CHAPTER XX

The Statue Commands

Judy was beginning to understand. But something was wrong somewhere. She puzzled over it as they walked on toward the ruined mansion.

When they finally reached it, the scene before them appeared even more desolate than she remembered it. The snow that had fallen the day before was melting fast, so that only patches of it remained in shady places. There was none left around the burned house and very little under the blackened trees. But the vault was covered with it as if the cold from within had penetrated the cold without.

“Look!” Penny cried out as they climbed the steps toward the statue. “His face is just like the face in the magazine!”

“I don’t like him,” Paul said. “Why is he looking like that?”

“He’s meditating,” the magician explained.

“He isn’t alive, is he?” asked Penny. “What does that—that big word mean?”

“It means to think hard about the same thing over and over the way Sita did when she thought about Rama. It’s a little like wishing. You don’t always get your wishes, but you do feel quiet and peaceful inside so that outside things don’t hurt you any more. It’s hard for a little girl to understand,” the magician continued, “but the meditation of Sita kept all evil from her so that she was returned to Rama as pure and lovely as when the demon first snatched her away. It was the magic of her lover’s name that did it. When she called, ‘Rama! Rama!—’”

“Quiet!” a voice commanded.

They all stopped dead still to stare at the concrete face above them. The lips had not moved. There had not been a sign of life and yet the voice stopped them so still that Judy could hear her heart beating.

“I should have told you we would be protected,” Peter said from behind them.

“If this is protection,” Judy retorted, “I’d rather be thrown to the lions. Where did that voice come from? It even startled Blackberry. There he goes, up to the top of the statue to explore!”

“I doubt if he will find anything. The voice you heard was probably that of the chief deputy, and I believe it came from inside the vault. He and his rangers are determined to find out who set that fire, if it was set, and how it happened that the mansion was so conveniently emptied just before the blaze. I knew they’d be there,” Peter explained. “They’re on the lookout for the thieves—”

“But you said there weren’t any thieves,” Judy reminded him.

Again the magician and Peter exchanged glances.

“That remains to be seen. Anyway, the magician believes something strange is going on here, and he is in a position to know.”

“How _can_ he know?” gasped Judy, and added, laughing, “Has he mystical knowledge from the mysterious East?”

But Peter was serious when he said, “Our plans went wrong somewhere. They may have been too obvious. At any rate, we know the police are somewhere in the vicinity. It should be perfectly safe to explore.”

“Do you think this mystical knowledge of yours will help us find the cave?” asked Judy. “I’m like Blackberry. I prefer to look in high places. I think I’ll climb up on top of the vault and see what’s there.”

“Blackberry sure looks as if he’s trying to show you something,” agreed Peter. “Be careful, though. It may be slippery.”

Judy was halfway up when she thought she heard a noise from the statue. It sounded like _breathing_. Then suddenly it sneezed!

Startled, Judy lost her footing. She grabbed for one of the bushes growing on top of the vault, missed it, and began to slide. A moment later she landed, dazed but unhurt, in the ivy where the others were searching.

They were all pulling away ivy leaves like so many excited terriers looking for a bone. By the time Judy realized what they were doing, Peter, with the help of the magician, had turned back a flat stone which looked suspiciously like a tombstone. On it was chiseled a mysterious sign.

“It’s the sign of Om,” the magician was explaining. “In India it stands for the highest form of mysticism. He may have used it as a marker.”

“Who?” asked Judy. “The statue?”

Paul glanced up at it, but none of the others paid the slightest attention to what Judy was saying. They were busy removing the stone.

“This must be the entrance to the cave,” declared Peter. “It was completely covered with ivy. We never would have found it if Judy’s shoe hadn’t scraped against it when she fell.”

“You were determined to find it, with or without me,” she retorted. “Isn’t anybody going to ask me if I hurt myself?”

Apparently nobody was. The rough-hewn steps they had discovered descending to what looked like a hole in the ground looked anything but inviting. But they caught everyone in their spell.

“Who goes down first?” the magician asked.

“Let me—” Judy began eagerly.

But Peter was saying, “I think I’d better. Nobody knows what we may find at the bottom. I’ll give the signal as soon as I’m sure it’s safe.”

It looked as if he were descending into a bottomless pit. The flashlight he held sent a weird circle of light ahead of him. It flickered and danced in an eerie fashion as he waved it and called out, “Come ahead!”

Judy, followed by the magician, Penny, and Paul, had descended no more than a few steps when a voice from the statue roared, “Stop where you are!”

Judy stopped. It was bad enough to have a statue sneeze at her. But to hear it roar out a command was a little too much. She stood frozen. Then she called down to Peter:

“Peter, come back! I’m afraid to move.”

She was part way down the steps, but could not decide whether to go up or down. Either way held terrors for her now.

Penny and Paul were both hiding their faces in the magician’s coat. His own face was noticeably whiter. But he kept on a downward course.

Peter was very far down now. Judy suspected her voice had not carried to him. He called back, “The jade collection is here! It is inside some sort of cabinet. It’s locked, but you can see through the glass doors. Come on down! It’s quite a sight.”

Peter seemed so certain it was safe that Judy obeyed. The children, big-eyed with wonder, held onto the magician’s coat to steady themselves as they descended. Step after step they went, down, down, down!

“Are we to the center of the earth yet?” Penny finally asked.

Judy’s laugh sent back a strange echo. From the direction the steps had taken she judged they must be directly under the vault.

“I’ve reached the bottom,” she told the children. “It’s all right. Peter is here. Didn’t you hear me?” she asked him. “What did you mean when you said we were protected? If that was the chief deputy or one of his forest rangers up there, why did he tell us to stop?”

“He may have mistaken us for the thieves,” replied Peter, “but don’t worry about it. We’ve arranged a signal. One shot from my gun and he’ll come running.”

“You may need to fire that shot,” declared the magician. “That voice was no forest ranger. I’d know it anywhere. It was the voice of Paul Riker.”

“Me?” cried little Paul. “I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t, little rajah. It was your old uncle Paul, my boy. But don’t be scared. We’ll have a look at his jade collection anyway.”

“It’s right here,” Peter told him, turning his flashlight on a cabinet which appeared to be nothing more than one of the sections of a sectional bookcase. It was of mahogany badly in need of polishing. The glass could stand cleaning, too. But behind it Judy could see the elaborately carved little figures of many of the gods and goddesses that had been pictured in the magazine.

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” asked the magician.

“It sure is,” agreed Peter. “A quarter of a million dollars worth of jade buried under an old vault with nothing but a thin piece of glass for protection.”

“Why?” asked Judy, unable to understand the millionaire’s motives. “What good are they down here?”