  The meeting held next morning in Dave Wilbur’s garage was a strictly private affair. Neither Wat Sanford nor Jim Tapley was informed of it for the reason that neither of them could have offered anything as a result of personal observation or of actual experience. “Well, Ned, did you dope out anything after sleeping on it?” asked Tommy Beals, after Ned Blake had called the meeting to order. “Can’t say I did,” admitted the latter a bit ruefully. “The more I think of it the more puzzling it becomes. About the only thing I could do was to make a list of such facts as we are certain of so far. Maybe this won’t do any good, but, on the other hand, it may give us something to start from. Shall I read it?” “Shoot!” grinned Dick. “That’s what Professor Simmons calls the ‘scientific method of approach to a subject’—get your facts all lined up and then make ’em tell their own story.” “Sure, that’s fine—if the facts will tell a story that we’re not too dumb to understand,” grumbled Rogers, “but go to it, Ned. Let’s hear the worst.” “Here’s how the thing lines up in my mind,” began Ned, producing a slip of paper to which he referred from time to time. “First off, we get the idea of using the Coleson house and we go out there and break into it. We don’t find any sign that anybody has been around the place recently. Next we get a lease of the property and start work on it. This was on June thirtieth. On July sixth somebody writes a letter to Sam, warning him to keep away from the Coleson house.” “Yes, and of course that meant for us to lay off as well as Sam,” declared Beals. “Well, we didn’t heed that warning,” resumed Ned, “and next came that light that jiggered along the wall, and a few hours later Sam gets scared out of his wits and off the job by what he thinks was a ghost at his window.” “Something was there—that’s a cinch,” interrupted Dick. “That foot track under the bushes was no dream!” “No, it wasn’t,” replied Ned, “and neither was that painted stake, nor the repainted mark on the chimney of the house.” “Nor that scrap of paper we found tacked to Coleson’s front door,” added Tommy. “All of those things are down on the list of known facts,” answered Ned, “and it seems they must have some connection with each other, but from then on, the case isn’t so clear. Red and Fatty heard strange noises at the house and are certain that somebody or something was at work outside. As to what they actually saw in one flash of lightning, we’ll leave out of the question—for the present.” “Yeah, leave it out,” muttered Tommy. “I’ll admit it ain’t scientific—but all the same I’ll never forget it!” “Me neither!” growled Rogers. “A black, humpbacked thing half-way between the house and the woods. Something that didn’t leave any tracks!” “Go on, Ned,” interrupted Dave Wilbur. “What comes next?” “Well,” resumed Ned, “Dick and I saw a vessel pick up those ranges with a searchlight, and we think that accounts for the strange light that appeared on the wall Saturday night; also we know that the boat came fairly close to the beach and lay there almost an hour, although nobody came ashore from her. Even allowing for a lot of imagination, we are sure we saw a queer thing like a buoy that rose out of the lake and later disappeared—somewhere. Shortly afterward we fancied we saw a red light at the end of the old road, and from what we learned yesterday, I’m quite positive we were right in calling it the tail light of an automobile.” “There’s not much doubt of that,” agreed Dave, “also you’ve proved that there’s some connection between the shack in the woods and some of the things that have been happening out at Coleson’s.” “Somebody is using the old wood-road and has taken a lot of pains to conceal the fact,” continued Ned. “I guess this about concludes the list of things we actually know—up to date. I’ll have to admit that all of ’em taken together don’t help us a whole lot when it comes to solving the puzzle.” “Do you think we ought to report the whole thing to the police?” asked Tommy, doubtfully. “Police! Not on your life!” yelped Dick. “Once it got known that the cops were hunting for somebody out there, we’d never get anybody for the dances. Right now a lot of the crowd are getting a big kick out of the idea that the place is haunted and the rest believe that we are pulling off a few ghost stunts for their amusement—either way it’s going big. But a bunch of cops snooping around would kill it and leave us flat.” “I think Dick is right,” agreed Ned. “We’ve got to work the thing out for ourselves—at least till we’ve made sure of our ground. We’re certain that something is going on out there and that it is being kept awfully close. Nobody is ever seen coming or going, yet we know such coming and going is actually taking place. Just what connection—if any—this has with the phony ghost stuff we can’t be sure of.” “You can’t make Sam believe it’s phony,” murmured Tommy Beals. “No, nor Wat Sanford either,” added Dave Wilbur. “He’s naturally more or less of an ‘Alice in Wonderland’ anyhow, and ever since Red and Fatty sprung that bedtime story about the hunchback, Wat has had the jim-jams regular.” “Well, I guess we’re all pretty brave—in the daytime,” remarked Dick. “The question is what are we going to do about it all?” “I have an idea we might learn something by watching that shack,” suggested Ned. “It might prove to be the key to the puzzle. I had planned to lie out there tonight and see if anything happens. Does anybody want to join me?” “‘A watched pot never boils,’” drawled Dave, “all the same, I guess maybe it’s up to me to do some of the watching. What’s the plan, Ned?” “My scheme is to walk out there before dark and find a good hiding-place where we can watch both the road and the old shanty,” explained Ned. “O.K. with me,” agreed Dave. “All except the walking. What’s the matter with taking the car and hiding it in the brush this side of the old road?” “That’s all right, Weary,” laughed Ned. “Get a good supper under your belt and call for me about seven o’clock. And now, if there’s nothing more to be said, let’s adjourn, and remember to keep mum for the present.” |
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