Ice Castle 2

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12 captures 2004
20 Feb 2002 - 1 Sep 2005
About this capture
a 1930's Dana Girls Fanfiction Mystery
THE SECRET OF THE ICE CASTLE

PART 3:
Chapter Eleven: THE BURIAL GROUNDS
Chapter Twelve: CHATCHAAT THE WOLF
Chapter Thirteen: THE OPEN PIT
Chapter Fourteen: THE SECRET CRYPT
Chapter Fifteen: THE GIRL IN THE RED COAT
Chapter Eleven: THE BURIAL GROUNDS
Louise turned the ignition key and the big sedan roared to life. She shifted gears and the car jumped ahead, flying out of the parking lot in
pursuit of the horse-drawn sleigh.
"She's headed north," Louise muttered, struggling to keep the auto under control on the slippery road. "The old reservation is up this way.
Perhaps that is her destination."
"Chakwanna may still live there," Jean agreed. "And that's where she may be hiding Lorraine."
They could see the Indian woman's sleigh up ahead as Louise drove out of town and the road curved away from the lake into heavily
wooded terrain. This was a more remote region than the area south of the town, from where they had come, and the road had not been
plowed as thoroughly because there was a great deal less automobile traffic.
"That horse is making better time than we are," Louise complained. "If the condition of this road gets any worse, we'll have to stop and put
chains on the wheels."
Jean groaned in dismay. "I hate doing that!"
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"It is not a pleasant task," Louise agreed. "But we'd be better off doing it than to get Uncle Ned's car stuck in the snow out here in these
hinterlands."
Jean leaned forward, peering ahead. "The sleigh is turning down that road to the left. Hurry, we must not lose sight of it."
Louise gunned the engine a little more but the wheels spun and the car fishtailed. She was forced to keep her pace at a slower measure.
"The road must lead to the north shore of the lake where the reservation is located," she said. "It think it's almost exactly across the
waters from Spirit Island."
The girls learned that Louise's conjecture was correct when they reached the side road a couple minutes later. A weathered sign nailed to
the bare trunk of a tall old fir proclaimed:
OJIBWAY RESERVATION
2 MILES
An arrow underneath the words pointed down the road, which was little more than a lane, in the direction the sleigh had gone. But there
was no sign of the sleigh now. It had disappeared around a bend up ahead. Louise swung the car onto the narrow snow-covered road and
immediately regretted it. She slammed on the brakes, bringing the sedan to a sudden halt.
"This road hasn't been cleared at all," she snapped in dismay. "There's over a foot of snow on it!"
Jean stared ahead at the melange of tracks in the deep snow. "The Indians obviously use only sleighs and dog sleds. It's not likely that
they have many automobiles."
A laugh escaped Louise's lips. "If they do, they are smart enough not to drive them around here in the winter! We'll never make it down this
road, with or without chains."
"Let's hope we can can back off of it and onto the highway again," Jean added.
Louise shifted the car into reverse and skillfully backed up, slowly but surely. The wheels spun and the engine whined. She had to pull
forward a couple times and then back up again in order to traverse ruts and mounds in the snow. But in the end the big car was finally out
on the highway again, safe and sound.
The Dana girls were terribly disappointed.
"If only we could have followed Chakwanna," Jean grumbled. "Lorraine may be staying at the reservation. She and the wolf may drive over
to Bleak Acres in the sleigh at night to do their haunting."
"We will just have to wait," Louise said, crestfallen. She shifted into first gear and began driving back toward Bewdley. "Perhaps Uncle Ned
can hire a horse and sleigh and we can come back tomorrow."
"But tomorrow is Sunday and we will have to return to Starhurst."
"We will do it in the morning. By then he will have told Mr. Symington what we know and the man will be just as eager as we are to search
for Lorraine."
"You are right," Jean acknowledged with a smile of confidence. "We shall return with the proper transportation and follow Chakwanna's trail
to its end."
Soon they were again driving through Bewdley and Jean pointed out a livery stable at which horses and sleighs were available for hire. "If
only we had the time to do it now! We could hire a rig and go out to the reservation over the ice. It would be so much quicker than those
back roads."
Louise smiled over at her. "We can go to the reservation or we can go to the Ice Castle. We only have time enough now to do one."
Jean groaned ruefully. "Then to the Ice Castle it is," she laughed. "At least we know exactly where it is and that we can drive the car all the
way to Forest Lodge."
Within a few minutes they arrived at the road that led from the highway to the lodge. Louise turned and drove down the road through the
woods without the problems that had faced them on the road that led to the Indian reservation. This one had been cleared and the snow
still on the surface was nicely packed down.
"Stop!" Jean suddenly exploded, her head whipping to the side as she peered into the woods. "Look! Oh ..."
"What is it?" Louise cried, braking slowly to a halt.
"There!" Jean pointed out the window into the woods. "Oh, it's gone now. I am sure I saw someone in a red coat walking through the
woods!"
"A red coat? It could be Lorraine Symington!"
"Exactly. Oh dear, where did she go?"
Both girls craned their necks looking deep into the snowy woods, but there was no sign of anyone moving through the trees. Louise
backed the car up fifty feet, then a hundred feet, but no one was in sight.
"I am sure I didn't imagine it," Jean sighed. "Someone was there in the woods. Someone wearing red."
"Perhaps it was a hunter," Louise suggested, shifting the car back into first gear. "Many of them wear red in order to be easily seen in the
forest by others who are hunting."
Jean nodded. "You're right. Let's go on to the Ice Castle. Perhaps we will be able to get closer to it today if no one is there."
Louise drove on and soon the woods dropped back as the road skirted the lake shore and Forest Lodge came into view. It was a large log
building with several smaller outbuildings and a string of cottages along the shore on the far side. A big barn stood behind it with sleighs
parked out front and several horses prancing around in a corral. A couple dozen cars were parked in the lot next to the lodge, and as
Louise pulled into it they could see skiers gliding along the shore of the lake, ice skaters twirling around on the ice in front of the lodge,
and an iceboat with a big white sail speeding smoothly across the bay.
"There is a lot of activity here today," Jean remarked as they got out of the car. "The winter sports enthusiasts are out in full force."
"It's a very nice day for such activity," Louise agreed. "Too bad we don't have our ice skates. That frozen bay sure looks inviting."
"We'll have to traverse it in our boots," Jean reminded her with mock seriousness. "We have no time for fun today. We are here to
investigate and solve this mystery."
Louise chuckled. "And I suppose that is not fun?"
The girls walked toward the shore, pulling on gloves and pulling up their collars against the wind coming in off the bay. They were eager to
be on their way to Spirit Island, which loomed dark and mysterious out ahead of them. One of the men who worked at the lodge came
walking toward them, carrying ski poles and skis and a pair of snowshoes.
"Hello, girls. Can I get anything for you today? Skis? Ice skates?"
"No, thank you," Louise responded. "We're just going to hike out on the bay for a while. Maybe go out to that island."
She pointed to the length of land locked into the ice where the bay met the open reaches of the lake.
"Spirit Island?" The man wrinkled his bushy brows as he gazed out at the gray gloom of sky and ice. "You sure are adventurous young
ladies. Hardly anyone goes out there."
"We want to see the castle," Jean told him.
"And the burial grounds," Louise added. "I read about them in a book."
"The castle is a beauty," the man replied. "I've seen it from the boats, but I've never actually gone onto the island." He pointed with his arm
that held the snowshoes. "The burial grounds are on that eastern end. A lot of people fear them because the graves are above ground."
Jean nodded. "We have heard the scary legends about the island, but we're not afraid."
The man shrugged. "I've been working here ten years now and have never seen much going on out there. Now and then an Indian goes
there on skis or by dogsled to visit the burial grounds, or in summer by boat or canoe. But that's about it."
"Is the reservation directly across the lake from here?" Louise asked him.
"Yes, due north from Spirit Island about five or six miles. The Indians used to live all around the lake at one time, then they were confined
to the reservation. Many of them have since moved off the land the government gave them and are once again living around the lake. They
had to buy back land that was once theirs."
"You can't keep good people down," Jean said. "Everyone wants to own property and reap the rewards of their toil."
"I should like to visit the reservation," Louise said to the lodge man. "It must be difficult to drive there now on those remote roads on the
other side of the lake."
"It's out of the question in an automobile," he agreed. "The roads are impassable this time of year. But we could arrange a trip out there for
you in a horse-drawn sleigh."
"That would be terrific," Jean said eagerly. "Perhaps tomorrow morning?"
"We have sleighs available every day. One of the fellows who work here can guide you, or you can go off on your own if you know how to
handle a horse."
"Thanks for letting us know about it," Louise said gratefully. "We'll plan to come back in the morning."
The girls walked on, down to the shore in front of the old lodge. They sprang eagerly onto the ice and began to run gaily across the frozen
surface, sliding now and then and executing spins and twirls as they made their way across the bay. The others who were ice skating sent
them curious glances, but the girls just smiled and waved at them, happy to be out on the ice even in their boots.
"Hypers!" Jean exclaimed, pointing to an ice boat bearing down at them. "Look at how fast it's going!"
The girls stopped to give the ice boat a wide berth as it cut its way between them and the nearby Spirit Island, its white sail rippling noisily
in the wind. Two boys were riding in the cockpit in the craft's stern. One waved at Louise and Jean while the other tended to the rudder.
The girls waved back and then hurried on as the boat sped by, whooshing over the ice.
"That sure looks like fun," Jean said. "We'll have to try it one of these days."
Louise nodded in agreement. "There are so many exciting winter sports. One doesn't have enough time to participate in them all."
They decided to go to the east end of the island first in order to visit the Indian burial grounds. As they were nearing the heavily wooded
shore, they heard a shout behind them and the scraping noises of a vehicle coming to a stop behind them on the ice. The girls whirled
around to see the ice boat sliding to a halt. The two boys riding on it waved and flashed eager grins.
Louise and Jean smiled back in a friendly manner. The boys were their own age, fresh-faced and hardy in their outdoor clothes and knit
caps. As their craft came to a stop, they jumped off and ran over to the girls.
"You're not going onto the island, are you?" the older of the two asked. He was tall and had dark hair and a beaming smile, and Louise
took an instant liking to him.
"Yes, we are," she replied. "I've been reading about the island in a book. We want to see the Indian burial grounds and the Ice Castle."
"But it's private property," the younger fair-haired boy said, looking at Jean with an appraising grin. He pulled off his cap, exposing unruly
blond curls.
"That's not a problem," Jean countered. "We are guests of the owner this weekend at his nearby estate. We have come here on some
business for him."
Hearing that, both boys looked extremely impressed.
"We know Mr. Symington," the older one said. "We don't see him often, though. He only comes around once a year or so to check up on
the castle. We're Frank and Joe, and we live at Forest Lodge. Our parents own the place."
Jean and Louise introduced themselves to the brothers, mentioning they were students at Starhurst. The boys were happy to hear this for
they attended nearby Walton Academy, an elite school for boys.
"We don't mean to be nosy," said Joe, the fair-haired younger brother. "But we've noticed some strange things going on around here lately
and thought we should warn you."
Jean's eyes popped wide. "What kind of strange things?"
"People coming and going," said Frank, the taller brother. "A couple Indians, a man and a woman. Older ones."
Louise looked at Jean before replying, "Don't the Indians visit the island regularly to see the burial grounds?"
Joe snorted derisively. "Sure they do. But we saw these two around the castle a couple times while we were ice boating. The Indians
usually steer clear of the castle."
"And we've also seen a girl in a red coat," he added as an afterthought. "We've seen her cross the ice several times. But if we approach
her, she just runs away."
"In fact," Frank took over, "we just saw her about twenty minutes ago. She was running back to shore from the island. We tried to flag her
down but she pulled her hood tightly around her face so we couldn't see her, and she ran like the dickens."
Jean and Louise shared a knowing look. It was Lorraine that Jean had seen in the woods as they drove toward the lodge!
"We'll be sure to mention all this to Mr. Symington when we see him later this afternoon," Louise told the friendly boys.
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "We've been wondering if we should say anything about it," he said. "There are several other vacation
homes in the area and we try to mind our own business about what goes on at them. But things have been pretty odd around the Ice
Castle."
"And there's more, too," Joe went on, running his fingers through his thick hair. "There has been a wolf around. We saw it coming off the
island a couple times."
Frank nodded. "A big male wolf. Black, gray, and white. We've heard him howling a few times at night too. Our dad says it's thirty years at
least since there have been wolves around Indian Lake."
"There certainly has been a lot going on around here," Jean declared. "You fellows are very observant."
"But don't worry about us," Louise put in. "We'll be careful and we won't stay long. We just want to make sure everything is secure for Mr.
Symington."
Joe pulled his cap back onto his head. "Well, if you need anything, you can find us at the lodge."
"We may come back tomorrow morning," Jean told them. "We would like to take a sleigh ride out to the Indian reservation. We just a few
minutes ago talked to one of the lodge employees about it."
"That was probably Gunther," Frank said, his eyes having brightened considerably at this news. "Joe and I could take you out there. We
have sleighs that seat four and the ice is so thick this winter that you could drive a herd of elephants across to the other side."
"Then it's a date," Louise decided, her face breaking into an easy smile. "We'll be here sometime in the morning and you can take us to
the reservation."
Both boys looked like they were about to let out war whoops. They grinned happily and warned the girls once again to be careful. Then
they said goodbye and returned to their ice boat. The girls watched as they took their places in the cockpit, adjusted the sail and rudder,
and then suddenly took off as if a gusty wind had dropped down upon them from nowhere.
"They certainly are nice boys," Louise said as they turned back to the island. "That blond one with the curls sure seemed to like you,
Jean."
"Do you think so? Well, that older one named Frank couldn't tear his eyes away from you, big sister," Jean teased.
Louise chuckled. "At least they show promise as detectives. Their observations sure are helpful. They have seen Lorraine and the wolf, the
old Indian woman, and even the old man. He and the woman must be working together."
"I wonder what they are doing here," Jean mused. "Remember the light in the tower window the first day we were here? The old man may
have been up there doing something when the woman came out with the rifle."
"And yet Lorraine was on her own that day, coming back to the castle through the woods," Louise remembered. "If she was being held
captive by the old man, as Chakwanna's words seemed to hint at, why would she be going back to them once she'd been away?"
Jean shrugged her shoulders as they walked up the shore into the thick woods on the island's east end. "It's all so mysterious, and as
strange and sinister as this unusual island itself."
They plodded on through the deep snow and underbrush, looking this way and that for any signs of the burial grounds. When they finally
came upon it, it was with an unexpected suddenness, and Jean let out a startled yelp.
She had almost walked right into a totem pole stacked with colorful leering faces of animals and spirits!
"Yikes!" she cried, taking a step backwards.

"Look, there are a whole ring of them around this entire area," Louise pointed out.
There were about twenty of the totems circling an area that had years ago been cleared of timber. A new growth of smaller trees had
pushed up since then and now grew up amongst the two dozen or so elevated grave sites in the old burial grounds between the two shores
of the island.
"Those are the anaktwas," whispered Louise. "I didn't expect there to be so many."
Each raised burial cache was about six feet high or more, and made of poles so that scavenging animals could not get up to the contents
inside them. Furs and skins and bark enclosed the platforms on top and shielded the remains from the elements. They were all very
colorful, many painted in intricate design and pattern, and festooned with feathers, beads, and straps of leather and hide. Short pole
ladders leaned against some of them, and above them all the old firs and pines of the island woods reached high into the winter gloom.
Jean walked into the clearing and looked around and around. "Why it's so very ... colorful!"
"It certainly is," Louise agreed. "I can see how a child like Lorraine would be fascinated with it. It looks as colorful as a circus midway."
Fascinated, the girls walked in and out of the rows of anaktwas, admiring the artwork of paint and crafts that adorned them. It was obvious
that the Indians kept the burial grounds in the best condition possible. Everything was well taken care of and in good repair. The heavier
snow had even been brushed off the tops of each burial cache.
Louise was just about to comment on a particularly attractive repetitive pattern on the supports of one of the anaktwas when she and Jean
were both startled out of their artistic admiration by a sudden low growl. They both turned as one to look in the direction it came from, the
burial cache closest to the lake side of the island point. What they saw froze them as stiff and as cold as the thick ice of the lake.
Standing aside one of the cache's pole supports was a large wolf - black, gray, and white in color. The fur of the ruff around its neck was
standing on edge and its muzzle was drawn back in a vicious snarl!
As both girls drew in their breath in fright, the animal let out another threatening snarl and crouched slightly on its haunches in a position
that foretold it was ready to spring.
Chapter Twelve: CHATCHAAT THE WOLF
"Quick!"
Louise cried out the command, tearing her eyes from the wolf and fastening them on her sister. She pointed upward.
"Climb one of the ladders to the top of an anaktwa!"
In a flash, both girls grabbed hold of the ladder closest to them and scrambled up to the top of the burial structures just as the wolf sprang
forward, growling and yapping as if he wanted to tear them to pieces.
"Try to pull the ladder up," shouted Jean, on her knees on top of the structure next to the one Louise had climbed. She tugged at the
ladder but it was fastened to the poles with rawhide cords and it would not budge.
Louise found the same to be true of the ladder she had just climbed, and she looked at the wolf below with dismay. The ferocious animal
was barking and howling up at the girls, prancing from one structure to the other, and jumping up against them in a frenzy.
"I doubt that he can climb the ladders," groaned Jean, looking over at her sister. "But what are we to do? We can't stay up here all day."
"Certainly not," Louise agreed. "We happen to be on people's graves!"
As the wolf continued its frenzied attack, both girls looked warily at the platforms they were crouched down on. Each was long and wide,
large enough to hold several people underneath the bark, skins, and furs that made up the coverings. The sisters looked at each other and
shuddered, thinking of what lay underneath.
Jean shook her head in dismay. "What a strange predicament. Trapped on someone's grave by an angry wolf!"
"But why is he here?" Louise wanted to know. "Lorraine has gone away from the island. Both we and those boys saw her. Why has she
left the wolf here?"
"Good question, Louise. Where was she headed to, and why didn't she take this beastly fellow along?"
Louise groaned as the wolf growled and jumped up against the ladder right below. Then she chuckled lamely. "He is rather beautiful, if you
ask me. I just wish he was friendly. No wonder Mirabelle got so frightened and fell down when he jumped at her window."
Jean looked at the wolf skeptically. "He must be domesticated if he lives with Lorraine and is her companion."
"You're right. In that book I'm reading it tells that people used to domesticate wolves and breed them with dogs to get 'huskies', the wolf-
dog that is used to pull dog sleds. They still do it up north across the border."
"Then he must be used to people," Jean decided. She looked down to the wolf as it attacked the structure Louise was on, and she called
to him.
"Hey, you there! Where is Lorraine? Where is Lorraine?"
The furry animal looked over at Jean with a high pitched yap and ran over to the structure she was on. He jumped up against the ladder,
howling wildly.
"Yes! That's a good boy," Jean called down to him. "Lorraine! Lorraine! Where is your chum Lorraine?"
The wolf began to wag his tail, then yap, then howl, as if he didn't know just what to do.
"He understands you," Louise said excitedly. "He knows Lorraine by her name. Look at him!"
The wolf had spun away from the ladder and sat in the snow on his haunches, looking from Louise to Jean and back again, howling
mournfully.
Suddenly, Louise began to whistle a tune.
Jean's eyes widened in excitement. "The flute song! Lorraine's song!"
Louise nodded, her eyes bright, and she continued to whistle the beautiful haunting melody played by the flute outside the mullioned
windows of the mansion at Bleak Acres. The wolf's tail began to wag at a speed that looked like it might fly right off, and he howled even
louder as if he himself were singing the melody too.
"Keep whistling, Louise," Jean said in a low tone. "I'll try to climb down. He knows that we know Lorraine, so he may be friendly now."
Slowly, Jean began to edge down the ladder. Her back was to the animal, but her head was turned and she kept looking at him. The wolf
watched her, his tail wagging, and he yapped and howled as Louise continued whistling the tune.
Jean stepped to the ground and turned to face the animal. He pushed up and strode over to her, his bushy tail still beating. He stopped a
few inches away and looked up at her with a whine.
"Good boy!" Jean said soothingly. "My, what a handsome brute you are. I would pet you but I'm afraid you'll bite my hand off. Where, oh
where, is Lorraine?"
At the mention of his mistress's name, the wolf spun around again and sat back down, yapping crazily as he looked from one girl to the
other.
"He doesn't know where she is," Louise said, climbing down the ladder of the structure she had been trapped on. "It doesn't make sense.
Chakwanna claimed to have Lorraine, but we just saw her a while ago leaving the lake. Yet she left the wolf here!"
"Perhaps she is coming back later to get him?"
Louise walked over to Jean's side and the wolf rushed over to sniff at them both.
"We're looking for Lorraine too," she said. "Yes, Lorraine. Where is she? Where is Lorraine?"
But all the wolf could do was spin in a circle again and yap and howl.
"Gosh, he's big," Jean declared. "I bet he weighs almost as much as either of us do. Let's see if he'll go to the castle with us."
"Right. I'd like to see anyone bother us with him at our side."
"Let's go to the castle," Jean called to the beast. "Come along. To the castle! Perhaps Lorraine is there!"
The wolf eagerly followed the girls as they began to plod through the snow in the direction of the Ice Castle. They walked out of the ring of
colorful totem poles and into the woods. A very light snow had begun to fall and the wind had picked up. The forest and underbrush was
thick and deep with snow, but they found a trail on which the snow was packed down from heavy use and followed it away from the burial
grounds.
"It appears that plenty of people have been around here lately," Jean observed.
"The Indians come to visit the burial grounds," Louise reminded her. "And we know Lorraine and the old Indian woman have been here, and
probably the old man too."
Jean saw the white towers of the castle through the trees. "I wonder if anyone is here now?"
The girls crept slowly through the trees to the back of the fort-like dwelling. The wolf, sensing their caution, stayed a step behind them,
now and then emitting a low guttural growl as he sniffed here and there at the tracks in the snow.
The white stone of the Ice Castle glittered even in the winter bleakness. Icicles hung down from the gutters of the roof line and the many
lead-paned windows were dark and mysterious. The twin towers on each end were three storeys high but had windows only on the first
floor in back. The crenellated battlements atop the towers were drifted with snow and strong and imposing against the steel gray sky.
"The place sure looks deserted," Jean whispered, as they stealthily crept from the cover of the trees into the clearing in which the castle
stood.
"I sure hope it is," Louise returned in low tones. "I want to look around. But look at all the tracks back here. There has certainly been a lot
of activity lately."
The snow behind the castle was crisscrossed with tracks. The girls and the wolf walked amongst them as they moved along to the back of
the building, then across a multi-leveled terrace surrounded by overgrown shrubberies. Glass doors led onto the terrace from inside, but
they could see nothing within.
Silently, they crept around the north tower and the woods thinned out to the open front yard that rolled down to the shore and the wide
reaches of the lake facing west and north. Hugging close to the white stone wall, the girls could see a couple skiers out on the ice, which
had a deeper snow cover than the wind-blown ice in the bay. They peered around the tower to the castle front, but it was just as deserted
as was the back yard.
The wolf growled and his muzzle sniffed the air, then he shot away from them down to a copse of trees along the shore. Warily looking
around, Louise and Jean followed him. When they reached the trees, the wolf was sniffing at two pairs of skis and poles that had been
stashed up against a netting of branches. He looked at the girls and then back at the skis and growled in an angry manner.
"He must know whom they belong to," Jean conjectured.
"And it appears to be someone he doesn't like," Louise added. "Someone who must be in the castle!"
Both girls turned to look at the Ice Castle as the wolf sprang forward sniffing at tracks in the snow that led from the copse of trees to the
front door. They both gasped in surprise as their eyes focused on the top floor of the north tower.
"Look!" Jean pointed. "There's a light burning in the tower room again!"
Through the panes of the leaded oriel window they could see a dimly glowing light. Just barely, they could make out a richly paneled wall
and a beamed ceiling, and shadows moving as if in the flickering light of a flame.
"What in the world is going on up there?" Louise muttered tensely. "The last time we were here......."
Her words stopped cold as the ornate front door of the castle was suddenly pulled open from within. Standing there with a look of malice on
his face was the old Indian man they had seen in Bewdley arguing with Chakwanna, the Indian princess.
He raised his fist at them and shouted, "Get out of here, you meddling girls! This is private property...."
But he had not seen the wolf who was skulking along the front of the castle. The beast stopped abruptly and looked at the man. The fur
around his neck stood on end and he emitted a ferocious growl.
The old man looked over at the wolf and emitted a startled yelp of his own. He jumped back a step and bumped into the old Indian woman
the girls had seen the first day they had been to the castle. She had just walked up behind the man and was again bearing the rifle.
"Don't tell me there are more of those nosy school girls," she had been saying until the man banged into her. Then, she saw the wolf too
and began to shout:
"Close the door! Hurry! It's Chatchaat! He'll kill us!"
With a swift movement, the old man grabbed the arched door and pushed it shut with a loud boom just as the wolf lunged through the air
and landed hard against it. The animal scratched at the wood and growled and yapped and barked, teeth bared, as if he wanted to tear
apart the man and woman inside.
"We'd better get out of here," Louise hissed, pulling Jean by the arm. "That woman has her rifle. She won't hesitate to use it, I'm sure."
Jean nodded in agreement, then shouted to the wolf, "Chatchaat! Chatchaat!", using the name the old woman had called him. "Hurry!
Come!"
The wolf looked at them and whined, then turned and jumped against the door again, howling and growling. The girls ran into the trees, in
fear that the Indian woman might open a window and shoot at them. Jean continued to call for the wolf. Finally he ran after them as they
made their way along the shore back toward the east end of the island and the burial grounds.
"So, your name is 'Chatchaat'!" Jean said to the wolf as he loped up beside them. "You sure frightened those two nasty characters. It is
obvious you don't like them, and I don't blame you!"
"I wonder what his name means," Louise mused, pushing aside a netting of branches as they made their way from the shore up into the
woods again. "He must belong to Lorraine and she gave him that name."
Jean nodded. "Lorraine must have been kidnapped by that Indian couple years ago. I bet they took her north of the border into Canada
where she's been living all these years, maybe on an Indian reserve. That would explain her having a pet wolf."
"And now the three of them and Chatchaat are back in the Penfield area. Do you think they can be looking for something in the castle?
Something in the north tower?"
"I shouldn't doubt it. There is a reason they are here, and you can be sure it is a nefarious one. But is Lorraine with them or against them?
And Chatchaat wants to kill them! And he's here without Lorraine! Oh, I wish I knew what was going on."
"Don't fret, Sis," Louise grinned at her as they passed by the burial grounds. "We'll figure it all out in good time. Lorraine and the wolf may
have gotten separated when she went with Chakwanna, and they both may be looking for each other now. What I'd like to know is how the
old man got here so quickly from Bewdley."
"Apparently he used a pair of those skis stashed down by the shore. A good cross country skier can make remarkable time. Besides, it's
a shorter distance from Bewdley to Spirit Island across the ice than driving the roads, and we did spend quite a bit of time following
Chakwanna."
"We must tell Mr. Symington about this," Louise affirmed strongly. "We can't keep it from him any longer that armed intruders have taken
over the Ice Castle."
"We will tell him as soon as we get back to Bleak Acres," Jean agreed. "It is a crime what that Indian couple is doing, and Mr. Symington
may want to call in the authorities. There are no ghosts here on Spirit Island, just criminals!"
The girls reached the bay side shore of the island and stepped out onto the ice. The wolf followed, keeping just a pace behind them.
Jean chuckled. "Don't tell me he wants to come with us!"
"It looks that way," Louise echoed. "Maybe he'll just follow us to shore."
"But we can't take him with us to the shore by the lodge. He'll scare the daylights out of everyone."
Louise nodded thoughtfully, looking at the lodge ahead and the ice skaters and skiers on the bay. "Why don't you take Chatchaat and
walk over to that point of land east of the lodge? That way we won't bring him by the other people. You can walk through the woods to the
road and I'll meet you there with the car."
Jean agreed and took off in an easterly direction, commanding the wolf to go along with her. He watched Louise walk away for a few
seconds, then quickly jumped in step with Jean as she headed for the wooded point of land.
"You are really a good fellow," she told the animal. "And so good looking too. I am so happy Louise was able to recall the melody to
Lorraine's flute song, or you may have continued not to like us!"
Chatchaat yapped at hearing Lorraine's name again. Jean kept up a steady banter of conversation with him as they crossed the ice and
walked through the forest. Every time she mentioned Lorraine's name, the wolf yapped or whined and wagged his long bushy tail.
At length, she arrived at the roadside and Louise pulled up in Uncle Ned's sedan. Chatchaat immediately jumped onto the running board on
the driver's side with his front paws, and whined at Louise who had rolled down her window.
"Goodness! He wants to come with us."
Jean looked at the wolf curiously. "You know, he may smell Bleak Acres on us. Remember, he's one of the 'ghosts'. He's been in the
house several times and would know its scents and smells."
"I'm sure you are right," Louise agreed. "If he's been separated from Lorraine, he'd want to come with us to Bleak Acres in hopes of finding
her there."
"What a smart animal," Jean said admiringly, wanting to pet the wolf on his big furry neck. But she refrained from doing so, still afraid to
touch him.
"I guess we have to take our phantom friend along with us," she added.
Louise rolled her eyes heavenward. "Do we dare transport a wolf in Uncle Ned's car and take him with us to Bleak Acres?"
"You bet we do," Jean laughed, pulling open the back door. "Oh, the shopping bags!"
She climbed in to move the bags of gifts over to one side to make room for the wolf. Chatchaat stayed perched on the running board,
whining and wagging his tail. He obviously anticipated being allowed into the automobile.
Louise snickered, looking back. "He seems to be familiar with cars."
"Of course he is. He is a very intelligent dog ... oops!, wolf, that is," laughed Jean. She stepped back outside and placed the car robes
over the seat for the animal to sit on.
"Okay, boy, inside! Inside the car!"
Chatchaat jumped into the back seat and circled around the half that had been cleared for him. He settled down on his haunches and
panted happily with his tongue dangling out of his mouth. Louise and Jean looked at him and then at each other and burst into laughter.
Jean closed the door and then walked around to the passenger side and climbed into the front seat next to Louise.
"All aboard for Bleak Acres," she giggled. "Oh boy, I can't wait to explain ourselves out of this one!"
Chapter Thirteen: THE OPEN PIT

The big wolf named Chatchaat rode along in Ned Dana's big black sedan as if he were a passenger in automobiles every day of the week.
His big head moved back and forth as his eager eyes watched the snowy landscape go by, and it looked to the girls like he had a big grin
on his face.
"He is very well behaved," Jean observed, sending a beaming smile back at the wolf.
"I trust he has been Lorraine's pet since he was a pup," Louise said, as she turned the car onto the highway leading to the Symington
Estate. "She has trained him well."
As they approached the entrance road to Bleak Acres and Louise slowed the car, Chatchaat began to whine and his head bobbed around
as if it were attached by a spring.
"He knows where he is!" Louise exclaimed, downshifting as she turned onto the estate road.
"Yes, he's been here often enough," Jean agreed. "Perhaps he thinks he will find Lorraine here."
Louise snorted in an unladylike manner. "Humphh! Wouldn't it be nice if it were that simple? Something tells me it is not going to be that
easy to find Lorraine Symington."
She drove down the long road through the woods and past the house to the garages on the far back side. After parking in an out-of-the-way
spot, the girls looked around to make sure no one was about before they alighted from the car. The wolf was on all fours on the back seat,
his tail wagging, eager to be set free.
"What shall we do with him?" Jean asked as she walked around the car.
Louise shrugged. "We can't take him in the house, that's for sure. He's familiar with the grounds, so let's just let him out and see where he
goes. McFarlane and Mirabelle will be in the big house by now, and no one else seems to be out and about."
Jean pulled open the back door of the car and the wolf jumped happily out, prancing around and yapping at them. He sniffed at the ground,
pushing his nose into the snow, and then bounded away in the direction of the abbey.
Jean and Louise followed. Chatchaat ran right up to the abbey entrance, sniffing and whining and his tail wagging as if it would fly off. He
turned to the girls and barked rapidly several times, then swooshed away and bounded swiftly down the path toward the woods.
"He'll probably look around for Lorraine," Louise said thoughtfully. "He was here with her just last night."
"And if she comes back tonight, they'll be reunited," Jean added. "I guess we can leave him running loose out here. I believe he is too wise
an animal to bother anyone without just cause." She let out a nervous little laugh. "And now to tell the Symingtons we have brought a full-
grown wolf to their estate!"
The girls went back to the car and got the shopping bags, then walked over to the back entrance and entered the mansion through the
kitchens. Mrs. Benson and Mirabelle were in the main kitchen preparing the evening meal. After exchanging greetings and ascertaining
that Mirabelle was doing well, Louise asked, "Where are the Symingtons and Uncle Ned and Aunt Harriet?"
"In the Winter Parlor," Mrs. Benson answered. "Your uncle broke the news that you girls have seen Lorraine and believe she is the 'ghost'
who plays the flute. Mr. and Mrs. Symington are beside themselves with joy."
"Beautiful little Lorraine," Mirabelle sighed. She leaned against a counter top, her eyes wide with wonder. "That golden child! Then I really
did see her last night? I wasn't dreaming?"
Jean nodded readily. "Yes, it was Lorraine you saw, and her wolf too."
"By heavens! You mean that wolf was real?"
"Just as real as we four are," Louise affirmed. "In fact, he's out in the back yard right now."
"Here?" Mrs. Benson almost dropped a bowl she was pulling out of a cabinet.
"Yes, we found him at the Ice Castle on Indian Lake," Jean reported. "But don't worry, he's very well behaved and wanted to come with us."
Mrs. Benson placed the bowl on a counter and put her hands on her hips. "Well! I knew that was a wolf I'd been hearing around here. Why,
I haven't seen one in thirty years or so!"
"Why don't you two gather up McFarlane and come into the Winter Parlor," Louise suggested. "We have quite a bit to tell and it's best that
everyone here knows about it."
Mrs. Benson nodded. "We were just about to serve tea, so we all three will join you. I cannot wait to hear all the details!"
Louise and Jean took the back stairs up to the second floor and walked down the long corridors to their suite. After quickly freshening up,
Jean retrieved the leather case from the bureau drawer in which she had placed it for safekeeping. Within it were the old newspaper
clippings and the snowman pin. Then, carrying the shopping bags of gifts, the girls hurried down to the Winter Parlor.
Mrs. Benson and Mirabelle were already present and serving tea to the others. McFarlane was sitting with Uncle Ned and Mr. Symington
discussing the latest weather report which had forecast a snowstorm for overnight. Louise and Jean gaily walked through the room, saying
a cheery 'hello', and deposited their bags of gifts next to the brilliantly lit Christmas tree. Behind it, outside the window, big wet snowflakes
were fluttering down in the steel gray gloom.
"Merry belated Christmas!" Louise burst out with a laugh.
"And Happy New Year too," rejoined Jean. "Not only have we been holiday shopping, but we also had a couple very exciting adventures."
"Oh, you wonderful girls!"
Mrs. Symington rose from her seat and crossed the plush carpeting.
"You have found my daughter!" Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I shall be indebted to you for all my life."
She hugged Louise and then Jean, and Mr. Symington followed and shook both girls' hands warmly.
"There are no words to express our gratitude," he told them.
The Dana girls felt embarrassed at such praise and Louise immediately attempted to downplay their role in the matter. "We haven't exactly
found her yet, I'm afraid. She has been very elusive."
"But you saw her at the Ice Castle," Mrs. Symington interjected, "and followed the trail of clues to figure out who she is, and that she's our
'ghost' right here at Bleak Acres. No wonder the ghost plays the melody I wrote for Lorraine. It is she!"
Mr. Symington nodded heartily. "Just knowing she is alive and well is more than we had ever hoped for. Why ... Mirabelle saw her last
night. She just told us all about it. That's incredible."
"Yes Siree, I sure did see her," the jovial woman said, taking a seat near Aunt Harriet. "Humphh! And I thought I was dreaming. Ooh, and
that wolf too!"
Jean cleared her throat. "Uh, speaking of the wolf, his name is Chatchaat and he is here in the woods out back. We ran into him at the Ice
Castle today and he wanted to tag along with us."
Mrs. Symington's hand flew to her heart. "Lorraine's pet wolf ... here? Oh, we must let him inside."
Her husband chuckled. "My dear, I think a wolf would prefer the woods to the interior of this big old house."
"Chatchaat," Mrs. Benson said, handing cups of tea to Louise and Jean. "That's an Indian word. I'm sure I have heard it before."
"I remember it from my youth," McFarlane said. "I went to school in Bewdley and many of my classmates were Indian children from the
reservation. It means 'little brother'."
"Great Scott!" Mrs. Symington fanned herself with her hand as she sat back down on the love-seat next to Aunt Harriet, where she'd been
seated when the girls entered the room. "My daughter was raised by Indians and has a wolf she calls Little Brother! I never would have
imagined anything of the sort. It is wonderful to know what happened, strange as it may be."
Aunt Harriet chuckled and patted the woman's hand. She traded amused glances with Uncle Ned. "Leave it to our illustrious nieces to go
to town shopping and come back home with a wolf!"
"And in my new sedan!" Uncle Ned said in mock annoyance. "Sit down, girls, and tell us about your adventures today."
Louise and Jean agreed and when everyone was settled and the tea had all been served, Louise began. "I think it is best to start at the
very beginning, and that was the day we went ice skating at Indian Lake."
She went on to relate the entire story of their investigation, leaving out only the role Lettie Briggs had played in thwarting them. Then Jean
took over and told them about today's episodes in Bewdley and at the Ice Castle.
Uncle Ned cleared his throat when she was finished with her summation. "My guess," he said, "is that Lorraine was kidnapped by the old
Indian man and raised by him and the woman on a reserve north of the border in Canada. Now they have come back to the Penfield area
and are looking for something in the Ice Castle."
Aunt Harriet nodded in agreement. "They brought Lorraine with them and she started coming here to Bleak Acres with her wolf. She would
play the song written for her on the flute outside, then somehow sneak into the house. Now it appears that Chakwanna has taken her
under her wing, away from the old couple."
Louise told them that she and Jean had a date the following morning to go out to the reservation with the boys from the lodge. "Perhaps we
will find Lorraine there, or at least get information from Chakwanna of her whereabouts," she added.
Jean shook her head for a moment and frowned. "I'm confused, however, because Lorraine was on the island today and walked back to the
shore leaving Chatchaat there alone."
"There are many points that are still very mysterious," Mary Symington said. "How did they get Lorraine off the island when she was
kidnapped? Betty Gordon circled the entire island and didn't see a soul. And how did she learn to play the flute? She had piano lessons as
a child, but that was all."
"The Indians have their own type of flute," McFarlane told them, "and it is a very popular instrument with their people. Lorraine probably
learned how to play it as she grew up on the reserve up north."
"And she remembered that pretty melody you wrote for her, Mrs. Mary," Mirabelle said. "Now that's one bright child, the good Lord bless
her!"
"Lorraine was exceedingly bright," Mrs. Benson put in. "But why is she now being so uncommunicative - just running into the house and
going right back out? Why is she coming here but not contacting us?"
Mr. Symington took a sip of tea and then placed his cup in its saucer on the table beside his chair. "Ned believes that something may
have happened to her that has made her terribly shy or afraid to reunite with us. Her visits here may be frightened attempts to contact us."
"But what could the problem be?" Mrs. Symington asked, wringing her hands in anxiety.
Aunt Harriet patted the woman's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't let that worry you, Mary. The girl is obviously okay and in
excellent health the way she has been tramping all over this countryside day and night in this cold weather."
Louise agreed with her aunt. "Right. Lorraine may feel that she doesn't fit in here because of the life she has led until now. But she
obviously wants to return because she has been coming back for her nightly visits."
Jean zipped open the leather case and took out the snowman pin. She handed it to Mrs. Symington, along with the case. The woman
looked at the pin with tears in her eyes.
"Oh my! This indeed makes it real beyond question. Lorraine was wearing this pin when she disappeared!"
"There are also newspaper clippings in the case about the kidnapping," Jean informed her. "Someone cut them out and saved them.
Lorraine was carrying the case when we first saw her near the Ice Castle."
Mr. Symington made a fist and pounded it on the table next to him, rattling his tea cup. "The Ice Castle! We must go there tomorrow! That
old couple has no right being there. What are they doing there, anyway? And if Lorraine continues going to the island, we may have a
better chance of reuniting with her there."
Mary Symington's eyes widened brightly with new hope. "We have not been to the castle since the kidnapping," she told the Danas.
"McFarlane goes there a few times each year with a crew to clean and make repairs. But there is electricity and a telephone. Cables were
laid on the lake bottom out to the island."
"I'm surprised you kept that place all these years," said Mrs. Benson, rising to freshen everyone's tea.
Mrs. Symington shrugged her shoulders. "I think we did out of blind hope. If Lorraine lived, she would remember it, and maybe one day
come back."
"I think that's exactly what has happened," Jean told her. "I believe there is something in the castle that the old Indian couple wants, and
because of it they have returned to Spirit Island and brought Lorraine back with them."
Mr. Symington rose to his feet, startling Mrs. Benson who had come up to him with the teapot. He held his cup for her to fill, and he smiled
determinedly. "Ned, Harriet, girls! Will you come with us to the Ice Castle tomorrow? We must go and stay a few days. I believe it is the
best way to resolve this most complicated situation."
Louise and Jean traded feverish glances. They had never before wanted to do anything so badly!
"Good night!" Jean grunted. "Of course we want to go. But we have to go back to Starhurst tomorrow. We have classes Monday."
"Don't you worry about that," Mrs. Symington said, rising to her feet. "I will call Mrs. Crandall immediately and ask if you can stay with us
a few more days. I will refuse to take No for an answer!"
She looked at Uncle Ned and Aunt Harriet. "You will come with us to the castle, won't you?"
Uncle Ned nodded and Aunt Harriet said, "Of course we will, Mary. We will remain at your side until you are happily reunited with your
daughter."
The woman smiled gratefully then hurried out of the room to the telephone. Mirabelle got up from her chair and began to help Mrs. Benson
with the tea things. There was a big smile on her face.
"If our little Lorraine comes to my window tonight, I'll know not to think I'm dreaming," the colored woman said. "Hallelujah! That wonderful
child is back in our fold."
Louise looked at Mr. Symington who had crossed to one of the high windows and was gazing out at the falling snow. "It is possible that
Lorraine may come here again tonight," she said. "We should make plans on what to do in case she does."
He turned to look at them, still holding his teacup in hand. "There is supposed to be quite a snowfall, so she may stay indoors - wherever
she is. But, yes, we will comprise a plan of action in case she comes."
"Mirabelle says her husband Calvin believed there might be secret underground chambers between the abbey and the house," Jean told
him.
"He sure did," Mirabelle interjected. "You know, Mr. Rutherford, that they say this house was part of the underground railroad that brought
the runaway slaves up north here from the South. We never talked about it, of course, 'cause it was so long ago and it's all better left in the
past. But Calvin, rest his dear soul, had heard stories handed down about hiding the escaped slaves in rooms under the abbey."
The man's brows arched and he looked thoughtful. "Growing up in this wonderful house made me take it and its history for granted. I never
paid much attention to it, always focused on education, business, and my sports activities. But it makes sense, Mirabelle. The abbey was
brought here from an old estate in England back in the early 1800s, stone by stone. Small abbeys and chapels like ours usually had a
crypt below them, in which to bury the departed."
"It appears that Lorraine enters the house through the abbey," Louise agreed. "We found some of Chatchaat's hairs in there, but could not
find a secret panel or entrance."
Mr. Symington smiled proudly. "Well, that's my daughter for you. Even as a child she was pretty special. I wonder how she learned the
secret?"
Mrs. Benson chuckled. "Calvin may have told her about the legend, and Lorraine would have begged him to help her find it."
Mirabelle shook her head in dismay. "If that's what happened, who'd think that years later it would come back to haunt us?"
"But it is a wonderful haunting now, Mirabelle," Aunt Harriet said. "Because we now know who the 'ghost' is."
Mrs. Symington walked back into the Winter Parlor and announced that Mrs. Crandall had graciously given permission for Jean and Louise
to stay for two or three more days. The girls beamed at this news, elated that they would be able to go to the Ice Castle with the
Symingtons and Uncle Ned and Aunt Harriet.
"I can't believe we are actually going to stay at the castle," Jean said later, when they were up in their room dressing for dinner. "Won't it
be exciting?"
"Yes, especially if the Indian couple are there when we arrive," Louise chuckled. "I'm sure Mr. Symington will bring a firearm. It might turn
out to be like a showdown in a western movie."
Dinner that evening was a festive affair, everyone being in a positive mood filled with hope that the missing Lorraine would soon be found.
Mirabelle helped Mrs. Benson and McFarlane serve the sumptuous meal and then the three servants repaired to the kitchens to eat. Later,
however, Louise and Jean insisted they be seated with the others around the tree in the Winter Parlor, and the girls themselves served
coffee and dessert to all.
Plans were made to drive out to Forest Lodge early in the morning where horse and sleigh would take them out to Spirit Island. Mr.
Symington had earlier called purveyors in Bewdley who would deliver supplies to the Ice Castle in the morning. McFarlane and Mrs.
Benson were to remain at Bleak Acres to watch the house and keep an eye on Mirabelle.
After the coffee and dessert, they all gathered round and sang Christmas carols to the accompaniment of Mrs. Symington on the piano.
Jean sat in to play several songs, including an upbeat Jingle Bells. Then Mirabelle took over and led them acappella in a couple rousing
Negro spirituals. They clapped their hands to the tempo and sang with gusto, and a happy time was had by all.
Several times Louise and Jean glanced knowingly at each other, both girls having noticed the sparkle in Mrs. Symington's eyes and the
smile on her lips. They knew she was hopeful of a quick reunion with her daughter and they were determined to bring it about.
Gifts were exchanged after the singing, and there were loads of presents for everyone. The big room was soon filled with ribbon and colorful
paper as boxes were opened and the wrappings strewn about. Louise and Jean received, among other things, lovely sweater twin sets from
the Symingtons, perfect for wear at school, in addition to their self-bought gifts from Uncle Ned and Aunt Harriet. The gifts they had bought
for the others were exclaimed over happily, including the plaid hunting cap for McFarlane, a colorful paperweight for Mrs. Benson, and a
book of poems for Mirabelle.
All too soon the belated Christmas party came to an end. It was growing late and they planned to rise early in the morning to travel to
Indian Lake. The girls helped clean up the colorful mess that had been made in the Winter Parlor and then offered to walk Mirabelle home
so that Uncle Ned and Aunt Harriet and the Symingtons could chat a while more around the fire before retiring, and discuss their plan of
action in case Lorraine made a ghostly visitation that night.
"Mercy me!" Mirabelle exclaimed as they stepped outdoors. "Look at all the snow! Looks like over a foot has come down."
"Almost," Jean agreed, holding onto one of the woman's arms as Louise took the other. "And it's still falling, too."
The new snow was light and fluffy but there was a lot of it, and it was continuing to fall in big puffy flakes.
"Indian Lake will be covered with inches of new snow," Louise reflected. "Perfect for a sleigh ride across to the reservation."
"I wonder where that wolf is?" Mirabelle mused as they approached the abbey. "We haven't heard a peep out of him all evening."
"I hope he found something to eat out here," Jean said. "Maybe a rabbit or a squirrel."
Mirabelle chuckled. "No need to worry about a wolf finding food. But just in case, Mrs. Benson and I had McFarlane take out a nice portion
of turkey and all the trimmings. He said he put it by the entrance to the yew tree maze."
Louise grinned happily. "I'm sure Chatchaat found it. I bet he's just as smart as a wolf can be."
Soon they arrived at the old stone house and the girls escorted Mirabelle inside to make sure everything was okay. A fire was burning in
the hearth and Jean added a couple logs to it while Louise checked the wood stove in back. They were just about to leave the house when
they heard the faint strains of music from outside.
Mirabelle's eyes widened. "It's the flute! It's Lorraine!"
And then came the mournful eerie howling of the wolf.
"Chatchaat!" Louise gasped.
"Oh, we must hurry," Jean cried, squeezing the woman's hands in farewell. "Maybe we can catch up with Lorraine!"
"Good night, Mirabelle!" Louise called, as she hurried to the door with Jean. "If you need anything, call us at the house."
The old woman wished them luck and the girls flew out of the front door of the old stone house into the snowy night. They hurried through
the woods in the direction of the abbey, but now there was no sound to be heard other than their own ragged breathing. No flute song, no
howling wolf.
"Perhaps they already went inside the mansion," Jean suggested as they burst out of the woods onto the hedgerow path.
"That must be the explanation," Louise agreed. "All is quiet out here."
"She came early tonight, too. If Lorraine goes into the house, the others will still be up and in the Winter Parlor!"
Louise nodded and pulled her sister along. "I hope we don't lose her again! Let's hurry to the abbey."
They ran the rest of the way up the path. The abbey gates were pulled open and the big door pushed in. The girls could see a confusion of
human and animal tracks leading up to them.
"We must have just missed them," Louise said, switching on the flashlight she had carried along in her coat pocket. She aimed the light
beam through the opening. "Lorraine and Chatchaat must have come here just minutes after we passed by."
With the flashlight beam leading the way, they stole into the abbey. Louise played the beam up the center aisle to the altar and both girls
gasped audibly at what they saw.
The ornate stone altar had been moved aside and in its place was a dark pit down which a stairway led into forbidden stygian depths!
Chapter Fourteen: THE SECRET CRYPT
"Good God!" Jean cried, running up the aisle. "The altar has been moved!"
Louise was right behind her, flashing the light ahead. "And it leads down into a crypt, like Mr. Symington suggested. But why couldn't we
discover how to open it?"
They climbed up to the open pit where the altar had stood. Stone steps led down into the darkness.
Jean looked at the altar, which now stood aside its former location. "There is no way Lorraine could move that altar around by pushing it,"
she declared dubiously.
Louise flashed the light around, looking for some kind of explanation to the opening of the secret passage.
"Look there!" Jean pointed to the bronze candle holders on the wall. They were now lower than their normal position and sticking out into
the room. "Someone pulled them down. That must move the altar. But why didn't it work for us?"
Louise settled the beam of light on one torch, then the other. Then she moved it to the bronze plaque between them. "There is your
explanation," she said. "Look at the plaque. It has been moved."
The plaque was no longer centered between the two torch-shaped candle holders. It had been moved several inches toward the left and
narrow runners could be seen in the wall in the area that had been behind it.
"Can you beat that?" Jean sighed. "What a couple of detectives we turned out to be! Apparently, you move the plaque over and that
enables you to pull down the torches which, in turn, moves the altar and exposes the crypt."
Louise shook her head and chuckled. "Very elementary, my dear Watson. But we sure missed it!"
"You can say that again, Sis. But let's not miss Lorraine too. We had better hurry through this passageway and into the house."
Louise aimed the flashlight beam down the steps leading into the crypt. "Ugh! It sure looks spooky. But you are right. We must not let her
get away this time. Perhaps the others have already met up with her in the house."
"If that's happened, I hope Chatchaat is as friendly with the others as he was with us," Jean said as they stepped onto the stairway. "I'd
hate to think that he might hurt someone."
The girls slowly descended into the gloom of the crypt, stealthily creeping down the old stone steps visible in the pool of light from the
flashlight. Jean shivered and pulled up her coat collar. It seemed to get even colder as they reached the floor of the subterranean chamber.
Louise played the light around from the foot of the hidden staircase, and she and her sister gasped in wonder at the large room they found
themselves in. It was a wide chamber with stone walls and a flagstone floor, and seemed to go on as far as the light beam would shine.
Large shelf-like openings were built into the walls, some still strewn with what looked like the remnants of straw. Here and there were
pieces of old furniture, a table and chairs, a cot, a threadbare suite of upholstered furniture, and old feather mattresses with their insides
strewn around in untidy disorder. There were dark openings that looked like doorways, possibly leading off into other rooms.
Louise flashed the light onto the shelves built into the walls. "When this abbey was in England there were probably caskets in those
openings. I suspect that here they were used as beds for the runaway slaves."
Jean looked around in wonder as they stepped slowly through the chamber. She shivered at the flickering light and shadows, and the
almost unbearable cold. "If Bleak Acres was haunted, you'd think its ghosts would be those of the slaves who had to endure confinement
in this underground."
Louise smiled and shook her head. "There are no ghosts here other than Lorraine and Chatchaat. The good people who lived in this house
helped the slaves to freedom and a life of dignity."
The chambers suddenly narrowed into a tunnel. The floor here was earthen, wet in patches and icy in other areas. The girls could hear the
squealing of little animals, the scratching of tiny little feet. A long thin tail swung and flicked into the light beam, causing Louise to yelp and
almost drop the flashlight.
"Golly," Jean managed to choke out. "You'd think it would be too cold down here for such critters. I'm freezing!""
Then, suddenly, the tunnel-like corridor began to slope upward.
"We must be getting closer to the house," Louise whispered.
"I hope so," Jean said, her teeth chattering. "The sooner I get out of this place, the better. Lorraine surely was exceptionally brave to come
down here by herself when she was a child."
A flight of stone steps leading upward appeared in the flashlight beam, and both girls sighed in relief.
"Another hidden staircase," Louise murmured, hurrying on. "And this one ought to lead up into the mansion."
The girls scurried up the steps as best they could in the meager light, eager to be out of the dungeon-like underground. At the top of the
stairs was an open section of stone wall, and they rushed through it into another dark chamber.
"The wine cellar!" Louise exclaimed, as the flashlight beam played around on racks of wine bottles. "Quick! Let's turn on the light."
They found the switch and Jean flipped it, bathing the room in light. Wine bottle racks were attached to the section of wall that was open
into the room, and the girls quickly found a spring lock on one of the racks in its now opened position.
"We missed this one too," said Jean, in annoyed tones. "This house has well-hidden secret passages, eh?"
Louise nodded staidly in agreement. "I guess that's why they call them 'secret'. Come, let's hurry upstairs and see what has happened."
"Perhaps Lorraine has already met up with her mother and father by now," Jean said hopefully, as they stepped out into the dark basement
corridor.
Louise found a light switch and turned it on, and then they hastened down the hall to the steps leading up to the kitchens, which were
closer than the central stairway that led up to the back of the main entrance hall. They clambered up the two flights of stairs and into the
main kitchen where the lights were bright and burning. But no one was present in the room. They were rushing through the room when
shouts and cries of distress erupted from the front of the house.
Then came excited barking and yapping.
"It's Chatchaat!" Jean cried. "Oh, let's hurry."
They ran through the butler's pantry and the serving room, into the spacious dining room which led out to the hall, all the while hearing a
jumble of shouts and cries and the wolf's high-pitched yapping.
"Lorraine! Lorraine!" they could hear someone crying out. "Don't go! Don't run away!"
Jean and Louise plowed into the hall and ran alongside the grand staircase toward the Winter Parlor. Mrs. Benson was standing at the
entrance to the room, her fingers to her mouth and an astonished expression on her face.
"Hurry!" she cried, pointing to the other side of the staircase. "They all went that way!"
The Dana girls did not pause for an instant.They ran around the front of the staircase to the other side and sprang down the hall that led to
the downstairs rooms of the house's east wing and the central stairs to the basement. The door leading downstairs had been flung open
and the continuing shouts and cries could be heard coming up from the depths.
"They must all be running after Lorraine and Chatchaat," Louise gushed, plunging forward down the steps.
"Lorraine must have surprised them in the Winter Parlor," echoed Jean. "Then got frightened and ran off."
Aunt Harriet, whom they found at the bottom of the stairway, confirmed this suspicion. She was holding onto the railing and breathing hard
from her exertions.
"Girls! Lorraine and the wolf crept into the Winter Parlor and scared the daylights out of us. She was as frightened as we were! She turned
and fled. Hurry! Don't let her get away."
The exhausted woman pointed down the corridor and Louise and Jean ran on.
"If only we had gone up the central stairs instead of the back ones," Jean groaned. "We would have headed the girl off."
"I never even thought of it," Louise shot back, turning down a corridor that led to the wine cellar. "The back stairs were closer! But we would
have run smack dab into Lorraine and Chatchaat had we gone the other way. I hope she hasn't gone down into the secret passages!"
But when they arrived at the wine cellar, they instantly knew that the girl and the wolf had returned to the underground. Uncle Ned,
McFarlane, and Mr. and Mrs. Symington were searching the room in confusion.
"I'm sure this is where she went," Mr. Symington was saying.
Uncle Ned agreed. "Indeed! We saw her run right into this room."
"Quick! There is a secret passage to the abbey," Louise burst out, as she and Jean rushed into the midst of them.
"Girls! You're back!" Mary Symington boomed. "We saw Lorraine! It is indeed my daughter. But she got frightened and she and the wolf ran
away. Oh, we've lost her again!"
"Not to worry," Jean tried to assure her. "We may catch her yet. Uncle Ned! McFarlane! Go out to the abbey. Quick! You may be able to
head her off there."
Louise had gone directly to the wine racks on the wall that opened to the secret passage. As Uncle Ned and McFarlane hurried out to the
corridor, she tripped the secret spring on the wine rack and the wall swooshed open into the room, startling Mr. and Mrs. Symington.
"Heaven forfend!" the woman cried, stepping back in astonishment.
Rutherford Symington shook his head in wonder. "All my life I spent in this house, and I never knew."
"But Lorraine knew," said Louise, the flashlight still in her hand. She aimed the beam down the secret stairway. "This is how she's been
gaining entrance to the house."
The girls went ahead down the steps, the Symingtons following.
Jean looked back at them. "You should stay in the house," she advised. "It is unbearably cold down here."
"Oh, never never," Mrs. Symington objected. "I want my daughter!"
Mr. Symington agreed. "Certainly! We must catch up to her."
They reached the floor of the secret underground and cautiously made their way through the chilly darkness of the tunnel with as much
haste as safety would allow. When they arrived at the larger chambers, the Symingtons uttered startled comments about the nature of the
hidden rooms. They could scarcely believe the sight of the secret crypt with its old broken furnishings and bedding, and the shelf-like
openings in the wall.
"This is where the runaway slaves were hidden," Jean explained. "Somehow Lorraine found out how to get in and out of the house through
here when she was a child."
Mary Symington chuckled. "I knew there were a couple times Lorraine couldn't be found. I thought she was hiding somewhere in the
house. You know, it's so big. But it could be she was down here."
"Most probably," Louise agreed. "She must have enjoyed keeping the secret to herself. Oh, here are the steps up to the abbey." She
aimed the flashlight beam upward. "She left the pit open! I hope Uncle Ned and McFarlane were able to head her off."
But when they climbed up into the abbey, the door and gates were open and the girl and wolf were nowhere in sight. Uncle Ned, wielding a
flashlight, was just entering the abbey with McFarlane. They had put on hats and coats and were carrying extras which they immediately
gave to the Symingtons who gratefully pulled them on. McFarlane walked over to a corner and flipped a switch. Recessed overhead lights
came on and bathed the small cold chapel in a warm glow.
"She was already gone when we arrived here," Uncle Ned explained. "So we looked around outside, all the way down to the woods. But
there was no trace of Lorraine and the wolf. I don't know how she got away so fast."
"She was raised with the Indians," Louise reminded them, "and obviously has exceptional athletic and outdoor skills. She goes off through
the woods past Mirabelle's house, over that low stone wall that marks the property and out to the highway. She's probably well on her way
back home, wherever that may be, by now."
"What a mystery!" Mary Symington sighed, giving the girls a baffled glance. "Where is she staying? How does she get here? She must be
a regular Nanook of the North to run around the countryside in midwinter like she does."
"I wish she hadn't run away from us," Mr. Symington said.
Uncle Ned put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll meet up with her, and soon. Don't you worry about it."
McFarlane walked up to the open pit and looked down into it. "This passageway, I suppose, leads over to the wine cellar?"
Louise confirmed his suspicion and described the nature and purpose of the secret chambers below.
"I would never have thought that the altar could move," the butler said. "How does it work?"
Louise and Jean showed him and the others the bronze candle holders and plaque, and explained how manipulating them would open and
close the abbey's hidden crypt.
"You may as well close it up," Mr. Symington said. "I certainly don't want to go back down there. We shall return to the house by way of
the back yard."
Louise rolled the bronze plaque back into its normal position, marveling at how smoothly it moved. Then she and Jean each pushed up one
of the torch-like candle holders and the big stone altar silently swung back into place, covering the opening to the crypt.
The Symingtons exchanged baffled glances, obviously taken aback because they had not known about the crypt and tunnel to the house.
"This certainly has been a day filled with surprises," Mrs. Symington stated after they had turned off the lights and walked outside. "The
most shocking, of course, was to see my daughter, alive and well and right in front of me. She gaped at us as if she didn't know who we
are and, of course, we were all so surprised we were frozen to the spot."
"She must have come here alone and then met up with Chatchaat," Louise concluded, as the group walked back to the house in the falling
snow.
"And she came earlier than usual," Jean added. "We heard the flute and Chatchaat's howling from Mirabelle's house. Didn't you hear it in
the mansion?"
Uncle Ned shook his head. "We had turned the radio on to listen to the weather forecast. The announcer's voice must have drowned it out."
"But at least we got to see Lorraine," said the girl's father. "She looks wonderful, although somewhat young for her age. Her hair is still that
golden color and she was wearing pants and a red coat, like a hunting jacket, with a hood pulled up over her head."
McFarlane cleared his throat. "Let me point out, if I may, that last night she did not come into the house, we think, because the lights were
on. But they were on tonight and she came right upstairs, walked right into the Winter Parlor."
"She is getting bolder," Uncle Ned suggested. "That's a good sign. Perhaps next time she will not run away."
"What if she comes tomorrow night?" Mrs. Symington asked. "We won't be here. We have made plans to go to the Ice Castle in the
morning."
"We are very likely to see her there, too," Louise reminded the woman.
"Perhaps we can write her a message," Jean suggested. "We can leave it on the altar in the abbey where she is sure to see it if she
comes back here to Bleak Acres."
"That's a wonderful idea, Jean," Mrs. Symington quickly responded. "I'll write the note myself. I'll say that it was wonderful to see her and
that she should not be afraid, that we love her and want her back home with us. I'll tell her that we have gone to the Ice Castle for a couple
days and that we await her there."
"Louise and I can place the missive on the abbey altar in the morning before we set off for Indian Lake," Jean offered. "But I have a strong
feeling we'll see Lorraine out at the island. And there are no secret underground passages there for her to hide in."
Mr. Symington laughed at that. "You can say that again. I built the place myself and would know!"
They stomped into the house through the back door, brushing the snow off their hats and coats as they walked up the short flight of steps
into the main kitchen. Aunt Harriet and Mrs. Benson were in the room preparing hot chocolate, and the girls quickly filled them in on what
had happened.
After removing their outdoor clothes, they all sat around the big kitchen table and discussed the strange events of the evening, and the
plans for the morrow. At length, spent from all their efforts, they retired to their rooms and McFarlane and Mrs. Benson secured the house
for the night.
Even though the wind whistled and howled along the gables and around the many chimneys of the mansion at Bleak Acres, the Dana girls
slept soundly, so exhausted they were from the sustained excitement of the day. They awoke early, eager to begin the new day which
promised to take them out to the Ice Castle once again and the Indian reservation across the frozen lake.
Jean jumped from her bed and pulled on her slippers, then hurried over to the back window to see if it was still snowing. The snow had
stopped falling but the sky was darkly bleak and threatening. But underneath the gloomy cloud cover was a veritable winter wonderland of
white.
"Louise! Come quickly and look at all the snow. Gosh, I bet another foot or more fell throughout the night."
Every branch of every tree in the woods out back was covered with the brilliant white. The garages and abbey were laden with a snowy
burden, and the many shrubberies of the gardens, the fountains and benches, and the yew tree maze were all draped in drifts. It was a
lovely sight to see, but it instantly brought a frown to Louise's face as she joined Jean and gazed out the window.
"The highways won't be passable," she almost wailed. "We won't be able to drive out to the lake."
Jean frowned too. They had their hopes set on going out to the Ice Castle today, but after such a deep snow the rural highways and pikes
would not all be plowed until later in the day.
Then she snapped her fingers. "I've got an idea, Louise! We can call Forest Lodge. The boys there can drive over here in their sleighs to
pick us up. I'm sure they'd be happy to do it and ..........."
Jean's words abruptly stopped when she saw Louise's mouth drop open and her fingers fly up to her cheeks in surprise as she gaped out
the window.
"Oh my gosh!" Louise cried. She leaned forward, her nose touching the glass between the leaded panes. "Jean! Someone is out back.
Someone in a red coat with a hood!"
Jean's gaze flew out through the window. She could see the bright red distinctly against the white of the snow as the person in the hooded
coat bobbed up and down along the hedgerow path near the abbey.
"It must be Lorraine!" the girl cried.
"Hurry!" Louise commanded, tearing herself away from the window. "We must throw our clothes on get out there. We can't let Lorraine get
away from us this time!"
Chapter Fifteen: THE GIRL IN THE RED COAT
The Dana girls clambered down the grand staircase pulling on their hats and coats, and flew through the great hall and kitchens to the
back entrance where they had left their boots. A startled Mrs. Benson shrank back against the cupboards as they almost plowed her over.
"Mercy me! What's going on?"
"Lorraine is out back," Louise cried, as she and Jean pulled on their boots and buttoned their coats. "We can't let her get away this time!"
"Awake the others," Jean added as she pulled open the back door. "Let them know she's here!"
The next instant they were outside, pushing through the deeply fallen new snow across the back terraces toward the abbey.
"There she is!" Jean burst out, pointing ahead.
The red-coated figure could be seen skulking about the pillars in front of the abbey. At Jean's shout, the figure turned to look their way in
surprise. Then, immediately pulling the hood tighter, the figure fled into the gardens beyond.
"Lorraine! Lorraine!" Louise cried out the name, endeavoring to hurry, but it was almost impossible to run with any speed in the deep snow.
Jean grabbed hold of her sister's arm and helped her along as they hastened on. "She's heading to the maze! Oh, if she goes in there we
stand a good chance of catching up with her."
Louise wasn't so sure of that. She and Jean had never been inside the yew tree maze and weren't familiar with its paths. Lorraine might
remember it from her childhood and know her way around. But she refrained from voicing this opinion. She needed every ounce of her
strength just to keep on running in the deep snow.
The girl in the red coat ran past hedgerows and ornamental plants, small gardens with Greek and Roman statuary, and the beds of topiary
plants all clipped to perfection in a myriad of unusual shapes and figures, and now all draped in drifts of snow. She paused at the entrance
to the yew tree maze, throwing a furtive glance back at Louise and Jean, shielding her face with her hands as she did. Then, with a
sudden, quick movement, she disappeared into the maze of tall evergreens.
"Lorraine!" Louise flared out as they drew near. "Don't run away! Your mom and dad want to see you!"
But no response came from the fleeing girl.
"I hope we don't lose her in here," Jean said anxiously as they arrived at the maze entrance.
On one side were two metal bowls that had obviously contained the food brought out yesterday for Chatchaat. They were licked clean and
almost buried in the newly fallen snow. But the girls scarcely noticed them.
"We'll just follow her tracks," said Louise, breathing hard. "It should be no problem to catch up with her."
The yew trees that formed the maze were almost seven feet tall and towered over the girls' heads. Over the years they had been clipped to
perfection into solid evergreen walls lining the paths Louise and Jean now hurried down. They made a left turn, then a right turn, then
another left as they followed the newly made tracks in the freshly fallen snow drifted deeply between the rows of stately trees.
"Lorraine!" Louise called between panting breaths. "Lorraine Symington! Please stop! We won't hurt you!"
The paths went up and down and seemingly around and around as they led to the maze's center, and the girls soon had no idea in which
direction they were heading. They had seen the maze from above from their bedroom window, but those quick glances had not given a true
indication of its size, which now seemed overwhelming.
Jean gasped for breath. "The gardeners must get lost in here when they are clipping these evergreens."
Louise grunted in agreement as they rounded a corner. "They may have to lay out a string behind them as did Theseus when he went into
the labyrinth to slay the Minotaur."
The very next moment Jean cried, "Oh no, now we're in trouble!"
She pointed to the tracks in the snow and Louise quickly assessed the situation, much to her chagrin. They had indeed been going in
circles and had now come upon their own footprints in the snow that had followed the tracks of the fleeing girl.
"Those are our tracks," Louise hissed, "right on top of Lorraine's! Oh, where has she gone?"
Jean pulled her along. "Let's keep going. She may have doubled back this way too. It's difficult to tell how many sets of prints there are!"
They crept down the long path, slower now, then made a couple more turns as they followed the melange of tracks in the snow. They
could not see over the trees and had now completely lost their bearings. They didn't know if they were back on the outer paths of the maze
or in closer to its center.
"Here!" Jean pointed jubilantly to a path curving off the one they were on. "She went this way. There are only one set of prints here."
Eagerly, the sisters turned onto the path and hastened quickly once again, believing themselves to be near their quarry. The paths were
shorter now and had many turns. Here and there an alcove had been carved into the trees and in it sat a low stone bench upon which one
could rest.
"We must be approaching the center of the maze," Jean whispered. "I believe we shall have the girl trapped. She will have to pass us by to
get back out."
Just then a flash of red flew through the path ahead of them, from a side path to one on the other side. Gasping, Louise and Jean pounced
ahead as one and turned down the path on which the red-cloaked figure had flown. So intent were they at apprehending the fleeing figure
that they were startled to find themselves at a dead end.
Confused momentarily, they both spun around to see themselves in a small garden, obviously the center of the maze. There was no way
out except that in which they had come. A reflecting pool, now frozen and drifted with snow, was surrounded by several stone benches. In
its center was a statue of a Grecian goddess, beckoning in a dramatic pose.
On the other side of the pool, scrunched back into a corner in the yews, was the girl in the red coat. She was breathing raggedly and
staring at Louise and Jean with undisguised hostility.
"You!" Louise cried, her face an expression of total astonishment.
"I don't believe it!" Jean groaned, her hands flying up in front of her in amazement.
The girl in the red coat was Lettie Briggs!
"What in the world are you doing here?" Louise demanded.
"Why are you skulking around Bleak Acres?" Jean added, walking closer to their schoolmate and looking at her angrily.
Lettie cringed back into the trees. "I'm here investigating!" she retorted.
"Investigating?" Louise exploded. "You are trespassing! And where did you get that red coat? We thought you were Lorraine Symington!"
Lettie looked at them indignantly. "This is my new ski jacket! Why should you think I am the Symington girl?"
Jean rolled her eyes heavenward. "She wears a coat almost identical to that one."
Lettie's brows knit together for a moment and then a little smile played on her lips. "Well ... no wonder ...!
"No wonder what?" Jean demanded.
Louise placed a hand on her sister's arm and scrutinized Lettie. "I think I know what's on her mind," she said. Then she asked the Briggs
girl, "Were you at Indian Lake yesterday?"
Lettie stepped forward from the evergreens and looked at the Dana girls defiantly. It was obvious that her usual arrogant bravado was
returning. "Why should I answer your questions?" she spat at them.
"Because," Louise told her, "if you don't, we will tell the Symingtons that you were trespassing. If you do, we will tell them you are our
school chum and have brought us a message about the investigation."
Lettie sniffed derisively. "I don't have to go along with your demands. My father is a business associate of Mr. Symington's."
Jean challenged her. "But Mrs. Crandall won't like it if she finds out you came to Bleak Acres uninvited and without her permission."
"Oh, all right." Lettie stamped her foot in anger. "I went to Indian Lake yesterday to investigate. There was an elderly Indian couple at the
Ice Castle. The woman had a rifle and threatened to shoot me."
"What did you do?" Louise asked.
"I went away, of course. They looked like they were crazy. I ran off through the woods to those weird burial grounds. Then I crossed the
bay back to the shore."
Jean nodded in understanding. "And the boys on the ice boat tried to stop you?"
Lettie's eyes widened. "Why ... yes! I thought they were going to run me down. How do you know?"
"They told us," Louise responded. "And Jean and I saw you right after that as you tramped through the woods on shore. We were in the
car on the road that leads to the lodge. We thought you were Lorraine because of the red coat."
Jean looked at her sister as full clarity clicked in her mind. "So it wasn't Lorraine! It was Lettie we saw. Lorraine must have been at the
reservation with Chakwanna."
"The reservation?" Lettie asked, looking from Jean to Louise. "Who is Chakwanna?"
Jean ignored the question and fired one of her own. "Did you see the wolf at the island?"
Lettie's eyes popped wide. "The wolf? What wolf?"
"Lorraine Symington has a pet wolf who accompanies her everywhere," Jean told her. "We arrived on the island only a short time after you
were there yesterday and ran into the wolf. You are very lucky you didn't meet up with him. Louise and I were able to make friends with him
because of an important clue we discovered in our investigation."
"A clue?" The Briggs girl looked flabbergasted. "What kind of clue could help you make friends with a wolf?"
Jean ignored that question too. "How did you get out here to Bleak Acres? I doubt that the highways have been plowed this early."
Lettie gave them a sheepish look, her bravado wavering. "I paid one of the dairymen to drive me out. He was making emergency deliveries
in a sleigh."
"And how do you intend to get back to Starhurst?" Jean asked. "The snow is much too deep for walking."
Lettie shrugged. "I didn't give it any thought. I suppose I can return with you, if you don't mind."
"We aren't going back to Starhurst today," Jean told her. "We are going to the Ice Castle with the Symingtons for a couple days."
"The Ice Castle!" Lettie's expression turned to one of furious jealousy. "I want to go, too! Why do you girls always get to do everything?"
"We could not possibly impose upon the Symingtons to invite you," Louise said, feeling a little sympathetic toward the girl. "And why
should we, anyway, after all the trouble you have caused?"
"Right," Jean quickly agreed. "How could you have broken into our suite and stolen the snowman pin? It belongs to Lorraine! And then you
pawned it! Lettie, that's stealing."
The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then harrumphed. "You two always get all the breaks. I wanted to throw a wrench in
the works to stall you."
"Well, you certainly did," Louise declared. "But we just so happened to see you at the pawn shop and were able to buy the pin back."
Lettie tried to act as if the whole thing was meaningless. "I would have bought it back after a while. No one else would have purchased it.
Who'd want that old pin anyway?"
"And then you tore out the newspaper articles at the Penfield Library archives, didn't you?" Jean quickly interrogated.
Lettie's eyes averted theirs and she looked down at her gloved hands.
"Well?" Louise prodded.
"So what if I did?" the girl said defiantly. "I wanted to study up on the case after seeing the news articles you had in your possession.
Ruining old newspapers wouldn't matter much if it could help me find the missing Symington girl."
Louise shook her head in wonder. "Lettie! You must learn to behave. Vandalism and theft are illegal acts. If Mrs. Crandall should know, she
would expel you."
Suddenly, the brazen girl looked afraid. "Please don't tell her! My father would be furious if I get into trouble again. And don't tell Mr.
Symington! I don't want to cause a rift in his business relationship with my father."
Louise and Jean traded impatient glances and wearily shook their heads in unison.
"Of course we won't tell on you," Louise said to the Briggs girl. "But we wish you'd stop thwarting us at every move. Why must you always
interfere?"
"I want to be a detective, too," the girl whined. "You don't hold the exclusive rights to solve this case. I have every right to ..."
Her words were interrupted by shouts from outside the maze.
"Louise! Jean!"
"Ho, girls! Where are you?"
Louise looked warily at Jean. "It's Uncle Ned and Mr. Symington. We'll have to come up with a reason for Lettie being here."
The girl in question stepped forward with a pleading tone. "Please don't tell on me. I don't want to get in trouble."
Jean gave her an exasperated look. "Don't worry, we won't spoil things for you. Just pretend that we are friends and go along with what we
say."
Lettie's expression of anxiety eased somewhat as Jean shouted, "We are in the maze, Uncle Ned, trying to find our way back out. We
should be there in a minute or two."
"Don't get lost in there!" they heard him return in a joking tone.
"Did you find Lorraine?" Mr. Symington shouted. "Is she really here?"
"Mrs. Benson must have told him we saw the girl in the red coat," Louise said, looking pointedly at Lettie. "This will be another
disappointment for the Symingtons."
Lettie looked away from her gaze as Louise then called out, "It was not Lorraine. Sorry! We'll explain when we get out there."
They began the trek out of the maze from the center garden area, down the multitude of paths. The Briggs girl followed with a sullen look
on her face.
"Do you have a maze like this at your estate, Lettie?" Jean asked in an effort to sustain conversation.
The girl nodded glumly. "Yes, but it is much smaller and the yews are not so high. My father claims that Bleak Acres is the grandest
estate in this part of the country."
"It is hard to imagine anything bigger or better," Jean chuckled. "Except perhaps Buckingham Palace."
"And to think that the Symingtons own the Ice Castle too," Lettie said in awed tones. Then her expression soured again. "Too bad that
mean old couple were there yesterday. Maybe I could have found out something. What are they doing there, anyway?"
"We believe they are the ones who kidnapped Lorraine," Louise told the girl, "and that now they have come back with her and are looking
for something in the Ice Castle."
"What will happen if they are at the castle today when you go there with the Symingtons?"
"I expect there will surely be trouble," Jean responded. "Uncle Ned and Mr. Symington will raise a ruckus if those people are there. We
may have to call in the authorities."
They had traversed the confusing paths by following their tracks and now found themselves at the entrance to the maze. Uncle Ned and
Mr. Symington stood there awaiting them, and they both looked curiously at Lettie as the girls approached.
"So it wasn't Lorraine after all," said Uncle Ned, recognizing the Briggs girl. "Mrs. Benson said that you had spotted her out here."
"So we thought," spoke up Louise, in a tone that made light of the situation. "But it turned out to be our school chum Lettie. She is
wearing this red coat that is almost identical to the one Lorraine wears."
Jean introduced Lettie to Mr. Symington.

"Miss Briggs, eh?" he said, shaking her hand. "I know your father quite well."
Lettie nodded, making every effort to act her best. "He has mentioned your name many times. And also your lovely estate."
"What brings you to Bleak Acres?" Uncle Ned asked her, hard-pressed to hide the look of skepticism on his face.
"Lettie had some information about the Ice Castle," Louise answered for her. "She happened to be out at Indian Lake yesterday and went
by the castle. The old Indian couple were there and threatened her with the rifle, same as they did to Jean and me."
"It was Lettie we saw yesterday, in her red coat," Jean took over the explanation. "But we only saw her from afar and mistook her for
Lorraine."
Lettie joined in to complete the cover-up for her trespassing at Bleak Acres. "I knew Louise and Jean were staying here, so I got a ride out
this morning on a dairy sleigh in order to tell them about those terrible people at the Ice Castle. I didn't know they had been out there, too,
and had the same experience." She smiled demurely, adding, "I knew they were investigating to find your daughter, Mr. Symington, for
they had confided in me about the case."
Mr. Symington looked very pleased. "Thank you, Miss Briggs, for showing such concern about these matters. Please join us in the house
and I will arrange for you to be driven back to Starhurst as soon as the roads are plowed."
Lettie fell in step with Mr. Symington as the group turned back to the mansion. Uncle Ned gave Louise and Jean a quizzical look, and the
girls smiled back at him in a knowing manner. He was wise enough to understand that he would hear the real story from them as soon as
possible.
"I absolutely love your yew tree maze and just had to take a walk in it," Lettie was telling Mr. Symington. "We have one at our estate but it
is much smaller, of course. Louise and Jean told me that you are all going out to the Ice Castle today."
"Yes, we are. And I hope our presence there can bring a swift conclusion to this unfortunate situation. Sleighs from Forest Lodge are
coming to pick us up, as the roads are quite impassable by auto right now."
"Oh, I should so much like to join you," Lettie gushed unabashedly. "The Ice Castle is so wonderful!"
"I'm sure Mrs. Symington and I would love to have you come along, Miss Briggs," the man responded. "But we could not possibly prevail
upon Mrs. Crandall to allow another of her students to miss classes."
"Well, thank you, I'm sure," Lettie said politely, covering up her disappointment well. "I have every reason to believe that Louise and Jean
will wrap up the case for you as quickly as possible."
Louise nudged Jean and they traded glances. They were both thinking the same thing. Even though they had saved the girl from getting
into serious trouble, they doubted that this was the last they would see of her. Lettie was not the type to give up, and they were sure she
would try yet again to interfere with their investigation!
......go to Part Four.....
the conclusion!

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a 1930's Dana Girls Fanfiction Mystery

THE SECRET OF THE ICE CASTLE

Chapter Eleven: THE BURIAL GROUNDS

Jean groaned in dismay. "I hate doing that!"

The Dana girls were terribly disappointed.

"But tomorrow is Sunday and we will have to return to Starhurst."

"What is it?" Louise cried, braking slowly to a halt.

"A red coat? It could be Lorraine Symington!"

"Exactly. Oh dear, where did she go?"

Louise chuckled. "And I suppose that is not fun?"

"That would be terrific," Jean said eagerly. "Perhaps tomorrow morning?"

Hearing that, both boys looked extremely impressed.

Jean's eyes popped wide. "What kind of strange things?"

"Yikes!" she cried, taking a step backwards.

Chapter Twelve: CHATCHAAT THE WOLF

"Certainly not," Louise agreed. "We happen to be on people's graves!"

Suddenly, Louise began to whistle a tune.

Jean's eyes widened in excitement. "The flute song! Lorraine's song!"

"Perhaps she is coming back later to get him?"

"He must know whom they belong to," Jean conjectured.

"Close the door! Hurry! It's Chatchaat! He'll kill us!"

Jean chuckled. "Don't tell me he wants to come with us!"

"Goodness! He wants to come with us."

Louise snickered, looking back. "He seems to be familiar with cars."

"Okay, boy, inside! Inside the car!"

Chapter Thirteen: THE OPEN PIT

"By heavens! You mean that wolf was real?"

"Merry belated Christmas!" Louise burst out with a laugh.

"Oh, you wonderful girls!"

"There are no words to express our gratitude," he told them.

Mirabelle's eyes widened. "It's the flute! It's Lorraine!"

And then came the mournful eerie howling of the wolf.

"Chatchaat!" Louise gasped.

Chapter Fourteen: THE SECRET CRYPT

Then, suddenly, the tunnel-like corridor began to slope upward.

"We must be getting closer to the house," Louise whispered.

Then came excited barking and yapping.

"It's Chatchaat!" Jean cried. "Oh, let's hurry."

"Oh, never never," Mrs. Symington objected. "I want my daughter!"

Mr. Symington agreed. "Certainly! We must catch up to her."

"It must be Lorraine!" the girl cried.

Chapter Fifteen: THE GIRL IN THE RED COAT

"Mercy me! What's going on?"

"There she is!" Jean burst out, pointing ahead.

But no response came from the fleeing girl.

"You!" Louise cried, her face an expression of total astonishment.

The girl in the red coat was Lettie Briggs!

"What in the world are you doing here?" Louise demanded.

"No wonder what?" Jean demanded.

"What did you do?" Louise asked.

Lettie's eyes popped wide. "The wolf? What wolf?"

Her words were interrupted by shouts from outside the maze.

"Ho, girls! Where are you?"

Jean introduced Lettie to Mr. Symington.

......go to Part Four.....

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