Free The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn by John Bellairs Page A

she explained as she opened the bottles. “I’ve had so much trouble making tea that I decided to try something a little easier. I had an icebox installed in here, and I’ve stocked it with soft drinks.”
    Miss Eells shoved one of the bottles over to Anthony, but he didn’t take it. He just sat there on the edge of his chair, looking worried. “Miss Eells,” he said, “I betcha a hundred dollars it was old Philpotts that broke into your house.”
    Miss Eells nodded sadly. “It kind of looks like it, doesn’t it?” She took a sip of Coke.
    Anthony stared at her in amazement. Why was she taking this all so calmly? “How come you don’t tell the cops, then? They’d go over to his place and find the mirror and throw him in the clink, wouldn’t they?”
    “They might,” said Miss Eells dryly. “ If they thought he were guilty. That is, if they found evidence he was guilty. But what if they didn’t find the mirror, or any other evidence that would prove he was the culprit? There are laws against making false accusations, you know. You can get thrown in jail yourself if you accuse someone falsely. Besides, he’s one of the leading members of our community. How would it look if I accused him of being a burglar? It would be like accusing the mayor of being a chicken thief.”
    “But he did it,” Anthony said angrily. “I know he did.”
    “Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” said Miss Eells. “But my feeling at the present time is, let him have the stupid mirror. He didn’t get the message that was inside it—that’s locked up in my desk, and he never went near my desk. Boy, will he be livid when he sees that glue spot on the inside of the mirror backing and figures out that he’s missed out on something. He’ll be fit to be tied!”
    “Do you think he knows?” asked Anthony anxiously. “About the treasure, I mean.”
    “It’s beginning to look that way,” mused Miss Eells. She took another sip of Coke. “Hmm, I wonder how he found out? Oh, well. No matter. Like I say, let him have the mirror. It won’t do him any more good than it’s done us. He may have guessed by now that the treasure is in his uncle’s house—if, of course, it really is a treasure, and not a box of Cracker Jack.” Miss Eells suddenly laughed. “Hmph! Wouldn’t it be funny if Hugo got so worked up over that treasure that he bought his uncle’s place so he could poke around inside it? Wouldn’t that be something!” She threw back her head and laughed but then she winced. The laughter had made her head hurt.
    “What if there is a treasure, and old Philpotts gets his hands on it?” Anthony asked nervously.
    “Then he’d be even richer than he is now, and not a bit happier, I’ll bet. Isn’t it odd that a man who already has a fair-sized pile of money should want an even bigger pile? Yet all over the world people who have enough money to live comfortably are grasping for more. Wearing themselves out, fretting, worrying, ruining their health, and for what?”
    Anthony wasn’t listening to Miss Eells. “I—I came over here to tell you that the Tweedys are moving out,” he said, “and—”
    “Yes, I know,” said Miss Eells placidly. “I’ve known it for some time. It seems that a dentist up in Minneapolis died suddenly, and Dr. Tweedy has been invited to move up there and take over his practice. It’s a nice neighborhood, and he’d be a fool to pass up the chance.”
    Anthony looked hurt. “If you knew they were moving, how come you didn’t tell me, huh?”
    Miss Eells looked straight at Anthony over the top of her glasses. “Because, my friend, I knew that once you heard the Tweedys were moving, you’d be in here pestering me to help you burglarize the place. Am I right?”
    Anthony blushed and stared at the floor. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said in a low voice.
    Miss Eells took another sip of Coke and pushed her chair back. “I’m sorry, Anthony,” she said gently. “I know you want to get at that