Mr. Caldwell came to the door with them. “If I can help you with your tourist business in any way, just say the word. You’re welcome to use any of the information I’ve gathered when you’re talking about the village.”
“Thanks, Mr. Caldwell,” Ronnie answered. “We just might take you up on that. I’ve been thinking maybe we’d mimeograph a little booklet about the place.” He turned to Bill. “We could use the Grange mimeograph, and the paper wouldn’t cost much. We could tell all about the Glassworks and life in the village in the olden days and—”
“And the mysterious locked-up office building,” Bill added, picking up the idea with great interest, “and even about those old glass candlesticks of your grandfather’s, Ronnie!”
“Candlesticks!” exclaimed Mr. Caldwell. “Rorth candlesticks?”
Ronnie nodded.
“They must be worth a great deal,” Caldwell said. “What do they look like?”
Ronnie described them. Caldwell nodded slowly as Ronnie brought out detail after detail. “I’d certainly like to see them sometime,” he said when Ronnie had finished.
“Come on up to the house any time,” Ronnie offered. “I’m sure Grandpa would be glad to show them to you.”
When they were alone outside, Bill turned to Ronnie. “You know,” he said, “I think Caldwell is kind of a swell guy. I just can’t believe he’s the one sneaking around the village and running off when we catch sight of him.”
Ronnie thought about this after he had left Bill and was hurrying up the steep incline to the orchard above. Was Bill right about Mr. Caldwell? There were arguments for and against. That silhouette of the man’s face against the night sky, for instance. Ronnie had tried again and again during the evening to convince himself that he had been wrong when he had called out Caldwell’s name. But somehow he just couldn’t do it. And he couldn’t forget what had happened that morning! It had been daylight then. Was it just a coincidence that both times Caldwell’s name had come to his mind?