“And he’s got the money,” Phil moaned.
Suddenly Ronnie was angry. He grabbed the flashlight from Phil and turned it full on their companion. “Who are you?” he demanded furiously. “And who’s that guy upstairs?”
Caldwell winced, then put his hand firmly on the flashlight and lowered it so that the beam would not blind him. “One minute,” he said softly. “Losing our heads won’t help. You know me. The man upstairs is my twin brother; the black sheep of the family, I guess you’d call him.”
“Oh,” said Ronnie and Phil together. Ronnie saw the whole picture now. He had felt all along that the man who had attacked him on the trail and stolen the ledger couldn’t be the Caldwell he knew. He’d felt the difference at the time, but what was he to think? The two men were identical in appearance.
“Larry arrived the same time I did,” Caldwell went on. The sounds above had ceased and the cut-out piece of wall had been put back into place. “But until today I had no idea that he was here. He appeared at my cottage late this morning and demanded the keys to the station wagon. When I refused, he threatened me with a gun.”
“Your own brother pulled a gun on you?” Ronnie asked in amazement.
“Something went wrong with Larry,” Caldwell answered seriously. “He’s been in trouble all his life. In fact, he escaped from the state penitentiary last week.”
“He did!” Phil exclaimed. “Golly, a convict right here in the village, and we never even guessed!”
“But why did he hide out here?” asked Ronnie.
“I figure he had two things in mind,” said Caldwell. “First, since the deserted village has been opened to tourists, nobody would think of looking here for an escaped convict. If he saw anybody coming, there would be plenty of buildings to hide in. Second, Larry was obsessed all his life by that old story about the stolen Rorth glassware and the money and the murder. He said he knew the glass must be hidden somewhere, because it had never showed up on the market.”