The Magic Talisman Read online

  “A ghost?”Mrs. Miller asked.

  Karen gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. Are there such things? I only know there’s some sort of presence.How about you, Jan?”

  Jan agreed with Karen.“A presence, yes.But a ghost? I don’t think so.”

  “Karen, where were you when you felt someone watching?” Rick queried. “Was the feeling restricted to any particular places?”

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  Karen frowned thoughtfully. “Now that you ask, I’d say yes. I’ve felt it mostly in the upstairs office, and in the Phantom Caravan room.”

  “All right.Now, point two: The feeling Jan gets switches on and off.It wasn’t there when we arrived, and it turned on just as we exited the doors without keys. Then it cut off again after the bad jolt Jan got, and didn’t come on again until we were on the way to the lounge after the show. Jan, are you sure that the bad stuff wasn’t in the house?”

  “I’m pretty sure. It’s really hard to be precise, but it seemed farther away.”

  “So what that leaves us, is two separate presences, a friendly one in the house and a nasty one close by.

  Has anyone else noticed anything unusual?”

  “Yes,” David answered. “We lost a night watchman about ten days ago. He said his dog was going crazy bit by bit, and he was getting too nervous over hearing the house’s heart beat.”

  The Spindrifters stared. Rick asked, “What did he mean?”

  “I don’t know. We asked the new man after a couple of nights and he’d heard a regular deep thump-THUMP. He assumed it was the house furnace running, maybe with a bent blower shaft, or maybe a sump pump was operating.”

  “Tell us how the watchman works,” Scotty requested.

  “We got a man with a trained dog. He patrols inside the fence, using the gate house as his main station.

  He’s supposed to make rounds once an hour from the time we close until the housekeeping staff gets there in the morning.”

  “He doesn’t go in the house?” Barby asked.

  “No. Between rounds he stays in the gate house.”

  Rick asked, “Did you go through the house thoroughly when you all moved in?”

  “Room by room,” David replied. “We didn’t miss a thing, and there was no sign of human occupancy.

  The film of dust in the unused rooms would have shown footprints. There were none. Now the entire third floor is locked up and so are unused rooms on the second floor.”

  Rick looked around.“Anything else from anyone? Okay, then let’s sum up this part. Jan and Karen agree on a presence in the house, and Jan felt a second presence, apparently not in the house. That’s a puzzle, because there’s no other structure near the house. I’ve been wondering if what she felt is some bad person hanging around on the outside, and if that’s so, maybe the dog ought to be turned loose to hunt around.”

  Rick looked at the twins for a reply. “Is there anything to cause the thumping sound the watchmen heard?”

  Derek shook his head.“Nothing of ours. The furnace is quiet and so is the kitchen equipment. We haven’t heard the thumping ourselves.”

  “Okay, so we have three major unknowns: two presences and an unknown thumping sound.” Rick took Page 33

  a deep breath. “I wish those three were the only mysteries, but there’s a bigger one. How is the friendly presence communicating with Jan? And how did she feel the blast from the vicious one?”

  Hartson Brant smiled. “Good for you, Rick. I hadn’t intended to bring that up, because it gets us into really deep water. We don’t have a lot of time today because the Camerons have to get back, so I suggest we leave that particular mystery for another time. Except for one question: Why did you decide the friendly presence is deliberately trying to communicate with Jan instead of just-let’s say-broadcasting the message to just anyone who can receive?”

  “It’s because the feeling turns off and on. It isn’t a steady feeling. Maybe I’m jumping too far for that conclusion, but it’s what came to mind.”

  “Fine, son.Maybe it is too big a jump. We’ll have to wait and see.Anything else on the presences?”

  “No, Dad. And that leads us into the weird events of last night.Any ideas?”

  David gave a wry laugh.“Only one. We’ve agreed it couldn’t have happened.”

  Rick grinned sympathetically. “If you want witnesses, there are eight from Spindrift who will agree.”

  “Thank you. But, if it did happen, some unknown person overrode our controls from some unknown place. Joe-the helper who dresses as a Hindu—had just lowered Karen to the plank, and he swears it wasn’t he, and our controls didn’t move in his hands. But someone lifted Karen and swung her back to the cabinet, then released the harness and reeled the cable in.”

  “Is there another control panel that you know about?”

  “No, Rick. But doesn’tall this tie in with the presences Jan and Karen feel? One of those presences must have controls somewhere. I doubt that a ghost could manipulate physical gear.”

  Jan asked, “Where did the male replica come from?”

  Derek picked up the discussion. “Rick and I both had the clue. We thought we saw a dark figure descend. Now, have you ever noticed that, when we hunt for something, we almost never look up? We don’t expect to find what we’re looking for on top of things or hung in the air. I’m sure the replica was high overhead in some shadowy area.”

  “And what that means,” David added, “Is there’s another cable and winch arrangement we didn’t know about. And Heaven knows what else might be up there.”

  “But didn’t you rig your own equipment overhead?” Scotty queried.

  “Sure. But the light isn’t great up there, and we were fully focused on what we were doing, because we can’t afford any gear problems. Karen’s safety depends on perfect apparatus. Anyway, we did not make a thorough examination of the overhead.”

  “Perhaps the mysterious presence was watching from above with controls in his hands,” Rick suggested.

  Barby shuddered. “What a spooky idea!”

  “Maybe I should take a shotgun on stage tonight and do a little hunting.” Derek shrugged. “Or maybe Page 34

  we should leave our unknown controller alone. That switch last night was pretty effective from the audience viewpoint.”

  Rick paused for a sip of coffee and made a face, it was cold. “Okay. Somewhere there’s another control panel and someone to work it and whoever worked it caused the shimmer.But how?Dad?”

  “I’ve thought about it.” The scientist looked at Dr. Miller. “I’m sure Walter has, too. In principle, the shimmer would not be hard to produce. For example, here’s a light that operates on alternating current at sixty cycles per second.” He pointed at the bulb in his desk lamp. “Suppose we took a disc and cut it so that the slits and the material were evenly spaced. By rotating that disc in front of the bulb we would produce a shimmer, either fast or slow, depending on the speed of rotation.”

  “A stroboscopic effect,” Dr. Miller contributed. “By synchronizing the rotation of the disc with the sixty cycle current, in theory you could produce any effect from full light to darkness.”

  “Just for an experiment,” Hartson Brant suggested, “Let’s all look at this lamp and blink our eyes just as fast as we can.” After a moment he said, “I’m sure you all saw a slow version of the shimmer. If we could blink fast enough, we would come close to duplicating last night’s effect. Enough speed is easy to get in front of a light, either with a rotating disc or a fast shutter. Was your spotlight manned?”

  David answered. “No. We use fixed spots controlled from the light panel backstage. It’s done very smoothly and the audience doesn’t seem to notice that the spot doesn’t move. Except for the footlights, all the spots are where the ceiling drops in front of the stage.”

  “Can the lights be reached easily?” Scotty asked.

  David shook his head. “We had to rent a special ladder to get up there.”

  “Then let’s s
um up this part,” Rick said. “Somewhere close to the stage is some kind of control panel that can override the one backstage. In some fashion, discs or shutters were brought into play to create the shimmer. To make the switch, whoever was in control had to be able to see the stage clearly. That whoever has to be somewhere, and that means secret rooms or passages. Also, the places from which stage action could be controlled are pretty limited, eitherto high overhead or around the lights at the front of the ceiling. Anyone want to add anything?”

  “You’ve summed it up well,” Derek agreed, and the others echoed him. “Believe me, as soon as we get through the next three shows, which will bring us to Monday, we’ll go over that house like ants at a picnic.”

  “And we’ll find whoever is communicating with Jan,” Karen added.

  Jan wrinkled her nose at Rick. “I didn’t expect you to find the answer in a day, even if my dad joked that he did. But you’ll find it. Have you any idea how to take it from here?

  “Yes. Scotty and I have some work to do.”

  Scotty groaned. “On a full stomach?”

  “You can do it sitting down. Listen, everyone, please.”

  The group was getting up, preparing to go on to other activities or perhaps a post-dinner nap.

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  Rick was serious. “We’ve got a real problem. I say we, because those of us at Spindrift have taken a hand. First, we can’t be sure the presences are friendly. I know Jan feels good about one, but there’s that other one, the vicious thing. And I was thinking about it, and I remembered that, in nature, there are many predatorswho lure or charm their victims, even plants that smell and taste good to trap insects. So I’m saying that we take nothing for granted.”

  “Good thinking,” Dr. Miller murmured.

  “Also, the Camerons can’t be sure from now on that some joker isn’t going to override their controls, and I’m suggesting that they take extra precautions.”

  “You can be sure we will,” Derek said positively.

  “The most important thing,” Rick finished, “is to somehow get to the bottom of this-without anyone getting hurt!”

  CHAPTER VI

  A Secret Talent

  The Camerons prepared to leave with obvious reluctance. “We got ready this morning,” Karen sighed,

  “but there are a lot of last-minute details, including makeup. We really have to go.”

  “Will you try the levitation act again tonight?” Scotty asked anxiously.

  “No way!”Derek shook his head. “We can’t afford any bits which could be over-ridden. We’re substituting a finish where we have complete control.”

  “That’s safest,” Jan agreed. “Anyway, Barby and I will bring you luck tonight. We feel lucky.”

  “We’ll bring the girls to the landing after the show,” David promised. “Of course you boys are welcome, too.”

  “I invited myself,” Jan said with more than a trace of defiance.

  Rick knew the defiance was directed at him, because his face must have shown he didn’t like the idea of the girls going to the Mirella estate without Scotty and him.

  “I don’t like it,” Scotty said bluntly.

  Barby suggested, “How about this? You two go do whatever you’re planning, then join us. What are you going to do?”

  “Jerry’s getting out the paper while Duke Barrows is taking the weekend off, so we know he’ll be at the Record. We’re going to see what the paper has about the estate in the files.”

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  “How long will it take?”

  Rick shrugged.“Maybe an hour, maybe less. It depends on how much there is in the Record morgue.”

  “The timing would be all right,” Scotty agreed. “But let’s be sure of one thing. You will not wander around the house, and you will stay with Karen and the twins. Do you promise?”

  Jan nodded, and Barby said, “We do. Of course we can’t be with them on the stage.”

  “No.” Derek agreed, “But you can be down front where we can keep an eye on you. The boys are right. Until this is settled, none of us should be alone in the house.”

  Within a short time the group was at Whiteside Landing. The Camerons and the girls headed north to the estate, while Rick and Scotty went into Whiteside to the Morning Record office. Jerry Webster, one of their closest friends, opened the door at their knock.

  “Going to spend Thanksgiving night with a poor but honest working man, hey? What’s up?”

  “We want some dope on the old Mirella place,” Scotty told him. “You know the Camerons are friends of mine from Marine Corps days. They’d like to know more about the place they leased, so we promised to look it up, if you’ll let us.”

  The reporter polished his glasses thoughtfully. “So you decide to do it on Thanksgiving night when you’re full of turkey and trimmings and would like nothing better than a long nap. Better think up a better one than that, Scotty.”

  “Better, better,” Rick said, grinning. “Seriously, some odd things have been happening. We want to see if there’s anything in the history of the place that might help explain them. Tell him, Scotty. I’ll start on the files.”

  Scotty filled Jerry in, then joined Rick as the reporter went back to work on the next morning’s slim edition. It took almost as long as Rick had estimated, then the three gathered at a table to examine what Rick and Scotty had found.

  Rick summed up. “The Mirella place was built by a man named Anthony Wayland forty-one years ago.

  He was a bachelor with only two known relatives, a sister and her son. He entertained a lot.Big, lavish parties. His guests were mostlyNew York people, not many locals. Then Wayland vanished from the scene, and we have no explanation in these clips.”

  “But there’s more,” Scotty said. “About four years ago-we don’t know how long after Wayland disappeared—the estate got tied up in litigation. It was claimed by Wayland’s nephew, Carl Cleary, the son of his only sister, who had died some time before. A second claim was filed by the nephew’s wife on the grounds that she was married to him when the original claim was made. Apparently they’ve been fighting in court ever since. Not much, is it? Also, there’s nothing about why it’s called the Mirella estate when a man named Wayland built it.”

  “Funny there’s nothing in the files about Wayland dropping out,” Rick said.

  Jerry shook his head. “Not necessarily. It may have happened somewhere else, whatever it was, and the news never got to us. We only get clips from a few papers, and if it didn’t appear in those, we wouldn’t Page 37

  have it.”

  Rick held up a clipping. “Here’s the most recent item from aNewark paper. The People’s Bank, as trustee for the estate-it was named by the court-put the property up for commercial lease to pay taxes.”

  “How can we get more dope?” Scotty asked.

  “Call the bank,” Jerry suggested.

  “Good idea,” Rick agreed. “Only I wish we could get the information without waiting until tomorrow.

  The manager of the trust department is quoted in the clip...here it is. John O. Barnett.”

  Jerry motioned to the shelf. “Newark bank,Newark directory.”

  Scotty jumped to it and began the search. Finally, he found the listing in aNewark suburb.“Got it.

  Ready?”

  Rick picked up the phone and dialed as Scotty read off the number. Three rings and a woman answered. Rick asked for Mr. Bamett . When the trust manager got on the phone, Rick told him it was the Whiteside Morning Record calling. “I’m sorry to trouble you at home, sir, but you may be able to help us with some information for the morning edition.”

  “Glad to answer your questions. What do you want to know?”

  “We have nothing in our files about Mr. Anthony Wayland, the builder of the Mirella estate that you’ve just leased. What can you tell us?”

  Jotting down notes, Rick listened, asking an occasional question. His excitement grew.Jerry and Scotty, sensing that he had something important, moved in
close. When the manager finished, Rick asked, “Sir, are you certain about his death?”

  “Quite. When we took over the estate on the court’s order, Mr. Wayland was alive. When he died, the court sent us a copy of the death certificate.”

  “That seems pretty definite. One more question, please. Can you tell us why the place is called the Mirella estate? ....Thank you very much, Mr. Bamett .”

  He hung up and turned to his friends, grinning widely. “Listen to this and start making your own notes, Jerry. There’s a story, all right. First, he knew nothing about the name, so we drew blank on that one.”

  Rick consulted his notes, not that he was apt to forget! “Anthony Wayland went insane about five years ago and was sent to a mental institution in upstateNew York . His nephew signed the commitment papers, and Wayland’s own psychiatrist testified against him and said he was a menace to society.

  Wayland died in the sanitarium about six months ago, so the nephew has started all over again in probate court. This time he’ll probably win with no trouble.”

  Rick laughed with delight. “Hold on to your hats. Wayland made his money as an entertainer. He was nationally famous-as Mysto, Master of Illusion. The Marvelous Mysto, greater even than Blackstone or Thurston, the greatest of them all. No wonder the stage was equipped!”

  The boys watched the closing act from the rear of the Phantom Caravan room. Derek placed Karen in a Page 38

  large, completely transparent plastic box mounted on an open platform so everything was visible. He threw a silken blanket over the box and immediately pulled it away. Karen was gone! Pausing only for applause, he tossed the blanket over the box once more, then pulled it away. Tom, the Mongol, rose from the box and bowed, to thunderous applause. Derek threw the silken blanket down on the floor, pulled the pistol from his pocket, and fired at it. The blanket rose and Karen stepped out of the folds.

  Rick watched, mouth agape. There was no place Karen could have gone from the box and no place Tom could have come from. The whole thing was impossible. Except that it had happened.A really terrific illusion with only seconds between the steps.