The Forgotten Door (11 page)

Suddenly Mrs. Groome said, “Miss Josie, if this boy — whatever his name is — is a Welfare case, I have a right to know whatever there is to know about him.”

Miss Josie ignored her. Before saying anything, she carefully folded the paper and put it in her handbag with her glasses. She looked thoughtfully at Thomas, then her eyes met Little Jon's. He smiled back at her, and knew he had another conspirator on his side.

“Thomas,” she murmured, “it's fortunate I've known you as long as I have. You did a lot of Intelligence work in the Marines, didn't you?”

“Yes, Miss Josie.”

She turned to Mrs. Groome. “Jon is not a Welfare case,” she said quietly.

“But — but of course he is!” Mrs. Groome protested. “He's a lost boy — he doesn't even know who he is.”

“He was lost for one day,” said Miss Josie.

Mrs. Groome seemed to swell even larger. “Miss Josie, I don't understand this at all. What right have the Beans to keep a boy like this —”

“Jon happens to be visiting the Beans,” Miss Josie replied firmly. “That's all that is necessary for anyone to know.”

“Well! This is certainly
very
strange. If the boy's parents are unknown, who gave him permission to stay at the Beans'? I think this should be looked into. I also think there should be a medical report on the boy. I think I have a right to insist —”

“Mrs. Groome,” Miss Josie interrupted quietly, “I quite understand your feelings about the matter. But much more is known about Jon than can ever be told here. He has every right to visit the Beans for as long as they wish. It is very unfortunate that he happened to be drawn into the public eye when so much depends upon — secrecy.”

Miss Josie uttered the last word as if she were touching upon high matters of state. It had an immediate effect upon her audience. Anderson Bush and Mr. McFee blinked, and Mrs. Groome was visibly deflated.

“So I must insist,” Miss Josie continued, “that all of you say nothing whatever about what you have learned here — not even the fact that Mr. Bean has done Intelligence work. Your silence is extremely important. There'll be questions, and you can help by making light of this — and saying it was all a mistake. And it was a mistake — a terrible one.”

She stood up. “Thomas, I'll be out to see you as soon as I possibly can. Mr. Bush, please escort the Beans outside and keep those foolish people away from them.”

It was over, this part of it at least, but the rest of it was just beginning. Little Jon knew that as they started for home. Miss Josie had ordered secrecy from everyone, though not for an instant had she believed no one would talk.

Money was bound to make someone talk. That thought had been in Miss Josie's mind when they left.

He said to Thomas and Mary, “I'm sorry for what happened in the courtroom. But I couldn't think of any other way to solve things.”

“You had to do it,” said Thomas. “There wasn't any other way.”

Mary said, “You certainly gave Anderson Bush a jolt — and the rest of them too. Anyway, you prepared Miss Josie for what Thomas had written. She was able to make up her mind quickly and decide what to do. She's a remarkable woman. I wish we'd gone to her when we first found you.”

“That was our mistake,” Thomas mumbled. “But we had no idea something like this was going to happen. Now too many people know Jon's a mind reader.”

“Oh dear,” said Mary. “If the papers ever get it …”

“They'll get it. The first reporter that waves some cash under Gilby's nose will learn all about it — with trimmings. The same goes for Angus — in spite of the trouble he's in.”

They turned into the driveway at last. It was good to be back, and hear Rascal barking a greeting. Little Jon got out and started happily for the enclosure, then stopped as the kitchen door flew open and Brooks and Sally raced toward them.

Something was wrong. Sally looked frightened. Brooks was angry.

“Hey, Dad! Look what somebody threw on our porch a few minutes ago!” Brooks thrust out a crumpled piece of wrapping paper. “It was folded around a stone.”

After his lessons, Little Jon had no difficulty reading what was on the paper. Thomas held it for all to see. Crudely written in large letters were the words: THIS IS A WARNING. GET RID OF THAT WILD BOY AND DO IT QUICK.

He heard Mary's gasp, and was aware of Thomas' sudden fury. “Mr. Bean,” he said, before Thomas could speak, “if I stay here, I might be a danger to all of you. Maybe it would be better if I went to — to that place we found. I could camp there with Rascal —”

“No!” snapped Thomas. “This is your home. I'll be hanged if I'll let any weaselly bunch of idiots drive you away from here! Brooks, did you get a look at the person who threw this?”

“No, Dad. Sally and I were in the garden when it happened. We heard Rascal bark, then the stone hit the porch. There wasn't anybody in sight. But a little later I heard a car start up somewhere down by the fork. Did you pass anybody on the road?”

“No. He must have taken the west fork when he drove away, after sneaking up here through the trees. It had to be Angus or Gilby, or a relative. There's a bunch of them, counting the Blue Lake people, and they're all related. And they're all afraid now.” Suddenly Thomas laughed. “After Jon's exhibition in court this morning, they all know what he can do and they're scared to death of him.”

Mary said worriedly, “I don't see anything funny in this, Thomas. Some of those people are moonshiners. They could be dangerous.”

“If they threaten us again, I'll have to show them that Jon and I can be more dangerous.”

“Daddy,” said Sally, “did Jon read minds in court this morning?”

“He sure did, honey. That's why those people are afraid.”

Sally laughed. “They'd be more afraid if they knew he came from Mars or someplace, wouldn't they?”

“Sally!” Mary exclaimed. “What ever —”

Brooks said, “I told you it couldn't be Mars, Sally. There's not enough air on it. It has to be a planet like ours. Isn't that right, Jon?”

“I think so,” Little Jon answered. “But since I can't remember —”

Thomas was staring hard at Brooks, and suddenly Brooks burst out, “Aw, Dad, stop trying to hide it from us! Sally and I have had plenty of time to figure it out. Why, anybody who can do all the things Jon can just couldn't be from
our
planet! He's too smart.”

“O.K., son. You know the answer — but keep your hatch battened on it. Too many things are being learned about Jon already, and tomorrow the papers may be full of it. Before anything else happens, he's got to get his memory back.”

Little Jon thought of the cave. He was anxious to return to it, but it was too late to start and get back before dark. They would have to wait until morning.

Every visit had produced something, if only another carving. He had done three: the head of a man older than the first, and another of a woman who Mary Bean believed was his mother. He hoped so. She was so beautiful, and she seemed so wise. Strange how his fingers seemed to remember things that his mind couldn't. But the thought shadows were always there. Soon they would take form. He was sure of that.

Rain was slashing down in torrents the next morning. Little Jon stared out at it in dismay. Thomas said, “It ought to pass in an hour or so. We'll get ready, and leave the moment it clears a bit.”

It was barely daybreak and they dawdled over breakfast. They were hardly finished when the telephone rang.

Little Jon answered it. Miss Josie was calling.

“Jon,” she said, “I don't suppose any of you have seen the morning papers yet.”

“No, ma'am. Mr. Bean doesn't take a daily.”

“Well, I've just seen two, and I'll try to get more. I think we'd better have a conference. Tell Mary I'm inviting myself to lunch. It's the only time I can get away.”

In spite of the rain, it was a busy morning. Two cars containing out-of-town reporters and photographers came. Thomas had an unpleasant but firm session with them on the porch. They left the the house, but refused to leave the area. Long-distance calls began coming over the phone. A publishing syndicate wanted exclusive rights to Jon O'Connor's story. A nightclub offered a staggering amount of money for two weeks of personal appearances and mind reading. By the time Miss Josie's little car spun into the lane, Thomas was fit to be tied.

Miss Josie said, “I wish I wasn't in such a rush, but everything seems to be happening at once for all of us. Thomas, look at these.”

She spread an Atlanta paper and two others on the table. On the front page of two papers were pictures snapped at the courthouse. Under them were long stories. One was headed: MIND-READING GENIUS DISCOVERED IN MOUNTAINS. Another began: WILD BOY READS MINDS, CLEARS SELF OF THEFT CHARGES. The one without pictures had a two-column box headed: WHO IS JON O'CONNOR? All the known facts had been printed. These were filled in with highly colored rumors and questions.

Mary gasped. “It's worse than I ever —”

“It's what I was afraid of,” said Miss Josie. “And it's only the start.” She looked at Brooks and Sally. “How much do they know?”

“Everything,” said Thomas. “We didn't tell them — they guessed it.”

“If they guessed,” said Miss Josie, “others will too, in time. Jon, have you any idea how valuable you can be to some people?”

Little Jon was shocked by what she was thinking. “I — I didn't realize that this country has enemies. You believe they might — is ‘kidnap' the word?”

“Yes. I'm just looking ahead, Jon. Nothing at all may happen, but we'll have to plan for the worst. There are some smart people in this world, and some of them are very dangerous. You said one thing in court yesterday that didn't worry me at the time, but it frightens me now. Somebody was bribed to tell it; it's in all three papers. Here it is:
‘The thoughts of everyone in this room are so loud that they might just as well be shouting.'”

“Good grief!” Thomas exclaimed. “I should have realized the danger of that myself. Why, there are agencies in our own government that, if they knew what Jon can do …”

“Exactly,” said Miss Josie. “Thomas, I had a call from my brother in Washington this morning.”

“The one in the War Department?”

“Yes. He had just got up; he saw a piece in his paper about Jon, and read that it had happened in my court. He was so curious he phoned me immediately. He was entirely too curious, Thomas, and he mentioned that we might have a visitor.” Miss Josie paused, then asked, “Did you ever hear of a Colonel Eben Quinn?”

“H'mm. I once had to deal with a Major Eben Quinn. Tall, thin, very pale. The only thing I'll ever repeat about him is that I'm glad he's not working for our enemies.”

“Well, he's a colonel now,” said Miss Josie. “No one knows what department he's connected with, but he has power. Entirely too much for a colonel. Thomas, I think we'd better hide Jon. For his own safety, I think we should get him away from these mountains to someplace where he won't be recognized.”

Little Jon said, “But I can't leave, Miss Josie. I
have
to stay here.”

“Why, Jon?”

Thomas said, “Let me explain. Miss Josie, he doesn't dare leave here, or he'll never get back where he came from. There's a — a connection in this area, something magnetic, that forms his only means of return. He has to regain his memory here, and be close by when his people come looking for him — and from what we've learned, we're sure they will.”

“Oh my, this does complicate things.” She frowned and looked at Little Jon, and said almost absently, “I wish you had your memory, and that I had hours to talk to you instead of minutes. I must have read what Thomas wrote about you a hundred times last night. It gave me a glimpse of what a peaceful and wonderful place your world must be — and how strange and terrible ours must look to you. Jon, the awful part is what people here would do to you if they could. They'd use you. They'd pay no attention to the good you could give; they'd use your mind to help fight their secret battles. And no matter which side got you, nothing would be changed. It would still go on …”

Miss Josie shook her head suddenly. “I've got to think of something. Thomas, there's a legal side to this that worries me. By law, you and Mary have no real authority to keep Jon. Before some agency tries to take him away, I'd better have papers drawn up giving you temporary custody of him.”

She stopped and stared out of the front window. “Oh, no! Look at those cars on the road. Silly people coming to gape. This settles it, Thomas. You'll have to have a guard here.”

Brooks said, “Miss Josie, I think we need a guard. Look what someone threw on the porch yesterday.” He showed her the piece of wrapping paper with the warning on it.

Her face tightened as she read it. “I don't like this, Thomas.”

“What can they do?” said Thomas. “One of Gilby's bunch wrote it, I'm sure. They're just scared. Still —” Thomas paused and began snapping his fingers. “After what's in the papers, someone may try to use them. They're fools enough to let some clever person …”

“Yes,” said Miss Josie. “That's exactly why they're dangerous. Thomas, I'm going to send a deputy out here this afternoon, and try to get another one for night duty. I'm not sure I can manage a night man — you know how our sheriff is: if he smelled smoke, he wouldn't believe there's fire unless it burned his nose. Anyway, I'll fix up those papers as soon as possible.”

That afternoon a young deputy drove out, parked his car near the edge of the lane, and stood waving traffic on while he barred the lane to visitors. His presence, however, did not prevent a television truck from stopping under the trees at the far side of the road. Its crew set up a camera on a high platform and began taking pictures of the growing traffic and everything happening on the Bean property.