“It could be,” Bart said seriously. “That cave has everything! Fantastic formations beyond belief! An underground river, a waterfall, everything to attract visitors, if facilities could be provided. But Krumm has no imagination, and he’s too tight to spend a penny developing the cave. It’s a pity the property ever came into his possession.”
The Scouts had a dozen more questions at the tip of their tongues. Before they could ask any of them, a familiar automobile drove up, parking squarely in front of the Cloverleaf milk truck.
Mr. Krumm squeezed out from behind the wheel and walked directly over to the group. He gazed sharply at Bart, his attitude unfriendly.
“I thought I’d drop by to inquire how you’re getting along,” he said, ignoring the milkman and bowing to Miss Ward. “You have found the cottage quite comfortable, I trust?”
“It seems to be very well equipped,” the teacher conceded. “I can’t say we spent too comfortable a night, though. We were disturbed by strange sounds.”
“Strange sounds?” The real estate man registered surprise which was not in the least convincing.
“We heard music, and thumping noises,” Judy supplied. “It seems your cottage has a ghost.”
“No such thing!” Mr. Krumm indignantly denied. “That’s all bosh! You’ve been listening to stupid gossip.”
“You should have told us the truth about the cottage before we rented it,” Miss Ward reproved him mildly. “Judy’s aunt will be coming shortly, and we hesitate to turn over a place to her that may be unnerving or possibly unsafe.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the cottage,” Mr. Krumm flared. “You’ve been talking to Bart Ranieau, and he’s been filling you with hot air!”