Free The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn by John Bellairs

the mansion on his way to work, he stopped because there was a truck in his way, a big truck that was backed in across the sidewalk. The truck was yellow, and on its side was a picture of an old-fashioned sailing ship. The big green letters said “Mayflower Van Lines.” A long ramp had been thrown down. It ran from the back of the truck to the front door of the house, and two burly men in gray uniforms were grunting and groaning as they shoved a big upright piano along it. The Tweedys were moving!
    Anthony could hardly believe it. Wild, uncontrollable joy leaped up inside him. Now the treasure was his, or would be, as soon as everyone had cleared out. He and Miss Eells would be able to sneak in and poke around till they found what they were looking for. Plans started racing through his mind. They would jimmy a door open or break a window. It wouldn’t take long to find the right room. The house would be empty. Nobody would know.
    Anthony stood watching the moving men at their work for a few minutes, delighted yet anxious. Were the Tweedys really going? He watched some more, as if he were trying to prove to himself that all this was really happening.
    Finally he snapped out of his trance. If he didn’t hurry, he would be late. He started walking fast, and then he started to run. By the time he got to the library, he was out of breath. He had to see Miss Eells right away. This was important news. He pushed open the front door and raced up the little flight of inside steps that led to the main floor of the library. He pushed open the swinging glass doors, and then he stopped. Directly before him, sitting at the main desk, was Miss Eells. She looked pale and drawn, and there was a white bandage around her head.
    “Oh, my gosh, Miss Eells! What happened?” shouted Anthony.
    Miss Eells groaned and held out a copy of the Hoosac Daily Sentinel. “Here,” she said, “you can read about it yourself. I got broke in on. I mean, there was a burglar in my house last night.”
    Anthony was thunderstruck. He took the paper from Miss Eells’s hand and opened it up. On the front page was a column with the headline “Break-in on Pine Street.” Anthony read what was written underneath.
     
    Sometime last evening, a break-in took place at the home of Miss Myra Eells, at 611 Pine Street, Hoosac. Miss Eells, according to the statement she submitted to the Hoosac Police Department this morning, was returning to her home after attending a movie when she saw that her front door was ajar. Thinking perhaps that the wind had blown it open, she went in, and then, in her own words, she “got an almighty crack on the skull.” She was hit, Miss Eells opines, from behind. When she awoke a few minutes later, Miss Eells found the furnishings of her living room in great disarray. However, the only thing that seemed to be missing was an antique mirror that she had recently bought at an auction. When asked why she thought anyone would steal the mirror, Miss Eells said, “I guess they thought it was valuable.” She declined to speculate why nothing else in the house, including her jewel box and a cookie jar containing $32.12 in small change, had been touched. Officer Earl Swett, who answered Miss Eells’s call for help, ventured the opinion that the burglary was the work of an amateur. Miss Eells, who is well known as the head librarian at the Hoosac Public Library, was taken to Ferncrest Memorial Hospital. Her head, after being examined, showed nothing serious, and she was later released.
     
    Anthony looked up. “My gosh! I bet it was that old—”
    Miss Eells put her finger to her lips. “Sshh! Not out here in the open where people can hear you! Come on. Let’s go back to my office.”
    Anthony followed Miss Eells to her office. When they got there, she closed the door and went into the bathroom. Anthony heard a door slam softly, and when Miss Eells came out, she had two bottles of Coke with her. “I’ve decided to go over to your side,”