Infinity Clue Part 9

"And I am Jeremiah Stone," the driver answered. He chucked the reins and his horse started slowly down the road. "We have few strangers come to our island. May I ask what brings thee here?"

"We're looking for some men who might be here," said Joe. "They would also be strangers, possibly posing as oystermen."

Jeremiah Stone looked questioningly at his pa.s.sengers. "Would these men be friends of thine?"

"Not at all," Frank said quickly. "We have reason to believe they're part of a dangerous gang of terrorists."

The driver frowned. "Mainlanders always bring trouble with them. Yes, I have read about terrorists in the newspapers. Methinks the world is now a very sinful place indeed."

"Is that why you speak early English and drive a horse and buggy instead of a car, to escape the modern world?" Frank queried with a hint of challenge in his voice.

Jeremiah Stone's voice rose in reply. "Ye think our community backward and stupid? We want no part of thine evil world. We choose to live here in peace as did our forefathers. But still trouble comes.

Terrorists! I hope thee finds thy terrorists and begone."

"If you help us, we will be gone soon," Frank said calmly. "Have any other strangers been here recently that you know of?"

The man's disposition softened. "It is true there is a newcomer. He too, like all mainlanders, is unfriendly and G.o.dless. He hides in his cottage, does not attend church, not even on the Sabbath. Some of us have tried to befriend him, but he will not be swayed."

"Can you take us to him?" Joe asked.

"If thou wisheth," Jeremiah responded.

Turning a corner in the dirt road, the boys found themselves entering a small community. Old Victorian houses, decorated with gingerbread latticework, cl.u.s.tered about a wooden church. White picket fences lined the unpaved street. Women wearing calico dresses and carrying parasols strolled by. Men wore clothing similar to Jeremiah's. They watched the young visitors with curiosity, tipping their hats at the buggy.

"Most of the tombstones in the graveyard have the names Stone or Levenston on them," Frank remarked. "Are the people living here direct descendants of those original settlers?"

"Many are indeed," Jeremiah answered. "Jacob F. Stone is my great-great-great-grandfather's grandfather, and most of those thou seest are related to either him or Samuel Levenston."

"Isn't there danger of too much inbreeding?" Joe asked.

"The church sees to it that we are in no such danger," Jeremiah answered defensively. "We have been careful to bring new blood to our community by marrying outsiders. But the newcomers must choose to live according to our heritage."

As the man spoke, he used less and less of the old English. It became clear that the church played a very strong role in the survival of the island community, and that the English they spoke was more the result of following the language in the Bible than it was of carrying it on from previous generations. This made the sleuths wonder all the more about the meaning of the signals that might well have come from the church steeple.

Jeremiah stopped in front of a cottage at the edge of town. The lawn was overgrown with weeds, and a television antenna stood on the roof.

"The newcomer lives here," Jeremiah announced. "He hides away and watches television, an evil machine which we who live here shun. His name is Jonathan Welsh."

Frank and Joe noted that none of the other houses had antennas.

"Why did he come here if not to share your way of life?" Frank wondered aloud.

"I do not know his reasons. He just arrived one day with his pockets overflowing with money and bought the house. Many of us did not want him here, but we needed money for supplies from the mainland. Now methinks it was a grave mistake."

The two sleuths went to the front door of the cottage and knocked, but no one answered. The sound of a radio or television was faintly audible. They knocked again without success, then Frank yelled Mr.

Welsh's name through the closed door.

"Let's get out of here," Joe urged, afraid that the man in the cottage might be concocting an unpleasant surprise for the young detectives. "That might be the Rabbit in there, or worse."

"I thought of that," Frank said. "But I doubt he would want to blow a cover he went to such lengths to make just to get rid of us. I suggest we ask Jeremiah to see if he can lure him out. He may have more luck."

Jeremiah agreed to try convincing the cottage's occupant to open up. Frank and Joe hid in some nearby bushes where they could see the front door clearly. In a couple of minutes, Jeremiah had talked the new island resident into opening the door just wide enough to stick his head out.

"Well, he's not the Rabbit," Frank whispered. "But he still could be part of the gang."

Joe stared intently at the face in the door. Then he snapped his fingers. "That man is Arthur Rutlidge!

Remember that picture of him hanging on the wall of his estate?"

"Yes!" Frank exclaimed under his breath. "So he's not dead at all. That whole boating accident was a fake!"

Both boys sprang from the bushes and ran toward the cottage. Seeing them coming, Rutlidge slammed the door.

"Mr. Rutlidge!" Joe yelled through the door. "We know it's you in there. Whatever you're afraid of, we have nothing to do with it."

After a short pause, the wealthy horse breeder spoke from behind the door. "Who sent you here?"

"We weren't sent by anyone," Frank answered.

"Then how do you know who I am?"

Frank explained that the diamond Rutlidge had willed to the museum had been stolen, and that they had come across Rutlidge's photo during their investigation of the theft. "We also believe your trainer, Max, was involved in throwing those races," Frank added, hoping the information would inspire Rutlidge to let them in.

The horse breeder opened the door. "Come in," he said anxiously, motioning to Jeremiah and the Hardys.

Once they were inside, Arthur Rutlidge quickly shut the door. He took Jeremiah aside and spoke in a threatening whisper, making him promise not to mention what he had overheard to anyone. The island resident nodded and departed.

Arthur Rutlidge turned toward Frank and Joe. "What's this about my diamond being stolen? And how did you find me here? What do you want?"

"First tell us why you faked that boating accident and went into hiding," Frank replied directly. "Did it have something to do with the Faith diamond?"

Rutlidge looked nervous. He had lost weight since his picture with the horse had been taken. He also appeared tired and worn, like a hunted man who couldn't sleep at night. "I had to do it," he said slowly.

"My life was threatened because of the diamond."

"So you changed your will and pretended to have the boating accident," Frank put in.

"That's correct. My sister, Meg, was to have the gem. But to protect her and the diamond, I willed it to the Smithsonian, where I thought it would be safe until I came from hiding and could reclaim it. I had suspected that the races were purposely thrown. Once people thought I was dead, I hoped the culprit would expose himself by being careless."

"We think he did," Frank said, and explained how Max had probably used the dog whistle when he had taken the boys riding. "As soon as we realized your trainer blew the whistle to throw our horses, the rest fell into place."

Rutlidge nodded. "So that's how it was done." Then his expression changed and he looked keenly at his guests. "Still, I would like to know how you tracked me here."

"There was a team of geologists in the museum the day the diamond was stolen," Joe said, watching the horse breeder for his reaction. "In following them for other reasons, we stumbled on you. Quite a coincidence, don't you agree?"

Frank took up the questioning. "Maybe you aren't telling us all you know."

Rutlidge flinched, then regained his composure. "I can't tell you any more than I already have." He sat up, having heard something on the television in the next room. "Come with me."

The brothers followed Rutlidge to the den. A horserace was being broadcast over the set.

"One of my horses is in this race. Number seven, Faith," he said as they sat down.

"The one you named after the diamond to disprove the curse," Joe observed.

"Yes. Since I am not dead, the gem actually still belongs to me and not the Smithsonian. When I come out from hiding, it will be clear that the stone's powers are a hoax, that it belonged to me all along, and that my horse ran well in spite of it."

"Providing Faith does run well," Frank cautioned. "And providing-the diamond is recovered."

The race began. Faith had a slow start and was several lengths behind the leaders as they came into the initial turn. By the time the horses were halfway down the first stretch, however, Faith had moved up into the pack and was gaining slowly. Rutlidge clenched his fist, urging his horse on as she rounded the far turn and broke outside to challenge the leader. The finish was neck to neck, with Faith taking it by a nose!

Rutlidge shot out of his seat and clapped his hands. "Just wait till they find out I'm still alive! They'll eat their words about that diamond causing my horses to lose. I'll get Max and Jensen behind bars before they know what hit them!"

Frank jumped up from his chair. "Did you say Jensen?" he exclaimed in surprise.

CHAPTER XIV.

The Swarm Rutlidge blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. "I . . . I've told you enough already,"

he murmured at last. "For your own good, drop this investigation right now. It isn't safe here!"

"Is Wayne Jensen behind all this?" the older Hardy brother persisted. "Did he try to force you into selling the stone by purposely bringing on your misfortune?"

"I think you boys ought to leave," the horse breeder said sharply. Then he sank wearily back in his chair.

"Go back home."

Seeing they would get no further with the frightened man, Frank and Joe left.

"He sure is worried about something," Joe said as they walked down the dirt road toward the church.

"Being cooped up like that can drive a guy nuts after a while," Frank said. "But it makes me wonder whether the Rabbit has more targets than just us."

Arriving at the Chapel Island church, the brothers found the minister and questioned him about recent visits from strangers. If the flashing signals had come from the steeple belfry, he might have seen something.

The aging cleric's mouth bent down at the corners. " 'Tis an interesting thing thou asks, for a man who is a stranger to mine eyes has of late joined our evening services. A crude man he is, but I be pleased that he came amongst us to find peace with G.o.d. I only hope it is not too late," the minister added, shaking his head. "Doest thou know this man?"

"His name wouldn't be Jonathan Welsh, would it?" Frank asked, referring to the name Rutlidge had used to conceal his ident.i.ty.

The minister shook his head. "No. I have visited Mr. Welsh. He is a good man. I can see that quite easily. But he is deathly afraid of something he will not speak of."

"Too afraid even to go to church?" Joe questioned.

"Afraid even to leave his cottage," the minister answered. "Do you boys know something of his troubles?"

"Yes," Frank told him. "And whoever the stranger is who attends your evening services may be part of the problem. Do you have any idea where he lives?"

The minister told them the man had come from Mosquito Island, a low and marshy place that was inhabited only by oystermen during the cooler months of the year, when oysters were in season.

"I was surprised anyone would be there in the summer months," the cleric continued. "The little island swarms with mosquitoes. A soul could be gobbled up by the devilish creatures. One hardly can believe they are G.o.d's creation."

Thanking the minister for his help, the brothers left the old church. They followed the dirt road to their skiff, which was still tied to the branch where they had left it.

"I envy those people in a way," Joe commented as he got the outboard motor running and propelled the boat away from the island. "No worries about the modern world with all its problems."

"Don't kid yourself." Frank chuckled. "There were plenty of troubles a hundred years ago, too. Now we just have different kinds."

Following the sh.o.r.e, the boys rounded Chapel Island. On the far side, another island appeared, lower and smaller than the one they had just visited.

"That must be Mosquito Island," said Joe, angling the craft away from sh.o.r.e.

"And there's the oyster boat!" Frank cried.

The same boat that had delivered the cylinders to the geologists emerged from a winding channel leading into the island. Joe throttled the outboard and sped off in the direction of the boat. The men aboard were looking out into the bay, away from the skiff, and the boys approached the oyster boat from the rear.

Once the skiff was within fifty feet of the slow-moving craft, Joe gave it full throttle.

"Let's see their reaction when we pa.s.s them," he said. "Maybe it'll give us some clue as to what they're up to now."

When they heard the outboard, the phony oystermen looked back. Suddenly, they swung-their boat hard to the left.

"Hold on!" Joe shouted to his brother as he turned the skiff abruptly to avoid hitting the boat broadside.

SMACK!!.

The skiff swiped the side of the larger vessel. Both boys were thrown overboard as it flipped from the impact. By the time they had gathered their senses, they were in the water and the oyster boat was on its way across the bay.

Both Hardys were excellent swimmers. They made it back to the overturned skiff, then maneuvered it toward the nearby island by paddling and kicking.

"That wasn't the best idea we've had all day," Frank said wryly as they pushed the skiff up on a sandy beach.

"There wasn't much time to think of a better plan," his brother answered. "I just hope I can get this motor to work. It took in a lot of water."

Frank gazed beyond the beach. Mosquito Island seemed nothing more than scrubby bushes-and marsh.

Yet, the oyster boat had come from a marked channel. Somewhere up that channel had to be a landing.

"I'm going to do some exploring," the dark-haired boy announced.

While Joe tried to clear the bay water from the outboard's fuel line, Frank worked his way inland, hoping to find the oystermen's base of operation. Within a few minutes, however, he came bounding back through the marsh at a full clip, waving wildly at the air around him, "What happened?" Joe cried in alarm.