“Maybe not, and yet I can’t help suspecting that whoever put up these new range marks may be back of the attempt to scare Sam away from this place,” said Ned, thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine what their reason can be, but that’s up to us to discover—if we can. Come on; let’s have a look around at the front of the house.”
Everywhere between the gate and the building were tire tracks left from the autos that had parked there Saturday night, but it was quickly seen that nothing could be gained by examination of these confused impressions. As they reached the porch, Ned, who was in advance, stopped in his tracks and pointed to the front door. In the oak panel a nail had been driven and from it fluttered a scrap of paper.
“FROM THE OAK PANEL FLUTTERED A SCRAP OF PAPER”
Mounting the steps, Ned tore the paper from its fastening and spread it wide. Upon it was scrawled these words:
“I don’t want company here.
“E. C.”
“Are you going inside, Ned?” asked Tommy in a tone that was not much above a whisper.
“Sure! Why not?” replied Ned, squaring his shoulders. “We’ve got a legal right to this place!” and drawing the key from his pocket, he unlocked the ponderous door and flung it open.
Not a sound disturbed the cool darkness of the interior, and waiting until their eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, the boys entered cautiously, peering about with uneasy glances. Everything appeared to be exactly as they had left it Saturday night. The black cats glared unwinkingly with their white and yellow eyes, and the painted balloon skulls grinned in their corners. In spite of the fact that this ghostly atmosphere was of their own making, the boys were glad to regain the outer sunlight and lock the door behind them.
“Whoever is up to these pranks has apparently confined himself to outside stuff—thus far,” was Ned’s comment as he stared again at the crumpled paper still in his hand.