CHAPTER VII

THE PRISONER IN THE TOWER

Pud and Tim shared a big four-poster bed in the room always occupied by the former when, once a year, he accompanied his parents to Great-Aunt Sabrina’s. This was at the back of the house, to the left, the smallest of the rooms on the second floor. Opposite, across the broad hall that ran from front to back, was a huge bathroom, containing an old-fashioned zinc tub boxed in walnut paneling, and cutting off a corner of it was a stairway leading down to the kitchen. Harmon was given a bed made of two thick comforters from the maid’s room, doubled lengthwise and laid on the floor. A single blanket answered for covering.

As the day had been, on the whole, fairly strenuous, all hands were fast asleep before ten. Pud, though, didn’t slumber very peacefully. He had overindulged in the preserved ginger, I think. At all events, while Tim, having once fallen asleep, scarcely moved, Pud thrashed about a good deal and awoke more than once to the sound of Harmon’s gurgling respirations and the gentle, persistent patter of the rain outside. They had left the door open, such being their custom when at home, and it was when Pud had returned to full consciousness for the second or, possibly, third time that he heard a sound that could be attributed neither to Harmon nor the rain.

The sound came from somewhere below and suggested to the curious listener the opening of a stubborn drawer containing some metallic contents that rattled together. His first thought was, of course, that Aunt Sabrina had returned home, and the thought was accompanied by an unpleasant sinking sensation. It also had the effect of bringing him very wide awake. For a minute he lay in bed and considered a course of action. It might be that, if he did nothing at all, his presence, and that of his companions, would remain unsuspected until morning. On the other hand, it was more probable that Aunt Sabrina’s sharp eyes would see that things were not just as she had left them, or that the maid would miss the comforters and blanket and institute a search for them. On the whole, as little as the plan appealed to him, Pud decided finally that right now was the time to appear and explain. Of course, Aunt Sabrina would look very fearsome and probably have quite a lot to say about boys with wet feet dirtying up her floors and helping themselves to her victuals and――

Right there Pud sat up in bed very suddenly, staring amazedly into the gray darkness. Why, it couldn’t be Aunt Sabrina! It just _couldn’t_ be Aunt Sabrina for the simple reason that he had locked the front door on the inside and the big iron key still remained where he had turned it! And without the key, how could Aunt Sabrina have got in? He simply couldn’t imagine either Lydia, the middle-aged maid and companion, or Aunt Sabrina forcing a window and climbing over the ledge! But if it wasn’t Aunt Sabrina stirring quietly about downstairs, who could it be?

His heart beat faster while he strained his ears. For a long moment he heard nothing, and he was just about to tell himself with vast relief that he had imagined the previous sounds when they came again. Resisting the impulse to awaken Tim, he crept out of the big bed and made his way noiselessly to the door. From below, seemingly from the dining-room, came the tinkle of metal and the creak of a board.

‘_Robbers!_’ thought Pud.

His first impulse was to return and awaken Tim and Harmon, his second to make certain that he was right. He would look an awful fool if he waked the others up and then discovered that the suspicious sounds had been made by――well, some perfectly innocent thing such as a cat! After a moment of hesitation he emerged into the hall. The stairway was a long distance, but he reached the railing finally and, guiding himself by it, crept on until he could crane his head over it and bring the dining-room door into his field of vision. The stairs and the hall below were dark, but beyond the open door of the dining-room there was light. It was a very weak light and Pud guessed that it came from a small electric torch. While he gazed it vanished entirely. Then it reappeared, stronger this time, as though it was focused closer to the door into the hall. There was a shuffling, dragging sound and the faint clink of metal once more, as though muffled by cloth. Then, with startling effect on the watcher, the light fell on the edge of the doorway and traveled past into the hall, illumining it with faint, white radiance.

Pud retreated swiftly to the room. There, a hand on the doorknob, he thought hard. What was going on downstairs was quite plain to him. Some one was stealing Aunt Sabrina’s silver! Aunt Sabrina thought a good deal of her silver, for much of it had belonged in her family for several generations, and she would, Pud knew, be terribly grieved if she lost it. Therefore she mustn’t lose it. Some way he must circumvent the robber. The telephone, an old-style wall affair, was in the lower hall and not two yards from the dining-room. Plainly that offered no solution. Pud considered a sortie in force, but he remembered that burglars carried weapons. Even if they managed to frighten the burglar, he would probably take his booty with him. Further planning was interrupted by the soft sound of feet on the stairs, and Pud retired inside his door and watched breathlessly through a half-inch crack.

The intruder mounted the stairs unhurriedly, with only an occasional inquiring flash of the diminutive torch. He made very little noise, but, on the other hand, did not seem particularly fearful of being heard. In short, he gave Pud the impression of one not in the least concerned with the possible presence of other persons in the house, and so, Pud reasoned, he had learned of Aunt Sabrina’s absence and was proceeding under the assumption that he was perfectly safe and could take all the time he wanted. At the head of the stairs, he swept the light about him, keeping, as always, the rays close to the floor, and in that instant Pud, peering through the narrow aperture in the door, saw him for the first time.

To be more exact, what Pud saw was the silhouette of a man’s form, a form apparently rather small and slim and not nearly so formidable as imagination had pictured it. Then the light went out again and the form melted into the darkness. Light footsteps trod the carpet and a door squeaked faintly. The burglar had gone into Aunt Sabrina’s room, on the front of the house. Pud didn’t believe the fellow would find much of value in there, and evidently he didn’t, for he was out again very soon, his coming indicated by another quick flare of the torch. Across the hall was an empty chamber, known as the ‘best room.’ That held the burglar’s attention even a shorter time, and from there he came back, past the head of the stairway and disappeared into the maid’s room.

Meanwhile Pud was thinking up plans and discarding them rapidly; to lock the door and somehow get to the ground from the window and alarm the neighbors; to shout for help from the same window; to get downstairs by the back passage, the door to which was almost opposite, take possession of the burglar’s loot and make off with it before the latter could follow. But none of these schemes promised well. Behind him was the peaceful sound of Tim’s breathing and the louder respirations of Harmon. Pud had time for a brief thought of their surprise when they awoke and learned of what had been happening; and then he hoped hard that they wouldn’t awake just yet, for the least sound from them would, if heard by the midnight visitor, either send that person scuttling away with his booty or――well, Pud didn’t like to dwell on the alternative. Burglars, he believed, were dreadfully fond of shooting holes in persons who interfered with their plans! But Pud had assured himself that the key was on the inside of the lock and he was rather certain that he could get that door closed and that key turned in mighty quick time when the right moment came.

Across the hall from the maid’s room and directly opposite was the door giving onto the stairway that led to The Tower. Next to it was the door of a second spare room. Then, toward the back of the house, were the bathroom door, wide open at present, and, next, the door to the kitchen stairway, closed. It was fair to assume that the burglar meant to make a thorough inspection of the premises, and that sooner or later, probably last of all, he would want to know what was in the room behind whose door Pud stood on guard. When that happened――well, Pud didn’t know just what he would do then, but meanwhile he had thought of a plan!

Its success depended on two things; whether the burglar proved curious enough to want to know what lay at the top of The Tower stairway and whether the key of the stairway door was on the inside or out. That there was a key Pud knew for a fact. His heart beat a little faster as the light showed once more for an instant and the burglar, having made a thorough and, Pud hoped, profitless search of Lydia’s room, emerged again into the hall. Then the light traveled along the stairway spindles, swept the edge of the carpet and crept upward along the white panels of The Tower door. And then it went out, but not before Pud had seen, with intense satisfaction, the key!

In the succeeding darkness there came the soft, padding sound of the man’s feet on the carpet and then the faint click of the latch. Again the light flared. The burglar was in the open doorway and the rays of the torch were exploring the stairs that led upward. A long moment passed. Then darkness fell once more and Pud’s heart sank. His plan had failed! He waited for the sound of the man’s steps again, but there was only silence out there. Uneasily, Pud’s hand tightened on the knob and he stood prepared to close and lock the door. But at that moment a sound came to him that brought a thrill of renewed hope, the sound of a stumbling step on the bare stairs! Momentarily The Tower doorway showed lighter against the gloom of the hall and Pud widened the aperture of his own door and craned his head out. Now he could hear unmistakably the creaking of the burglar’s feet on The Tower stairs. Pud crept out into the darkness. Once more there was a dim light across the way. The man had reached the little landing and was making the turn.

Pud took a long, deep breath and crept down the hall toward The Tower door. He reached it, pulled it slowly toward him. From above came the complaining of the stair treads, then silence. Pud could imagine the man’s disgust as he swept his light over the square emptiness of that chamber, and something very close to a chuckle mingled with the click of the latch as it slipped into place. Swiftly then Pud’s fingers flew to the key. Perhaps it had been unused so long that it had forgotten how to turn, for it resisted his efforts stubbornly. He put all his strength against it unavailingly, and his heart sank. Beyond the door were faint creakings. The burglar was coming back down the stairs! Caution urged Pud to flight, but he was stubborn, too, and, getting a new grasp on the key and putting the fingers of his left hand about the knuckles of his right, he made a final and desperate effort. There was a loud protest from the unwilling key, but it turned!

Then Pud ran!

Back at the door of his own room he paused and listened. There was no sound for a long moment save the thumping of his own heart. Then the knob of The Tower door was gently turned. A second silence. Then there was a straining, creaking noise as the imprisoned man put his weight against the door. But Aunt Sabrina’s house had been built in the days when doors were made strong and thick and heavy, and for the time, at least, Pud had no fear of its yielding. With a bound, Pud was pulling the blanket from Tim and prodding him into wakefulness, and after that many things happened with confusing rapidity.

Lights flared upstairs and down. Pud spoke breathlessly to a sleepy telephone operator and, after what seemed an interminable time, to a gruff-voiced police sergeant. Tim and Harmon, close to The Tower door, talked to each other in deep, bass voices designed to impress the burglar with the fact that his escape in that direction was barred by at least two resolute men. As Pud left the telephone to light the gas in the dining-room and rescue Aunt Sabrina’s silver, he heard Harmon saying in loud tones that seemed to come from his boots――or that would have come from his boots had he worn any: ‘I’s sure cravin’ to use this here ol’ resolver, Mister Daley. I ain’ had me a chance to shoot it off for a long time!’ And then came Tim’s voice, deep and husky: ‘And I’d certainly like to use this automatic of mine, Mister Johnson!’

Pud found what he expected to find, a burlap bag filled with Aunt Sabrina’s smaller silver and about all the larger pieces. Some of the latter had not been molested, and these, as Pud guessed, were only silver-plated. The locked drawers of the big, old-fashioned mahogany sideboard had been forced, and Pud reflected that for the burglar’s sake he hoped the latter would not be around when Aunt Sabrina viewed the chipped and cracked edges of the wood! To be on the safe side, he dragged the bag to a closet and turned the key on it. Then he ran upstairs again and relieved Tim while the latter donned the rest of his clothes. They were all fully dressed by the time the police arrived, and Pud admitted them somewhat impressively through the front door, while Tim and Harmon leaned over the upstairs balusters and stared down enthralled.

That the burglar had attempted to descend from his prison by the roof was evident later from the fact that one of The Tower windows was found open. Probably his courage had failed him as soon as he had set foot on the slippery, rain-filmed shingles and he had decided to face trial rather than risk a broken neck. At all events, when they opened The Tower door and went cautiously up, four burly officers with drawn revolvers, there he sat on the top step, a rather hungry-looking, undersized little rat of a man, calmly awaiting them.

‘Ho,’ said the officer in command of the force, ‘it’s only “Slim” Towle! Come on down, Slim, and we’ll give you a ride.’

So Slim came down docilely, looking in fact, or so Pud thought, rather relieved, and one of the men went through his pockets very carefully and took out quite a number of interesting articles including a black-jack, a small nickeled pocket torch, and one or two other personal articles――but no revolver!――and a large collection of small trinkets picked up during his visit. There was, for instance, Aunt Sabrina’s gold locket that held a strand of braided brown hair, a tortoise-shell comb, a silver-and-pearl paper-cutter, Lydia’s bar-pin set with imitation emeralds, a gold hairpin, a fine gold chain, and a single silver cuff-link. All of which articles, announced the police, would have to be taken to Headquarters and there claimed by their owners. Then ‘Slim’ Towle, looking a bit bored and rather weary, went down the stairs between two of the officers and out the front door. The officer in charge of operations――a lieutenant, Pud thought――viewed the burlap bag and its contents, nodded and said:

‘Had a pretty good haul there. Well, if folks will leave their silver lying around loose, they’ll lose it sooner or later.’ Then he turned suddenly and viewed the three lads with stern gaze. ‘Now,’ he asked disconcertingly, ‘who are you and what are you doing here?’

Pud had to make rather a long story of it, but in the end the officer went off without arresting any of them for complicity in the crime and they watched him climb into the patrol wagon with vast relief. By that time the eastern sky was graying and the rain, having subsided first to a drizzle, had ceased entirely. Harmon lighted a fire in the stove again and prepared breakfast from what remained in the larder while Pud and Tim returned upstairs and, as best they could, tidied up. Tim was inclined to be a bit disgruntled and peevish because Pud had not awakened him sooner and allowed him to share in the excitement from the first, but Pud explained and excused until Tim grudgingly forgave him. Harmon’s skill as a cook was not so apparent this morning, since recent events had left him in a highly excited state, but they made out a satisfactory breakfast of coffee, eggs, and toast. Pud closed the outside blinds across the window in the dining-room at which ‘Slim’ Towle had made his entrance by removing a pane of glass, and finally announced that he was ready to leave. But at the last instant he bethought him of something and reëntered the house, to be gone several minutes. During his absence he wrote a note to Aunt Sabrina and left it leaning against the coffee-urn on the sideboard where she could not fail to find it. The note was as follows:

DEAR AUNT:

We came to see you, but you were not home so we stayed because it was raining and lightning. We slept in the back room and did not hurt anything I hope, and we took some food as we were very hungry. I caught the burglar, and everything he was going to take is in the bag in the closet except some jewelry of yours and Lydia, and the policeman said you would have to go to the police station and claim it. We had a very enjoyable visit, but were sorry not to see you. Good-bye.

Your affectionate nephew,

ANSON PUDDLESTONE PRINGLE, JR.

Then Pud locked the front door and hid the key under the lowest step and, with Tim at his side and Harmon padding along behind, set forth under the first weak rays of the sun to find the Moorehouse Avenue car line.