CHAPTER XIX

More Revelations

Peter had been in the next room making plans with the children. Judy knew, even before she asked him, that they were going to explore the ruins of the Riker mansion. It did surprise her, though, when he said the magician was going with them.

“For goodness sake, why?” she wanted to know. “Does he think he can wave his wand over it and make it rise up out of the ashes?”

Peter just grinned in that impish way Judy loved. He had found out something important, but so had she.

“I can hardly wait to tell you,” she said, “but first you must tell me. Are we really on the trail of the real green doll? It _was_ Sita. I’m sure of it now. And more than ever I want to bring Rama and Sita together. It may not be bad luck to separate two statues, but it surely is to separate two people who love each other.”

“I know what you mean,” Peter said. “I heard you and Helen Riker talking. She’s told you something important. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Yes, Peter, she has.” Judy was still too filled with the hypnotic story of Rama and Sita to tell Peter much about it, but she did say, “She told me Philip and Paul Riker were twins and that she loved them both. It was Philip who took the statue of Sita and gave it to her. She knew it was stolen, but it was hard for her to gather up enough courage to bring it back. She was afraid of old Mr. Riker, and no wonder! Now she thinks he was hiding in a cave under the vault on purpose to scare people. She’s afraid of meeting him or anyone—”

“She’ll have to meet the magician,” Peter broke in. “I told you he is going with us.”

“If you don’t mind,” Helen Riker said, coming into the room just then, “I’d rather not go. Why don’t you take the children and let them explore? I’d rather stay here and rest.”

“We could do that. What do you say, Angel?”

“You mean me?” Judy asked.

She had been off on a flight of fancy. If Peter could have known her thoughts he might have called her Cupid instead of Angel. “If we could only find Paul Riker and patch up the old romance,” she was thinking. Aloud, she said to Peter, “There must be some way of finding out what we want to know without resorting to magic. I’m not at all sure I approve of inviting the magician to go with us.”

“Penny and Paul approve, don’t you think?”

Their approval was almost too enthusiastic.

“He can do anything,” Penny insisted.

“You ought to tell them this magician, whoever he is, can’t work miracles,” their mother said a little impatiently.

“Maybe he can,” Peter replied, his eyes twinkling.

“I’m afraid I don’t like this sudden power he has over the children,” Mrs. Riker said. “Why did you go there, Paul? Tell me the truth, now!”

“I had to, Mom,” he replied. “I wanted him to pick Penny for the magic show. We’re going to join the club and wear black spots on our foreheads—”

“But that’s the sign of the Destroyer,” Judy said.

“We know,” Paul said, “and it was the Destroyer on Uncle Paul’s tomb. Are we going back there? When are we going to start?”

“Right now,” Peter told them, “with your mother’s permission, of course. Better wrap up good and warm. It’s going to be a cold climb up those steps to the vault. The cave underneath, if we can find it, may be even colder.”

“Is Blackberry going?” Paul wanted to know, when they were ready to start.

“It looks that way,” replied Peter. “Judy has him in the car. He’s waiting for you on top of the back seat. Come along now, and keep him company.”

Judy felt a little uneasy about leaving Mrs. Riker by herself, and telephoned her mother before she left. Mrs. Bolton agreed to come over and meet her and keep her company while the doctor went out on his calls.

“Is it all right if Horace and Honey come along with me?” Judy’s mother asked. “They’re here now. We all went to church together.”

“I went to Sunday school, but only long enough to listen to one hymn. Mrs. Riker will tell you about it. That is, if she feels like talking. If she doesn’t, don’t urge her. She may just want to rest. We’re leaving right now, Mom, and much as I love him, I don’t want Horace with us. We’ll give him another stick full of news. Tell him that and bless you, Motherkins, for doing a good deed and being my guardian angel.”

Mrs. Bolton sounded a little baffled as she hung up. Judy could hear a protesting noise over the telephone.

“Mom should be used to me by now,” she told Peter as she climbed in the car beside him. “I think she rather enjoys being mystified. Seriously, though, I don’t think it’s fair to make children believe in magic. They should be told a little about how stage tricks are performed—”

“The trouble is,” Peter said, “I don’t know myself how they’re performed, do you?”

“No,” she replied, giggling.

“Well, here we are,” Peter announced, a little later, stopping before a rambling ranch house.

It was one of the more expensive homes in the new suburban development. Judy was surprised to find the Drans living in such luxury. The boys always spoke of their parents as if they were in modest circumstances.

“Is the magician Mr. Dran?” Judy wondered.

Then the thought came to her that the boys’ mother might have married a second time. Before she could explore this possibility the magician himself appeared at the door. A moment later he entered the car like anyone else, without tricks. The door stuck a little and Peter had to help him open it. He was not introduced. Judy thought he seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but the children’s enthusiasm was contagious. Soon he was answering all sorts of questions.

It developed that he had studied magic in India and had learned some of the tricks discovered by ancient Hindu fakirs. He was telling the children that he could place a living head on a table and make it talk to them, when Judy interrupted.

“Magic is all right in its place,” she said, “but don’t you think you’re carrying things a little too far? You’ve made the children believe you can do practically anything.”

“Aha!” he said. “Is that what they told you? I must be like the many-headed demon Ravana in the story. Is that what you think, you young rajah?”

Paul grinned as if he liked being called a rajah and said, “Mom knows that story, too. She told it to me because my name is Paul Riker for my uncle Paul, not the old uncle that built the tomb, but the young uncle she used to play with. She didn’t tell Penny about young Uncle Paul, because Penny can’t keep secrets.”

“Was it a secret?” the magician asked.

“Oh, yes, Mom never told anyone but me. When you love two people and can only marry one of them you have to keep it a secret that you still love the other. Besides, Mom meant to give back the statue of Sita, because it belonged in the collection. But now she can’t, because those bad men stole it.”

“Where did she get it? Do you know?”

“My father gave it to her when she was just a little girl,” Paul replied. “I can tell it now, because I heard her telling Judy. I still don’t get it, though. In the story Ravana told Sita he could change himself into Rama at will. But he wouldn’t do it, because he wanted her to love him for himself. Sita knew that would mean loving evil instead of good, and so she kept repeating, ‘Rama! Rama! Rama! I seek thee within me and my senses are sealed.’”

“I know that part,” squealed Penny. “The name, Rama, magicked her so she could see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil. We have the three little monkeys. They aren’t green like Sita. They’re on a desk blotter Mommy bought in the ten-cent store.”

“I’ve seen those three little monkeys on desk blotters lots of times!” exclaimed Judy. “Horace used to have them on his desk. I never knew where the idea came from, though.”

The magician laughed.

“Well, now you know. They were part of the monkey band who rescued Sita from the demon’s cave. You’ve taught us something, Penny.”

Judy, turning around, could see a puzzled expression on the little girl’s face as she replied, “But you already knew.”

Peter had appeared to be concentrating on his driving, but Judy could tell he was listening with interest to the conversation that was going on behind him. When Judy told how the children’s mother remembered playing the story of the “Ramayana,” the magician said, in an oddly different voice, “Ask her to write it down just as she remembers it, please. We may have time to put it on as an extra attraction.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” exclaimed Judy. “I’d love to see it. But who will take the parts? Do you think the children will have time to learn them?”

“A narrator can read them,” he replied, “but without the little idols the play may not have much meaning. We must all look for them.”

There it was again! They were supposed to look for things in spite of the warning. Judy was determined to find out the truth.

“We were warned not to,” she said. “Did you warn us?”

Now the magician seemed puzzled.

“Not to _what_?”

“Not to look for it. We weren’t told what _it_ was we weren’t to look for. The voice came from the trees,” Judy told him.

“The trees on your place?” he asked.

They had reached their destination, but the conversation held them as they started walking toward the ruined mansion.

“Yes,” Judy replied. “I thought maybe you could throw your voice or something. Were you ever there?”

“I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure,” he replied. “The children were talking among themselves about having a magic show in some barn or other, but I don’t remember throwing my voice for them. And we were near no barn. Mr. Brown offered his home for the magic show, because it does have a large recreation room. I told him I would need a stage and he promised to build one. Some of my tricks are rather elaborate. They need props. But everything is there.”

“Then it is just an ordinary magic show. Nothing unusual?”

“I hope,” he replied, and Judy was sure he and Peter exchanged a glance, “there will be something very unusual. Something very unusual indeed!”