Free The Secret of the Skeleton Key by Penny Warner Page B

said. “He’s lucky to be around.”
    â€œHow about Bond—Cat Bond?” M.E. added in a funny British accent. “He’d make a great spy cat. Double-o-nine…lives.” She giggled.
    Cody shook her head. “Sorry, he already has a name—Punkin.” She reached under the cat’s neck to show them the personalized collar she’d made for him. But when she searched his fur, the tag felt different. She pulled it out and examined it.
    â€œThat’s weird. The tag I made for him is covered with a sticker. And there’s a small key attached.”
    She showed the tag and key to the others. “It’s handwritten. It says, ‘Francis Scott.’ Is that the cat’s name?”
    â€œFrancis Scott?” Luke and Quinn said at the same time.
    â€œWhat kind of a name is that for a cat?” Quinn grimaced.
    â€œIt sounds familiar,” Luke added.
    â€œYou’re thinking of Francis Scott Key,” Cody said. “He wrote the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’ remember?”
    â€œHey, that’s cool,” Luke said. “There’s a key, and his name is Francis Scott. Get it?”
    â€œThat reminds me… ” Quinn pulled the metal case from his zippered jacket. “Look at this.”
    Luke squinted at the case. “What?”
    â€œThere are letters written on the side,” Quinn answered. “You can see them when they catch the light.”
    â€œWhat do they say?” Cody asked, surprised that she had missed them when she’d had the case.
    â€œThey’re really faint,” Quinn said, “but the soot from the fire makes them easier to read.”
    â€œLet me see.” Cody took the case from Quinn’s hands and looked at it closely. The writing was fancy and old-fashioned, like something she’d seen in books at museums. She could just make out three letters.
    â€œF S K,” Cody said.
    â€œThat’s not a word,” M.E. said.
    â€œWhat’s it supposed to mean?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow.
    â€œGood question,” Quinn said, taking the case back from Cody.
    â€œMaybe they’re initials,” M.E. suggested.
    Quinn shook his head. “But the old man’s name is Skeleton—I mean Skelton . That’s his last name, not his middle name. Maybe the initials stand for something in code, like in that framed CIA certificate we saw. FSK. Federal … Secret … Ka … ” He shrugged and placed the case into Luke’s outstretched hand.
    Luke studied it intently, then said, “Dude, I got nothing. If we don’t have the key, we can’t break the code.”
    Cody sat up. “That’s it!”
    â€œWhat’s it?” Luke asked.
    â€œWhat you said about the key, Luke,” Cody continued. “Mr. Skelton stuck that note on the tag, wrote that name, and attached a key. It must mean his name is—”
    They all said it at once: “Francis Scott Key !”
    Cody looked at the cat.
    â€œThe ‘key’ to the metal case is around the cat’s neck!”

Chapter 13

    P unkin, aka Francis Scott Key, seemed to understand every word the kids said. Apparently, he didn’t want any part of it. He arched his back, let out a howl, and darted from Cody’s hands.
    â€œGet him!” Quinn shouted. “Otherwise, he’ll get out through the space under the door.”
    When the kids built the clubhouse, it hadn’t been perfectly square. There was just enough room for a big rat or small cat to squeeze through the gap under the door. More than once, the kids had discovered an animal waiting for them in the clubhouse—mostly squirrels and raccoons. But one time they had found a skunk that had smelled up the place so bad, they had had to use Quinn’s backyard toolshed for meetings until the clubhouse had aired out.
    Punkin instinctively seemed to know about the escape route and made a run for the space under