Authors: Ellery Queen Jr.

The Golden Eagle Mystery (26 page)

BOOK: The Golden Eagle Mystery

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“What in the world
are
you talking about?” Ben asked as he stared at Djuna as though he thought he was crazy.

“I pretended to tie my shoe, but I didn’t,” Djuna went on. “I put Waterbury down on the doorsill and I saw him wander into the house.”

“You
did
!” Ben said and he was still staring at Djuna as though he thought he was crazy. “What did you do that for?”

“Well, I thought that if I did we could go back again when the man wasn’t so mad.”

“To see the little girl, you mean?” Ben asked.

“No!”
Djuna said. “I don’t want to see any little girl. I want to find out what’s so—so peculiar about that place.”

“And Waterbury’s
all alone
in that house!” Ben said in a stunned voice.

“I’m awful sorry, Ben. Honest!” Djuna said. “But I was thinking that probably we can get permission from the man who wants to rent the house to go in to find Waterbury.”

“But suppose he has climbed out throngh one of the broken windows into all that tall grass,” Ben wailed. “Then we’d never find him.”

“Yes, we can,” Djuna said, confidently. “I was thinking about that, too. You know I told you about my dog Champ, up in Edenboro?”

“Sure, I remember,” Ben said. “But I don’t see what
he
has to do with it.”

“Wait until I tell you,” Djuna said, triumphantly. “Champ could find any turtle or snake in the world. Why, there are millions of snakes and turtles along Miller’s Brook and Lost Pond at Edenboro and Champ finds every one of them.”

“What does he do with them?” Ben asked, his interest aroused.

“Oh, he just barks at ’em,” Djuna said. “The only trouble is how to get Champ down here, and where I’d keep him if I did.”

“Oh, boy!” Ben said, excitedly, “You could keep him over at my house.”

“Wouldn’t your father and mother mind?” Djuna asked and he was excited now, too.

“Naw!” Ben said. “They wouldn’t
even
notice him, there are so many of us around.”

“So many what?”

“So many brothers and sisters,” Ben said. “I’ve got sixteen.”

Djuna looked startled, and then his expression changed to one of admiration and awe.

“You have sixteen brothers and sisters?” he asked. “
Honest?
”

“Cross my heart,” Ben said, modestly. “But they don’t all live there now. A lot of ’em are married or live someplace else. My father named me Benjamin because I’m the seventeenth child and was barn on Sunday, just like Benjamin Franklin. That’s why I’m morking on a newspaper so I can learn to be a writer and a publisher.”

“Is
that
so?” Djuna said, round-eyed. He had almost forgotten all about Champ. He was more impressed than he cared to admit that Ben had sixteen brothers and sisters and was the namesake of Benjamin Franklin, and, like the original Benjamin, was going to be a great man.

“Have you written anything yet?” said Djuna respectfully.

Ben sat silent for a moment and acted as though he was trying to make up his mind about something. After a mute struggle he suddenly plunged his hand into his hip pocket and pulled out a notebook. He lowered his voice so that it was almost a whisper.

“You’ve heard about
Poor Richard’s Almanac
, haven’t you?” Ben asked in a low voice.

Djuna thought and thought. He bit his lip but he finally had to admit that he hadn’t ever heard of it. Once, while he thought it over, he almost gave in to the temptation to say that he
had
heard of it. But he didn’t. He told the truth.

“No,” he said. “I’m—I’m afraid I haven’t.” He said it with the humility he thought should go with such an admission. And Ben was properly horrified.

“You’ve never even
heard
of
Poor Richard’s Almanac!
” he said. “Why, almost everyone in the world has read it. Benjamin Franklin wrote it. It has almost everything in it. I’m writing one just like it.” He held up the notebook in front of Djuna and then started to put it back in his pocket.

“Gee!” Djuna said in the same low voice that Ben was using. “Can I look at it?”

“Well,” said Ben, and it was he who looked a little embarrassed this time, “I haven’t done very much with it yet. I just started yesterday.”

“Could I see what you wrote?” Djuna asked.

“Well,” Ben said and reluctantly he opened the notebook at the first page and held it out for Djuna to see. Across the page was scrawled: “
Monday
. One skate is as good as a pair—when there isn’t any ice.”

Djuna studied it for a moment and then he threw back his head and laughed and laughed. “Oh, boy!” he said, “That’s wonderful!”

Then, suddenly, he stopped laughing and he said, “But why do you have to mention skates at all if there isn’t any ice?” Ben put the notebook back in his pocket and his disgust was very evident on his freckled face.

“Gee!” he said. “You always have to stop and figure everything out, don’t you?”

“I
like
to figure things out,” Djuna said, defending himself stoutly. “It’s fun, I think. If something puzzles me, or I can’t see any reason for it I like to find out the reason. I was only fooling about your not mentioning the skates. I think the thing you wrote is really very funny.” And he began to laugh again.

They both laughed together for a few moments and then fell silent again and Djuna was unusually thoughtful.

“You know,” Djuna said, finally, “I bet if I could think of some way to get Champ down here, and he could stay at your house, he could help us figure out something about that haunted house.”

“My gracious,” Ben said. “How could a
dog
figure it out?”

“Well,” Djuna said, to prove his point, “one time when some robbers robbed the bank at Clinton, that’s near Edenboro, Champ helped catch the robbers.”
^*

“He
did!
” Ben gasped. “
Really
?”

“Really,” Djuna said. “And another time when I was visiting Aunt Patty Tubbs up on Long Island Sound he solved a mystery and helped Aunt Patty get out of some awful trouble she was in.”
^**

“Oh, you’re kidding,” Ben said.

“No, I’m not,” Djuna said, and suddenly his face brightened. “Hey, there comes Mr. Furlong.”

“Jeepers!” Ben said and he looked at the big clock on the tower of the
Morning Bugle
. “I’ve got to get back to work so I can get out to wake him up before one o’clock. Don’t forget to tell me about that robbery.”

“I won’t,” Djuna called as Ben ran toward his office.

^*See “The Black Dog Mystery.”

^**See “The Golden Eagle Mystery.”

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Andy Ross

978-1-5040-0393-3

This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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New York, NY 10014

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