CHAPTER III

A Puzzling Robbery

“Honey, see what you make of it,” said Judy, and handed her the paper. “You say in the _Herald_, Horace, that the caretaker swears no one passed his cottage on Dark Hill Road for two days. Is it a private road?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But the police think the robbers could have sneaked in from the national forest which borders the estate. But the forest rangers keep pretty close watch of anyone who enters it. They have to now, with the weather so dry and windy. A forest fire would get out of control fast.”

“Some of them are already out of control, aren’t they?” asked Honey. “I saw something about it on the back of the paper while Judy was reading the front.”

“Aha!” laughed Horace. “Now I know where to put the news I want peeping females to see. Perhaps the Woman’s Page should be the back page so that hubby can enjoy the headlines while wifey ponders the recipes.”

“Speaking from wifey’s point of view,” Judy retorted, “she is just as interested in the headlines as he is. She might even want to know the story behind them. You’ve only told half of it, Horace.”

“The paper had to go to press. Papers do, you know,” Horace reminded her. “The other half of the story is probably happening right now. This forest fire on the back page was spreading. It may get around to the front page. It may even get as far as the Paul Riker estate, where the robbery took place. I’ve never seen the main house, but I’ve been told it’s an immense wooden structure with a cupola on top.”

“Like some of the mansions in Farringdon?” asked Honey.

“No doubt. They were all built around 1880 and if you ask me they weren’t beautiful, even then. Most of them ought to be torn down. They’re regular firetraps besides being so hideous that nobody wants to live in them. Modern houses like the new ones going up in Roulsville are more to my taste.”

“Mine, too,” Honey whispered, and a look passed between them that made Judy wonder if Honey might not be forgetting her employer’s handsome young son for Judy’s own not so handsome but lovable brother.

Honey was having a hard time choosing between her two suitors and seemed in no great hurry to make up her mind. Judy knew how it was. She had once faced the same problem. If she had married handsome Arthur Farringdon-Pett instead of Peter Dobbs, her home might have been one of the mansions they were talking about. Judy did not consider them hideous.

“I like old houses,” she told her brother. “I guess Grandma knew it when she left me her house and gave you the land. You can build your modern house on it whenever you’re ready. I like all houses, both old and new, if they’re real homes and not built just for show.”

“The Riker mansion used to be called a show-place. I’m sure I don’t know who would look at it way back there in the woods,” Horace said, “but I’m told that before the robbery it was filled with art treasures, including a world-famous collection of jade.”

“A museum of Oriental art, according to your article,” quoted Judy. “I don’t see the sense of keeping such valuable things in a private home.”

“For once,” Horace said, “we agree on something. Paul Riker needed a flock of servants just to take care of all the stuff he collected. The police estimate the loot as being worth a quarter of a million dollars and maybe more. An actual evaluation can’t be made until Mr. Riker returns from his travels. The police are trying to get in touch with him, but nobody seems to know where he is.”

“That must have made it convenient for the robbers,” Judy commented. “Do you really think the caretaker might be involved?”

“I’ll have to talk with him before I know what to think,” replied Horace. “How would you girls like to drive out there with me this afternoon? We might pick up a few clues, maybe run into Peter—”

“If he’s investigating it,” Judy interrupted, “I don’t think we should. I’ve dashed off after him before—to my sorrow. Once a bullet barely missed me, and he made me promise not to run headlong into danger again. Besides, the kids are coming here today.”

“What kids?” Honey asked.

“You remember them,” Judy said. “They used to call themselves the Junior FBI. They meet here every Saturday. Peter suggested that they change their name. He’s afraid they’ll get themselves involved in something dangerous. I think he’s wrong, though. The club doesn’t get them into trouble. It keeps them out of it. Their latest project is a magic show.”

“Magic! That’s it!” exclaimed Honey.

“What do you mean?” asked Judy.

“The voice from the tree. It must have been one of their tricks.”

“I doubt it,” Horace objected. “I heard the talking trees before some of those kids were born. Grandpa used to call it a freak of nature. I always meant to investigate it, but never got around to it. Maybe it’s an echo thrown back from the barn.”

“We could find out easily enough by standing opposite the barn and calling,” Judy suggested eagerly.

“Wouldn’t we feel a little foolish, Judy?” asked Honey, holding back a little.

“I wouldn’t,” Judy declared. “Come on! I’d like to try it.”