The Figure In the Shadows (9 page)

When Lewis woke up the next morning, he was still thinking about keys. But he wasn’t any closer to finding the key to Rose Rita’s bureau drawer. It was Saturday, and Rose Rita had an appointment to see her eye doctor. She was nearsighted, and her eyes were changing fast, so she had to get her glasses changed often. Lewis was going along with her today, to have his eyes examined. He didn’t wear glasses, but Jonathan had noticed that Lewis was falling asleep over books a good deal, and he wondered if Lewis didn’t need reading glasses. Lewis had protested, but finally he had agreed to go.

That afternoon Lewis and Rose Rita were sitting in Dr. Wessel’s office, reading comic books. Lewis had
just finished having his eyes examined. It was Rose Rita’s turn now.

Dr. Wessel opened his office door and peered out into the waiting room. “Okay. Who’s next?”

Rose Rita threw her comic book down and got up. “I guess I am,” she said wearily. “See you later, Lewis.”

As she got up to go in, Lewis noticed that she was still wearing her beanie. That darned beanie! She wore it everywhere. To church, in school, at dinner, and she probably even wore it in bed at night. It was weird.

Lewis went back to his comic book, but he was startled a few seconds later when he heard loud voices. Rose Rita and Dr. Wessel were having an argument behind the closed door. Suddenly Dr. Wessel jerked the door open and pointed at the hat rack by the mirror.

“There!” he said, firmly. “Put it there!”

“I don’t want to! Who do you think you are? God?”

Dr. Wessel glowered at Rose Rita. “No, I’m not God. I’m just a crabby eye doctor, and I don’t want you wearing that beanie while I’m testing your eyes. It bumps into my equipment, and it distracts me, and . . . well, I don’t like it. Now hang it up out there, or go on home.”

“Oh, all right!” Rose Rita stormed out into the waiting room and jammed her beanie onto one of the pegs of the hat rack. Then she marched back into Dr. Wessel’s office. He closed the door quietly behind her.

Lewis glanced up at the beanie and grinned. Rose Rita sure was funny about it. He picked up his comic book
and then, quite suddenly, he laid it down again.

What if the key was in the beanie?

Lewis got up and walked softly over to the hat rack. Carefully, he lifted the beanie down. He looked inside, and there, held to the cloth by a safety pin, was a small black key.

Lewis felt like cheering. It had to be the right key, it just had to be. He glanced nervously at the closed door of Dr. Wessel’s office. How much time did he have? He had heard Rose Rita say that her sessions with Dr. Wessel took quite a while, because there were lots of things wrong with her eyes. Would she be in there for a whole hour? Lewis looked at the clock. He’d just have to chance it. He undid the safety pin, put the key in his pocket, put the pin back in the hat again, snapped it shut, and carefully put the beanie back. He hoped Rose Rita wouldn’t hear the buttons on the beanie rattling. When he had done all this, Lewis stepped over to the office door and rapped on it.

“Rose Rita?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . I just remembered that I have to go downtown and buy some tobacco for Uncle Jonathan. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“Oh, take all the time you want! I’m likely to be in here for days.”

“Uh . . . okay. I’ll be right back.”

Lewis struggled into his coat and hat and galoshes, and stumbled down the front steps of Dr. Wessel’s office. Soon he was walking as fast as he could toward Rose Rita’s house. His hand was closed around the cold key in his pocket, and as he walked, he planned. He had to think up something to say to Mrs. Pottinger.

When Lewis got to the front steps of the Pottinger house, he took a deep breath. Then he went up and rang the bell. After what seemed like a very long time, Mrs. Pottinger came to the door. She was surprised to see him.

“Why, Lewis! What are you doing here? I thought you were at Dr. Wessel’s office with Rose Rita.”

Lewis dug his hands into his pockets and stared at the doormat. “Well, yeah, I kinda was, but it’s like this: Rose Rita and I were gonna go to Heemsoth’s for a Coke afterwards, and I don’t have enough money, and she said she left her wallet up on top of her dresser. Can I go get it?”

It seemed to Lewis as if thousands of years were passing between the time he finished this speech and the time Mrs. Pottinger gave her answer. He began to wonder if kids who were caught burgling other kids’ bureaus got sent to the Detention Home.

Mrs. Pottinger did take a little while to answer him, because she was an absent-minded person. “Why, yes, I suppose it’s all right,” she said, at last. “If you had said it was
in
the bureau, I’d have said you were out of luck,
because Rose Rita won’t even let me poke around in there. Go ahead. If you can’t find the wallet, I think I have some money.”

“Gee, thanks a lot, Mrs. Pottinger. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time.” Mrs. Pottinger turned and walked back toward the kitchen. Lewis watched her go. She trusted him. And why shouldn’t she? He was Rose Rita’s best friend. He felt awful. He wanted to go hide in a cellar somewhere. But instead, he started up the stairs.

Lewis stood before the bureau with the key in his hand. He listened, expecting at any minute to hear Mrs. Pottinger’s footstep on the stairs. But instead he heard the clatter and clink of the dishes she was washing. He turned and saw that he had left the bedroom door open. Quickly he walked over and closed it. Then he went back to the bureau. The two drawers at the top had locks. It had to be one of them. Probably the same key fitted both locks. At least, he hoped it did. Lewis decided to try the right-hand drawer first. He stuck the key in and turned it. But when he pulled, he found that the drawer wouldn’t budge. Which meant that the drawer hadn’t been locked in the first place. Lewis turned the key back the other way and slid the drawer out. It was stuffed full of Rose Rita’s underwear. Lewis felt his face getting red. He slid the drawer back. The amulet might be in there, but he would check the other drawer first.

Lewis unlocked the left-hand drawer and slid it out. It was full of little boxes and junk. This had to be the right one. He took the drawer all the way out, set it on Rose Rita’s desk, and started going through it. But just as he was opening the first box, Lewis heard a knock on the door.

“Everything all right in there?”

Lewis froze. Mr. Pottinger! He had forgotten all about him! Usually, Mr. Pottinger wasn’t home during the day. But this was Saturday. He was out there in the hall, on the other side of the door, waiting for an answer. Lewis’s mind was racing. What should he do? Answer? Or try to climb out the window?

Another knock. Sharper and more insistent than before. And then Lewis heard Mr. Pottinger’s loud, resonant voice again. “I
said
, is everything all
right
in there?”

Lewis glanced wildy around. His glance fell on the doorknob. He was fascinated by it. It would start to turn at any minute, and then . . .

Lewis heard Mrs. Pottinger calling from the foot of the stairs. “For heaven’s sake, calm down, George! It’s just Lewis Barnavelt looking for Rose Rita’s wallet.”

“Well then why doesn’t he answer me? I heard this noise in her room, and I knew she was out, so I wondered . . .”

“Well, stop wondering, and leave the poor boy alone. He didn’t answer you because he’s shy, and you scared him to death with all that bellowing. You were shy too
once. I should think you’d remember that!”

Mr. Pottinger chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.” He gave a light playful tap on the door and said, “Good hunting, Lewis!” Then he walked on down the hall, humming to himself. A door closed, and Lewis heard Mr. Pottinger running water in the bathroom.

Lewis was standing there by the desk with the lid of the Exacto blade box in his hands. He was shaking all over. When he finally got himself pulled back together, he went back to examining the contents of the drawer. A box of Exacto blades. A chestnut carved to look like a jack-o-lantern. A deck of miniature playing cards in a cardboard case. The case said “Little Duke Toy Cards.” One by one Lewis took the things out and laid them on the green blotter. No amulet yet.

A box of little plastic chessmen with the label “Drueke” on the top. A pair of magnetic toys shaped like the Republican elephant and the Democratic donkey. And then a worn little blue case with “Marshall Field’s, Chicago” stamped on it. A white address label had been pasted on under the Marshall Field’s label. It said: “Miss Rose Rita Pottinger, 39 Mansion Street, New Zebedee, Michigan.” Lewis opened the box and saw his amulet.

Lewis could hardly believe it. Tears came to his eyes. It was really there! With trembling fingers he picked up the chain and slipped it over his head. Then he buttoned the top button of his shirt. Lewis hated tight collars, and
this button, which he had never done up before in his life, felt like it was choking him. But it didn’t matter. He had to go back and face Rose Rita, and he didn’t want her to see the chain around his neck.

Lewis stopped and listened. He couldn’t tell very well with the door shut, but it sounded like Mrs. Pottinger was singing downstairs. She often sang while she did the dishes or the dusting. And the sound of running water continued. Mr. Pottinger was probably taking a bath. Good. Now he would have to get out as fast as he could.

Working quickly, Lewis began putting the various items back in Rose Rita’s drawer. He hoped that she hadn’t put them in some particular order, so that she could find out if somebody had been fooling around with her stuff. Well, if she had, it was just too bad. Some day she would look and find that the amulet was gone, but by then she would understand why he had had to take it. He would protect her with his strength and bravery. Lewis hoped that this was the way it would all turn out.

Lewis put the drawer back in place and turned the key in the lock. There! Now he could leave. He would just go back to Dr. Wessel’s office and put the key back in the beanie and sit down to wait for Rose Rita as if nothing had happened.

Humming quietly to himself, Lewis walked down the hall and trotted down the stairs. He had just laid his hand on the knob of the front door when Mrs. Pottinger
called from the kitchen. “Did you get what you wanted, Lewis?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Gee, thanks a lot. Bye.” Lewis’s voice was so high that it was practically a squeak. He was very nervous. Now the door had closed behind him. He was outside. He had gotten away with it. He could be strong now, without the aid of Charles Atlas or punching bags or anything.

But on the steps of the Pottingers’ house, Lewis paused. He was thinking of the black figure. Would it come back, now that he had the amulet? This fear had been in the back of Lewis’s mind ever since he began plotting to get the magic coin back. Lewis had kept the fear down with his usual “logical explanations.” But it was still there.

“Oh heck,” he said, out loud. “I’m just being a scaredy-cat. Nobody can hurt me now.” For the fifteenth time, Lewis persuaded himself that the figure that had jumped at him outside the library was just some crazy guy. Every now and then they got loose from the Kalamazoo Mental Hospital, and they would do things like jump out naked from behind trees and scare people at night until the police caught them and put them back in the crazy house. That was who it had been under the street lamp. Some nut.

Lewis glanced up at the sky. It was getting dark. He decided that he’d better be getting back before Rose
Rita suspected that something was up. He buttoned his coat and started out.

As Lewis walked back along Mansion Street, it started to snow. Little white flakes whirled around him and stung his face. He felt funny, as if he didn’t know where he was going. The familiar shapes of cars rolled by in the early winter dusk, but they seemed to Lewis like bug-eyed prehistoric monsters. Maybe there was a blizzard coming. Well, that was okay with Lewis. He would enjoy sitting by the fire in Jonathan’s library, with a steaming cup of cocoa in his hand. He would watch the snow falling outside the window. It would be very cozy.

Lewis kicked his way through the snow that was piling up on the sidewalk. Little glittering spurts rose before him. Now he was passing the Masonic Temple, a tall four-story brick building. It rose over him like a black cliff. There was a dark archway in the front of the building. For some reason, Lewis stopped in front of it. He didn’t know why. He just stopped and waited.

Now Lewis heard something. A rustling sound. An old newspaper blew out of the archway. It slithered toward him like a living thing. Lewis was frightened, but then he tried to laugh it away. What was there to be scared of in an old newspaper? It lay at his feet now. He bent over and picked it up. By the light of the lamp that was swinging in the wind at the corner, Lewis could just barely read the masthead. It was the New Zebedee
Chronicle
, and the date was April 30, 1859. The date on the three-cent piece was 1859.