The Mystery of the Tiger's Eye (6 page)

“Yes, operator, I'll accept the call,” they heard him say. “Mom? I'm fine… Yeah, all my stuff is at that dumb school… I don't know who my teachers will be… I don't really care.”

Then his voice became muffled; he had shut the door.

“He doesn't sound very happy,” Jessie remarked.

Violet agreed. “I don't think Dorsey wants to go to that school, even though he tells us he can't wait.”

“But if he wants to stay, why does he act so anxious to leave?” Henry asked.

Violet didn't answer. The postcards had suddenly reminded her of the photograph of Harry Houdini she had found in the attic. She remembered how strange the magician's eyes were… There was something else about that picture. What was it?

That evening at dinner, the large clock on the sideboard struck three.

“It's after six,” Grandfather said, checking his watch. “Better set that clock, Edward.”

“I did,” said Edward. “Just this morning. It's a good clock. It shouldn't keep losing time.”

As if the clock had a mind of its own, it chimed four. Melanie got up and stopped the pendulum. “I'll set it after we eat,” she said.

Tonight they had steak and baked potatoes. The table was set with orange glassware Edward said was called carnival glass. Dishes of that type often had been given away as prizes in games like bingo. A set of ruby glass salt and pepper shakers inscribed
1904 St. Louis World's Fair
stood by the steak platter.

“I'll go into town tomorrow and buy Houdini's cage,” Edward said.

“Get a nice big one,” Dorsey instructed.

Jessie wondered why he cared. He was only going to be living at Cliffwalk Manor a few more days.

Suddenly Benny pointed toward the meat platter and cried, “Look at that!”

Everyone stared in astonishment.

The ruby glass saltshaker was moving across the table!

“Somebody's jiggling the table,” Iona said with a frown. She gripped the edge of the table to steady it.

But the saltshaker hopped past the butter dish. No one was moving the table.

“It's magic,” Benny breathed.

“T
here must be a better explanation,” Henry declared, scooping up the saltshaker.

“Looks like magic to me!” Dorsey said.

Henry peered at the bottom of the saltshaker. “See that piece of steel glued to the bottom? I bet there's a magnet somewhere under the table.”

Violet bent down and examined the underside of the table. Then she held up a large flat magnet.

“This was on the ledge,” she said.

“Just as I thought,” said Henry. “Somebody moved the big magnet under the table with the saltshaker on top. Their hand would be hidden. No one would ever know what was going on.”

“Let me try.” Jessie placed the saltshaker on the table. Then she slid the big magnet directly underneath. The magnetized saltshaker jerked along as if it were walking.

“Clever,” Grandfather said.

“But it's not magic,” said Edward. “Houdini's ‘ghost' is going to have to try harder.”

“Who did it?” Benny asked.

No one admitted to the prank.

“This has been interesting, but I have to go home,” said Iona, rising.

“Come for breakfast tomorrow,” Edward invited. “You, too, Melanie. Who knows what entertainment we'll have with our scrambled eggs? Moving fortune-tellers, hopping saltshakers. Anything could happen.”

“Edward and I will take care of these,” Grandfather said, collecting the plates. “You young people run along.”

Dorsey promptly disappeared upstairs. Melanie followed, murmuring something about finishing some filing.

Alone in the dining room, the Alden children discussed the latest development.

“Well, we know how the saltshaker moved,” said Jessie. “But we don't know who did it. Whoever it was, was sitting right there!”

“What about the clock?” Violet said. “Do you think that's been rigged, too?”

“Only one way to find out.” Henry opened the glass door of the clock and stopped the pendulum. He felt around and finally pulled out a copper wire. “This probably makes the clock stop and start at weird times. No magic here, either.”

“Walking saltshakers and haunted clocks,” Jessie said. “Who could have done those things?”

“Dorsey likes to tinker with gadgets,” Violet mentioned. “He's always working on that radio.”

“Don't forget Iona,” Henry said. “Remember how she fixed her cash register?”

“What about Melanie?” asked Benny. “She got up at dinner to fix the clock.”

“Benny's right,” Jessie said. “We don't know much about her except that she works really hard at her job.”

“Why don't we talk to her?” Violet suggested. “She might still be here.”

They hurried upstairs to the second-floor workroom. Melanie was gone.

“I didn't hear her leave,” said Benny. “Her little blue car makes a lot of noise when she starts it.”

“She may be in the attic,” Jessie said.

The kids ran up to the fourth floor. In the attic, they found Melanie sifting through a box of letters and documents.

She stood up quickly when she saw the Aldens, shifting a big box in her arms.

“I thought I was through with these papers,” she said. “But then I discovered this box behind that old trunk.”

The box she was juggling on one knee was large and awkward-looking.

“Can we help you carry that downstairs?” Henry offered.

“No, it's okay —” she started to say. Then she changed her mind. “Yes, that would be nice. It's a little heavy.”

Henry took one end of the box and Benny took the other. Together, they carried the box to Melanie's workroom.

The kids hadn't been inside Melanie's workroom before. Boxes were stacked everywhere, spilling papers and items that had to be cataloged. Jessie noticed cardboard tubes, nylon fishing line, thumbtacks, and other things. Melanie wasn't a very neat person, considering she was supposed to be organizing Mr. Singleton's collections.

An old-fashioned typewriter sat on a walnut desk. Bookshelves filled with index boxes lined one wall. Each index box had a label on the front, like “World's Fair Architecture” or “Glass Giveaways.”

Melanie explained her filing system. “Each one of those bookcases represents a different exposition or world's fair.”

Henry noticed a roll of blank cards in the typewriter. Melanie must have been typing labels when she decided to go into the attic. He could just make out the label in the typewriter, which read,
Illinois, State Fairs.
The
l
's were wiggly, possibly because the typewriter was old.

“Looks like a lot of work,” Jessie said, commenting on the filing system.

“It is,” Melanie agreed. She glanced at the clock. “I don't think I'll do any more tonight. I should go home and feed my cat.”

She put on her jacket and slipped her black leather backpack over one shoulder, then lingered in the doorway.

“I feel like I've forgotten something,” she said. “Oh, well. Guess it's not important.”

The Aldens walked her downstairs.

“Bye,” said Benny. “See you tomorrow.” He waved as she went out the front door. “She acted kind of funny.”

“Yes, she did,” Jessie agreed. “Like she was in a big hurry all of a sudden.”

“Maybe there's something in the attic she didn't want us to see,” said Henry. “Let's go back and check.”

Upstairs once more, they went into the room where they had found Melanie. A flashlight lay on top of the trunk.

“This is where she said the box was,” Jessie said, following Melanie's dusty shoe prints. “Wait a minute.”

“What is it?” asked Violet.

Jessie rocked back and forth. “This floorboard is loose.” Then she got down on her hands and knees. “See those marks in the dust? Looks like Melanie was trying to pry up the floorboard.”

Violet put her small fingers between the boards. “I can lift it right out! I bet Melanie found the board the same way you did, but her fingers were too big to lift it.”

The floorboard came up easily, revealing a dark space beneath.

Henry grabbed the flashlight and clicked it on.

“What do you think you're doing?” said a sharp voice behind them.

Startled, the children jumped up.

Dorsey stood in the doorway. “I said, what do you think you're doing up here? Does my uncle know you're prowling around his house?”

Violet wondered why he was so defensive. Had he followed them into the attic? If Dorsey was pulling the pranks, he would be suspicious, especially if they were getting close to the truth.

“Melanie was up here a little while ago,” Jessie replied. “She found a box of papers. We thought there might be more boxes. And then we found this loose floorboard.”

“Is there anything in there?” Dorsey asked, curious.

There was.

While Henry shone the light, Benny reached down and pulled out a wooden cigar box. He blew the dust off the lid.

The children gathered around as Benny opened the box.

“Just some old papers,” he said, disappointed. He was hoping for a diamond necklace or gold coins, at the very least.

“Melanie will probably want to file these with the rest of the papers she has,” Violet said, riffling through the yellowed documents. “We should take this box down to her work —”

She stopped. One sheet in particular caught her eye.

It was a note, handwritten in graceful script.

“What is it?” asked Henry.

Violet pulled the paper out and read it aloud. “ ‘Please accept this imported cabinet as a gift to the people of Heron's Bay. Also, the hand-carved tiger, which came from the home of an Indian prince. I hope these gifts make up for my rude behavior at the Singleton Reception.' ”

“Is that all it says?” Dorsey asked.

“No, there's something written at the bottom,” Violet said. “ ‘P.S. Remember, there is more than meets the eye.' ”

“What does that mean?” Jessie wondered. She stared at her sister. “Violet, what's wrong?”

Violet's hands shook as she pointed at the signature beneath the last line.

“It's signed by
Harry Houdini
,” she said, awestruck.

“W
hat a find!” Jessie exclaimed. “With this clue, we know that Harry Houdini was really in this house the night of the party. He even says so.”

“And he didn't leave anything behind,” Henry pointed out. “He
sent
something — the cabinet and the wooden tiger.”

“Strange presents, for an apology,” Violet remarked. “I mean, most people would send flowers or something like that. Not a big piece of furniture.”

“I guess Harry Houdini wasn't like most people,” Dorsey said. “That's why he was so famous. But what did he mean by that last part? ‘There is more than meets the eye'?”

“I don't know,” said Jessie. “Maybe it's another clue.”

“We should read more about him,” Benny suggested. “Where's that book from Mr. Singleton's library?”

“It's in our room,” Violet said, leading the way downstairs.

But the book wasn't on the nightstand where she had left it.

“I put it right here,” she insisted, looking behind the nightstand and on the floor. “The photograph of Harry Houdini was inside it. Where can it be?”

“Somebody took it!” Benny declared. “I bet it was Harry Houdini's ghost!”

“Benny, we know the tricks are done mechanically, not magically. Remember the magnet moving the saltshaker?” Jessie said sensibly. “Someone probably decided to borrow the book without telling us.”

“I know I saw the book the day we went to Heron's Bay,” Violet said, thinking back. “But it could have disappeared later. We've been out a lot, like today when we went on the picnic.”

“Anybody could have taken that book,” Henry said.

Even Dorsey,
he thought. Dorsey had stayed behind the day they went into town, along with Melanie. One of them could have taken it then.

But Dorsey looked as perplexed as the others. If he had stolen the book and the photograph, he was a pretty good actor.

Just then Grandfather came upstairs. “You all are still up? It's pretty late.”

“We were just going to bed,” Jessie told him. When he left, she turned to the others. “We'll show Mr. Singleton this note in the morning.”

Iona and Melanie would be at breakfast, she knew. She wanted to see their faces when the note was revealed.

“Two more days,” Dorsey sighed as they walked downstairs. “Only two more days in this crazy house.”

Jessie realized that they would be leaving soon, too.
If only Harry Houdini would reveal his secret,
she thought.