“They’ve been refinished. The fourth leg must be around here somewhere,” declared Peter.
The marble table top was there. It was leaning against the wall waiting for the whole table to be assembled. Judy went over and touched it to make sure it was real.
“Now I’m like Meta Hanley. I think I’m dreaming,” she said.
“This stuff is solid enough!” Danny’s father picked up one of the table legs. “But how in thunder did it get in my house?” he demanded. “And what are all these tools doing on the shelves where Mary used to keep her books?”
“We’ll find out,” Peter promised. “We’ll find your wife’s books, too. Were they rare books?”
“They were old books, if that’s what you mean. She had quite a collection.”
“Peter?” Judy touched his arm. “There’s a collection of rare books in the Roulsville library. Mrs. Wheatley bought them just recently. She could tell you the name of the book dealer.”
“Books aren’t all that’s missing,” Danny’s father observed as he walked through the rooms. “There’s enough furniture in here to fill a warehouse, but very little of it is mine. We’ll go upstairs later. Right now let’s see what’s in the kitchen.”
He opened the door but could not enter. The way was blocked by piles of furniture, most of it broken and warped.
“What’s all this?” he questioned, pushing tables and chairs out of his way to make a path and growing more furious by the minute. “Someone has turned my house into a shop for rebuilding old furniture. Most of this stuff looks as if it had been through a flood!”