The Mystery of the Green Ghost, page 10
Chang looked serious as he spoke.
“My aunt and Uncle Harold are probably frantic, looking for us,” he said. “We can’t hope to escape from Mr. Won. Whoever he is, he is a man of tremendous wealth and power and can do just about anything he wants. There’s only one thing we can do. That’s give him the pearls.”
“You mean just hand them over?” Pete asked, thinking of all he had been through and the pains he had taken to hide the necklace.
“I trust Mr. Won,” Chang said. “He has said we will be unharmed. He has said Aunt Lydia’s difficulties will cease. I believe him.”
“Do you suppose he really believes those pearls prolong his life?” Pete asked. “I mean, it sounds crazy.”
“I’m sure he believes it,” Chang answered. “It may even be so. It does not seem likely, but remember, the lore of China is centuries old. Only recently has western science found that the skin of a certain toad contains a valuable drug, yet this was known in China hundreds of years ago.
“And rich Chinese have always believed in the medicinal value of tiger whiskers and the ground-up bones of giants.”
“I’ve read about that,” Bob put in. “The giants’ bones were really the bones of mammoths, from Siberia or someplace.”
“So who can say if the gray pearls really prolong life?” Chang asked. “Mr. Won believes it, and sometimes belief alone is medicine strong enough to cure the ill or save the dying.”
“I wonder just what he knows about the green ghost,” Bob said aloud. “Funny, the way the ghost and the pearls both showed up at the same time and in the same place.”
But Chang was not listening. He raised his voice.
“Mr. Won!” he said. “We have decided.”
The draperies parted. Mr. Won came toward them. He was followed by Jensen, and three slippered servants.
“And your decision, small dragon?” Mr. Won asked. He had probably overheard everything they said, except the whispers, but Chang did not mention this.
“We will give Jensen the pearls to give to you,” he said. “The pearls are back in the mine.”
“Jensen can go to fetch them,” Mr. Won purred. “You will remain my guests until then.
Later you will be released. You do not know my name, or my whereabouts, and you are free to say anything you wish. If you are believed, none can find me. Even to the Chinatown of this modern day which exists around me, I am a mystery.”
“It isn’t that easy,” Pete blurted out. “Jensen is too big to crawl through the spot where the roof has partly collapsed. Only a very thin man or a boy can get through!”
“I’ll find a man –” Jensen began. Mr. Won clapped his hands in anger.
“No!” he said. “You must fetch them. We can trust no one. Let me question the boy.
Look at me, boy!”
Pete found Mr. Won’s small black eyes fixed on his. He couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to.
“This is true?” Mr. Won asked. “Jensen cannot get through to the spot where you hid the pearls?”
“Yes, sir.” Somehow Pete knew he couldn’t lie. With Mr. Won looking at him that way his mind couldn’t think of anything but the truth.
“The pearls were in an old flashlight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you hid the flashlight. Where?”
“Under a rock.”
“Where is this hiding place of the flashlight?”
“I can’t describe it exactly,” Pete said. “I can find it again, but I can’t draw a map or anything.”
“Ah.” Mr. Won seemed to think. Then he spoke to Jensen. “The way is clear. You cannot send a man. Only the boy can find the flashlight. You must take him, he must regain the flashlight and the pearls, and give them to you. You will take all the boys.”
“But the danger!” Jensen’s swarthy face was sweating. “If they are searching in that canyon by now –”
“You must risk the danger. You must get the pearls. Then the boys go unharmed.”
“But they’ll talk! They’ll have me arrested.”
“I shall protect you. I shall pay you well and get you safely out of the country. They do not know the faces of your assistants. So they can tell nothing damaging. As for me – no one can find me, and if anyone did, he could prove nothing against me. Do you understand?”
Jensen was breathing hard. “Yes, Mr. Won,” he said at last. “I’ll do it your way. But suppose they double-cross me? Suppose they don’t give me the pearls?”
A long silence held the room. Then Mr. Won smiled.
“In that case,” he said, “I am not interested. Dispose of them as you wish and make your way to safety as best you can. But I think they will try no tricks. They, too, love life, even as I do.”
Bob felt himself shivering. He certainly hoped Pete could find those pearls again.
As for Pete, he was thinking that actually Mr. Won had just asked him about the flashlight, and he had told the truth. It hadn’t occurred to Mr. Won the pearls weren’t in the flashlight any more. What good this would do, Pete couldn’t see, but at least it meant he and Bob and Chang were being sent back to Verdant Valley, or anyway to Hashknife Canyon.
“Now haste,” Mr. Won said. “It grows late.”
“I’ll tie them up and –” Jensen began.
“No!” Mr. Won said. “They will sleep until they reach the spot. Simpler, easier, and for them, more comfortable.
“Small dragon, look at me!”
Unwillingly, Chang looked into his eyes. Mr. Won stared at him fixedly.
“Small one, you are weary – very weary. You are longing for sleep. Sleep grips you in its soft arms. Your eyes close.”
Bob and Pete, watching, saw Chang’s eyes flutter shut for a moment. Then with an effort he opened them again.
“Your eyes close!” Mr. Won said again, softly, insistently. “You cannot resist me. My will is your will. Your eyes are heavy. They droop … they close … close tightly…”
And indeed, now Chang’s eyes did shut as if he could not control his eyelids. Mr. Won’s voice continued its soft, insistent tone.
“Now you are sleepy,” he said. “You are so very sleepy. Sleep descends on you like a wave of darkness. You are sinking into sleep. Sleep overwhelms you. In a moment you will sleep, and stay asleep until you are told to awake. Sleep, small dragon … sleep … sleep . .
. sleep … sleep… .”
His voice continued repeating the word until suddenly Chang went limp and toppled over, fast asleep indeed. One of the waiting servants deftly caught him as he fell, and carried him out. Chang did not waken.
“And now you, hider of my precious pearls. Look at me!”
It was Pete’s turn now. He tried to avoid
looking at Mr. Won, but Mr. Won’s eyes drew
his gaze as if they were magnets. Despite
himself, Pete could not look away. Desperately
he tried to fight the sleepiness that overwhelmed him as Mr. Won’s whispered words went on and
on, but in vain. Weariness such as he had never known before overcame him. After a few
moments his eyes closed tightly and he, too,
toppled into the arms of a waiting servant.
Bob realized Mr. Won was using hypnotism,
which is often used to put people to sleep – in fact, he had read of its being used to make
patients having an operation feel no pain. So he was not frightened when Won turned his gaze
upon him.
“Smallest of all, yet stout of heart,” Mr. Won
said, “you, too, are weary. You would sleep like your friends. Sleep… .”
Bob closed his eyes. He toppled forward but
was caught before he struck the floor. The third servant carried him out.
Mr. Won detained Jensen for one last word.
“It is well,” he said. “They will all sleep soundly until you reach your destination. Then simply tell them to awaken, and they will wake. After that, the pearls – and the boys go free.
Otherwise –” He paused, then finished. “Otherwise, you may slit their throats.”
Chapter 15
Jupiter Finds A Clue
“But hasn’t anyone seen any question marks?” Jupiter Jones asked in a baffled manner.
He and Bob’s father had just arrived at Verdant House in Verdant Valley after their hurried plane trip.
Miss Green shook her head. She seemed very weary.
“No one,” she said. “I have the whole valley searching for any such marks. Even the children are being asked. No chalked question mark has been seen.”
“What’s all this fuss about question marks?” demanded Harold Carlson. His suit was wrinkled and he, too, looked very tired.
Jupiter explained that a question mark was the special symbol that he, Pete and Bob used to mark trails or to tell each other they had been at some spot. If Pete or Bob were free anywhere, they would leave a question mark, or even a trail of them, to mark their whereabouts.
“They rode through the pass, out into the desert, I’m sure,” Harold Carlson said.
“We’ll find them tomorrow. I’m having an airplane search made as soon as it is light. If they were anywhere in or near Verdant Valley, their horses would have been found.”
“Perhaps.” Mr. Andrews, Bob’s father, spoke now. His voice was grim. “Miss Green, Jupiter here has something to tell you, something he wants you to hear.”
The woman and Harold Carlson waited. All four of them were sitting in the big living room of Verdant House.
“Miss Green,” Jupiter said, making his round face look as adult as he could, “I like to try to figure things out and – well – I’ve been busy trying to figure out about the green ghost and that scream my partners heard. I figured out the scream didn’t come from inside the house – it wouldn’t have been heard. The house is too well built. I tested that. The scream had to come from outside the house.
“No ghost would have gone out in the garden to scream, would he, just supposing there are ghosts? So it had to be a living person. The people who were there that night weren’t sure how many were in the party. Some said six and some said seven. I decided they were both right.
“Six men started into the house after the scream. The seventh man, the one who screamed, just stepped from behind some bushes and joined them. It was the easiest way to remain unnoticed. It’s the only answer that fits the facts.”
“The boy’s right,” Mr. Andrews said. “I can’t imagine why Chief Reynolds and I didn’t think of it.”
Miss Green frowned. Harold Carlson looked impressed.
“It does sound logical,” Mr. Carlson said, his brow wrinkled. “But why would anyone do such a thing? I mean, stand behind some bushes and scream?”
“To attract attention,” Jupiter said. “A weird scream is a great attention-attracter. And it just happened there was a group of men coming up the driveway to hear it. Only it didn’t just happen. Those men had been especially persuaded to go there. At least five of them had.”
“Otherwise it would be entirely too much of a coincidence,” said Mr. Andrews. “That becomes obvious when you think of it.”
“There’s just no other answer,” Jupiter said. “Somebody walked through the development and suggested to different men he met that they go over and see the old Green mansion before it got torn down. He made it sound like a kind of adventure, so a little group joined him. Some of them didn’t know each other so they didn’t know he was a stranger.
“When his partner, hiding in the garden, saw them coming up the driveway, he screamed.”
Mr. Carlson blinked at Jupiter, as if trying to understand. Miss Green looked puzzled.
“But – but why?” she asked. “Why should two men do such a thing?”
“To get the group into the house.” Mr. Andrews spoke now. “To get them inside so they would see the ghost and report it. I’m afraid it makes very good sense, Miss Green.”
“Not to me it doesn’t,” Mr. Carlson objected. “To me it sounds like nonsense.”
“Jupiter,” said Mr. Andrews, “play the tape that Bob made that night.”
Jupiter had the portable tape recorder ready. He pressed the Play button. A weird scream filled the room. Miss Green and Mr. Carlson jumped.
“That’s just the beginning,” Mr. Andrews said. “The recorder stayed on at full volume and picked up some of what the six men said. Tell me if you recognize any of the voices.”
Jupiter let the tape run on. They heard the deep-voiced man speak, and Miss Green sat up, her eyes wide and horrified.
“That’s enough,” she said, and Jupiter turned off the recorder. The woman looked at Harold Carlson. “That was your voice, Harold!” she said. “You deepened it, the way you used to when you played villains in college plays. But I know it was yours!”
“After I played it a few times, I was pretty sure I recognized it,” Jupiter said. “Not right at first. But the accent is similar to the way Mr. Carlson talked when we met him at the old house. For a disguise that night, he used a deep voice and wore a false moustache. In the darkness that was all that was necessary.”
Harold Carlson seemed to have collapsed like a bundle of old clothes.
“Aunt Lydia,” he gasped, “I can explain.”
“Can you?” Miss Green’s voice was icy. “Then do so.”
Harold Carlson gulped a few times, then started to talk.
The trouble had begun, he said, a year and a half before, when Chang had been discovered living in Hong Kong, and Lydia Green had brought him to America and announced that, since he was the great-grandson of Mathias Green, the vineyard and the winery really belonged to him and she was going to give them to him.
“But I always expected to inherit the property,” Harold Carlson groaned. “After all, until Chang arrived, I was your only living relative, Aunt Lydia. And I worked hard here, building it up. Then I realized it was all about to be taken away from me!”
“Go on.” Miss Green’s voice was toneless.
“Well” – Harold Carlson mopped his forehead – “I conceived a plan. I would buy a lot of new machinery, borrow money from friends, put the place in debt, and have it foreclosed by my friends. I did that. I hired Jensen as an overseer and he brought some of his men along to help make trouble – damage equipment, spoil wine – things like that. Well, then you did something you had sworn you would never do. You agreed to sell the property down in Rocky Beach.”
“Yes.” Miss Green’s voice was very low. “My mother promised Mathias Green, before he died, that that property would never be sold even if it collapsed in ruins. But I – I was desperate. So I agreed to sell it. To pay the debts you incurred, Harold.”
Jupiter listened with eager interest. He had figured out about the scream, and deduced that Harold Carlson was guilty in some way, but he hadn’t been able to figure out why. Nor had he entirely figured out the ghost.
“I thought my plan to get the property away from you for the debts, and share it with my friends, was doomed,” Harold Carlson said. “Then – then I received a message.”
“A message?” Mr. Andrews spoke curtly. “What was it?”
“To go to San Francisco to see someone. I did. He was a very old man named Mr.
Won. I was blindfolded, so I don’t know where we met. He told me he had bought up the mortgages on the vineyard and winery, paying my friends a bonus to sell them to him and not tell me.”
“But why should he do that?” Miss Green asked.
“I’m coming to that,” Harold Carlson sighed. “He had something to tell me. There is a very old servant in his house who was a lady’s maid for the wife of Mathias Green. She had been told by someone who read it in the papers that the old house was sold and would be torn down. So she revealed a secret she had kept for all these years.
“She told Mr. Won that Mathias Green’s bride had been buried in the house, in a room later sealed up, and all the servants had been sworn to secrecy. But now the house was being torn down, and she did not want the body of her young mistress of so long ago to be disturbed.
“Mr. Won also told me that the servant believed the young bride was buried with the famous string of Ghost Pearls around her neck.”
Harold Carlson paused, mopping his face.
“Well, Mr. Won seemed to know everything. He knew I wanted this property. He knew the sale of that house would enable you, Aunt Lydia, to save it. So he had a plan for me.
“I was to make the house seem haunted. That might hold up the sale. At the same time it would give me a chance to search the house thoroughly, by myself. He told me just where the hidden room was. I was to break into it, get the pearls, then announce the discovery of the body of the wife, and say I really believed the house was haunted.”
“Mr. Won seems to have thought of everything!” Bob’s father commented grimly.
“He had it all worked out. I was to sell him the necklace for a hundred thousand dollars.
I was to make sure a ghost was seen in the old house. Then when the ghost “came” to Verdant Valley, it would make the grape pickers here flee and ruin this year’s wine production.
“This would bankrupt the winery. Won would foreclose the mortgage, and later on he would sell the business back to me for the hundred thousand dollars he gave me for the pearls. That way I would have the vineyard and winery and he would have the pearls, which for some reason he seemed terribly eager to obtain.”
“Did he tell you how to fake the ghost?” Jupiter asked with keen interest.
“Yes. I’ll come to that later. Anyway, the whole scheme as he outlined it seemed simple.
I made my plans. I got Jensen all set to do the screaming. Then something we hadn’t expected happened. The contractor started to tear down the house a whole week ahead of schedule.
“He’d already started wrecking it when I learned of it. I was frantic. I rushed to Rocky Beach with Jensen by a special plane, afraid the bride’s skeleton would be found before I got there. Then the Ghost Pearls wouldn’t be mine to sell. They’d belong to Aunt Lydia, and she would surely be able to pay the mortgage then.
“Well, I got to Rocky Beach before the wreckers had made much progress. When it got dark, I stationed Jensen in the bushes. Then I strolled through the neighboring development and I persuaded several men to come with me to the old house. Jensen screamed. We investigated. The ghost appeared.
