Free The Dark Secret of Weatherend by John Bellairs Page B

it looks like it's from the Hoosac Gas Company. Then I'll get some gray coveralls, and—"
    Once again Miss Eells interrupted. "Oh, come on, Em!" she said, laughing. "You look about as much like a gas man as King Kong. How on earth do you expect to fool Borkman?"
    Emerson Eells glowered at his sister. "My dear Myra," he said frostily, "I wasn't aware that gas men came in only one size and shape."
    "All right, all right, you're a gas man!" said Miss Eells, shaking her head. "So after you've arrived in your impenetrable disguise, what do you do then?"
    "If you'll shut up and listen, I'll tell you," snapped Emerson. With the pencil he tapped the oblong space on the map that was labeled Tennis Court. "You two," he went on, "will be hiding in the back of the truck. I'll let you out near the tennis courts, and then you will run and conceal yourselves in the ruined buildings. Then, while I'm up at the mansion distracting Borkman by pretending to read his meter, you'll go skulking over to the grove of cedar trees. Now, understand! I don't want you to do anything fancy. I just want you to examine the four statues and find the holes that—if I'm right—will have been drilled in them. They'll almost certainly be camouflaged in some way. Plugged with gray putty perhaps. And in the holes—if my guesswork is correct—will be little packets of bones. From the altar stones that you mentioned earlier, Anthony. Almost certainly, the theft of those bones was Borkman's work. The blessed bones of saints can be used by evil men for evil purposes. But, remember! Don't try digging the packets out of the holes. Just find the holes and mark them with white chalk. Then, when you've done that, skedaddle back to the tennis court and stay out of sight till I come by and pick you up in the truck."
    "Are we gonna come back and knock over those stones sometime?" asked Anthony.
    Emerson pursed his lips. "My dear Anthony," he said, smiling in his precise and infuriating way, "we are not going to do anything of the sort! I have a cousin who's in the construction business, and he knows how to handle dynamite. If you have found any bone holes, he and I will come back to Weatherend, and we will dig the bones out of the holes, plant some dynamite, and blast those accursed statues into powder. There will be considerable risk, and I don't want you and Myra. anywhere in the vicinity when the real dirty work is being done."
    Miss Eells was hopping mad. "Now look here, Emerson! I know I'm a bit on the clumsy side, but I'm as brave as you are and maybe braver! When we were kids, who was it who went out in Farmer Swenson's field and dared the bull to come after her? You were hiding somewhere under Dad's car! And who was it who went down in the cellar of our house at night to see if there really was a ghost there? Hmm, who? I can understand why you might want to keep Anthony out of this, but I'll be darned if I can see why I should stay home and twiddle my thumbs!"
    Emerson was aghast. He was the head of his own law firm, and he was used to giving orders and making people toe the line. But he had always been a little bit scared of his sister. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his face. "Well, we could work out something, I'm sure," he muttered, throwing nervous sidelong looks at his sister.
    Miss Eells grinned. "Do you mean, dear brother Em," she said in a mocking tone, "that I can actually be of some small use to you?"
    Emerson took off his wristwatch and wound it busily. "Of course," he said in a low voice, without looking up. "We've always done things together. But perhaps maybe to start with we could, uh, well... carry out the first part of my plan the way I've outlined it?" Emerson paused and glanced questioningly at his sister. "Okay?"
    "I'll think about it," said Miss Eells, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing.
    And so it was arranged. The three of them would meet on Saturday, the first of December, to