go home. Maybe well discover
the bracelet somewhere in the boat.
But Connie was not so easily dissuaded. She
intended to leave no stone unturned. And to tell the
exact truth, she was assailed by a growing desire to
get back inside the house.
As they walked back toward the porte-cochere
she came to a sudden decision. Touching Toms
elbow, she said softly, Id really like to have a look
in that bedroom. It would be a shame to have
somebody pick up the bracelet.
Particularly, Kit mentioned, somebody like the
police.
Mark looked startled. The police wouldnt
ever Then he stopped.
Connie hoped that she was looking especially
appealing. I think wed better confess to something,
Kit.
67

Kit groaned.
What? asked Tom, and his voice was
unexpectedly stern.
We know another way to get in the house.
How?
Through a pantry window. Its really Randys
secret, so you must promise not to tell.
Connie looked from Tom to Mark with a smile
that begged their co-operation in this innocent
conspiracy, but when she saw the expression in
Marks eyes she quickly sobered. He was looking at
her as though she had given away a state secret, not
just let them in on a childish discovery. His blazing
blue eyes were narrowed with mistrust and
something very like fear.
So lets have just one final look! Connie
begged Tom while she wondered what prompted
Marks dismay. We wont hurt a thing, and it wont
take five minutes. Come on!
With flying feet she led them around to the bay
side of the house and down to the lower level where
the window to the pantry still opened with ease.
Inside, they blinked for a moment to adjust their
eyes to the light, then started through the kitchen to
the stairs.
Then, just as on the previous day when they had
crept into the house with Randy, Connie stopped and
inhaled. Again there seemed to float on the air a
68

curious fragrance, stronger than the mustiness of the

kitchen, tantalizing, incredibly fresh.
Kit! Connie cried in sudden excitement. Shes
changed her odeur! That isnt lily of the valley. Not
today!
Youre right, Kit agreed in astonishment. Its
something else. Something I cant quite define.
More like millefleurs.
What are you talking about, for Petes sake?
Tom asked as though his twin cousins had gone
abruptly mad.
Cant you smell perfume? Connie asked. She
took another deep breath.
Tom sniffed the air like a bird dog, and so did
Mark, but they shook their heads. It just smells like
any closed house to me, Tom said.
And as she climbed the stairs to the main hall
Connie began to doubt the authority of her own
senses, because the scent seemed to fade with every
step she took. If it hadnt been for Kit she would
have been tempted to believe that she had allowed
her imagination to run wild.
It was Toms first view of the interior of Eagle
Rock and he was as impressed as Connie and Kit
had been. Whew! he whistled. What a place this
must have been! He turned to Mark. Did you ever
come here much?
Mark shook his head. We were the poor
69

relations. I was only in the house once, so far as I

can remember, and that was the day Mrs.
Butterworth told me about the legacy.
Connie couldnt help but wonder whether Mark
had actually inherited any of the Butterworth
money, but politeness forbade asking such a blunt
question. Tom, apparently, knew what it was all
about, because he nodded casually. She promised
herself to have a future conversation with her cousin
about this interesting subject, but right now Connie
wanted to go on upstairs.
Mark, however, became suddenly interested in
showing Tom the library, which he claimed to be the
only room he remembered. Waxing enthusiastic
and even, Connie thought, a little nervousthe
young man described the room in the days of its
glory, before the damask draperies had fallen to
shreds and before the thousands of books that once
lined the shelves had been auctioned off to the
highest bidder.
Tom rummaged through the pile of books on the
floor while Mark talked, glancing at the outmoded
titles idly. Most of them, as Connie knew, were
novels by once-fashionable authors who had long
since been forgotten. Then she saw her cousin stop
and smile, and she walked over to glance over his
shoulder. The Very Nature of Sin, he read aloud.
It was the very book that she had happened upon.
70

But was it? No, the volume she had picked up the
other day lay where she had left it on one of the
bookcase shelves. She walked over just to make
certain and picked it up, an identical volume to the
one Tom held in his hand.
This is curious. Why should there be two of
them? Connie showed it to him.
Maybe there was a minister in the family. Tom
opened it to the flyleaf. But no Butterworth had
written this book. A Rev. Alexander P. Simpson was
the author.
Heres another just like it, Kit announced.
And another! Tom bent and picked up a fourth
companion volume. Why should the Butterworths
have been interested in making a collection of
identical books?
Thats what Id like to know. Connie began
riffling through the brittle, yellowed pages covered
with small print. It was easy to see that the book
contained a series of sermons written in the
flamboyant, evangelistic style of the nineties. Sold
Out . . . The Lords Razor . . . Why Are Satan and
Sin Permitted? The titles were printed in a running
head.
Quite impersonally, Mark offered a suggestion.
Ill bet some preacher took a crack at one of the
Butterworths. Thats what Ill bet! Wouldnt that be
a reason to buy up a group of books, just to get the
71

last of them off the market? At least it sounds to me

like the sort of thing old Mrs. Butterworth would
have done.
Thats an idea! Connie began to scan the pages
more carefully, forgetting for the moment her errand
to the upper floor.
Say, listen to this. Tom went closer to the
windows and began to read in the better light.
Go up among the finest residences of this
watering place, and on one doorplate you will find
the name of the mightiest in iniquity. A long
procession of money-grabbing monsters has
defamed this house, and now there is a new one
among us. A demon incarnate. Not a smuggler of
slaves like his forefather but a smuggler
nevertheless. I do not blame you for asking me the
throbbing, burning, resounding, appalling question
of my text, Wherefore do the wicked live?
Arbored and parterred clear to the waters
brink, built on rock by five hundred sweating
artisans of money made in such nefarious ways that
it would make Satan himself shudder, this house is
bound to fall. To fall, I tell you! For that rock shall
be as the shifting sands. One day God will say,
Come down by the way of a miserable death, and
the name of this house shall disappear from the
world forever!
Gosh, thats putting it pretty strong! muttered
72

Mark. It sounds as though he were preaching

against the Butterworths all right, but I didnt know
any of my rich relatives were really scoundrels.
Connie had heard only one word. Smugglers,
she said. Now what do you suppose they could
have smuggled in the gay nineties? The rumrunners
came later, didnt they?
Tom had an answer for her question. Lace, he
said. Imported lace was very fashionable then, and
very expensive. At least thats what Ive heard Dad
say.
This would have been a perfect spot to run it in
by boat, Mark admitted.
But it would have been a bit of a job to unload
cargo here, wouldnt it? After all, the beach is pretty
public.
Maybe they had an underground entrance, Kit
proposed thoughtfully.
A smugglers cave! Connies eyes brightened.
Wouldnt it be exciting to find one under an old
house like this? Just for fun, lets look.
She fully expected the rest to disparage such a
proposition, but the idea caught Toms interest.
You never can tell. It might be possible that this
was the real reason for building Eagle Rock. Ive
thought any number of times it was a rather strange
location for such a sumptuous house.
Strange? asked Kit.
73

Well, they must have had to do a lot of blasting,

before they could have built it. And why hang the
place right out over the water, this way?
Even Marks interest was sparked now. Whats
under that kitchen we came through? he wondered
aloud. There must be some sort of lower level, or
else solid rock.
Maybe wine cellars, Kit suggested.
Maybe. But since were here, and the
Butterworth reputation has already been dragged
through the mire by our friend Reverend Simpson, I
cant see that it would hurt to have a look.
Wait a minute. We have a flashlight in the car!
Kit crawled through the window and went off to get
it while the others started to explore the kitchen in
the gloom.
All of the doors led to perfectly logical places,
closets, storerooms, or dumb-waiters connected with
the dining room above. But when Kit trained her
flash on the walls, Connie began tapping them
hopefully.
Now wait a minute, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes,
Tom teased her. These walls are stone.
Then lets look for a secret door, Connie
suggested, and with a sudden inspiration went over
to a tier of built-in shelves that started at floor level
and reached to well above her head. Kit followed
with her flash, training its beam across each shelf in
74

turn, then up one side, across the top, and down the
other.
Midway to the bottom Connie cried, Look! and
reached up to touch a worn handhold just visible on
the dulled paint of the trim. She pulled, and to the
astonishment of the other three the whole tier of
shelves, creaking and groaning at this unexpected
disturbance, swung slowly into the room.

75

CHAPTER

The Cave

Cobwebs hung like lace from the back of the

concealed door and water dripped with a
monotonous regularity somewhere below. Even
Connie recoiled, startled, and gave a little cry of
astonishment as the shelves swung forward in their
slow arc, protesting like a person in pain. The dank
odor of a long-unused underground passage swept
into the room, and smells of rotting timbers and
dead fish seemed to mingle with the fragrance of
which the twins had been conscious on entering the
house.
For Petes sake! Tom was the first to express
verbal surprise. He turned to Connie. How did you
ever guess?
Connie, a little alarmed by her own discovery,
said, You could see the handhold. Look here.
Once more Kit flashed her light on the right-hand
edge of the shelves and together the four young
76

people examined the half-concealed means of entry.

By golly, I think weve stumbled on something,
Tom said.
Temporarily, all remembrance of the reason for
which they had re-entered Eagle Rock fled from
Connies mind. The discovery of the moment
overshadowed the importance of the search for the
lost bracelet. She was almost dancing with eagerness
as Kit walked over and flashed her light into the
dark rectangle behind the shelves.
Curving stone steps, cracked and sandy, led
sharply downward. No foot had recently trod them,
or at least no footprints remained to tell the tale.
Connies quick eyes made sure of this at once.
Mark, who had seemed so nervous and ill at ease
on first entering the house, seemed suddenly to lose
his former hesitancy. He stepped over and peered
from behind Connies shoulder into the well of
darkness.
Come on! he cried, urging them forward. This
I must see!
You lead the way. Kit, more curious now than
fearful, handed him the flashlight.
Tom called softly, Be careful. Those steps are
bound to be slippery, and you dont want to take a
header.
You bet I dont, Mark agreed. Concussions are
no fun.
77

Nor are broken arms, said Connie out of

childhood experience.
Slowly, keeping away from contact with the
slimy walls, Mark began to make his way
downward. The steps curved like the stairs to a
tower, spiraling dizzily. One after another came
Connie, Kit, and Tom.
Connie was reminded of a time when she and Kit,
as children, had been taken to an amusement pier in
Atlantic City by a well-meaning relative. Along with
seeing themselves grotesquely distorted in trick
mirrors, taking a breathless ride on a fast slide, and
indulging in a number of other zany diversions, they
had been enticed to the House of Horrors, apparently
designed to shatter childish nerves. Great blasts of
air blew their skirts around their necks, ghostly
hands reached out and grabbed them, voices
muttered or shrieked like banshees in their ears.
Connie, always an imaginative child, had emerged
shaken, but Kit had come out unruffled. She thought
it was foolish but far from terrifying. Eminently
practical and matter-of-fact, Kit was not a girl to be
duped by the mysterious and unlikely. She retained
this characteristic today.
So, of the four of them, Kit was the least
perturbed. Her mild disapproval of entering the
house at all had dwindled to the disappearing point
when she discovered that Mark had a certain
78

connection with the family. The middle name of

Butterworth acted like a charm. It seemed to give
him a certain right to be hereeven a duty to
investigate the mysterious happenings at Eagle
Rock.
Slowly, carefully, instinctively talking in
whispers, the four felt their way from step to step.
One slip from Tom and the rest would have pitched
forward like a string of upended dominoes.
Be careful back there! cautioned Mark.
I wish wed worn sneakers, murmured Kit.
So do I, Connie whispered back. She was
stirred by an excitement she had felt often before.
There was no thrill, for her, quite as great as the
thrill of walking into the unknown.
I read a whodunit once, Tom was saying behind
her, about a cave under an old house. It was an
underground swimming pool, really, and an elevator
led down from the upper floors. Wonderful place for
a murder, dont you think?
Murder? Connie shivered.
In front of her Kit turned her head. Oh, Connie,
dont be silly! Toms just teasing you.
Mark, more quickly than the rest had expected,
came to a level stone floor and turned his light so
that the twins and Tom could see a little better.
The end of the rabbit hole, he announced.
Connie chuckled at the allusion. Alice wasnt a
79

bit hurt, she said. But wheres the long passage

and the white rabbit?
Mark flashed his light upward on the rough stone
walls of a square underground chamber from which
the steps curved upward. On one side was an arched
doorway through which a little daylight filtered.
Say, Tom suggested, thinking aloud, maybe
theres an entrance from here to the beach.
Mark led them through the arch, and now they
distinctly heard the lap of water. At the same time
the strong fishy smell increased so sharply that
Connie held her nose in repugnance.
Ugh!
It is pretty awful, isnt it? Kit agreed. I could
do with some of that lily of the valley now.
The place they entered had the domed roof of a
rough-hewn cave, and it was far more vast than
anything they could have imagined. From an
entrance at the opposite end came the light of which
they had been consciousgrayish daylight
flickering on water which covered the floor of the
tunnel to an uncertain depth.
Say! Mark said.
What? asked Tom when he hesitated.
You could get into this place by boat.
It would have to be a pretty small boat, Kit
murmured.
The skiff would make it, Tom told her with
80

certainty. Gosh, I wish wed discovered this spot

when I was twelve instead of darned near twenty.
Think what a hideaway this would make for a gang
of kids.
Connie looked at her cousin, then back at the
tunnel leading to the bay. Think what a hideaway it
would make for a gang of smugglers! she said, her
hands clasped. Think what probably happened
here, years and years ago!
Assuming that the parson was right, you mean?
Mark asked.
Assuming that he was right. Connie nodded her
head. Suppose that one of the Butterworth clan did
stray from the straight and narrow. Can you think of
a better spot to unload smuggled cargo?
It would be pretty neat, Tom agreed.
Lace, Connie said dreamily. Didnt you
mention lace, Tom? They could have stored lace
here by the bushel. What were all the expensive
kinds ladies wore in those days?
Rose point, offered Kit. Valenciennes.
Venetian point, added her twin. Oh, there
were all sorts. From Belgium and France and Italy.
Wedding dresses in those days cost a mint. It would
have been awfully profitable.
Tom chuckled at her fanciful reconstruction.
Thinking of going into business, Connie?
Mark interrupted their repartee suddenly. The
81

tides running out, he said, as though he had made

an interesting discovery.
Connies attention returned to the watery tunnel.
Yes?
I was just thinking that theres a very good
reason why this cave has probably never been
discovered by a cruising boat. At high tide the
mouth of the tunnel must be completely closed.
Connie considered. You could be right.
Mark trained the flashlight on the stone floor.
See the high watermark? Right there by your feet.
He pointed to a fringe of shells and seaweed. Aside
from a few inches of sloping floor and the little
entry where the stairs go up, this place is flooded at
high tide.
Tom nodded immediate agreement. These boys,
raised on the bay shore, were quick to see things that
would have escaped recognition by Connie or Kit,
who knew little of the ways of tides and currents.
And most sailboats only venture close to Eagle
Rock when the tide is fairly full, he said
thoughtfully. Otherwise, theres not enough water
in the cove.
Thats right. Both boys seemed pleased by their
discovery. It exonerated them for having missed the
outside entrance to the cave.
But Connies mind was busy with another idea. If
the cave was flooded at certain times there must
82

have been a storeroom. There must have been a

storeroom if smugglers actually had used the cave.
But where?
May I borrow that flashlight for a minute,
Mark?
She trained the yellow beam on the stone walls,
circling them slowly, and far on the other side of the
cave she found what she was seeking, a wooden
door set into the stone, gray and indistinct. So much
a part of the wall did it look that a person less
curious might have missed it. But once the flashlight
had found it there seemed no excuse for having
overlooked it at all.
If this really was a smugglers cave, this must be
the door to the storeroom, Connie said as she went
over to it.
The hinges probably are rusted tight by now,
Tom mentioned, following her.
But to the surprise of both, the door gave readily
under Toms touch. Prepared to brace his shoulder
against it, he lurched and almost fell.
The room which Connies light illumined was
squarish, with rough rock walls. A coil of rope lay in
one corner, beside a rotting sea chest thick with
mildew, and immediately ahead, against the far wall,
were stacked three wooden packing cases that
looked surprisingly new.
It was on these that Connies attention
83

immediately centered. Somebodys been here since

the gay nineties! she exclaimed.
You bet they have, Tom agreed. He walked
with interest toward the boxes and the others
followed him.
You can almost smell the new wood, Mark put
in.
I cant smell anything but dead fish, Kit
complained, wrinkling her nose. I think every fish
head dropped overboard by fishermen this side of
Block Island must have washed into this cave.
The boys both laughed. It didnt bother them
particularly, perhaps because it was a familiar if
unpleasant odor. They were looking curiously at the
wooden cases, and more particularly at the top case
of the stack. They noticed that one of the slats had
been pried loose.
What could these have been used for? Tom
wondered aloud.
It was Connie who answered the question.
Handing her flashlight back to Mark, she pulled up
the loose slat with one hand and rummaged in the
box with the other, feeling her way through a bed of
sawdust until she touched something smooth and
cool.
It was a small object. A glass? She curled her
fingers around it and tugged.
A bottle! A glass medicine bottle. She turned it
84

wonderingly in the light.

Now what in the dickens? Tom was
frowning, puzzled. He looked at Mark.
But Mark shook his head. Youve got me, he
admitted. These boxes are new, though. Id lay a
bet on that. The wood is damp. Anything would be
in this place. And so is the sawdust. But it isnt
discolored. And it smells fresh.
Tom laughed. As Randy would say, It smells
period.
There could, of course, be something else in the
box. Connie started to rummage once more, but
only came up with identical bottles. No, I guess
thats all.
I wish we could open the other boxes, said
Mark, but I havent even got a penknife.
Neither have I, answered Tom. Oh, well, there
will be other days. We can come back. He glanced
at the luminous dial on his wrist watch. But right
now I think its time we were getting along. Its later
than I thought.
Now that they knew the way, the ascent to the
kitchen seemed short and far from fearful. Connie
remembered that she had come to the house to look
for her bracelet and insisted that this must be done
before she could leave. But part of her mind was still
occupied with their find in the cave. I wish wed
brought along one of those bottles, she sighed as
85

Tom made ready to swing the shelves back into

place. Why didnt I think?
Tom was more interested in picking up one of the
books of sermons, so that he could go through it at
his leisure, but Mark seemed suddenly anxious to be
quit of the place.
Come on, he urged them. We can do all these
things another time.
It wont take a minute, Connie promised. Ill
just run upstairs and be back in a jiffy.
And Ill go get my book at the same time, said
Tom.
Here. Give me the flashlight, Kit offered. Ill
go back and get one of the medicine bottles.
Kit half expected Mark to refuse to let her go
back to the cave alone. It would have been
gentlemanly of him to have run the errand. But he
just stood in the kitchen irresolute, looking after
Connie, so with a shrug she hurried back down the
stairs. She wasnt afraid of the dark or of the
slippery steps, but she did feel vaguely annoyed.
What was the matter with Mark, anyway?
Connie, meanwhile, ran quickly across the marble
floor of the vast entrance hall, her heels clicking
sharply. Sun was streaming through the windows
and the house looked very bright in comparison to
the gloom of the cave.
In the upper hall she stopped for a second to wave
86

to Tom, who was making his way to the library

door. I wont be a minute, she called.
But when she reached the bedroom she sought the
door wouldnt open. She rattled the knob
impatiently. It couldnt be locked! Why, only last
night the door had stood wide open. Through it she
had seen the disappearing figure in white.
Was there an entrance from an adjoining room?
Connie tried to remember, then ran quickly into the
bedroom on the right. No door connected the two,
however. She checked the room on the left, too, and
was again disappointed. Each bedroom and bath
appeared to be a separate unit in itself.
Annoyed, Connie hurried back downstairs, just in
time to meet Tom sauntering out of the library
unhurriedly, the book of sermons tucked under his
arm.
She told him about the locked door as they went
back toward the kitchen together. That proves
somebody has been here, she said as though she
hadnt been sure of it all the time. Ghosts dont
lock doors.
Nope. They go through them, Tom chuckled,
but behind his surface amusement was a certain
seriousness.
They dont slam them, either.
Nor do they carry candles or flashlights,
Connie continued. Not the ghosts Ive known.
87

She pushed through the swinging door to the

kitchen. Mark was standing close to one of the
barred windows and he whirled to greet them.
Did you find it?
No. The door was locked.
Oh. Mark seemed to relax as he let out his
breath. He looked curiously relieved.
Wheres Kit? Tom asked.
She went back for the medicine bottle you
wanted. Mark looked at Connie as he spoke.
Went back to the cave? Toms criticism of his
friend was unspoken but nonetheless sharp. His tone
of voice asked clearly, Why didnt you go?
Connie went to the concealed door and called,
Kit!
Her voice echoed and re-echoed in the
passageway.
She waited for a moment, until the sound had
died away, then called again. Kit! Hurry up!
But no answering voice came up the dripping
stone stairs. No bright blond head appeared around
the curve of the steps. Nothing answered Connie but
the echo. Then echoing silence. Nothing answered
her at all.

88

CHAPTER

A Blow in the Dark

Kit!
Connie almost screamed her twin sisters name,
and terror clutched at her throat.
It was impossible that Kit couldnt hear her.
Impossible!
Without waiting for Tom, without waiting for
Mark, Connie began to feel her way down the dark
steps. With no light to guide her she slipped and
slid, almost lost her footing, then righted herself
precariously.
She felt Toms hand grip her armor was it
Marks?but neither of them spoke. Fear sharpened
their caution. They went on silently. Connies heart
was beating like a metronome set for quick time.
Kit, Kit, Kit, Kit, Kit. Something had happened,
unbelievably, to Kit. All Connie could remember of
the cave was the water, the murky tunnel to the bay
and the water flowing through it, advancing and
89

retreating with the change of tide.

How deep was the tunnel floor? She had no idea.
Oh, they had been fools, fools!playing at a childs
game when danger lurked in the darkness.
Now a dim gray light filtered through the tunnel
to guide them into the cave. Connie could see her
cousins face now, strained and tight with alarm.
Mark was just behind them, breathing sharply.
Wait. Ill go first, he whispered, but Tom had
already pushed past Connie and was in the entryway.
All three of them were still trying to adjust their
eyes to the gloom. Temporarily blinded by the
blackness of the stair well, it was a moment or more
before they could see at all. Then Connies eyes
turned fearfully toward the water. What she
expected to find she did not know.
But the water was black and fathomless. A secret,
no matter how grim, would be safe with it. The
water was no tattletale.
Tom reached for a piece of driftwood which had
been washed into the cave, but it was so rotten that it
fell apart as he picked it up. There was nothing to
use as a bludgeon, nothing. And could one bludgeon
a ghost?
Connies mind was a maelstrom of concern. She
felt as though she were living through a feverish
nightmare. She cried her sisters name silently now.
90

Kit, oh, Kit!

Tom was feeling his way along the wall toward
the storeroom, moving with his back along the stone
sides of the cave. The door stood open. Had they left
it open? Connie fought to remember, but she
couldnt seem to orient her thoughts.
Every second now, to Connie, seemed like an
hour. She recognized the need for Toms caution. It
wouldnt help matters to plunge ahead blindly into
danger. But he was slowso slow! The lapping of
the water sounded loud and insistent, Marks
breathing was as audible as a runners, and the
beating of her own heart seemed to Connie like the
thudding beat of a drum.
Tom was hugging the wall close to the half-open
door and his head came out like a turtles as he tried
to peer into the black interior of the storeroom. Not a
sound came from inside.
They waited, all three of them, listening. Then a
hazy beam of sunlight, threading its way through the
tunnels mouth to reflect for an instant on the water,
caught a glint of gold.
Kit!
Connie threw caution to the winds and brushed
past Tom like a quick night moth. She dropped on
her knees just inside the storerooms entrance and
gathered her twins inert figure into her arms. Kit!
Panic swept over her in a drowning wave and with
91

trembling hands she felt for her sisters heart.

The strong, steady beat was reassuring, but Kit
neither murmured nor moved her head. Connie
shook her ever so slightly. Kit!
Tom brought water in his cupped hands and
dashed it over Kits face. She shuddered slightly and
moaned.
Kit, wake up darling, its Connie. Kit, its
Connie. Are you all right?
Kit turned her head as Connie brushed back the
damp hair from her face with a gentle, reassuring
touch. She sighed, and raised a hand to the back of
her neck. It aches, she murmured after a minute.
It aches like fury. Mm.
Then she returned to complete awareness with a
start. Where am I, anyway?
In the cave. Dont you remember? You came
back for the bottle, Kit.
Oh, yes.
Kit opened her eyes and tried to separate the three
faces looking down at her. Connies was the closest.
She couldnt quite see Marks or Toms.
What
happened?
the
boys
asked
simultaneously.
Did you fall? Connies voice was carefully
hopeful.
No. No. At least I dont think so. Kit was
making an effort to think back to a certain moment.
92

Somebody hit me. Hit me over the head.

Connies hand felt Kits skull, smoothing the fair
hair toward the back of the head.
Ouch! protested Kit, although her sisters touch
was feather-light.
At the same instant Connie whistled softly. Ill
say they did!
Tom became suddenly alert. Lets get out of
here, he said quickly. Wheres the flash? Mark,
see if you can find the flashlight. She may have
dropped it as she fell. He kept on issuing orders.
Try to sit up, Kit. Here, let me help you. Now lets
see if you can stand.
With Connie on one side and Tom on the other,
Kit got to her feet. O-oh, my head is spinning, she
complained, and swayed a little as they supported
her and turned her toward the door.
Mark, groping along the floor, located the
flashlight near the wooden packing boxes. He tried
it, but the bulb had apparently broken when it fell.
So the four of them retraced their steps in the
darkness, helping Kit as much as they could, and it
was with considerable relief that they once more
reached the kitchen and closed the secret door
behind them, shutting out the dank, fishy odor of the
cave.
Quickly they climbed through the window to the
balcony, closing it behind them. Never had sunlight
93

and fresh air seemed so good. All four of them

gulped great breaths of it, and a little color began to
return to Kits pale face.
Out on the bay there was all the activity of a
typical summer afternoon. Sails skated before the
breeze, a schooner moved majestically toward the
channel, and fishing boats returned from a day
outside. In the cove below, a couple of youngsters
were clamming along shore, and a man was
adjusting the line which connected a skiff to an
anchored boat. Everything was so bright and merry
that Kits accident seemed unreal and incredible.
Only the very real bump on her head, egg-shaped
and throbbing, convinced them that they hadnt
dreamed the events of the past fifteen minutes.
Ill go get the car started. Tom was solicitous
and worried. You come along more slowly. Take it
easy, Kit.
Kit herself wasnt anxious to hurry things, but she
did wish she were home in bed. She willingly
accepted the support of Marks arm.
As they crossed the marble terrace Tom opened
the door. The motor was already running, but it
stopped with a choking sound as Connie helped Kit
into the back. Tom started it again, put it in gear, but
before they had gone five yards it had stopped once
more.
Whats the matter with this thing? Tom asked.
94

He was in no mood for further mishaps.

I dont know, Connie said from the rear seat.
Of all times!
It wont start, or rather, it starts and then stops,
Tom explained unnecessarily. He pressed the starter
for a third time, impatient and vexed.
Mark, who was just climbing in beside him,
glanced at the dashboard. It could be, he said
wryly, that were out of gas.
Connie sat forward in quick concern and looked
at the gasoline gauge. Good grief! she murmured.
I forgot!
She bit her lip and her eyes were large with
contrition. I meant to get gas on the way to the
Cliff Walk. She hesitated, then added in
considerable astonishment. Goodness, doesnt that
seem ages and ages ago?
Tom smiled briefly and nodded, but he was really
concerned because of Kit. Theres no bus
transportation along this road, and it would take a
good long time to get back to town for a gallon of
gas, even if Mark and I were lucky enough to pick
up a lift. He seemed to be thinking out loud.
Trying to be a good sport, Kit murmured, Dont
worry about me. Ill be all right. But her head was
throbbing and she leaned back against the seat and
shut her eyes.
Connie put a hand over her sisters and tried to
95

think what the quickest way out of this new

difficulty might be. If only they had come by boat
and not by car! It was only a short sail from the cove
to the Ridgeways dock.
Apparently Tom and she were both thinking the
same thing, because her cousin suddenly snapped
his fingers. Wait a minute! Wasnt that the Bosun
down on the bay, Mark? I bet hed give us a lift, and
I could drive Dads car back with gasoline when he
gets home for dinner.
If hes still there Mark was already out of the
car. Wait a minute. Ill run back and see.
He sprinted across the terrace to the semicircular
balcony and ran along it to the bay side of the house.
Connie could hear him calling, then heard an
answering hail. In another minute he was back. The
Bosun will pick us up in the skiff, he announced
happily. Come on!
Tom pulled the car keys out of the ignition switch
and pocketed them, picked up the book of sermons,
then on second thought tucked it into the glove
compartment and locked it. Connie and Kit had
already started toward the path to the beach with
Mark and he caught up with them quickly.
Hows your head now, Kit? he asked.
Kit said, It doesnt feel like mine. She balanced
it carefully, as though she had a stiff neck.
It doesnt look like yours, either, admitted
96

Connie.
Kits hair was still wet and matted from the water
Tom had unceremoniously but sensibly dashed over
her face and head. Her dress was damp and stained
from her fall, and her face and arms were streaked
with dirt. Connie didnt realize, at the moment, that
she looked little better. She had sat on the wet floor
of the cave with Kits head cradled in her lap,
regardless of the consequences, and her skirt was far
from immaculate.
Tom took Kits hand and helped her carefully
from step to step down the rocky incline. Easy
now. No hurry. He was gentle and patient.
Mark had hurried on ahead, and was helping the
Bosun beach his boat. From the hilly path Connie
could hear them calling back and forth. It occurred
to her suddenly that they would be expected to
explain their disheveled appearance. The boys
looked all right, but both she and Kit showed
unmistakable signs of a mishap she didnt care to
explain.
Wait a minute, she whispered when they were
halfway down the cliff but still screened from the
beach by the natural arch of vines and shrubbery.
We cant appear in public looking like this. She
took a comb, a handkerchief, and a compact from
her summer handbag and did her best to comb Kits
tangled hair and wipe the dirt streaks from her face
97

and arms.
Kit had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out
every time Connie brought the comb near the lump
at the back of her head. Dont I look good enough
now? she asked finally.
You look better, but you dont look good.
Connie inspected her critically. Now wait until I do
a little doctoring on myself.
Tom stood by shaking his head. You look all
right, but your dresses are a sight, he said with
masculine forthrightness.
Connie glanced down at Kits muddy skirt, then
at her own. Yes, they certainly are. How can we
explain without really explaining?
You might say you slipped and fell.
Where? Where is there mud today, on such a
beautiful afternoon? Then she looked down at the
mossy stone under her feet and at the others that fell
away below her to the beach. I have it!
Have what?
But Connie put a finger to her lips and grinned
impishly. Wait till you see me put on an act. If only
Mark doesnt give me away well be all right.
Suddenly, to the equal astonishment of both Tom
and Kit, her laughter trilled on the clear summer air.
It is slippery, isnt it! she cried in apparent
amusement, mingled with mild alarm. Her voice
carried easily to the beach.
98

Oh! she screamed. Oops! Then she laughed

again, as though she couldnt help herself. I am
sorry, Kit! Oh, your dress! Im as clumsy as a
springer spaniel puppy. Wait till Aunt Helen sees us!
Shell send us both back home.
With an exaggerated wink Connie turned and
grinned up at Kit and Tom. Then, still talking, she
burst through the screen of underbrush to the beach.
Mark and the distinguished-looking, gray-haired
man whom Connie had seen one day from a distance
were standing at the waters edge looking toward
her. Marks mouth was open in an expression of
astonishment, and for a moment Connie doubted the
success of her stunt, because even the Bosun looked
surprised.

99

CHAPTER

Meet the Bosun

Connies smile was touched with genuine

embarrassment. We really must apologize for the
condition of our dresses, she said, speaking for
herself and for Kit too, after Mark had introduced
the twins to Mr. Meredith. She glanced over her
shoulder. The rocks are pretty slippery. Without
telling an actual falsehood, she hoped that this
would take care of the case.
Mr. Meredith, however, seemed scarcely to be
listening. He glanced from Connie to Kit in
astonishment, as though he found it hard to believe
his own eyes.
But the girls were used to this sort of thing. They
knew that their resemblance was so striking that it
was sometimes confusing to their friends as well as
to strangers. It was to be expected that this new
acquaintance would remark upon the point.
Tom, now that they had reached the beach, was
100

anxious to get Kit home with as little delay as

possible. He knew that her apparent flush of health
was deceptive, and saw that her eyes were glazed
with pain.
Connie and Mark, too, knew that Kit must have a
splitting headache. Whoever had struck her down in
the dark cavern under the house must be fairly
strong. They made sure that she had the most
comfortable seat in Mr. Merediths trim white
fishing boat, and they tried to relieve her of taking
part in the conversation, which was necessarily
rather forced.
Mr. Meredith had a manner which Connie, in
speaking of it to Kit later, called gallant. He
rowed them out to the powerboat in the skiff with
the strong arms of a seafaring man, but his voice
was cultured and his theatrical Vandyke beard was
precisely trimmed.
For a charter boatman he seemed, to Connie, an
anachronism. If it hadnt been for her concern over
Kit, she would have enjoyed trying to draw him out.
He must have had an interesting past. But as it
happened Mr. Meredith did the major part of the
talking. He appeared genuinely disturbed that the
young people had been hanging around the old
Butterworth place.
Addressing himself to Tom, after the motorboat
had been started on its course to the Ridgeway dock,
101

he asked a forthright question. If I may be so bold,

what were you doing at Eagle Rock, anyway?
Oh, just looking around. Its an interesting old
relic, dont you think? Tom was deliberately
evasive.
Mr. Meredith turned to Connie with a shrug. Do
you find it so, Miss Blair?
Oh, yes, Connie agreed, hoping that her cousin
would not be led into admitting that they had found
a way inside. The view from the cliff is simply
magnificent.
Isnt it! Mark agreed.
He seemed particularly jovial, quite unlike
himself, and it occurred to Connie for the first time
that he hadnt shown nearly as much solicitude as
Tom about Kits accident. About Kits attack, rather.
Why mince words, even in thought? And why
hadnt Mark been the one to go back for the bottle,
anyway? Why had he permitted Kit to go stumbling
off alone down those steep stairs? Connies mind
buzzed with queries. For that matter, where had
Mark been when Kit was assaulted? Why, he could
even
I beg your pardon? Mr. Meredith had been
talking to her and Connie had been so engrossed in
her own racing thoughts that she hadnt heard.
I just mentioned that Eagle Rock isnt what I
consider an especially healthy place for a picnic.
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Oh, we werent picnicking, replied Connie

before she could quite collect her wits.
No? Well, thats just as well. But you were
trespassing. Mr. Merediths smile was smooth, but
he might have been reprimanding a group of
troublesome children.
Trespassing? I cant see why anyone would care
whether we wandered around and looked the place
over, Tom said rather sharply. Its falling to rack
and ruin, anyway.
Mr. Meredith steered expertly past a bobbing
buoy, then tipped his hat at another boatman. He
sighed a trifle wearily. The police might care.
Police? Mark repeated the word.
Mr. Meredith looked surprised. Didnt you know
that the police have been guarding the house rather
closely?
But why? asked Tom.
The Bosun shrugged. I really dont know their
reasons. I just happened to be asked to report anyone
I saw hanging around.
Oh. Tom tried to sound relieved. Well, I take
it you wouldnt report us, he said with a grin that
barely concealed a certain anxiety.
The Bosun seemed to consider. No, he said
slowly. Not this time.
Oh, come now! Mark sounded really annoyed,
but Mr. Meredith looked at him sternly, as though he
103

considered him impertinent.

My dear young man, he said, your business at
Eagle Rock may have been mere childs play, but
apparently the police have their reasons for wishing
trespassers reported. As an adult and a responsible
person, I shall feel it my duty to report even you if I
should apprehend you there again.
The speech was so grandiose that Connie almost
giggled. Surely he must be teasing! But there was a
steely glint in the Bosuns eyes that told her he
meant every word he said.
Mark looked properly squelched, but once Mr.
Meredith had made his point he seemed to relax and
become considerably more affable. He asked Connie
and Kit if they were enjoying their visit, and
mentioned to Tom that he had a large catch of tinker
mackerel aboard, some of which he would like Mrs.
Ridgeway to accept as a gift.
Thank you. I think Mother would appreciate
them. Tom was polite.
Im afraid I have no extra container aboard
the Bosun began.
There will probably be a bucket in the skiff tied
up to our dock.
Fine, fine.
A few minutes later the Bosun cut the motor and
pulled up at the dock expertly, holding the boat
away from the pilings with one strong brown arm.
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Mark leaped out and gave a hand to the girls while

Tom pulled in the Ridgeway skiff and got the
bucket. Mark started to walk Kit slowly up to the
house but Connie waited for Mr. Meredith to fill the
pail with small, shining fish from a box under the
cockpit.
Thats plenty, Mr. Meredith. Thanks a lot, her
cousin said when the bucket was three-quarters full.
And thanks again for picking us up. Connie
added her acknowledgement of the Bosuns
courtesy to Kits and Marks previous expressions of
gratitude.
Any time, any time. Mr. Meredith did more
than touch his cap. He swept it off and bowed before
he turned back to start his engine.
An interesting man, Tom muttered in Connies
ear as he walked behind her along the narrow board
footpath across the marsh. A really astonishing
guy.
He certainly is, Connie agreed heartily. For a
charter boatman he talks like a perfect gentleman.
Very upper-upper, Tom agreed.
He also, added Connie a trifle resentfully,
talks a little like a schoolmaster. What is it to him
whether we go exploring at Eagle Rock? She
turned her head and looked back at her cousin.
Toms eyes grew sober and thoughtful. He may
have reasons we dont know about. Maybe weve
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been acting like a bunch of foolish kids, you know,

walking into a situation too big for us to handle. He
may be just trying to protect us. And after what
happened today Im inclined to take his advice and
stay away from that joint.
We have to go back for the car, Connie
reminded him.
Well, that! What I mean is that Im not for
climbing in any more windows. Dad would throw a
fit if we should tangle with the cops!
This reminded Connie that they would have to
dream up some explanation of Kits injury to present
to Uncle Pete and Aunt Helen if they didnt want to
confess the full story. And this she was loathe to do
Because she didnt want to incur the Ridgeways
disapproval. She didnt want to be told in so many
words that she was forbidden to return to Eagle
Rock again.
Breaking from a walk into a jog trot, she caught
up with Mark and Kit. Dont lets mention the cave
and everything, she suggested to her sister.
Theres no use getting everybody all upset.
What will we say? Kit wanted to know. She
didnt like any kind of deception.
We can say you fell. That will be the truth.
Part of the truth, Kit agreed.
Enough for now, Connie urged. Later, if
necessary, we can tell the whole story, but right now
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what is there to tell? That you were attacked by a

ghost?
Connie tried to pretend to Mark that she was
taking the accident lightly, but actually she was
watching his reaction. She had begun to have some
doubts about Mark. . . .
Kit was feeling too wretched to argue. Sitting
quietly in the boat, her head hadnt throbbed so
wildly, but the walk across the marsh had joggled
her until her whole skull ached with an
overwhelming insistence and she could think of
nothing but getting into bed.
She was white as a sheet when she finally reached
the house and went in at the back door. Aunt Helen,
cutting cookies in the kitchen, took one look at her
and cried, What happened?
I had a bad fall.
Feel the back of her head, suggested Connie. I
think shed better lie down.
At once, Aunt Helen agreed. You get her to
bed, Connie, and Ill call the doctor. Keep her flat on
her back. No pillows. We dont want to take any
chances with a possible concussion.
Concussion? The word chilled Connie. She
hadnt anticipated such a serious possibility. With
almost maternal gentleness she helped Kit get
undressed and into pajamas, then turned back the
bed and drew the shades against the late afternoon
107

sun.
Down in the garden, on a trestle table the family
used for outdoor suppers, Tom was cleaning
mackerel, whistling as he worked. It wasnt an
especially happy whistle, but rather a musical
accompaniment for his thoughts. Randy was
gathering wood for a fire in the outdoor fireplace,
bringing it around from the stack near the kitchen
door. Every once in a while he would stop and speak
to Tom, and Connie felt sure that he was suspicious
concerning Kits accident. She would have bet,
dollars to doughnuts, that he was trying to find out
whether they had been back to Eagle Rock.
Kit lay on the bed with her eyes shut, and Connie
stood at the window for a long time, thinking. Then
she heard a car pull up before the house, and heard
the sound of the front-door knocker. A few minutes
later a pleasant-faced, homely little man came into
the bedroom with a professional black satchel in his
hand. Mrs. Ridgeway accompanied him, but Connie
stayed at the foot of the bed while he examined Kit.
Hm, he said to himself. Nasty crack, that. Get
caught by a boom?
Kit dropped her eyes. II fell.
That hurt?
Yes.
That?
Not terribly.
108

Got a pretty bad headache though, havent you?

Kit didnt trust herself to nod. I feel as though
the top of my head is coming off.
The doctor sat back and glanced up at Mrs.
Ridgeway. No concussion here, he said to
Connies infinite relief. Ill give her a sedative,
though, and something to help kill the pain. He
patted Kits hand in a fatherly fashion. Eat a light
supper and get a good nights sleep. Youll be as
right as rain by morning.
Kit smiled weakly. Its hard to believe, just
now.
But after the doctor had gone she turned on her
side and curled up and fell quickly asleep. Connie
tiptoed out of the room and down to the kitchen to
help her aunt with dinner, wishing that it were
possible for her to change places with Kit. When
anyone she loved was ill she always felt this way.
If only it could have happened to me!
Mrs. Ridgeway smiled when her niece voiced this
wish aloud. Dont worry, child, she said. You
can trust Dr. Matthews. He wouldnt make a
promise that Kit couldnt keep.
So Connie busied herself peeling potatoes, then,
at her aunts suggestion, went back to the vegetable
patch at the rear of the Ridgeway property to pick
the first red tomatoes of the season for a salad to
accompany the Bosuns fish.
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To this spot Randy trailed her. Were going to

cook outdoors, he told her with boyish delight.
I noticed you building the fire.
You changed your dress, he observed.
Yes, I did.
Is Kits head real bad, where she got bopped?
he went on, obviously enchanted by the accident, for
which he had evolved his own explanation,
regardless of Toms attempt to cover up.
Bopped? Connie was startled.
Randy looked her straight in the eye. Now dont
give me the line Toms dishing out, he said
slangily. When you fall down you usually hit your
forehead, not the back of your skull. I ought to
know.
So? Connie stalled for time, bending over the
tomato vines.
So theres no use trying to kid me. I know where
youve been. Youve been back to Eagle Rock and
you dont want the family to know.
He had hit the nail so precisely on the head that
Connie decided that it would be wiser to admit it,
and enlist Randy as an ally, than to try to keep up a
pretense. She dropped a tomato into her basket and
looked at her young cousin squarely.
Thats right, she said.
Randy was surprised at the quick success of his
rather blunt strategy. He was silent for a moment,
110

then asked, What happened?

Can I trust you? Connie wanted to know.
Trust me? What do you mean?
Trust you not to tell.
Why, sure!
Cross your heart?
Randy nodded, his eyes shining. Hope to die!
Connie was trying to decide just how much to
confess. She wanted to avoid all mention of the
cave, because to a boy Randys age such a discovery
would be irresistible. Well, Ill tell you, she said
finally, we did go back to the Butterworth house.
Because Ive lost a bracelet and I thought I just
might have dropped it there.
Randy didnt care much about bracelets. He
merely grunted, and waited for her to go on.
I didnt find the bracelet, Connie said, but
while we were there somebodyor somethingdid
hit Kit on the head. She dropped her voice to a
whisper. It knocked her unconscious.
Randys eyes widened, and Connie realized that
she had achieved just the effect for which she had
been striving. He never thought to ask her precisely
how it had happened, or where, but just seized on a
single word.
Something? he breathed. Do you mean maybe
there really is a ghost?
Fortunately, Connie didnt have to answer
111

Randys question, because at that moment Tom

called to her from the driveway.
Here comes Dad, he said. We can drive down
to the gasoline station and then pick up your car.
Theres just enough time to do it before dinner.
Randy will finish picking the tomatoes.

112

CHAPTER

10

Moonlight Sail

The tinker mackerel, broiled over a bed of hot coals

on the outdoor grill, were succulent and tender, as
different from the day-old fish that reached
Meadowbrook, Pennsylvania, as fresh-caught
lobster is from the canned product.
Randy importantly carried a tray up to Kit, who
still looked wan even after a nap, but whose vitality
was gradually returning.
Her young cousin treated her like an injured
princess, and hung around after she had arranged the
bed tray and started to eat the light supper her aunt
had prepared. When he came out to the garden
again, ten minutes later, to eat his own dinner, he
looked just a little deflated, Connie thought. He sat
opposite her at the table and buttered his roast potato
thoughtfully, without making an attempt to catch the
conversational ball.
Sun-ripened strawberries from a neighbors patch
113

topped off the meal, and after it was over, Connie

helped carry the dishes back to the kitchen. Come
on, Randy. You dry and Ill wash, she invited, and
was surprised at his ready acceptance. Usually,
when there were dishes to be done, he faded into
thin air with all of the finesse of the Eagle Rock
ghost himself.
Or herself, Connie corrected herself carefully.
The memory of the perfume tipped the scales in the
direction of a lady-ghosts favor, yet Kits attack
seemed rather unwomanly, to say the least. This was
quite the most baffling of the many mysteries
Connie had encountered. Who or what was haunting
Eagle Rock?
Actually, there wasnt a single clue to the answer.
There were just a series of unrelated incidents which
all added up tonothing, really. Connie tried to sort
them out in her mind. First, the light in the window,
a flickering light, moving from place to place. Then,
the flowerlike fragrance, a ladys perfume,
evanescent but delightful in the closed and
abandoned house. Next, there was the shadowy
figure on the balcony, the window opening and
closing silently in the dusk. Connie remembered the
thrill of their headlong chase, the mysterious music,
and the formless white something which had faded
into the darkness of the stair well, then the door
which had exploded the ghost theory with a
114

resounding bang.
She remembered, too, the conversation she and
her uncle had had about the Butterworths, and she
repeated the question she had asked herself then.
Could there be any relationship between the
Butterworth history and the present turn of events?
The discovery of the underground cave with its
tunnel to the bay seemed to say yes. But still things
didnt add up. Why the packing boxes of medicine
bottles? Why the attack in the dark? Why the locked
room? Why? Why? Why?
And a new question kept nudging its way into
Connies stream of consciousness. Where had Mark
been when Kit was assaulted in the cave? This, of
course, led to a whole stream of minor questions.
Why had he let her go back there alone? What
connection did he have with the whole affair that he
might be keeping secret? His middle name was
Butterworth, after all.
Connie decided, as she was stacking the dishes
and running water into the sink, that she would
make it her business to find out considerably more
about Toms moody friend and his peculiar uncle,
for whom no one had a good word to say.
Connie
Yes? Connie bounced abruptly back to the
present, and found Randy, dish towel in hand,
standing at her elbow.
115

Connie, you think theres some funny business

going on at Eagle Rock, dont you?
You bet I do! Connie admitted readily. Then
she added, with more caution, But I dont think its
any of our business, really. And I want you to
promise me one thing, Randy Ridgeway.
Whats that?
I want you to promise that you wont go back
there, ever again, alone.
Aw gee whiz!
Yes, I want you to promise. And I want you to
shake on it. Connie dried her right hand and held it
out.
But Randy was reluctant to make such a bargain.
He frowned and wouldnt meet his cousins eyes.
If you wont Connie started, then realized
that she didnt want to make a definite threat, like
telling Randy that she would inform his parents or
go to the police. She realized that she didnt want to
be placed in a position where she must do either of
these things, because she was already making
nebulous plans to go back to the castle on the rock
herself.
If I wont, what? Randy asked.
Ill never tell you anything again, Connie said
weakly.
Randy realized that his position had been
strengthened. Will you go back with me? he
116

asked.
Maybe. Connie was deliberately noncommittal.
But Randy felt encouraged. Maybe was a great
deal better than the outright no he had received
when he had made the same proposition to Kit a
little earlier in the evening.
Tomorrow? he prodded.
I dont know.
We could sneak off, Randy planned. Just us
two.
If you dont stop teasing I wont go at all,
Connie told him with mock fierceness.
Aw
I mean it!
O.K. O.K.
Randy subsided and dried the dinner plates
silently, wondering whether the half-promise he had
received was worth the work which he found
himself doing. The phone rang, and he threw down
his towel in an instant, to make a dash for it. The
call was for Tom, however, and he was forced to
return reluctantly to his task. Tom spoke briefly,
then appeared in the kitchen door.
Tell the folks the clam factory called, will you,
Randy? Theyre a guy short on the night shift and
theyll give me time and a half, so Im going to
climb out of these clothes and get going. He
grinned at Connie and rubbed his palm. Filthy
117

lucre! he muttered appreciatively.

Connie laughed, but she was rather disappointed
that Tom would be gone for the evening. She had
hoped they could wander down to the dock
togethermaybe even take a moonlight swimand
talk a little more about the business at the
Butterworths. There were questions she wanted to
ask Tomquestions about Mark Easthamand
Connie always hated to put off until tomorrow
anything that could be accomplished today.
The dishes finished, she went up to look in on
Kit, but found her sister fast asleep, looking relaxed
and very peaceful. Randy, meanwhile, had tuned in
on an hours radio program, and was lying stretched
out on the living-room floor, his arms under his
head, listening to a fabricated mystery which didnt
appeal to Connie nearly as much as the real one so
close at hand.
Tossing a sweater around her shoulders, she
strolled down to the dock alone. Crickets chirped in
the summer evening, and water lapped softly against
the sides of the skiff. The turmoil in Connies mind
was at strange odds with the tranquility of the scene.
Out on the bay an outboard motor coughed and
spluttered for a minute, then settled down to a steady
whine. A dog barked in the distance; a girl laughed;
lights winked from the scattered houses. Everything,
on land and water, seemed orderly and contented.
118

Yet Connie couldnt feel quiet within herself,

couldnt feel calm. Until this afternoon she had been
able to joke about the perfumed lady at Eagle Rock,
the ghost who wore white and slammed doors in
such an unseemly fashion, but now it was no
laughing matter. She shuddered as she realized how
close Kit had comehow very close!to being
killed.
At the end of the dock Connie sat down and
leaned against a piling, swinging her legs over the
edge and looking out over the water. The moon was
almost full, and made a path through which an
occasional sailboat drifted like a lazy butterfly.
There was barely enough breeze to sail at all, but it
was an inviting sort of night, soft and quite cool.
Too cool, Connie reminded herself, to have gone
swimming.
She sat for several minutes, letting her thoughts
drift like the sailboats, hoping to have them light on
some point that had hitherto escaped her, hoping
by not trying too hardto make some glimmer of
sense out of the happenings at the old Butterworth
house. But she kept feeling that there was so much
she did not know, so much that she had still to
discover, and again and again her thoughts kept
coming back to Mark.
Therefore it was with a start of unassumed
surprise that Connie heard his voice come out of the
119

darkness, astonishingly close to her ear. It came

from the water, not from the shore, and she sat up
straight and turned her head with a sharp intake of
breath.
Sorry. Did I startle you? Mark spoke from the
cockpit of a tiny sailboat which had crept silently up
to the dock.
A little. Connies reply was an understatement.
The moonlight makes a path to your dock. I
could see you from way across the bay.
Could you? Connie couldnt seem to think of
anything special to say.
Mark let the sail sag so that the breeze ruffled it.
With one hand he clung to a piling. Did Tom get
your car?
Yes. Before dinner.
And Kit? Is she all right?
Shes asleep, Connie said shortly.
Marks solicitude sounded genuine, but was it?
Connie couldnt be sure.
The boy seemed to sense her mistrust. He was
silent for a moment, then ventured timidly, Want to
come for a sail?
Connie looked askance at the small boat. Will it
hold two? It isnt any bigger than a moth.
Mark chuckled. Thats what it is.
What? Connie didnt understand.
A moth. He tried to explain. Thats what this
120

type of boat is called. Then he added, It will hold

two comfortably.
Oh. Connie made a sudden decision. Wait till
I let them know at the house, she said. Id like to
come for a sail.
She ran back across the boardwalk quickly, and
told her Aunt Helen that she was going out with
Mark in his boat. If thats all right with you, she
added politely.
Certainly its all right. Have fun.
But it wasnt just for fun that Connie was going
on this particular sail. She intended to use her time
to good advantage, and when she came home she
intended to know a great deal more about Mark
Eastham than she did right now.
Determination was in the set of her firm young
jaw as she hurried back to the dock. Mark
Butterworth Easthamthat was his name. And old
Mrs. Butterworth had left him a legacya small
one, perhaps, but still a legacy. This legacy was just
one of the things Connie wanted to know more
about.
But interference came from an unexpected
source. It came in the shape of an enormous tortoiseshell cat, who was pacing sedately back and forth
across the dock when Connie arrived there. Mark
was talking to the cat as though they were more than
acquaintances, and he laughed when Connie cried,
121

For goodness sake, where did he come from?

He belongs to my uncle, but he thinks hes
mine.
The cat sidled over and rubbed against Connies
legs, purring unevenly, as though he were offering
an inducement of some kind. Connie reached down
and stroked him. Whats his name?
Mr. Moto, Mark replied. Dont ask me why.
He wasnt with you in the boat, not when you
arrived.
No, Mark admitted, but he likes to go sailing.
He tracks me down.
I thought cats hated water.
Most cats do, but some cats love boats. Live on
them, even. Mark reached up to help Connie down
from the dock with one hand, while the other still
gripped the piling. Go on home, Mr. Moto, he
said.
But the cat stood looking down at them with great
yellow eyes, still pleading in his uneven purr. Then,
as Mark hoisted the sail and the small boat started to
glide swiftly away from the dock, he gave an
unexpected leap and landed squarely, on cushioned
paws, in Connies lap.
Well take him back to our dock, Mark said,
unperturbed. Hes a rascal.
Connie let the cat curl up in her lap, and
continued to stroke him idly while Mark told her of
122

some of his exploits with all the pride of a pet

owner. Do you have a dog, too? Connie wanted to
know, trying to get the conversation away from Mr.
Moto by easy stages.
No. Uncle Adolph doesnt like dogs. He doesnt
like most cats, either, for that matter. In fact, Uncle
Adolphs a bit of a misanthrope. He doesnt like
much of anybody.
Mark sounded so rueful that Connie felt sorry for
him, but she steeled herself against letting her heart
run away with her head. Whats the matter? she
asked lightly. Was he unlucky in love?
Something like that, Mark admitted. He was
engaged to a girl, once, I understand. A pretty, darkhaired girl with a pale face and big eyes, to judge
from a snapshot I ran across in an old album. He
paused, and seemed to be thinking back.
Connie trailed her free hand in the water. But he
never married her?
Mark shook his head. She ran off with another
man. Jilted him for a two-penny violinist. Mrs.
Ridgeway told me that was the story, anyway. Uncle
Adolph has never mentioned a word about the
matter to me.
Mark ran the boat expertly in toward the dark
hulk of a dock. Far back on shore, Connie could see
a single light in a window. Next to the friendly blaze
that came from the Ridgeway house, it made this
123

dwelling look gloomy. Do only you and your uncle

live here? she asked.
Its where I exist, Mark replied.
He really is a difficult boy, Connie thought. The
impression she had formed on the first day of their
acquaintance was corroborated. Moody people
bothered her. She wasnt used to them. They made
her feel scrappy and uncomfortable, even if they did
invoke a certain amount of sympathy.
Oh, come now!
Look, you dont know my uncle!
Id like to, Connie said honestly.
Mark, in the act of dumping Mr. Moto
unceremoniously back on his home dock, stopped
and looked down at her. Say that again.
Id really like to. I dont believe he can possibly
be as bad as you say.
Hes not bad. Hes just unpleasantand
illogical.
Maybe he has reasons. Connie sounded tart.
A quickened breeze filled their sail just then, and
Mark gave his full attention to the boat for a minute
or two. When he glanced at Connie again it was to
say, You dont like me, do you? I wish I knew
why.
Connie was immediately contrite. It isnt that I
dont like you. Its just
Just what? Mark prodded when she hesitated.
124

But Connie didnt have the heart to tell him, in so

many words, that she felt mistrustful. She shrugged
and said, Oh, skip it, Mark.
They sat for a while in silence, staring at the
moon-path on the water, each lost in thought. Then
Mark muttered, If you think I had anything to do
with that incident this afternoon
How could he know that this was precisely what
she was thinking, Connie wondered? How could he
guess? Aloud she asked, Why would you suspect
such a thing? Her voice sounded cool and distant,
even to her own ears.
Because youre treating me as though Id
committed a crime, Mark said frankly. Just
because my middle name is Butterworth, and
because an old lady happened to leave me five
thousand dollars that wont even be mine for a
couple of more years is no reason to connect me
irreconcilably with Eagle Rock. And, he almost
shouted, its no reason why I should want to hit a
perfectly nice girl a knockout blow on the head.
No, Connie admitted, and her voice seemed
very calm and collected by comparison. No, she
said again, slowly and thoughtfully. Perhaps not.
Then she turned in the boat so that she could see
Marks eyes. But there is something about Eagle
Rock that you havent told me. Theres something
that youre keeping a secret. Im as sure of it as Im
125

sure that my name is Connie Blair!

Marks glance shifted. He couldnt meet Connies
level, questioning gaze. His smile was sickly when
he said, with thin pretense, Arent you being a little
hysterical about this whole affair?
Hysterical?
Yes. At first it was a game. Then, this afternoon,
it turned into something pretty serious. I think the
smart thing to do would be to take the Bosuns
advice and stay clear of the place.
Connie shook her head, and her lips were pressed
firmly together. Then, very flatly, she announced,
Im going back.
You are not! Marks voice was equally firm.
Oh?
Dont be a little idiot! Do you want to tangle
with the police?
If necessary.
Mark took a different tack. Connie, be sensible.
Whats the use of walking smack into trouble?
Im going to find out who hit Kit.
Mark sighed wearily. Maybe there wasnt
anybody. Maybe she ran into the doorjamb in the
dark.
You dont really believe that, Mark Eastham.
Its possible.
But not probable, Connie insisted.
As probable as any other theory that has been
126

advanced.
Connie didnt continue the argument. She was a
little ashamed that they had quarreled on such a
beautiful night. For a while she sat very quiet and
withdrawn, looking out over the dark bay toward the
lights of Newport. Why was Mark so anxious to
keep her from going back to Eagle Rock? Just as she
was about to ask him, she checked herself. Mark,
she knew, would dodge with a denial or an indirect
answer.

127

CHAPTER

11

Connie Meets the Guardian

The breeze died at dawn, and the morning was hot

and still, with the temperature climbing persistently.
Kit came down for breakfast, but her aunt shooed
her out of the house to the garden chaise right
afterward, with strict orders that she was to rest and
stay as cool as possible for the entire day.
Pogo went with her, and lay down on the grass by
her side, panting. Connie brought Kit some
magazines, and Randy offered his services, if she
should need them. Then he took his fishing line and
went out in the skiff.
Tom slept. He had worked all night and, Aunt
Helen told Connie, that was very likely to mean that
he would sleep all day. Connie, therefore, tiptoed
around the second floor making beds and putting to
rights the bedroom she shared with her twin.
Her aunt laughed at such caution when she found
what Connie was doing. Dont worry about Tom,
128

she said in a perfectly normal tone of voice. No

mere noise could awaken that boy. He sleeps the
sleep of the clear in conscience!
Clear in conscience. The words made Connies
thoughts turn once more to Mark. She remembered
suddenly how relieved he had seemed, yesterday in
Eagle Rock, when she had come back to the kitchen
and announced that the bedroom door was locked. It
was just one more curious thing among a lot of
curious things. Clear in conscience. She doubted
that those words would apply to Mark as aptly as to
her cousin Tom.
Yet she regretted their quarrel of the night before.
She realized now that she must have been overtired
and harassed by all the days excitement. It wasnt
like her to bait a person as she had Mark. And it
wasnt like her to be so mixed up in her feelingsto
like a boy and yet to mistrust him at one and the
same time.
Aunt Helen?
Yes, Connie?
Aunt Helen, may I ask you something quite
frankly?
Of course, dear.
Do you consider Mark Eastham a littlewell
odd?
Odd? Mrs. Ridgeway stopped in the bedroom
doorway. No. Moody perhaps. Very artistic in
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temperament, of course, and a little self-absorbed.

But not odd.
You think hesreliable?
Why, yes.
Connie sighed. Maybe I just dont understand
him. He seems to me like a peculiar sort of boy.
Doesnt like his guardian. Doesnt want to go to
college. She spread her hands. How unhappy can
you get?
Her aunt laughed at the slang expression and
came in to sit down on the edge of one of the twin
beds. Marks relationship with his uncle is rather
unfortunate, she told Connie. Adolph Eastham is
on the crotchety side, and Mark needs lots of
sympathy and understanding.
Then why doesnt he want to go to college?
Connie asked. At least hed get out of the house.
Because he wants to study music. Hasnt he told
you? He wants to study at Curtis in Philadelphia or
Juilliard in New York, and the idea of wastingas
he calls itfour years in college is something Mark
just cant face.
Well, Connie said, for the first time he begins
to make a little sense!
Her aunt smiled. Artistic people are often a little
difficult to understand, arent they? she asked, then
excused herself as the telephone rang downstairs.
Connie finished her self-imposed tasks, then went
130

out to the lawn and reported to Kit the story of her

moonlight sail with Mark and her subsequent
conversation with her aunt. What do you make of it
all? she asked her twin.
Kit shook her head. Im as puzzled as you are,
Connie. But Id like to meet the uncle.
Connie nodded. So would I.
An opportunity came more quickly than she had
expected. When Connie went back to the house her
aunt was standing in the kitchen, looking with
considerable dismay at more than a dozen uncooked
tinker mackerel, left over from the night before.
They were taking up needed space in the
refrigerator, yet she hated to throw them away.
Theyre still perfectly good. I know! she said.
Ill send some of them up the road to the
Griswolds, They have two Persian kittens. And the
rest Ill send over for Mr. Moto, Adolph Easthams
cat.
Ill take them, Connie offered promptly.
Oh, no! Mrs. Ridgeway protested. Ill send
Randy. Hes the errand-runner around here.
Randys off fishing, Connie said with a grin,
and knew that her aunt would groan.
Not more fish! I cant face them. Not today.
Please let me go, Connie begged then, If I dare
appear before anyone as grim as Mr. Eastham in
these shorts.
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Of course you dare. It will do him good. And

wear your best smile! I want him to see what a
pretty niece I have.
So, a few minutes later, Connie started off with
two newspaper-wrapped parcels. The first she
dropped at the Griswolds, to whose house Aunt
Helen directed her. Then she continued on around a
curve in the road to the shore-front property of the
Easthams.
The brown shingle house looked tidy but
somehow cheerless, as though it cried for a womans
touch. There were shades at the windows, neatly
pulled to even lengths, but no crisp white curtains,
as in the Ridgeway house. And at first glance there
seemed to be no one at all around.
Then Connie saw Mr. Moto. He was sitting on the
porch railing, as still as a statue.
Hello, Mr. Moto, she said.
At the sound of his name he gave a brief purr of
recognition and leaped lightly off the railing to meet
her in front of the steps. The manner in which he
rubbed against her legs was definitely ingratiating.
I believe you smell this fish, she said.
Mr. Motos purr strengthened and Connie
chuckled to herself. Then she leaned down and
stroked him gently before she went up the steps to
ring the bell.
There was no answer. She waited half a minute or
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so, then rang again, but quite evidently there was no

one at home. Then, just on the chance that Mark
might be down at the dock, she walked around the
corner of the house, but she was intercepted quite
suddenly by a tall, gray-haired man with close-set
eyes, who was leaning dependently on a cane.
How do you do! Connie gasped. Are you Mr.
Adolph Eastham?
I am.
He was older than Connie had somehow
expected. He looked to be well into his sixties, and
his shoulders were bent.
Im Connie Blair, Mrs. Ridgeways niece.
Yes?
Connie felt ill at ease. He certainly didnt waste
words, this uncle of Marks. She began to feel far
more understanding of Toms friend than heretofore.
Living with Uncle Adolph, she was quite certain,
would be something of a task.
Not knowing what else to do, Connie smiled. Her
smile was as young as a spring day, her teeth were
even and white, and her eyes crinkled engagingly at
the corners. Ive brought some fish for Mr. Moto,
she explained, and held out the newspaper-wrapped
parcel to Mr. Eastham.
There werent many men, from sixteen to
seventy, who could resist Connies smile, and
Adolph Eastham, in this respect, was not
133

exceptional. It took a few seconds for his frown,

which Connie had assumed was perpetual, to
dissolve. It took several more seconds for his
features to reorient themselves into something like a
pleasant expression. But finally the objective was
accomplished and Mr. Eastham managed, with
difficulty, to smile back.
Well, well, well, he said, and his voice had lost
much of its grumpiness. I call that extremely nice.
Connies own smile turned into a laugh, but she
did hope that Mr. Eastham wouldnt guess that she
was laughing at him. To cover her confusion she
said, Theyre tinker mackerel. The BosunMr.
Meredith, I meangave them to us yesterday.
Meredith, eh? Mr. Eastham took the package in
a hand which looked unusually large and strong for
a man of his years. Connie noticed that the fingers
were long and well-kept. In this respect his uncles
hands resembled Marks.
Yes. Do you know him?
Mr. Eastham nodded. Comes from a fine old
family, George Meredith does. Never did amount to
much though, himself. When he was a kid the family
had too much money, and when he got older they
didnt have enough.
That sounds as though Mr. Merediths life might
make an interesting story, Connie said
encouragingly.
134

Adolph Eastham looked at her sharply. You a

writer? he asked.
No, not exactly. Im in the advertising business,
though, Connie admitted.
Advertising, hmph? Mr. Eastham started to
frown again. Never did think much of advertising,
though I suppose its all right for those that like it.
Im inclined more to the solid side.
Youre an engineer, arent you?
Was. Im retired. Then Marks uncle eyed
Connie pointedly again. Who told you?
Mark.
Mark, eh? There was indignation in the manner
in which Mr. Eastham pronounced his nephews
name. I suppose hes been telling you Im an old
Scrooge, just because I want him to turn out
differently than George Meredith there. He waved
an impatient hand toward the bay.
Connies eyes widened and she looked up at Mr.
Eastham innocently. Oh, no!
Didnt? Mr. Eastham looked surprised. Marks
a young fool. Cant seem to see that a college
education will give him a bedrock foundation
nobody can take away. He tapped his cane to
emphasize the word bedrock.
But dont you think people are different? Maybe
college, for Mark would be a waste.
Waste? Mr. Eastham roared. What are you
135

talking about? If you think trekking off to some big

city with that fiddle of his will be anything but a
waste, young lady, youre crazy. Youre as crazy as
that addlepated nephew of mine!
Anger seemed to straighten Mr. Easthams back.
He brandished his cane in the air like a sword, but
he didnt really intimidate Connie. She had suddenly
guessed the reason for Marks guardians antipathy
to a musical career for his ward. Wasnt it a violinist
who had run off with Adolph Easthams betrothed?
Once burned, twice shy, her mother always
said, and Connie smiled gently as she remembered
the adage.
What are you laughing about? Mr. Eastham
bellowed, and his frown became deeper than ever.
N-nothing. Connie backed away. I was just
thinkingthinking that Id better be getting home.
Belatedly she added, Say hello to Mark for me,
please. And I hope Mr. Moto enjoys the fish.

136

CHAPTER

12

A Lone Expedition

At the Ridgeways the silence was utter and

complete. Tom was still asleep upstairs, Kit had
dozed off on the garden chaise, and Pogo had
stretched out in a shady spot under the back steps.
A note on the kitchen table read, Sandwiches in
the refrigerator, Connie. Ive gone marketing. See
you later. It was signed H. R.
Connie sat on the table, swinging her legs and
munching the sandwiches thoughtfully. She half
wished Kit would wake up, so that she could tell her
about her encounter with Adolph Eastham. Then she
was fired with a sudden, brilliant idea. What better
time was there than now to go back to Eagle Rock
alone!
Impulsively, she tiptoed upstairs for her car keys.
If she could slip off before anybody could forbid
her, before anybody could discover what she was
about The riskiness of the procedure never
137

crossed her mind. Connie closed the screen door

quietly behind her and ran soundlessly, in her
rubber-soled sneakers, down the walk.
The car started with agreeable promptness and
Connie pulled quickly out of the drive, blessing the
noiselessness of modern motors. She felt
exhilarated, as though she were starting out on an
exciting private adventure, and she hummed as she
turned into the main road. The run to Eagle Rock
took barely ten minutes, but today Connie took the
extra precaution of parking her car well out of sight
of the pillared gateway. She tucked the keys safely
in the zippered pocket of her shorts and walked up
the road under the arching trees as though she were
not in a hurry to go anywhere at all.
As she neared the entrance to the curving Eagle
Rock drive she grew particularly wary, and chose a
time to slip through the gate and behind a screen of
overgrown shrubbery when there was neither a car
nor a pedestrian visible on the road. Then, rather
than cut back to the weed-grown drive, she walked
through the tall grass behind the shrubbery planting
until she was within sight of the house itself.
Seen between clumps of ilex and rhododendron,
the mansion looked quiet and desolate under the
strong afternoon sun. The day was almost
breathlessly hot, the sort of day on which people
keep glancing at the sky and hoping for a storm.
138

There was a, pressure in the air, a sense of

foreboding that quickened Connies heart. For a
moment she hesitated. Should she turn back,
perhaps? Wait until one of the boys could
accompany her? It crossed her mind that it would
have been wise to leave a note, to tell Kit where she
was going. Then the moment of hesitancy was gone.
What was she waiting for?
On feet as quiet as Mr. Motos Connie crossed
the marble terrace to the semicircular balcony. The
window with the broken latch was on the lower level
and the steps were on the bay side.
Silently she slipped along from pillar to pillar,
keeping well back in the shadow of the house. Now
she could look out over the cove, could see the ferry
making one of its endless trips, the pleasure boats
going and coming, the gulls and the terns swooping
down out of the brassy sky.
From a rock pile at the mouth of the cove some
youngsters were swimming, their voices cutting the
air, high and shrill. They were disappointed because
the tide wasnt high enough to suit them. But its
coming in! Connie could hear a little boy shout.
Its coming in!
There was something so ordinaryso summerafternoonishabout the scene that it stilled
Connies qualms. She stepped out from behind the
pillar for a moment, then stepped hastily back again
139

as she recognized a white boat at anchor just off the

point.
Mr. Meredith! Had he seen her? Cautiously she
peered out from her hiding place once more. She
had a feeling that he would make good his threat if
he should find any one of them hanging around
Eagle Rock again. Connie remembered distinctly the
steely glint in the Bosuns eyes when he had
promised to report them to the police as trespassers
should he discover them at the Butterworth house
once more.
There was no movement from the boat, and from
this distance, with the sun in her eyes, it was
impossible for Connie to see whether or not the
Bosun was on deck. But she renewed her caution
and kept well back against the house as she hurried
down the steps to the lower balcony and around to
the kitchen window which opened with such
tempting ease.
It took only a moment to slip through. Shorts
were so much more convenient than skirts for such
an expedition, Connie thought, as she dropped to the
pantry floor. She sniffed. The perfumed lady
apparently hadnt been here today! She shut the
window cautiously behind her, then on second
thought opened it again. She might as well leave
herself an avenue of quick escape. That decided, she
hurried through the kitchen to the hall.
140

The instant she opened the kitchen door she heard

the music. It floated down from upstairs, thin and
reedlike, but there was no ghostly dissonance about
it today. Connie stood stock-still in the vast
entrance hall and listened. She knew this . . . she
knew it . . . she could almost name it. Ah! She had
it!
Anitras Dance, she whispered softly to herself.
Connie smiled. No ghost was playing music from
the Peer Gynt Suite. No ghost was drawing a bow
with such mastery across the strings of this violin!
Connie didnt wait a minute longer. She knew
now!knew infallibly who she would find when
she opened the bedroom door.
Quick as a gazelle, and quite as lightly, she raced
up the sweeping stairs. Her sneakers made no sound
as she sped along the hall. If only the door was open.
If only she could catch him in the very act!
But the violinist came to the end of the selection
before Connie reached the door which now stood
ajar. A white-robed figure, back toward her, was
wrapping something in a dust cover over by the bed
when she let herself into the room.
So its you! So its been youall the time.
There was no smile on Connies lips now,
because she was beginning to realize the unpleasant
implications of her discovery. She stood in the
doorway like an avenging angel, her fair hair a halo
141

around her heart-shaped face.

The figure in white whirled, and Mark Easthams
startled eyes met hers. He was wearing swimming
trunks, over which he had flung a white terry robe,
and in his trembling hands he still held the violin he
had been wrapping in an old linen pillow slip.
For fully fifteen seconds Mark didnt speak.
There was a white line of anger around his mouth,
anger and dismay. Then he said, in a tone of voice
which contained a certain rueful humor, You are
the persistent type, arent you?
Yes, Connie admitted coolly, I am.
It never occurred to her to be afraid of Mark. She
took a couple of steps into the room and put out her
hand. I suppose you found my bracelet here. Will
you please give it to me?
Now Mark had the grace to flush. He put his hand
in the pocket of his terry robe and handed Connie
the bauble, which glinted in the sun from the dingy
window. I would have returned it, he apologized,
in time.
Connie didnt dispute this, but her eyes were still
cold and accusing. Would you care to try to explain
yourself? she asked.
Mark shrugged, and spread his hands so that
Connie noticed again how long and sensitive were
the fingers. Its been a good place to practice. I
dont like being disturbed.
142

Cant you practice at home?

No. Uncle Adolph has forbidden it. For my own
good, Mark mimicked. His eyes were very dark
and stormy, and his voice was almost as cold as
Connies.
How long have you been coming here? Connie
asked.
All summer.
Connie glanced at his costume. And youswim
all that distance? She couldnt help but sound
surprised.
It isnt so far, Mark told her. I swim from our
dock to the point, then cut across the point on a
footpath, and the next lap is only about a hundred
yards.
A hundred yards sounded like a healthy distance
to Connie, who doubted that she could last quite that
long without getting badly winded, but she
recognized that Mark and her cousins, raised
practically on the water, were especially strong
swimmers as a consequence. So she accepted
Marks word for it and hurried on to the other
questions she wanted to ask.
Then it was your light we saw, in the evening?
Yes. I carry a flash. Sometimes I stay until after
dark.
Arent you afraid? The thought slipped out
spontaneously.
143

Afraid? What is there to be afraid of?

Everybodys dead and gone.
Connie shivered slightly. Thats just it, she
wanted to say, but she restrained herself and became
the stern inquisitor again.
What was the point of locking the door?
I didnt want you to start poking around and
discover my fiddle. Theres no way of locking the
closet over there, where I keep it. Mark gestured to
the coat closet on the other side of the room.
So far, Connie had to admit, his answers had
made sense. He seemed forthright enough, now that
he had, so to speak, been caught with the goods.
She could understand the reasons which had led him
to use the abandoned house as a refuge. She could
even understand his inclination to play ghost in the
hope of scaring off intruders. Because Connie had
no doubt that it was Marks figure, cloaked in the
terry robe, which she and Tom had seen fading into
the darkness of the stair well. But there was one
thing she didnt understand, one thing that kept
creeping to the front of her mind with an insistent
push. There was one question she would have to ask
Mark, one final, all-important question. And how,
Connie wondered, did he intend to answer that?
With the instinct of a born detective, she tried to
throw him off his guard. It all seems a little like
childs play, she murmured, now that the truth is
144

out.
Marks grin was embarrassed. It does, at that,
he admitted. But your gang was getting a kick out
of the game, too.
Until yesterday. Connie rapped out the words.
Dont you think it was going a little berserk to
almost kill my sister?
What?
Do you think it was sportsmanlike to carry the
game quite that far?
I never
Connies head was high and her brown eyes were
accusing. I should think youd be ashamed!
Why
Knocking an innocent bystander unconscious!
Connie stormed. An innocent bystander, thats
what Kit was. And you did it just in a silly,
uncontrolled attempt to scare us off the premises for
good and all! Couldnt you think of a better way, a
way that wouldnt hurt anybody, a way that
wouldnt practically give a girl on vacation a
concussion? Is a place to do your practicing
undisturbed worth that?
Connie! Listen! You
But Connie would not be stopped. By the moment
she was growing more indignant, more scornful.
When she thought of the miserable night Kit had
spent, when she thought of her twin lying curled up
145

and defenseless on the garden chaise when she

should have been out having fun, fury welled up and
threatened to choke her.
Egocentric, thats what you are! Egocentric and
brutal. Why couldnt you have hit Tom if you
wanted to hit somebody, instead of a defenseless
girl?
Without another word Mark walked across the
room and grabbed Connie by the shoulders. He
started to shake her and through clenched teeth he
said just two words. Be quiet!
Connie was so startled that she obeyed. She
looked fearlessly, however, into Marks eyes, and
they didnt flinch away from hers.
Now you listen to me, he said without shouting.
I didnt hit Kit, and I dont know what did. But get
this straight. I never left that kitchen.
Can you prove it?
No, I cant prove it, Mark said. But I give you
my word. His eyes were as steady as the hands
holding Connies shoulders. Maybe, as we said
yesterday, she banged her head on the edge of the
door.
You dont believe that, Mark, and neither do I,
Connie said quietly, and this time the boys glance
dropped.
It was a criminal thing to do, she went on, and
it was done for a reason. For a reason that has
146

something to do with the cave, and with the cases of

medicine bottles we found. I believe that, Mark.
You can believe anything you like as long as
you dont believe Im the kind of skunk who would
hit a girl in the dark. Mark dropped his hands and
stepped back a pace.
Im taking your word for it, Connie said
slowly. And Im also taking for granted the fact
that youll help me find out who made the attack and
why. Itsits an obligation, Mark. A personal
obligation. A duty. Do you understand what I
mean?
Sort of. Mark wasnt too sure. In his opinion,
he told Connie, they should simply report the matter
to the police.
But Connie argued that, as yet, they had nothing
concrete to report. She wanted to go back to the cave
again, to see whether there was anything they had
overlooked, any clue to the identity of Kits assailant
that they might, by chance, have missed.
And, at the same time, Connie wanted to test
Mark.
I want you to go with me, she said.
When?
Right now.
Mark looked around as though he felt trapped. I
dont approve of it, he said. I dont approve of it
for one minute. Butoh, well, all right.
147

CHAPTER

13

The Ghost Helps Out

Marks reluctance was apparent. Connie knew that

he was going along with her only because he felt
that he had to help her find the person who had
made the brutal attack on Kit if he were completely
to clear himself.
He put his violin carefully away in the closet,
handling the instrument lovingly with gentle,
sensitive hands. She began to realize how much
music meant to Mark, how cruel was his deprivation
when his uncle had forbidden him the right to
practice at home.
In that moment she began to hate Adolph
Eastham for his blind, stubborn, futile attempt to
mold Marks life to his own pattern. A man who
could do a thing like that might be capable of
anything! Was it possible that such a man could just
as readily have struck a helpless girl?
It was the first time she had considered Marks
148

uncle as a possible suspect, but the idea took hold.

Suppose Adolph Eastham had begun to surmise that
Mark was practicing in secret. Suppose he had
trailed him to Eagle Rock, and knewthrough some
means or otherof the cave entrance. Might Kit
have surprised him? Might he have acted in
uncontrolled haste? Possibilities galore began to
float through Connies brain like feathers, settling
for a moment here and there, but floating about
again soon to rearrange themselves in other patterns.
Hurry! Hurry!
Mark seemed to be walking in slow motion,
stalling for time. Connie hustled him along
impatiently, so absorbed in her own conjectures that
she failed to notice the storm clouds piling up over
the bay.
But Mark had seen them. Were going to have a
blow, he warned, pointing them out. It might be
smart to wait until another day.
Poof! Suppose it does rain? Well be dry enough
in the cave. And it may ensure our being alone down
there.
Connie was in no mood to be deflected from her
purpose. Besides, Mark seemed to her to be a little
overanxious to keep her from going back to the
scene of Kits mishap again.
The boy shrugged. Have it your own way. His
bare feet followed Connies sneakers down the
149

sumptuous stairway which curved to the mosaicpatterned marble floor of the reception hall.
For a moment Connie relaxed enough to giggle as
she turned and looked up at him. If we dont look
silly! she said. In a place like this I keep having
the feeling we should be in evening dress, you in
white tie and tails, and I in something glittering and
bouffant.
Youd look lovely in white, Mark told her.
A compliment! Connie cried. I believe its the
first compliment youve ever paid me. Reaching
the floor of the hall she dropped a mock curtsy,
holding the cuffs of her shorts daintily with the
finger tips of either hand. Thank you, sir.
Mark grinned. Even in that rig youll do, he
admitted. Now lets get going if were to beard the
lion in his den. I dont relish swimming the
Hellespont in one of these summer storms.
You wont have to swim, Connie promised. i
Have the car. Ill drop you off at home on my way
back to the Ridgeways.
Thatll certainly confuse Uncle Adolph, Mark
replied.
The door to the pantry stood open, and Mark
looked at the open window as Connie crossed the
kitchen to the cupboard which opened on the secret
passage to the cave. He knew at once what she had
had in mind. All ready for a quick getaway, I see.
150

Certainly. Im the cautious type. Laugh lines

crinkled around Connies eyes.
Cautious! Mark snorted as she knew he would.
Got your flash?
Right here.
Give it to me. Ill go first.
The uneven stone steps were slippery and wet,
like the deck of a spray-soaked boat. Drip, drip, drip.
Water fell from the dank roof with monotonous
regularity. For more than a minute Connie felt blind.
She kept blinking her eyes to adjust them to the
darkness. Only the beam of the flashlight ahead cut
through the murk. Down they went, Connie
following close on Marks heels. Down, step after
curving step, down.
The cave was as silent as a tomb, the dripping
water and the slap of the advancing tide only
accentuating the feeling of emptiness. As they
gained the comparatively level floor of the entryway
Connie and Mark stood still and listened, but they
seemed to be entirely alone. A misty light came
through the entrance from the bay. It had an ugly,
yellowish cast. No boat would dare venture through
that channel now. If they were alone at the moment,
Connie had complete confidence that they would be
able to conduct their investigation undisturbed
today.
Mark, growing braver, sent the beam of his flash
151

into the corners of the cave. Empty. Then the light

sought the door to the storeroom. It was closed.
It took real courage to cross the cold, clammy
floor of the cave and open it. Connie looked at Mark
and nodded encouragement. Then together they
advanced, step by careful step.
At the door they paused, listening again, but only
silence greeted them. Keep back, Mark whispered,
and pushed the door warily inward, guarding Connie
with his arm.
The storeroom was as empty of life as the cave.
Only one thing had changed since their previous
visit. Some sawdust was spilled on the floor and the
slats had been ripped off the top packing box.
Connie crossed to examine the box more closely,
no longer moving with circumspection. As she had
hoped, Mark and she had the cave to themselves.
Look, she said, without bothering to whisper.
A lot of the medicine bottles are gone.
It was true. The packing box was nearly half
empty. Between yesterday afternoon and today
someone had come and gone. Someone who had
probably entered the tunnel at low tide in a small
boat, for how otherwise could the person have
spirited so many of the bottles away?
You could get in here with a rowboat, couldnt
you?
Mark nodded. I thought we settled that
152

yesterday. But remember, you can also get in as we

did, from upstairs.
Connie cocked her head thoughtfully. Yes, but
the person who struck Kit didnt come that way.
Which would lead you to assume that he always
came through the tunnel?
Right.
Check. Ill go along with that theory, Mark
agreed. But it doesnt give us his name.
Or hers. Connie remembered the perfumed
visitor reluctantly, because she only seemed to
confuse a picture that was already far from clear cut.
Mark began to flash his light methodically over
the storeroom floor, moving it from left to right in
broad strips. The wet stone floor was bare. Then, as
he reached the packing boxes, Connie gave a little
cry and bent to pick up a crumpled piece of paper
about the size of an ordinary envelope.
Heres something.
She started to smooth it out, and Mark flashed his
light directly on it. In its beam they could both see
that it was torn, and that it contained writing in blue
ink which had blurred in the dampness of the cave.
It looks like French, Connie started to say, but
the words were scarcely spoken when a detonation
like an explosion made her eardrums ring. She stood
aghast, looking at Mark with eyes full of shocked
alarm.
153

Whats that?
She didnt know what she expected him to say. It
sounded as though someone had set off several
husky sticks of dynamite right above their heads.
But Marks expression was unexpectedly
reassuring. Thunder, he said, then added, Wed
better get out of here.
Connie breathed a sigh of relief, and even gave a
nervous chuckle to excuse her own terror. She gave
one last, lingering look around the storeroom to be
sure she had missed nothing, then followed Mark
bark into the cave proper and shut the door.
The water had risen fast since they had entered
the storeroom. It was lapping within a foot of the
very walls of the cave. And the aperture through
which the sickly yellow light continued to glow had
narrowed. Mark pointed it out. Look. Another hour
and the tunnel mouth will be completely closed.
Connie shivered. All right. Ive had enough.
Lets go.
She skidded across the slippery, sloping floor as a
rising wind whistled through the tunnel with an
eerie, menacing sound.
And lets not come back, Mark said behind her.
This place gives me the creeps.
As though to punctuate his sentence, a door
upstairs shut with a resounding bang. Connie
jumped and stopped so short that she could feel
154

Marks breath against her cheek. Good grief! Now

what was that?
Spooks and more spooks. I hope youve had
your fill of them. Mark sounded disconcertingly
adult, but Connie knew it was just to cover his own
reaction to the sharp noise.
Then, suddenly, a dreadful thought occurred to
her. She grabbed her companions arm in
consternation.
Mark! she cried. Mark, that open window!
You dont supposethe wind
The same thought had apparently occurred to the
boy. He brushed past her hurriedly and started up
the slimy stairs. No oblong of light shone from the
top. As soon as she reached the turn Connie knew,
indubitably, what had happened.
The cupboard door had slammed shut.
And, as it shut, it had locked.
Mark traced the outline of the door with his
flashlight. There was a rusty keyhole, but they had
no key. He pushed his shoulder against it, uselessly.
He even kicked it, in helpless fury.
Connie said, Dont do that, Mark. Youll only
break your big toe.
The thin attempt at a joke served to quiet them
both a little. Connie, always at her best in an
emergency, began to think fast.
When Mark said, Were trapped, but good! she
155

shook her head.

No, she said. I have an idea. Come on back to
the cave.
Following her once more down the treacherous
steps, Mark said, Wed better make for the
storeroom. The rest of the place will be flooded any
minute now. At least, in there, we can keep dry.
He had visions of what would happen. By
dinnertime both he and Connie would be missed.
The families would be alarmed because of the storm.
They would go to the police, notify the Coast Guard,
start a search. Eventually, of course, Connies car
would be found, and the trail would lead to the
abandoned house if Tom and Kit had not already
suggested the possibility. Then
But Connies hopeful voice interrupted his
gloomy predictions. Mark! We can still swim for
it! she cried.
Mark looked toward the tunnels mouth, almost
as dark as the water now. It showed only a reduced
semicircle of gray. The incoming tide was swirling
close to their very ankles.
How strong a swimmer are you? he asked.
Im not bad, Connie said modestly. Anyway,
the worst that could happen would be that wed be
washed back in again.
But Mark knew that this was not the worst, and
he suspected that Connie knew it too. If they should
156

escape one trap only to find themselves in another

Theres still time! Connie insisted. She was
already sitting on the cave floor, pulling off her
sneakers and socks. The paper she had picked up
from the storeroom floor was in her pocket, along
with her car keys, and she remembered it just in the
nick of time.
The paper! Oh, Mark! All the writing will be
washed away.
Maybe it isnt very important, anyway. Mark
tried to be comforting.
But Connie bit her lip and took it out of her
pocket, pulling the zipper closed again. There
ought to be some way!
Her sneakers and her socks were dry. Hastily she
tucked one sock inside the other, making a doublethick bag. Into this she put the folded paper, then
rolled the socks into a ball she could cram into the
toe of one sneaker. Then she put the sneakers
together, front to front, and tied the bundle with one
of the laces, securing it with a tight knot.
There.
But where do you propose to carry it? Mark
wanted to know. Every second we waste is
precious, Connie. Why not just leave the bundle on
the stairs.
But Connie shook her head. She was wearing a
raffia belt with her shorts and she unbuckled it and
157

pulled it quickly off. Then she handed Mark the

sneakers.
Here. Hold them on my head.
On your head? But Mark did as he was told,
and watched in amazement, which contained a great
deal of respect, while Connie bound them on with
the raffia belt, knotting it painfully tight under her
chin.
Her eyes glistened with the excitement of
success. Aha! If it only holds!
Even if the water dashed over her head, as it well
might if whitecaps ruffled the bay, there was a good
chance that the rubber soles of the sneakers would
protect the canvas uppers and that Connie could
rescue the paper from the socks before they became
soaked. There was a chance, however, that her
efforts would fail, but then there was a chance
involved in everything one did. There was even a
chance that the tide was stronger than she calculated
it would be, and that theyd never get out of the cave
at all.
But to waste valuable time in idle speculation was
foreign to Connies temperament. Already she was
wading into the water in her bare feet. Over her
shoulder she said, almost happily, to Mark, Its
lucky Im wearing shorts.
Mark had to admire Connies spirit. The girl had
courage; there was no doubt of it. He was close
158

behind her when the water reached her waist and he

watched her strike out for the tunnel mouth,
swimming with a steady overhand that kept her head
well out of the water.
Ill say one thing, he called after her. Youve
got plenty of grit!
But Connie didnt answer. She was beginning to
feel the drag of the tide against her shoulders. She
also saw, with some alarm, that the tunnel mouth
was getting smaller and smaller. She would need to
save her breath for the ordeal that lay ahead.

159

CHAPTER

14

Tom Translates

The churning bay, dark and storm-struck, was within

sight through the tunnel opening, but every new
surge of the incoming tide brought the water line
higher. Another ten minutesfive perhaps!and
the water would reach the very roof, cutting off the
tunnel entirely, cutting off the possibility of entry or
return.
Connie, concentrating on her breathing and on the
steady overhand motion of her arms, didnt dare
glance over her shoulder to see whether Mark was
close behind her. The balance of the sneakers
seemed to grow increasingly precarious, yet to make
any headway against the tide she couldnt stop to
tread water and readjust the belt.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
Like a coxswain in a racing shell, she kept
prodding herself on with mental directions. Evenly,
evenly, one arm over, then the other. The tunnel
160

mouth was getting closer, closer, closer all the time.

Now the sky, heavy with storm clouds, black and
menacing, was visible through the narrow opening.
Now the tunnel roof was no longer above her head!
But at once a new peril replaced the old. The wild
water threatened to whip her back against the rocks.
Connie had to fight with every ounce of strength
she possessed just to keep her head above the waves.
She seemed to be making no headway at all, and
only power born of stark terror kept her from being
dashed against the jagged stone foundation on which
Eagle Rock was built.
Her breath was shallow now, her resistance
weakened. She tried to will herself to go on but fear
became overwhelming.
I cant make it! she gasped.
Then, at that very instant, Mark was at her side,
his strong arms towing her forward. Another thirty
seconds and they had fought clear of the rocks and
could let the current carry them up on the stony
beach.
Connie pulled herself out of the surf on her hands
and knees, still breathing with difficulty. Then Mark
was raising her by the elbows, steadying her for a
minute, his eyes full of relief.
Good girl!
Thank you! I never could have made it
Connies heart was in her eyes.
161

Sure you could. You were doing fine, Mark

insisted. Then he grinned. You certainly look
funny, he said.
In her panic Connie had forgotten the sneakers
strapped to her head. She tugged at the knotted belt
ruefully, managing a weak smile in return.
The canvas uppers were wet, because several of
the choppy waves which speckled the bay had swept
over Connies head, but her device had been a
shrewd one. The socks tucked inside were barely
damp. The paper was safe!
Holding the sneakers in one hand, Connie hurried
up the beach at Marks side. The rain was pelting
down now, sharp and stinging. The path up to .the
house was slippery, but they managed to scramble to
the top in record time. Then, running, they dashed
for Connies car. They were cold, because the
temperature had dropped sharply, but they were so
filled with relief over their escape from the cave that
they laughed together like children as they ran.
Bet we look silly! Connie cried. Her soaked
hair clung to her shoulders, and her shirt and shorts
were heavy with water.
I dont care how we look, just so we dont both
catch pneumonia, Mark called back.
They reached the car, and Connie, with difficulty,
untangled some seaweed from the zipper on her
pocket and opened it to get out her keys.
162

Lucky you had that zipper, Mark commented.

Then his eyes twinkled. Of course, with your
ingenuity, you could always have carried the car
keys in your teeth.
Connie laughed. Or put them right in the
sneakers with the socks, if you want to be really
practical. She opened the door and reached into the
back of the car for her raincoat, which Mark helped
her spread across the seat.
Before they had pulled away from the curb, the
rain began to slacken, and the sun broke hopefully
through a cloud bank, then disappeared again.
Why dont you change and then come on over to
the Ridgeways? Connie suggested. Well get Tom
and Kit to help us decipher our clue.
Decipher is scarcely the word, is it? Mark
teased.
Translate, then. Do you know any French?
Not a syllable. Toms your man. He had three
years of high school French, I think.
Good! All of Connies usual high spirits began
to return. Their recent danger was forgotten. She
waited impatiently in the car while Mark went into
the house to put on jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair was
already drying in curling tendrils around her face,
and the sun was shining again.
Kit and Tom were sitting in the sun porch when
Connie and Mark arrived. Sh! Kit cautioned.
163

Aunt Helens taking a nap upstairs. Then she gave

a small gasp as she saw Connies bedraggled
condition. Where have you been?
You tell them while I get into some dry clothes,
Connie suggested to Mark.
Shall I tell them all?
You might as well. Were going to need their
help.
Ten minutes later, her head swathed in a turkish
towel, Connie reappeared in the sun-porch doorway.
Now scold me and get it over with, she told Kit
and Tom with a smile which begged their
forgiveness. Then lets see if this piece of paper
makes any sense to you?
She held out the crumpled, torn slip to Tom, who
spread it out on a table and frowned down at it. Its
French all right, was the first comment he made.
The paper had been torn diagonally from the
center top to the lower right-hand side, so that no
continuity could be expected in the blurred blue
writing. Tom began to pick out the decipherable
words, repeating them aloud.
Le feu . . . bombe . . . voler . . . dangereux . . .
sans souci . . . aux armes . . . affaire du . . .
Then he translated the words, one by one, and
Kit, who had gone to the desk for a pencil and paper,
made a list.
164

the fire
bomb
to fly
dangerous
without care
to arms
affair of
Goodness, she cried, it sounds like a plot.
Maybe the cave was used by enemy agents during
the war.
The word litre appears several times, and some
numbers.
Gas for an airplane? murmured Mark.
Down at the bottom the ink is so blurred I cant
make out a three-word phrase, Tom went on. Vol
de . . . vol de something, but I dont know what.
Kit dutifully made a note of the fact. Then she sat
staring at the paper in her hand. All of which means
exactly what?
Nobody had an answer to this question. Tom
passed the scrap of paper to Mark, who looked it
over carefully, then passed it along to Kit. Sounds
like an intrigue involving airplanes, but why?
Thats it. Why? Connie agreed. It doesnt
make sense.
She was thinking of the boxes of medicine
bottles, trying to find some link between them and
165

this newly discovered paper, between this paper and

the thought that the old smugglers cave might again
be in illegal use.
Kit was looking at the torn oblong of paper
thoughtfully. Whats a litre, anyway?
Its a measurement for liquids, Tom told her.
Amounts to a little more than our quart.
I see. Kit nodded. She was interested in the
number of times the word was repeated, and at the
numbers accompanying each repetition. Out of her
experience in the Blair hardware business she made
a suggestion.
It could, she murmured, be a bill of sale.
It could! Impatiently, Connie cried, Let me see
it more closely for a minute, will you, Kit?
She took the paper over to the window where she
could get the very best light, and her eyes traveled
down the paper rapidly. Against the light the phrase
at the bottom which had baffled Tom was almost
decipherable. Vol de . . .
Vol de Nuit! Connie cried.
And as she spoke something clicked in her brain.
Advertising was Connies business, and again and
again she had seen that same phrase decorating
sumptuous full-page space in fashion magazines.
Vol de Nuit. That means night flight, Tom was
saying, translating. Sounds like more airplane
lingo.
166

But Connie cried softly, No, no, no! Its the

name of a famous French perfume, one of the most
expensive. And Ill bet the rest of the list are partial
names of French perfumes too.
And that it is a bill of sale, said Kit flatly.
Thats right. And that would explain the
medicine bottles, Connie cried.
Kit nodded slowly, understanding and agreeing,
but the boys looked puzzled. How? Mark wanted
to know.
Words tumbled over one another as Connie
hurried to explain. Suppose the cave is being used
again by smugglers. Suppose theyre bringing in
imported perfume by the litre and rebottling it in
ounce or two-ounce bottles. Wouldnt that make
sense?
Would it? Tom asked. Perfumes are a little out
of my line.
Connie tried to give him a quick education. Lots
of French perfumes are fantastically priced, she
explained. Thats why you read stories of people
returning from abroad who try to smuggle them in
their luggage to escape the duty. I cant imagine a
better racket for a gang of smugglers than to set up
their own bottling business. Can you?
It sounds logical, Tom admitted. But arent
you just guessing, after all?
No, she isnt guessing. Kit spoke quietly.
167

Remember the perfume odor that drifted up into the

kitchen? One day lily of the valley, another day a
sort of millefleurs? When she asked the latter
question she looked directly at her twin.
Connie nodded. There is our proof.
Its enough for me, Mark agreed. Whats our
next move? Should we go to the police?
We shouldbut would they believe us? Connie
asked.

168

CHAPTER

15

The Capture

For the better part of an hour Connie, along with

Kit, Tom, and Mark, tried to arrive at an answer to
this question. Finally the four young people decided
that the case they had to present was too flimsy.
Im. afraid, Tom said, the police would just
treat us like a bunch of hysterical kids.
What we need, Mark added, is a definite
suspect or suspects.
What I think we need, insisted Connie,
pretending to talk like a character in a radio thriller,
is to trap this guy and then call the cops.
Now listen! Kit protested, knowing her sisters
penchant for adventure. If you intend to run smack
into any more danger Im going to Aunt Helen and
Uncle Pete.
We wont do anything silly, Connie promised.
We wont have to go back to the cave or even into
the house. But it would be exciting to see the thing
169

through. Kit, you know it would! she wheedled.

Just what do you mean by seeing the thing
through? Kit wasnt to be easily cajoled.
We could set up a watch, Connie suggested.
The four of us. I think we should leave Randy out
of it. Hes too young.
Agreed on the last point, said Tom firmly.
Sooner or later, Connie went on, the smuggler
will give himself away. Bumping into Kit may have
given him a scare, but hell come back to the cave.
Hes bound to. And when he does, well be there.
Oh, no, we wont! Kit disagreed. And,
incidentally, I do think that bump is putting it a
little mildly.
I mean well be watching, Connie explained.
Are you planning to camp out at Eagle Rock all
day and every day? Kit asked. I thought this was a
vacation, not a man hunt. She sounded thoroughly
aggrieved.
Of course not! That wont be necessary. All
well have to do is to be on the lookout when the
tide is right, and that only happens twice every
twenty-four hours.
Lets skip the next couple of days, Tom
proposed, and do something innocent and obvious.
If our villain suspects we know a little too much
about Eagle Rock, that should throw him off the
track.
170

Innocent and obvious, Connie repeated with a

sigh. Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea. But
theyll be the longest two days well ever spend!
Fine! The longer the better. And I, for one,
intend to enjoy them, promised Kit.
The twins swam. They fished from the skiff with
Randy as official line-baiter. They sailed with Tom.
They sailed with Mark. They avoided the cove with
stanch determination. Even Randy began to forget
the lure of Eagle Rock.
This was helped along by the fact that Mark, on
Connies suggestion, explained the ghost story. She
wanted to take no chances that her young cousin or
any of his pals would wander back to the abandoned
house alone. So Mark took Randy into his
confidence on the condition that he promise to stay
clear of the place. Randy was proud to be included
in the secret and shook Marks hand on the
agreement.
You can count on me, fella, he said as though
Mark were a contemporary. I wont breathe a
word.
With Connie, Randy discussed Marks
predicament at length. I always did think Mr.
Eastham was an old meanie, he told her. I wish we
could think of a way to raise some money so Mark
could go away and study music in spite of him.
Thats what I wish!
171

The suggestion gave Connie an idea, but she

mentioned it to no one, not even to Kit. She was just
as anxious as Randy to see Mark get his hearts
desire. Having heard him play, she no longer
wondered that he didnt want to go to college. A
conventional education was not for him. He was a
musician to his very finger tips.
Connie realized that Adolph Easthams
misanthropic tendencies probably dated from the
time his fiance had eloped with her violinist. The
violin, of all instruments, would be the one he hated
most. But the fact that she understood his antipathy
didnt make Connie feel any sympathy for Marks
uncle. She even began to turn over in her mind the
thought that he, through some connection with the
Butterworths, might know of the existence of the
cave under Eagle Rock.
Could Adolph Eastham possibly be the smuggler?
Connie rejected the idea immediately upon asking
herself the question. It was possible, of course, but
not probable. She just couldnt imagine the dour,
tight-lipped man being interested, even nefariously,
in imported perfumes.
Connie was smart enough to realize that in a case
like this it was useless to try to compile a list of
suspects. Any one of a hundred small boats which
sailed in and out of the cove almost daily might have
the criminal aboard. The chances were that the
172

smuggler was someone they had never seen. This

wasnt the kind of mystery in which her powers of
reasoning and deduction would be called into play.
This case simply called for fast footwork. She hoped
they could all manage to be in the right places at the
right time, discover the identity of the smuggler as
he went into the cave, then let the police know in
time to catch him red-handed.
The turn of the tide did not come at a propitious
hour. It was high at six in the morning and six at
night on the first day on which Connie felt it would
be safe to set up a watch, dead low at noon and at
midnight.
A boat could enter the cave for about two hours
before and after low tide, Mark figured. For a
swimmer there would be a longer period of safety.
We might as well skip the night watch idea,
Tom said when they discussed it. The family would
never go along with any kind of a two A.M. deal.
That cuts down our chances by a half then,
Mark brooded.
But Connie was more optimistic. I dont think
our smuggler would risk showing a light at night.
The Coast Guard might come and investigate.
Strange as it may seem, I think broad daylight is his
safest time.
Then our best bet is to go all out about picnic
lunches for the next few days, Tom suggested.
173

Mother wont think thats a bit strange.

What about your clam factory job? Mark asked.
Ill go in at six in the morning and just work a
five-hour stretch for a while, Tom decided. Things
have slowed down a bit over there, anyway.
Finally, everything was arranged. Ostensibly
going off by car on another sight-seeing trip, Connie
and Kit, Mark and Tom deployed to strategic points
near Eagle Rock.
Unwilling to risk the chance of being seen if they
should station themselves anywhere on the
balconies, Kit and Tom decided to wait in the
shrubbery at the point where the footpath from the
beach emerged. Kit kept the car keys, and the car
itself was parked inconspicuously on a side street a
few blocks away.
Connie and Mark worked their way along the
cliff, screened from the beach by overgrown
shrubbery, until they found a flat rock from which
they could see the entire cove without being seen.
To see the very entrance to the cave was impossible,
because it was hidden by a cleft in the rock.
They had divided the picnic lunch before pairing
off, and after two dull and unproductive hours
Connie and Mark began to munch on sandwiches
without much appetite.
I suppose it would be asking a little too much of
luck to hope that on this very first day Connie
174

said, then broke off as the sound of a boats motor

cut through the noontime lull on the bay.
Mark got to his knees and squinted through the
screen of shrubbery. Connie, looking over his
shoulder, could see a white fishing boat coming
through the channel and heading, apparently,
directly for the cove. Her heart gave a leap of
excitement, but Mark dashed her hopes a moment
later.
Just the Bosun, he said, settling back and
picking up a peach. Darn. I hope he doesnt decide
to anchor in here. That will kill our chances, but
good.
Lets concentrate, Connie proposed jokingly.
Anchor somewhere else, anchor somewhere else,
anchor somewhere else. Sometimes it works.
Mark laughed at her foolishness. You know, its
a curious thing about the Bosun, he said idly as he
bit into his peach. He takes fishing parties outside
and everything. Lives his whole life on the water,
you might say. But he told me one day he cant
swim.
Connie nodded. Uncle Pete says lots of sailors
cant swim. I was surprised at that, too.
The hum of the boats motor was getting louder.
Mark got to his knees again for a better view. Im
afraid your concentrating didnt do much good, he
said. Here the old buzzard comes.
175

Dont let him see you, Connie warned. You

know what he said about reporting us to the police.
She sat for a while, finishing her lunch in silence,
and reflecting that it was strange that Mr. Meredith
took their trespassing so seriously. She had always
thought of men who lived on the water as easygoing,
not apt to be overconcerned with other peoples
affairs.
Then suddenly her eyes widened, and she put her
sandwich aside without finishing it. Crawling past
Mark to the peephole in the shrubbery, she peered
down at the cove.
Has he anchored yet? Mark asked. If he does
hes good for the rest of the day. We might as well
give up and go home.
Hes dropping his anchor now, Connie
answered. But wait a while. Theres no mad rush. i
want to see something.
Mark picked up another peach and settled back.
Did I ever mention that youre certainly the
persistent type?
Sh! Connie cautioned. She was watching the
white boat closely. Mr. Meredith was standing at the
bow, looking out over the bay with field glasses.
After a few minutes he turned and scanned the
shores of the cove, then went below.
Im apt to go to sleep, Mark grumbled. What
are we waiting for?
176

Connie wasnt quite ready to tell him. Sh! she

cautioned again.
The Bosun was back on deck now, but on the far
side of the cabin, so that he was only partially
visible. Then Connie saw the towline to the skiff
begin to shorten as the smaller boat was pulled
alongside. For several minutes the skiff was out of
sight on the port-side of the fishing boat. Then
Connie could hear the sound of oars being fitted into
the oarlocks, and the Bosun appeared, rowing
leisurely across the still water of the cove.
Connie grabbed Marks arm, shaking him out of a
doze. Come here and watch!
Dont think anybody can get past the Bosun,
because they cant. Hes got eagle eyes.
Connie put a finger to her lips. Just look.
The little skiff was riding low in the water. Two
heavy planks jutted over the stern seat and a clam
basket, apparently filled, rode in the bow. When he
was almost directly under Connie and Marks hiding
place, Mr. Meredith rested on his oars for a moment,
and looked back over the cove at the quiet bay.
Aside from one or two distant sails, there was no
one in sight.
The Bosun, apparently satisfied, put his oars in
the water again and rowed on around the
outcropping of rock. Marks eyes met Connies in
amused disbelief. Dont tell me you think
177

Wait! Connie whispered. Wait and see if he

appears again. He should be back in sight within a
minute or two if he hasnt gone into the cave.
A bee droned in the honeysuckle above their
heads. A butterfly fluttered in the sunshine and a
gull, shrieking raucously, dropped like a stone to
capture a fish. But the skiff did not drift back into
sight.
The amusement in Marks eyes changed to
questioning wonder, then to astonishment. Gosh!
he said. Well, by gosh!
Theres nowhere else he could have gone,
Connie murmured as though to verify her own
certainty.
But the Bosun of all people! Why he plays
poker with the better part of the police force. Hes in
solid. Hes an established character, if you know
what I mean.
I know, Connie replied. Hes probably the last
person theyd suspect. But seeing is believing. And
now if youre convinced wed better not waste any
time.
Mark was almost convinced but not quite. He
insisted on dropping down to the beach so that he
could wade out into the water and see around the
rock to the very entrance of the cave. Quiet as a cat
he made his foray, then nodded up at Connie, who
still hid behind the hedge of tangled vines. You
178

stay there. Ill get Kit and Tom to go for the cops,
he called softly from directly beneath her. Just keep
an eye on things until I get back.
In another minute he had disappeared into the
seemingly impenetrable thicket concealing the path
to the house. Connie, tense with excitement, waited
anxiously. How long would it take to reach Tom and
Kit and tell them the story? Five minutes? Then how
long, in turn, would it take them to reach the car and
drive into Newport to the police station? Traffic was
bound to be heavy at this time of day in the crowded
shopping district. She began to wish they had made
arrangements to phone rather than to report their
discovery in person. But would the police have
credited such a wild story telephoned in by
strangers? Either way there was a definite risk.
Half an hour to three-quarters, Connie decided,
would probably be the best time Kit and Tom could
make to Newport and back, even counting on the
fact that their return would be by police car. She sat
hunched up on the rock, her arms hugging her knees.
Suppose Mr. Meredith finished with his business in
the cave before their return?
There were so many slips they hadnt considered,
so many threads left untied. For instance, suppose
Kit and Tom failed to have the beach covered while
they led their police escort through the house? Mr.
Meredith would have plenty of time to make a
179

getaway through the tunnel after he heard the door

opening at the head of the stairs.
Connie was so busy with her racing thoughts that
for several minutes she wasnt conscious of a
distant, rhythmic sound like the steady drop of
water. Only it wasnt water; it was somebody
hammering! And suddenly she realized what the
planks in the skiff were for. Mr. Meredith wasnt
taking any further chances of being disturbed in his
hide-out. His encounter With Kit had been enough!
He was barring the entrance from the kitchen
cupboard; he was nailing up the door!
Too late to warn Tom and Kit, Connie realized
what would happen. The police would find the
entrance from the house blocked, and the Bosun
would have one more opportunity to make good his
escape.
Connie bit her lip impatiently. If there were only
something she could do, some way in which she
could guarantee the success of the Bosuns capture.
Inactivity irked her. She felt as though she were
sitting with folded hands while a house burned down
around her. If there were only something! She
clenched her fist and pounded her knuckles on the
rock.
If he once got back to his boat, Meredith had the
upper hand. It would be easy enough to dump
overboard any incriminating bottles of perfume,
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easy enough to put up a story that would convince

his friends, the police, that the accusations of these
young people were absurd.
Then a daring idea struck Connie with all the
force of a bombshell. The skiff! If she could get the
skiff out of the cave the Bosun would be really
trapped. Because Mark had told her, quite
unintentionally, an all-important fact. Mr. Meredith
couldnt swim.
Action was almost as quick as thought. Connie
wriggled through the sheltering honeysuckle tangle
and swung by its strands to the beach. She pulled off
her sneakers and rolled up the legs of her blue jeans.
An instant later she was in the water, striking out
around the jutting rock toward the tunnel which led
to the cave.
As she swam she considered the risk she was
running, and the steady pounding noise fell like
music on her ears. As long as that pounding kept up
she was comparatively safe, because Mr. Meredith
would still be working at the top of the stairs, but the
minute it stopped she was in deadly danger. And not
even Mark would guess where she had gone!
The jeans were heavy with water, more
cumbersome than shorts. But the tide was in
Connies favor. It carried her along quickly, almost
sweeping her into the tunnel entrance. Within a few
minutes she was swimming along the narrow
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passageway, blinking to try to see in the sudden

dark.
Pound, pound, pound. Pause. Pound, pound.
There was the gray outline of the boat, pulled up
on the sloping stone floor of the cave, the oars inside
it. But Connie couldnt risk making any noise at all.
The scraping of an oar used as a pole or the creak of
an oarlock would be her undoing. She reached for
the towrope and knotted it around her waist, waded
back into the water with her booty gliding silently
along behind her, and started to swim against the
current toward the tunnels mouth.
Pound. Pound.
Suddenly, before she had gone five yards, the
hammering stopped. She could hear no sound of
footsteps, but then, she realized in panic, the Bosun
would be wearing sneakers like any other boatman.
He would return to the cave completely
unannounced.
The boat was heavy. It dragged. And the
incoming tide was no help now, but a hindrance,
fighting her efforts to swim against it, holding her
back.
Fear gave her new strength. She began to make
some headway. But the blood pounded in her ears
and she wondered, if this time, she were destined to
fail?
Then behind her came a muffled shout of rage
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which echoed and re-echoed against the curving

walls of the tunnel. Connie could hear the splash of
water as the Bosun waded angrily toward his
disappearing boat.
He was a strong, quick man. If he made it!
Connie turned on her back, kicking with all her
might, and gave a mighty tug on the rope.
The skiff came directly at her, and she ducked,
letting the boat pass completely over her head. Then,
as she came up, for one instant of pure terror she
saw the Bosuns vindictive face.

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CHAPTER

16

Alls Well

The morning paper lay on the breakfast table beside

Uncle Petes place. Connie was the first one down,
but Mr. Ridgeway followed close on her heels. He
wasnt surprised to see his niece scanning the
headlines. When she looked up at him her face was
radiant.
You did it! she cried. Oh, you are a darling!
Really you are. Running around the table, she flung
herself ecstatically into his arms.
Randy came into the room a little truculently. In
the hairbreadth happenings of yesterday, he had had
no share. He looked at the paper spread out on the
table with assumed disinterest, then stopped short
and read a headline aloud.
NEWPORT YOUTH
SEIZES SMUGGLER
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MARK EASTHAM, VIOLINIST,

CAPTURES PERFUME
RACKETEER
Hey! Whats the idea? When Connie was the
one?
Connie put a finger to her lips. Sh! We want
Mark to get the credit, dont we, Uncle Pete?
Mr. Ridgeway smiled affectionately at his pretty
niece and nodded. She talked me into it, fellow.
Connie began to read the newspaper story aloud
as Kit and Tom, followed by Aunt Helen bearing a
steaming pot of coffee, took their places at the table.
Trapped in an underground cave beneath the
foundations of the abandoned Butterworth mansion by
young Mark Eastham and a group of friends, George
Taylor Meredith, international smuggler, was
apprehended by police yesterday afternoon in one of the
most thrilling captures in local history.
Cut off by his own hand from any means of egress,
unable to swim to safety through a tunnel to the bay,
Meredith, who has posed for a number o years as a
charter boatman and thus sailed these waters unmolested,
was caught red-handed with thousands of dollars worth
of imported perfume in his possession.
The valuable perfume, contained in ordinary quart
cider jugs concealed in a clam basket, was repackaged in
this hideaway in unlabeled ounce and two-ounce
medicine bottles Meredith admitted under police
185

questioning. He is believed to have carried on a trade

through fences whose names are as yet unknown,
grossing half a million dollars annually.

But theres not a word about how you risked

your life going in to get the boat, Kit cried. After
all, Connie, if it hadnt been for you he might have
made a complete getaway!
But Connie just smiled mysteriously. Wait!
Theres a method in our madness, isnt there, Uncle
Pete?
The newspaperman nodded over the rim of his
coffee cup and a conspiratorial grin curled the
corners of his mouth.
Meredith, who bears one of the oldest names in the
Narragansett Bay area, might have gone undetected for
years had it not been for the smart detective work of
Mark Eastham, accompanied by 19-year-old Thomas
Ridgeway and his cousins, the Misses Constance and
Catherine Blair of Meadowbrook, Pennsylvania.
Mr. Eastham, one of the most talented of our
younger musicians, will receive the reward offered for
information leading to the capture of a member of the
suspected smuggling combine. . . .

But he didnt even go for the cops! Randy cried

indignantly, able to contain himself no longer. Kit
and Tom were the ones.
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Sh! his father admonished. Wait until she has

finished.
Connie, bright-eyed, read on:
The reward consists of one thousand dollars in
cash, and an additional sum is being presented to the
young man by the publishers of this newspaper.

The older people took this news in silence, but

Randy muttered, Hey!
Connie looked across at her uncle and sighed in
delight. Its even better than wed hoped! Then
she read on:
Mr. Eastham, questioned by reporters on what use
he expects to make of the money, at first seemed too
stunned to talk. Modestly he exclaimed, But it shouldnt
be mine! It shouldnt be mine at all.
Later, pressed for an answer, he said that he would
use the reward for further music study, and that he is
planning to go to the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia this
fall.

Connie cried, Wonderful! Thats just what we

hoped, isnt it, Uncle Pete?
Her uncle nodded. But youd better finish the
story, he advised.
Connie turned back to the final sentences.
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 His refusal to accept the additional prize money

offered by the publishers of this newspaper, was,
however, point-blank. That must go to my friends, he
insisted. They earned it, far more than I.

Oh, but! Connie looked up to see Mark

himself standing in the dining-room doorway. He
had stood listening quietly, but now he crossed the
room in three long strides and caught Connies
hands.
What do you think I am? he asked. A
complete and utter heel? I would never have
accepted the reward if it hadnt been for Mr.
Ridgeways insistence. He said you wanted it that
way, because of the music. I cant thank youeach
of youenough! He turned to the others gathered
around the table. Its going to mean everything to
me!
But we wanted you to have it all! Connie cried.
Two thousand dollars would see you through until
you come into the Butterworth legacy. We dont
need it, Mark, the way you do. Please!
But Mark, smiling at her with tenderness, shook
his head. Can you imagine how it makes me feel,
as it is, to take all the credit in print, when you
should have had the major share? he asked. When
I saw the way the newspaper story was slanted I was
so shocked I told Uncle Adolph what really
happenedand he agrees with me! he said in a
188

tone of naive surprise.

He even broke down and agreed to lend me any
additional money I need before I come into the
legacy, Mark went on, still speaking in
considerable astonishment. I guess the article in the
paper sort of made him realize I was really serious
about the violinand that maybe I was some good
at it, too.
Well, hurrah! Connie said softly.
So the other thousand dollars is to be divided
equally among the four of you. Mark looked
around the table at Connie and Kit and Tom and
finally at Randy. His voice broke.
Randy squeaked in amazement. What did I do?
Laughter followed the tension, and Connie,
wanting to give Mark a minute to recover his
equilibrium, answered the question.
You got us interested in Eagle Rock in the first
place, Randy. You and your ghost!
You mean I get two hundred and fifty dollars for
that? The boy was incredulous. You mean it will
be all mine? Why, thats enough to buy a boat of my
own!
Connie looked at Mark. If youre sure thats the
way you want it? She still hesitated.
Its the only way it can be, Mark said quietly.
Now I only feel like half a heel.
Connie looked around at the friendly, smiling
189

faces. We should really split it even more ways,

she proposed, thinking aloud. Kit got bopped on
the head. That was her contribution, and a painful
one it was, too. Tom went for the police, because he
knew the way. Aunt Helen sustained us with
wonderful picnic lunches. And Uncle Pete handled
the newspaper story so that Mark got the credit and
the rewardto say nothing of softening up Uncle
Adolph! she added with a grin.
Arent you forgetting the most important thing
of all? Mark asked. You swam into the cave and
captured the boat and almost got drowned for your
pains. Youre the real heroine of this detective
story!
But Connie just laughed and shook her head.
Pooh! she murmured. I dont drown easily. Like
Mr. Moto, Ill bet I have nine lives!

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