Margaret Sutton

“ What would a diamond be doing in an old deserted fountain?”
“It could be a piece of ice,” Lorraine ventured.
“A frozen tear, perhaps,” Lois put in whimsically. “Maybe the tear you shed, Lorraine, turned into a diamond. Maybe there are more diamonds in the pool. Maybe we’ll walk home with our hands full—”
“We’ll walk home dripping wet if we aren’t careful! The fountain is beginning to bubble!” cried Lorraine as she seized her friend’s hand and pulled her away from the water. Judy stood spellbound watching the transformation as if a miracle had taken place. Finally Lois expressed the obvious. ”

“ Lorraine retorted quickly.
“Maybe you should,” Judy began. “Peter and I do occasionally. Dad says it’s good for us. He says it clears the air, and we do love each other all the more after we make up. If you’d tell Arthur about this problem—”
“Please,” Lorraine stopped her. “Can’t you see the way it is? If I could tell him or anyone else about it, then it wouldn’t be a problem. I just want to believe in things the way I did when I was a little girl. I mean impossible things like wishes coming true.” ”

“ Helen Brandt had an idea.
“Why not have the celebration just before Judy and Peter leave for New York? We can have it in that room under the fountain. We’ll open it up and make a playroom and set up a Christmas tree.”
“Not there,” Judy objected. “I’d love to have a party at your house, Helen, and make another wish in the fountain. I’ll think of how I felt when I thought Horace was drowned, and the tears will come easy. But please, not in the tunnel. There are real ghosts down there. The fountain will always be haunted—”
“Objection!” shouted Peter. “Enchanted is the word you want. ”

“ But how are you, Lorraine? You were so frightened the last time I saw you.”
“I’m still frightened. Oh, Judy! Judy!” cried Lorraine. “How can I ever explain things to Arthur?”
“What is there to explain?” he asked coldly. “Peter has given me all the facts.”
“I don’t mean facts!” Lorraine cried. “You see, Judy, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want to listen when I try to tell him. He says he’s heard enough about that terrible gangster. ”

“ Judy laughed, as Horace mopped up the egg, “he isn’t calling names the way he usually does.”
“No?” asked Horace.
The egg incident had started the parrot off. Now he was sidling from one end of his perch to the other and screeching, “Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!”
This was by no means the only word in the parrot’s vocabulary, but it was the one he most frequently used. It made Judy think of Lorraine’s wish.
“She wished she could trust Arthur, and then she asked me if I could trust Peter if I believed he was a cheat. What do you think she meant by that?”
“Cheat! Cheat!” shrieked the parrot. ”

“ How do we know those men aren’t criminals hiding out here while the Brandts are away?” asked Lois.
“Roger Banning isn’t a criminal,” Lorraine objected.
“His pal, Dick Hartwell, was. Remember?”
“Wasn’t there something in the paper about him being out on parole?” asked Lorraine. “I don’t think we should label him a criminal if he is. Probably he has a good job and is no more inclined toward crime than we are. After all, we are trespassing.”
“I don’t care if we are,” Lois said recklessly as they trudged on. ”

“ The picture was all about a man with a criminal record. It made Judy think of Dick Hartwell. Honey said she had liked him, too.
“My trouble is, I like everybody,” she confessed. “Besides, I have a little theory of my own that people have to make mistakes in order to do better. I know I did.”
“I believe in that, too,” declared Judy, “and so does Peter. He doesn’t think a single conviction should brand a man as a criminal. I certainly had a better opinion of Dick Hartwell than I do of Roger Banning. He and that Cubby, as he calls him, are up to no good. ”

“ Horace added. “By the way, sis, are you sure he is Blackberry?”
“Of course I’m sure,” replied Judy, tilting the cat’s head to show her brother the proof. “No other black cat has the same tiny white hairs that look as if someone had spilled milk on his nose. They’re on his feet, too. When I first saw him I said they made him look like a blackberry dipped in sugar, and Peter agreed that Blackberry was a perfect name for him.” ”

“ She stood for a moment listening and then walked on, growing more puzzled by the minute. Lois and Lorraine followed. It was a strange walk. Everything was familiar and yet oddly different. Not a sound could be heard except the crunch of their own footsteps along the path toward the fountain.
“Where is it?” Lorraine whispered. “It was here.”
“Yes, it was,” agreed Lois, “but that was in the summer. It’s winter now. Maybe they turned it off for fear the pipes would freeze or something.” ”

“ Horace protested. “Can’t you see how impossible it is? There’s no way out of here except through the water, and the force of it would knock us unconscious.”
“Then we’ll all ... drown,” the imprisoned man gasped and fell back on the cot as if he wished it would soon be over.
“We won’t drown if I can help it,” declared Judy. “We’ll haunt the fountain ourselves. We’ll yell until somebody comes and shuts it off!”
“It won’t work,” Horace predicted. “Nobody will hear us except those thugs, and they’ll just laugh and let us drown.”
“Blackberry’s out there. He may hear us.” ”

“ Maybe he is a thief. Maybe he was hurt trying to escape from the police—or Peter.” This thought alarmed Judy. “You know, Horace,” she went on more urgently, “he does have to shoot at people sometimes. To make them halt, I mean. If he wounded this man—but he couldn’t have done it! It isn’t like Peter at all. Oh dear! I’m all mixed up. If I help this prisoner escape I won’t be helping Peter, will I? Why do I get into these dreadful situations?”
“It’s your instinct to help people,” Horace told her with what sounded like real sympathy. ”

“ Peter was not stout. Neither was Horace and, anyway, Horace could hardly be running past the tower toward the fountain. If he were running at all he would be running away from it to get help.
“It must be someone coming to help him,” Judy decided.
She would not let herself believe it was Cubby or any other member of Falco’s gang. They had been cruel to Dick Hartwell. Horace could expect no mercy from them. In her thoughts Judy could hear what they had said to each other all over again. Edith Cubberling’s threat to quit the gang meant nothing unless she could take the treasure with her. ”

“ The Secret of the Fountain Judy was home at last. The cast would soon be removed from her foot and she would be ready for the next exciting chapter in a life that had, so far, been a series of problems and solutions.
Blackberry was curled contentedly in Judy’s lap unconscious of the fact that the collar he wore was now decorated with a life-saving medal.
“A cat is good publicity,” the editor, Mr. Lee, had told Horace. “The public gets tired of dog stories. But a cat—well, that’s different. When a cat saves a life that’s really news.”
The life he was talking about was the life of Dick Hartwell. ”

“ The Haunted Fountain
CHAPTER I
An Unsolved Mystery “Tell Judy about it,” begged Lois. “Please, Lorraine, it can’t be as bad as it appears. There isn’t anything that Judy can’t solve.”
Lorraine tilted her head disdainfully. “We’re sisters now. We’re both Farringdon-Petts and should be loyal to each other. But you always did take Judy’s part. She was the one who nearly spoiled our double wedding trying to solve a mystery. I don’t believe she’d understand—understand any better than I do. Everyone has problems, and I’m sure Judy is no exception.” ”

“ I want to die.”
“Well, I don’t,” declared Judy, “and I don’t want you to die, either, Dick Hartwell. You’re young. You have a good life ahead of you—”
“Not now,” he interrupted. “Not ... any more.”
“You do if you go straight. But first we have to get you away from this man, Falco,” Judy told him. “He’s the dark man, isn’t he? He warned me to keep away from here, but I’m not afraid of him. Peter won’t let him hurt me. You remember Peter Dobbs, don’t you?” ”

“ Judy finished. “I think we ought to yell, anyway, don’t you?”
Horace needed no urging. He waited until Judy was standing behind the cupids with the waterfall all around her. Then, while she called, “Help! Help! Help!” from her high perch, he joined in from below. They both shouted and called until they were hoarse, but nobody answered.
“Is it because nobody hears us or because nobody cares?” Judy wondered.
Then, suddenly, she remembered what her grandmother had once told her. “There’s always Someone who cares.” ”

“ Lorraine objected. “Couldn’t we throw in a coin or something?”
“People toss coins in wishing wells. Shall we try it?” asked Lois.
“Come on over and try it if you think it will do any good,” Judy invited them.
“It does seem a shame to throw perfectly good money away. Would a penny do?” Lois asked after she had helped Lorraine across. “I suppose you have to feel enchanted.”
“I did.” Judy stopped and listened. “Do you hear anything? Maybe the voice will still speak to us if we’re perfectly quiet.”
“Out of a dry fountain? Oh, Judy!” Lorraine cried. ”

“ Judy had been afraid to say what she was thinking.
“Unless someone really is trying to drown us. If the fountain is controlled from the tower, that dark man who warned me to keep away from here might be the one who turned it on. If he saw us he knows we suspect something.”
“It’s news, too,” lamented Horace, “but now it’s too late for today’s paper. It’ll be in tomorrow, though. You’ll see!”
“By tomorrow we’ll know a lot more than we do today,” Judy encouraged him. “We’ll know who that prisoner is, and why he’s down here. Horace, do you think he really is Dick Hartwell? ”

“ Judy and Horace looked at each other in the dimming light from her flash.
“We couldn’t do that, could we, sis?”
“No,” she replied. “It’s Dad’s business to save lives, and so I guess it’s our business to get Dick to him. We’ll be back.”
The water swirling about them became warmer as they neared the furnace. They heard it sizzle against the hot iron. Before long there would be neither light nor heat in the tunnel. The water would rise to the level of the open grate and put out the fire. The batteries in their flashlights would wear out. Horace had left his with Dick Hartwell. ”

“ Judy said fondly, “Blackberry thinks he’s a person. He eats everything we eat, including lettuce. Do you mind if he comes with us, Lorraine? He wants to explore the attic, too.”
“He’ll remember he’s a cat fast enough if there are any mice up there,” Lois said with a giggle.
Leaving the table, they all started upstairs with the cat bounding ahead of them. In modernizing her grandparents’ house to suit her own and Peter’s tastes, Judy had seen to it that the old stair door was removed. But there was still a door closing off the narrower stairs that led to the attic. ”

“ Judy peered into a cave behind the cupids, trying to see what was there.
“What have you found?” called Lois, seeing something in Judy’s hand.
“A sprinkler, I guess. There’s a cave that seems to go down underneath the fountain. I can’t see anything in it but rusty pipes. Could the spirit voice have come from there?”
“It seems logical, doesn’t it?”
“You sound like Peter,” laughed Judy. “There’s nothing logical about a spirit that lives in a fountain. I’m a little disappointed that it’s all so ordinary, now. Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
“Let’s go then,” Lorraine suggested. ”

“ That criminal usually followed the pattern of his hero, the original gang leader. And so crime spread, like a bad weed in a garden. That was the way Peter explained it. How Judy wished he were here to explain things now!
“Horace,” she said suddenly, “you can’t breathe a word of this story until we’ve talked it over with Peter and his office has released it. If that man is Dick Hartwell, he was in a Federal penitentiary. He forged his father’s signature to a government bond.” ”

“ When they were nearly to the main highway Lois laughed and said, “If they think they’ve scared us away they’re greatly mistaken. I’ll hide the car the way Lorraine suggested. It wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
Judy helped her find a secluded place just beyond the entrance to the estate. Apparently people had picnicked there in the summertime. A big evergreen tree with branches dipping to the ground hid the car from view while the girls planned their next strategy.
“We’ll find that fountain if it’s the last thing we do,” declared Judy. “The idea of telling us it doesn’t exist! ”

“ Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Lois. “We always used to go places together.”
“It wasn’t important,” Lorraine replied evasively. “I was just out for a drive.”
“You plutocrats!” laughed Judy. “Each with a car of your own. You’re not interested in Roger Banning, are you, Lois? I’m sure you can do better than that. I did know him slightly, but not from school. The boys and girls were separated and went to different high schools by the time we moved to Farringdon. I remember his pal, Dick Hartwell, a lot better. He was in our young people’s group at church.” ”