CHAPTER 11 THE LOCKED DOOR

Discovery of the carved initials on the alley wall convinced both Dan and Brad that the mutilation had been done by Pat Oswald.

The Bay Shore boy, they were sure, had a careless habit of using his jack-knife whenever he felt like it.

“These letters ‘P. O’ are made the same as the ones we saw in the old church,” Brad declared, studying the knife cuts closely. “At least I think so. I wish we could compare them.”

“Is this enough evidence to convict Pat?”

“I’m afraid not, Dan. In the first place, being convinced of a thing is a lot different than being able to prove it. We didn’t see Pat carve these initials, nor those on the church pew.”

Dan lost interest in the wall markings. “What’s the use then?” he asked hopelessly. “We’ll never be able to prove anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I have a hunch Pat will over-play his hand. He’s so cocky and sure of himself. Given time he may trip himself up.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. You know as well as I do, that he and his bunch swiped our ice cream, but will we ever be able to prove that either?”

“We may. It takes time, Dan. You’re too impatient.”

“I just hope things turn out the way you predict, Brad. Somehow I’ve got an uneasy feeling about that game Friday night. You sure we shouldn’t cancel it?”

“With at least a hundred tickets sold?”

“I guess not,” Dan admitted. He sighed and started with the wagon and the ice cream freezers on down the deserted alley.

The scheduled basketball game between the two teams had attracted an unusual amount of interest in Webster City. Not only had the parents and friends of the Cubs bought tickets at twenty-five cents each, but a surprising number had been sold to strangers and friends of Pat Oswald and his group.

Though the Cubs had not really expected that the ticket sale would bring in very much, they now realized that it would swell their treasury considerably. The money already was earmarked for the payment of attorney fees, if needed.

After a long, tiring haul, the two Cubs eventually arrived with the freezers at Terry Treuhaft’s cottage. The yard was choked with unraked leaves and the garage doors were locked.

“No one at home,” Dan observed. “Just our luck!”

After rapping several times without an answer, the boys debated what to do. Brad was opposed to hauling the freezers back to the clubroom.

“We could leave them here,” he suggested.

“Wouldn’t it be better to take them back to the church? That’s where they belong.”

“All right,” Brad agreed. “After we get home, I’ll telephone Terry or one of the trustees so they’ll know we returned them.”

The old Christian churchyard looked more forlorn than ever as the boys presently came up to it with their creaking wagon. The lawn was deep with crackling brown leaves which filled shoes with a fine dust.

“Say, we could build a dandy fort here,” Dan remarked.

“And get run off the premises again! Nothing doing.”

Dan grinned goodnaturedly, for the idea had not been a serious one. He was as eager as Brad to be rid of the ice cream freezers and be on his way home.

“Where’ll we leave ’em?” he asked. “Not out front.”

“No, they’ll be safer around back.”

The boys circled the church, finally halting by a rear door which led down into the basement.

“Why, it’s open!” Dan exclaimed.

Someone had left the door unlocked, for it stood an inch or two ajar.

“Maybe Terry is here, or one of the trustees, Dan!”

Cautiously, the Cubs opened the door wider. They could see no one in the dark hallway. Nor could they hear anyone moving about inside the old church.

“Anyone here?” Brad finally shouted.

His voice echoed faintly, but there was no other sound.

“Queer,” the Den Chief muttered. “The church is empty. But this door shouldn’t have been unlocked. No wonder so much damage was done here. Terry isn’t as careful about looking after the place as he’d have the trustees believe.”

“So long’s the door is unlocked, why not take the freezers down into the basement where they belong?”

“We-ll,” Brad hesitated. “Think we should?”

“It will only take a jiffy. They’ll be a lot safer there than setting outside where anyone coming along could grab ’em.”

“Okay,” Brad consented. “Let’s be quick about it though. I’d hate to have Terry or one of the trustees catch us here. Then they’d really have a complaint.”

With dispatch, the Cubs unloaded the first freezer and carried it between them to the cellar. The main furnace room was damp and musty. A rat scurried past, nearly brushing Dan’s leg.

“Woops!” he exclaimed, shivering. “I don’t like this dark old hole, Brad.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to bring the freezers down here?” Brad reminded him with a chuckle. “That old rat won’t hurt you. He was more scared than you are.”

“Who says I’m scared? It just startled me, that’s all.”

The boys carried the freezer into the fruit closet. Nearly all of the long shelves which lined the wall were empty. A few cans of homemade fruit, evidently abandoned when the church was closed, remained. Dan noticed that a can of peaches and one of strawberries had been broken open.

“Come on, let’s get that other freezer and be out of here,” Brad urged. “No time to start looking around.”

In haste, they went upstairs again to fetch the second container. Brad breathed a relieved sigh when it was safely on the shelf.

“That’s done,” he declared. “I’d hate—”

“You’d hate what?” Dan demanded as the other suddenly broke off.

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

Dan knew from Brad’s odd manner that something had startled him. As for himself, he had heard no unusual sound.

“What was it?” he demanded, dropping his voice to a half-whisper.

“Don’t start whispering or you’ll give me the jitters,” Brad scolded.

“You did hear something?”

“Just the creaking of a board.” Brad forced himself to be indifferent. “But what of it? This building has been closed up for a long while and the wood is dry. It wasn’t anything.”

“Let’s go,” Dan urged, leading the way up the dark stairs.

Though he wouldn’t have admitted it, he too felt suddenly uneasy. In a way, it had been foolish of them to enter the empty building. If someone should find them there, it might be all but impossible to convince anyone of their true purpose.

The Cubs relaxed a bit as they reached the top of the basement stairs. Their fear of not being alone in the building began to ebb.

“Say, while we’re here, I might take another quick look at those initials that were carved on the church bench,” Brad proposed. “I’ll probably never get another chance like this.”

“Okay,” Dan agreed reluctantly. “But make it snappy.”

While Brad went into the main part of the church, the denner remained in the vestibule. He caught himself shivering. Nervousness? Or was it the chill wind which came in occasional drafts down the circular iron stairway leading to the belfry?

“I wish Brad would hurry,” Dan kept thinking.

He was annoyed by his own uneasiness. What was it about this old church building that always gave him the same uncomfortable feeling? Why did he have that vague sensation—a sort of conviction that someone was watching him? Every crack and cranny of the vestibule seemed to have leering eyes.

Dan began to think of the first day he had visited the place. Chub too had been uneasy. Even then there had been strange sounds, a tapping bell, a shadowy figure in the church graveyard. And why had the church door been left unlocked?

A slight noise which he could not immediately localize, caused Dan to stiffen. Had the sound come from the belfry room? A bat, perhaps.

Dan listened intently. Distinctly, he could hear tiptoeing steps on the iron stairway! Someone was up there, stealthily descending!

Panic momentarily overcame the boy. “Brad!” he yelled. “Brad!”

It was reassuring to hear the older Cub yell: “Coming!”

“What’s wrong?” Brad demanded, popping into the vestibule. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“I didn’t see anything, but I have a bad case of the jitters,” Dan admitted sheepishly.

“It’s time we quit this place anyhow,” Brad replied. “I’m sure those carved initials on the pew are the same as the ones we saw in the alley. Pat Oswald must have carved them both.”

Dan nodded scarcely listening. He cast an uneasy glance toward the iron stairway.

“Say, what’s wrong with you anyhow?” Brad demanded.

Dan was ashamed to tell him of his fears. Now that Brad was with him again, he didn’t feel as nervous as before. Like as not he’d allowed his imagination to play tricks on him again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

They left the vestibule. Dan reached for the knob of the rear, outside door. When he twisted it, an empty feeling came into his stomach. He tugged, but the door refused to budge.

“Stuck?” Brad asked, moving close.

Dan’s lips had drawn into a tight, white line. “Not stuck,” he managed in a faint voice, “Locked!”