Hydrofoil Mystery (17 page)

A rush of fear washed over me. Of course I'd mentioned it to some of the other men and Mrs. McCauley-Brown, and there was no telling who they'd told.

“I know I wasn't keeping it a secret,” Casey continued. “I must have told a few people.”

I felt relieved. He wasn't blaming me, and maybe it wasn't my fault.

“You know what they say, if you tell a secret to even one person, it is no longer a secret.” Casey paused. “But Mr. Bell will hear none of this.”

“He thinks this is an accident?” I asked in amazement. “Oh no, of course not! What I mean is, he doesn't believe any of his staff could possibly be responsible.”

“Have you explained everything? Told him your reasons?”

“I did, a few times, but he didn't believe me, or more likely didn't want to believe me. You have to understand that for Alec, we're not his employees, we're like his family. And he can't bring himself to think any member of his family would try to bring harm to any other member. For Alec, honour, integrity and loyalty are as much a part of life as food, drink and breath. He trusts us all. That's why he felt so badly keeping you away from the hydrofoil at first.”

“He did?”

Casey nodded. “He saw your interest that first day and almost offered you the opportunity to work with us.”

I didn't know what to say.

“I just wish he would take what I've said more seriously,” Casey said.

“But there must be some way to convince him!”

“No, I'm afraid there isn't and …” Casey stopped and his brow furrowed. “You still haven't told me why
you
believed it wasn't done by a stranger.”

I swallowed hard. “I guess because of the cuts and everything.”

“But you thought it was an employee before I said a word. What aren't you telling me?”
I'd needed to tell somebody about the meeting in the arbour since that first night, but I didn't know who to trust or how to explain why I was out there in the first place. I looked at Casey. If there was one person I could trust, it was him. I took a deep breath and in one uninterrupted burst let the entire story drain out. Then I waited for his response.

“Something was happening, but it's hard to know exactly what it was. And you didn't see their faces?”

“Just feet. Shiny boots on one and dirty canvas work shoes on the other. I've looked for them. Mr. McGregor has a pair of riding boots that look a little the same, but not nearly as new or shiny. The only pair I've seen that looked anything like them were in town, worn by Corporal O'Malley.”

“You can't think it was O'Malley!”

“No, of course not. I just meant they looked like his boots.”

“Ah … like military boots.”

“I guess so.”

“And the shoes?” Casey questioned.

“Even worse. A lot of people have them … at Sheepville, in the orchard and on the farm. Do you know anybody who can speak another language around here?”

“Oh, lots of people. I can speak French,” Casey answered.

“It wasn't French, but I don't know what it was. It sounded, I don't know, kind of
hard
.”

“Hard … hmm … Gaelic always seems hard to me, and many of the people around Baddeck, a lot of employees, are Scottish and speak it.”

“Isn't Isaac Scottish?” I asked.

“Originally … but there's no way it would be him.

He's one stubborn old bird but as loyal as a hunting dog, and honest, too. It would have to be somebody else.”

I was grateful Casey hadn't asked me what I was doing out there that night. He knew, and I knew he knew, I was doing something I shouldn't have been doing.

“Have you told anybody about this?”

“Just you. I didn't really know what it was about, just that they were doing something mysterious. It wasn't until I was lying in bed the past two days that I started to really wonder. Maybe we should talk to Mr. Bell,” I suggested hesitantly. It was risky—maybe he'd ask why I was out there and realize you can't trust all the people who work for you.

“I think this has to stay between you and me, William.” I felt both relieved and worried at the same time.

Somehow I thought if we involved Mr. Bell he could find a solution. Now it was up to me to help discover the answers.

“We must remain vigilant and discuss things we see or hear, no matter how small. Perhaps we can put the little things together and find an answer. From this moment forward, William, you are the only one I will trust with my suspicions.”

Casey reached out his good hand and we shook.

Chapter Sixteen

“W
RITING TO YOUR MOTHER
?”

I swivelled in my seat, away from the writing desk, to face Casey. “How did you know?”

“Mrs. Bell still makes
me
write to
my
mother every week. She says all the mothers in the world have to work together to make sure their children don't forget to write to them.”

“She really does like writing and getting letters. You'd think with her husband inventing the telephone and all she'd just call people,” I commented.

“She can't very well use the phone herself, now can she?” Casey said.

“Why can't she …” I let the sentence trail off as I remembered. She read lips so well, and she always seemed to know everything going on around her, that I kept forgetting she was deaf.

Casey smiled. “It's rare enough to see Alec using the phone. If you ever want to see him angered, be there when somebody dares call during the dinner hour! I've heard him say a hundred times, ‘Telephones are for calling out, not calling in,'” he said, sounding just like Mr. Bell.

I'd heard him say that myself.

“And with Mrs. Bell, letter-writing is an art. She enjoys putting words to paper. Her letters are more like beautiful stories or poems. I love when she writes me. You'll see what I mean in the fall. You can expect at least one or two letters from her during the winter months.

Casey closed the door noiselessly. He lifted up a chair and carried it over beside me. He put it down and sat on it backwards, straddling it to face me. “I've got some news.”

I put the pen down on the side of the desk.

“I've been working on finding out who speaks different languages. There are quite a few, who either live here or in town.”

“I think it's somebody who lives here,” I said.

“Why do you think that?”

“If that meeting I overheard in the arbour was related, then the person definitely lives here. If at least one of them didn't, they could have met elsewhere, maybe even in town.”

“That makes perfect sense.” Casey beamed. “You're quite the police inspector! But I had to get the information on everybody who worked here or I couldn't have found out about anybody.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to ask Alec. The only other people who might know, like Mr. McGregor, might be suspects.”

“You don't think Mr. McGregor or Mr. Stewart are responsible do you?” I asked in amazement.

“No, not really. I'd trust the two of them with my life. But the first rule is to trust no one … except for you and me.”

“How did you ask Mr. Bell without him wanting to know why you were interested?”

“I told him I wanted to know so we could set up a list of employees who could act as guides and translators when our allies from all over the world want to see a demonstration of the hydrofoil,” Casey said smugly.

“That's … that's brilliant!” I congratulated him.

“Mr. Bell thought so too … but of course for different reasons. As I thought, there are many staff who do speak Gaelic, three are fluent in French, half a dozen speak Dutch, almost all the gardeners are from Holland, three speak German—”

“German?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “And I was thinking the same thing you were. What if they are really German spies?”

“Yes, spies.”

“It's unlikely, though. Two were born and raised in Canada. The third is sixty-eight years old and has trouble getting around—he's got a bad leg—so he couldn't possibly be the man you heard. Alec almost didn't tell me about the German-speakers. He asked if I was planning on giving tours to the enemy.”

“So I guess we're nowhere.”

“Not nowhere, but nowhere near where I'd like us to be. I do have an idea, though. I think it would be good for you to move back to the staff house.”

“I already suggested that to Mrs. Bell. She said I had to stay for at least one full week before she'd even consider allowing me to leave.”

“Well, that's only two more days. I think you'd be better able to nose around, talk to the men, put a glass to the walls and listen and such,” Casey suggested.

I chuckled. “You make it sound like a spy novel.” “Well, it is, isn't it?”

All at once the door burst open and Mrs. McCauley- Brown rushed in. Her expression was filled with fear. “There you are, Casey. I sent somebody out looking for you. There's a fire! A big fire!”

“Oh, my good Lord, not the boathouse!” Casey bounded to his feet.

“No, no, not the boathouse. It's up by Sheepville. It could be the barn or even the pens. You have to stop Mr. Bell. You know how he loves those sheep, and he might go and do something foolish! It was bad enough him going in after that fool boat of yours!”

“Where is Alec?” Casey demanded, rushing past Mrs. McCauley-Brown as she held the door.

“He's already gone!”

“Gone? Why did you let him go?” Casey demanded. “Do you think I could have stopped him, even if I had a gun? Now quit wasting time and get after him!”

Casey rushed out of the room and I jumped up and hurried after him. He raced down the stairs and pushed through the side door, and I bounded down the steps right behind. We turned the side of the house and could clearly see dark smoke staining the night sky. Casey picked up the pace, but I noticed he was already breathing hard and was holding his broken arm against his injured ribs. I could tell by his face he was feeling pain with each breath.

“We have to slow down, it's too far to go at this speed!” I yelled.

He nodded in agreement and dropped the pace down to a trot.

“I thought for sure it was the boathouse too when I heard there was a fire,” I said.

Casey didn't answer.

“But I guess we got lucky. There's not even any chance of it spreading to the boathouse. You can't get any farther away from the boathouse than Sheepville.”

Casey and I both skidded to a stop at the same instant as the words I'd just spoken sank in.

“Do you think it's possible?” I asked to his unspoken question.

“I don't know. But if I was going to do something at the boathouse I'd create a diversion somewhere else. We've got to get to the boathouse right away!”

“But what about Mr. Bell? Would he really go into the fire after the sheep?”

“He might. Those sheep mean so much. He's been experimenting with them for years. He's close to developing a breed that gives birth only to twins. It would benefit people all over the world. Oh, William, we're caught. We can't be in two places at once.”

“Why not, there are two of us?”

“The last time you didn't stop him from going into the burning building, you just crawled in after him, and I'm sure not sending you to the boathouse alone. We'll send somebody from the barn. Come on, we have to double our pace!”

Casey started moving. I hesitated and he pulled away a half dozen paces in front of me. Then, without stopping to think, I turned and started to run as fast as I could toward the boathouse. Within a few seconds Casey had noticed I wasn't with him and called out after me. I didn't even turn around
to look. His voice faded away as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I broke through the outskirts of the forest.

At first I followed a fairly open path, but I had to cut off through the trees to take the fastest and most direct route. Despite the branches and trees that blocked the way I tried to keep my pace up. Then a branch caught me on the top of my head and I staggered slightly and had to slow my pace dramatically.

It was probably best anyway—what good would it do if I was completely exhausted when I arrived? I knew it wasn't too far and I'd soon be there and then … and then what? I had no idea what or who was going to be there and what, if anything, I could do about it. After all, if a couple of men with guns couldn't defend it, what could I do?

The forest ended and I came out into the meadow. The outline of the boathouse was visible against the darkness of the water. There was no movement; all was quiet and still. I was hit with a sense of relief. I took a couple of deep breaths and slowed to a walk. I was wrong and everything was fine and … where were the guards? They were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were just around the other side, by the sliding doors, and out of my sight. I moved slightly off to the side so I could see around the side without having to get too close. I moved slowly. It was dark, and I knew I was almost invisible. The soft pad of my feet against the grass was easily covered by the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore.

I looked up and down along the shore and couldn't see any indication of a boat. I continued forward. I could
now see the front. There was nobody there, but it looked like the door was open a crack. Maybe they were inside. Slowly, putting one foot slightly in front of the other, I closed the distance. I stopped at the corner of the building and listened. Nothing. Then a beam of light flashed out the open door, skipped across the lake and vanished. If it was the guards, why would they be in there in the first place, and why would they use a flashlight instead of turning on the lights? I was certain that whoever was in this building was responsible … for whatever had happened to the guards. A shudder ran up my spine.