The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn Page 5

  Miss Eells covered her face with her hands.

  “Miss Eells,” said Anthony, tugging at her sleeve. “I want you to come over here and see something. It’s important. It really is.”

  “Okay, okay! Keep your shirt on. I’ll be with you in a second.”

  Miss Eells stopped long enough to tell Mr. Gegenfurtner that she hoped he could get through the rest of the auction without any more disasters. Then she followed Anthony across the lawn.

  “Look!” said Anthony excitedly.

  Miss Eells looked. What she saw was a small antique mirror. It was about two feet long and a foot wide. Mounted above the looking-glass part of the mirror was a small painting. It showed a house with a red roof and green shutters standing between two trees. The sky in the background was gray, except down near the horizon, where it was red. It looked the way the sky looks sometimes on a cloudy day just after the sun has gone down. The frame of the mirror was made of wood, and it was fairly elaborate. Across the top of the mirror ran a little ledge. It hung out over the front and sides like a canopy. The ledge had knobs on it. They were funny little knobs that looked like acorns.

  “Well?” said Miss Eells. She was impatient to get back to the auction, and she was still pretty flustered.

  “Look, Miss Eells, don’t you see? These’re the acorns. The ones in the poem. You said we might have to look for a mirror, and here it is!”

  “I was only making a suggestion, Anthony. You can’t really think that—”

  “And look at this!” said Anthony. He knelt down next to the mirror and tapped the painting. “Didja ever see windows like these? Lookit!”

  Miss Eells bent over and looked closely at the painting. The house had five windows, and each one looked like this:

  “My Lord!” she said. “This is odd. It looks like the old mansion. It used to have a red roof and green shutters. It still has these funny windows in the front with the five little panes in them.”

  “And how about this?” exclaimed Anthony triumphantly. He took the mirror in his hands and turned it over. There was a slab of wood on the back, held in place by bent nails. In the lower left-hand corner of the slab three letters had been scratched into the wood: ATW.

  “It’s him, it’s Alpheus T. Winterborn,” said Anthony. “Doncha see? This mirror is supposed to go with the poem! It tells how many acorns and windows there are. It all works out, like on a treasure map!” He looked hopefully at Miss Eells, who was scratching her chin and thinking.

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “It may all be just a coincidence. I’ve seen mirrors with acorn motifs like this before. They’re fairly common. As for windows, well, a house in a painting has to have windows, and I could be wrong about this being the old Winterborn house.”

  “Yeah, but windows that look like the five on playing cards? Didja ever see any like that? Didja? Huh?”

  Anthony was beginning to feel desperate. He had hoped that Miss Eells would feel excited, the way he did. Instead, she was skeptical. It made him mad.

  Miss Eells looked at the mirror some more. She cocked her head over to the right side. Then she cocked it over to the left. “It is a very nice mirror,” she said slowly. “In fact, it’s one of the nicest of its kind that I’ve ever seen.”

  “Somebody else thinks it’s nice, too,” Anthony muttered. “Old Hugo Philpotts thinks it’s nice. I betcha he buys it.”

  Miss Eells turned and stared at Anthony. “Hugo Philpotts? Is he at this auction?”

  Anthony nodded his head firmly. “Sure. Didn’t you see him? He’s over there somewheres right now.” Anthony pointed off toward the house. Sure enough, there was Hugo Philpotts, standing on the lawn near the front porch. He was opening and closing the doors of a large mahogany wardrobe.

  Miss Eells’s eyes opened wide. “Hmph! Well now, isn’t that something!” She scratched her chin and pursed her lips. She seemed to be thinking. “Of course, it stands to reason,” she said at last. “He collects antiques. His house is full of them. And he has a lot of money to spend on such things. On top of all that, this is a mirror that used to belong to his uncle. He must’ve seen the initials scratched in the corner. I imagine he’ll bid on it.”

  “No, don’t let him!” said Anthony suddenly. “I mean, don’t let him get it! He might find the treasure before we do!”

  Miss Eells heaved a deep sigh and shook her head. She sat down on a rocking chair that stood nearby and began rocking back and forth.

  There was silence for what seemed like a fairly long time. Finally Miss Eells spoke up. “Anthony?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Philpotts probably doesn’t want this mirror because it’s connected with any treasure. He wants it because it belonged to his uncle. That’s why.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I’m just guessing, the same as you are. Anyway, if the mirror is what you say it is, he doesn’t need to buy it now that he’s seen it. He can just count up the acorns and the spots in the windows, can’t he?”

  “Yeah, he could, but what if there’s something hidden inside the mirror that tells you where to do your counting? I mean, maybe you’re supposed to count up and over on a wall someplace, and the message inside tells you where to go. He would have to have the mirror to get the message, wouldn’t he?”

  “Yes, assuming that there is a message. But you’re just guessing, Anthony. Don’t you see that?”

  “Couldn’t you just buy it and take it home and see if there are any secret messages inside?”

  Miss Eells heaved a very deep sigh. She stopped rocking and got up. “Tell you what I’ll do,” she said. “I’ll bid on it, and if the bidding doesn’t run higher than thirty-five dollars, I’ll take it. I’ve only got thirty-five dollars in my purse, and I left my checkbook at home on purpose, on account of I always spend too much money at these darned auctions. There now, will that satisfy you?”

  Anthony beamed. “Sure, Miss Eells! Thanks a lot. Wait’ll we get it home. We’ll take it apart, and we’ll find something. I know we will.”

  “Come on then,” said Miss Eells, laughing. “Let’s go up front and see how the bidding is going.”

  Mr. Gegenfurtner was in great form. He rattled off the bids, machine-gun fashion, and one by one things disappeared from the lawn. Finally, a freckle-faced boy who worked for Mr. Gegenfurtner brought a mirror up to the auctioneer’s stand. Anthony could hardly contain his excitement. He looked around to see if Mr. Philpotts was still in the crowd. He was.

  “Aaand here,” said Mr. Gegenfurtner, holding up the mirror, “we have a gen-yoo-wine antique mirror, adorned with carved wooden acoms and a lovely little painting executed on glass. Now, how much am I bid?”

  And so it started. Miss Eells bid five dollars. Hugo Philpotts upped it to ten. Miss Eells said ten-fifty. Hugo said eleven. Back and forth the seesaw went. Nobody else wanted the mirror. It was just the two of them, battling it out. Miss Eells glared across at Hugo, and he glared right back at her. They had never been friends, and at that moment they were bitter enemies. Miss Eells didn’t believe the mirror had anything to do with any treasure, but she was so mad at Hugo Philpotts for bidding against her that she would have bid a thousand dollars if she had had the money on her. “Pompous old clunk,” she muttered under her breath. “Thinks he can have anything he wants. Well, we’ll see.”

  “I hear twenty-five dollars from the lady down in front,” bellowed Mr. Gegenfurtner, pointing with his gavel at Miss Eells. “Do I hear thirty?”

  “Thirty!” called Hugo Philpotts. He looked across at Miss Eells and gave her the dirtiest look imaginable. She gave him an even dirtier one and said thirty-five. Then she leaned over and whispered to Anthony, “That’s as high as I can go. I hate to let that creep have his way, but there’s nothing I can do. We’re sunk.”

  Anthony dug into his pocket. He pulled out a wadded and very wrinkled ten-dollar bill. “Here, Miss Eells,” he said in a shaky voice. “I brought this
along, just in case. It’s the money from the gold coin. Take it, please!”

  Hugo Philpotts raised his hand and said, “Forty!” in a loud, clear voice.

  Miss Eells didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to take Anthony’s money, but it was very clear that Anthony wanted her to buy the mirror—at that moment he wanted it more than anything in the whole world. Miss Eells felt flustered and hurried. She wasn’t thinking very clearly. And she was angry at Hugo Philpotts—she wanted to beat him.

  “Forty dollars I’m bid for this fine, old, an-teek mirrah! For-ty dollars! Do I hear forty-five? Going once...”

  Miss Eells hesitated a second longer. Then she quickly whispered to Anthony to go up front and tell Mr. Gegenfurtner that she wanted the bidding to stop at forty-five. It was cheating, and she knew it, but she felt that it had to be done. “Going twice,” Mr. Gegenfurtner intoned. There was no other way.

  Anthony was off like a shot. He raced up front and jumped onto the auctioneer’s stand, grabbed Mr. Gegenfurtner’s arm, and told him what Miss Eells wanted. Mr. Gegenfurtner smiled and nodded. Miss Eells was his friend, and for a friend he would do this.

  Hugo Philpotts saw Anthony whispering to Mr. Gegenfurtner. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was suspicious. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth grew grim.

  “Forty-five dollars for the mirror!” Miss Eells called out. Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Fifty!” roared Hugo Philpotts.

  “I’m bid forty-five, do I hear fifty?” said Mr. Gegenfurtner, speaking very rapidly. “Going once, twice, three times, sold to the lady in the funny hat!” He stabbed his gavel in the direction of Miss Eells, who was now grinning from ear to ear.

  “I said fifty!” Hugo Philpotts roared, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Can’t you hear me, you old fool?”

  Mr. Gegenfurtner paid no attention to Hugo. He tied a little yellow sold tag on the mirror and handed it down to Anthony. But as Anthony turned away and started carrying the mirror back to Miss Eells, Hugo Philpotts came elbowing through the crowd. He lunged forward and grabbed hold of the mirror. “Give me that, you little ragamuffin!” he snarled. “I bought it, fair and square!”

  “No, you didn’t! It’s mine — I mean, it belongs to Miss Eells! She won it! Leggo! Help, somebody help!”

  Hugo Philpotts tugged at the mirror. Anthony tugged back. At this point, several people stepped in and broke up the fight. One of them was Mr. Rusk, the man who had helped Miss Eells with the pot. He pried Hugo Philpotts’s hands loose from the mirror and shoved him, rather rudely, back into the crowd. “The idea!” he said, glowering at Hugo. “Tryin’ to take somethin’ away from a little kid! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  Hugo said nothing. He just glared venomously at Mr. Rusk. Anthony bore the mirror back in triumph to Miss Eells. He was on cloud nine, and so, for the moment, was she. They had won.

  CHAPTER 7

  As they drove back to Hoosac, Anthony kept twisting around in his seat and looking at the mirror, which lay on the back seat “Boy, Miss Eells!” he said happily. “We did it, didn’t we? We really did it!”

  Miss Eells said nothing. She didn’t look happy. As soon as the mirror was in their hands, she began having second thoughts about the whole business. It was a fine old mirror. It was probably worth forty or fifty dollars, maybe even more. And it was very satisfying to outwit the great Mr. Philpotts, who thought everything in the world ought to go his way. But she was deeply disturbed because she felt that she was leading Anthony on toward a huge disappointment. She was still pretty convinced that there wasn’t any treasure.

  When they got back to Hoosac, it was a little after four o’clock. Miss Eells invited Anthony to come back to her house for tea. They could talk for a bit and look at the mirror before he went home.

  Miss Eells pulled her car into the driveway. She got out and went inside, Anthony following with the mirror in his hands. Soon the little table in the kitchen was all laid out for tea. There was cheesecake with strawberries. There were blueberry muffins and toasted English muffins with butter and jam, or honey if you wanted it. There was a big brown pot of Darjeeling tea for Miss Eells, and a Coke for Anthony—who had finally admitted to Miss Eells that he didn’t care for tea—in a teacup.

  For a while they both just ate and drank. Finally Miss Eells put down her teacup. She pushed back her chair and stood up. “All righty,” she said. “Let’s settle the whole thing now, once and for all! There’s a tool box down in the cellar. You know where it is. Get it and meet me in the living room.”

  Anthony went to get the tool box. When he got back to the living room, he found Miss Eells standing next to the mirror, which was propped up on the sofa.

  “Hammer,” she said solemnly, holding out her hand.

  Anthony gave her the hammer. She turned the mirror over and with the claw part of the hammer began prying loose the nails that held the back of the mirror to the frame. Finally, the last nail was out, and Miss Eells carefully lifted the slab of wood. Then she gasped. There, glued to the inside of the slab, was an old, yellowed envelope.

  “Oh, my Lord!” exclaimed Miss Eells.

  “Wow!” said Anthony.

  With trembling fingers, Miss Eells pried the envelope away from the wood. The glue was old, so it didn’t take too much work. She opened the envelope with her thumb, which was her usual method of opening letters. Inside was a note. It was written in the square, precise lettering that Anthony was very familiar with by now. It said:

  If you have landed on the moon, the following may be of interest: Is five times five twenty-five? “X” marks the spot. Always drive on the right side. In my father’s house are many mansions.

  Regards,

  Alpheus T. Winterborn

  Anthony was jubilant. He ran around the room waving the paper and yelling “Wheel” at the top of his voice. Miss Eells just sat on the sofa with a dazed look on her face. She hardly knew what to think.

  “I told you, Miss Eells!” Anthony crowed. “Look at it! Wow! Yay! Whoopee!”

  Miss Eells smiled faintly. If there was a treasure, she wanted Anthony to find it. And she had to admit that this discovery was encouraging. When Anthony had stopped yelling and stomping around, she said quietly, “Could I see the note?”

  Anthony handed the paper to Miss Eells. She read it over several times, then put it down on the sofa.

  “Anthony?” she said at last.

  “Yeah, Miss Eells?”

  “If you put this note together with the one you found in the little moon, and add the features on the outside of the mirror—the acorns and the windows, I mean— you get this, at least the way I read it; Winterborn is saying that in his house—the house his father built—in the upper right room, five, or maybe twenty-five paces along the right wall, there is an “X” on the wall, or maybe on the floor. And inside the wall there, or under the floor, there is something—”

  “Yeah, a treasure,” said Anthony excitedly. His eyes shone as he thought of it.

  “Maybe,” said Miss Eells, pursing her lips. “Maybe. But there are still some things that worry me. There’s more to that poem, isn’t there? How does it go?”

  Anthony had read the poem over so many times that he knew it by heart. “You mean the end part?

  “ ‘How high is up?

  The top of the roof.

  Mind the prancing and the pawing

  of each little hoof.’ “

  “Well, how does what you just recited fit in with the rest? It doesn’t, does it?”

  “Gee, I guess not,” said Anthony. He thought a minute. “Maybe that part was just there to throw us off. You said Mr. Winterborn liked to play jokes.”

  Miss Eells looked worried. She bit her nails. “Yes, he did. That’s why I’m still not sure we’re on the right track. There’s something we’re not getting. In that other note you found, he warns us that there’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip. I wonder...”

  Antho
ny was beginning to feel irritated. Here they had just made this big discovery, and what was Miss Eells doing? Throwing on cold water, like always.

  “Aw, come on, Miss Eells! Don’t be such a party- pooper! We’re gonna be rich!” That old dreamy, hungry look came back into Anthony’s eyes. “Gosh, I wonder what it is?” he mused. “Maybe it’s a gold crown, or a diamond ring that some old king used to wear. Wahoo! We’re gonna be rolling in dough!” He started to dance around the room again with the piece of paper in his hand, but he stopped when he saw how gloomy Miss Eells looked. “What’s wrong now?” he asked.

  “Come over here and sit down, Anthony.” She patted the seat of the couch beside her.

  Anthony sat down.

  “Now, then. There are several things in this whole deal that you don’t seem to be aware of. In the first place, if there really is a treasure, and if it’s hidden in Alpheus Winterborn’s old house, then you may have a bit of a problem getting it out.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, it so happens that there are people living in that house. There’s a dentist and his wife and eight kids. Now, what are you going to do, Anthony? Go up to the front door and knock and say, ‘Excuse me, folks, but would you mind if I came in and tapped on your walls for a bit? I’m looking for a hidden treasure’? Is that what you’d do?”

  “I guess not,” Anthony said sheepishly.

  “You’re darned right you wouldn’t. They’d either think you were crazy, or start hunting themselves. Either way, you wouldn’t get in.”

  “We could break in at night, like burglars,” Anthony suggested.

  “Oh, sure. It works great in the movies, but in real life... well, aside from it’s being illegal, can you imagine creeping around a house that has ten people sleeping in it? Sneaking and trying not to wake them up? And with me as an assistant? Can you imagine what a great burglar’s assistant I would make?” Miss Eells had to laugh. She couldn’t help it. The idea of her as a burglar seemed very funny.