Chapter 7

As Fred Stetson got into his new bed for his first night in his new home in Georgetown, he thought that his Grandmother Stetson, who was very conscious of her family's prestige and position in Pittsburgh society, would be scandalized if she ever learned that his new best friend had been a Washington street urchin only a few weeks before. Bobby's grammar still needed work, but there was no question that he was miles ahead of Fred in street smarts, and improving his grammar was only a matter of proper schooling. He wasn't vicious, quite the opposite in fact, and the fact that he'd been left to fend for himself after his parents died and hadn't become a petty thief showed that he had strong moral character.

"I sure am glad you moved into this house, Fred," Bobby said as they got under the covers.

"I'm glad we did too, Bob. I didn't have many friends in Pittsburgh, you see."

"You didn't? Why not?"

"My grandmother was very particular about who could be my friends. She wanted to make sure they were all from good families and properly brought up. I met a few boys, but they were either so dull they were no fun or so snooty they didn't want to be friends with me."

"Proper brought up, huh? I 'magine your granny would have a conniption fit if she was to see me here in your room, 'cept if I was here to clean the place."

"Yes, I think she would, and she'd be wrong. You might not have the best grammar, Bob, but you're kind and you care about your friends, and that's more important than where you came from or how you talk."

"That's what the major said too, and I can fix the way I talk. This last trip that he and Captain Desmond made, they made friends with a feller that was born a - well, his mama wasn't married to his daddy. His name's Mr. Tom Jeter, and he saved their lives, even though it meant goin' against his own father. Don't suppose your granny would think much of him, neither."

"No, and she'd be wrong."

The two boys settled down to sleep.

Fred was never sure what woke him up in the early hours of the morning, but he came awake as quickly as if someone had sounded an alarm right over his head. He reached over and shook Bobby awake.

"Bob, I think I heard something upstairs, in the attics," he said softly.

"Huh?"

"Listen."

They listened. Sure enough, the sound of footsteps overhead reached their ears.

"That ain't no squirrel," Bobby said. "That's a man; too heavy to be a lady. What's he doing up there, and how did he get in? We locked the house up tight, just like th' major told us to."

"I know. We need to go see what's going on before he comes down here and disturbs Mother. Get up and put your pants on, but no shoes; it will be quieter."

Bobby was already moving when Fred struck a match and lit the lamp beside the bed, though he kept the wick turned down low. Fred slid out of bed and put his pants on before crossing to the bureau and taking out a .44 Colt revolver; Bobby's eyes grew wide at the sight of the pistol.

"That yours?" he whispered.

"It is now. It was Papa's, and when they brought him home, this came with him. Mama said I could have it, because when I grow up, I'm going to go to West Point and be a soldier like my father. I know how to shoot it, too; before he left last year, Papa took me out and showed me how to load it and shoot it. Let's go see who's up there where he shouldn't be. Grab the fireplace poker just in case, and bring the lamp."

"You bet."

The boys walked silently down the hall to the attic stairs and began to climb. They were almost at the top when they heard a rush of feet, the noise of someone stumbling into or over an obstacle, a sharp cry of pain, quickly hushed, and then the sound of a door closing with a decisive 'click'. Since the stairway they were on was the only way in or out of the attics as far as they knew, this was puzzling, but they continued up the stairs and into the attics, where they saw that one of the large trunks stored there had been opened and the contents removed and tossed onto the floor.

"Watch where you step," Fred cautioned. " There's so much dust up here that we should be able to see footprints on the floor, even in this light."

"Yessir. But what I want to know is, how did he get up here, and how did he get out?" Bobby asked.

"There's got to be another way in and out; we just have to find it, but we can't do it now; we'll have to wait until the morning and ask Major Davis to come over and help us find it."

"Good idea. What if he comes back?'

"I doubt he will, but just in case, let's see if we can follow the footprints and see where they stop. Don't walk on them, just beside them, all right?"

"Sure thing."

Following Fred's lead, Bobby walked across the floor, careful not to disturb the footprints in the thick dust. They led to a point in the wall and stopped. "Look there, Bob," Fred said, holding the lamp closer. "See how the dust is disturbed there? That must be where he opened the door. There's got to be a hidden stairway behind there; it may go all the way down to the cellar, or maybe out into the garden. We can't do anything until daylight, but we need to block this door just in case he tries to come back. "

"We could use that trunk over there," Bobby suggested, pointing. "I bet we could carry it if we both lift."

"If it's too heavy, we'll take some things out, move it, and then put them back."

Since the trunk was full of old books, they had to resort to the second plan, but eventually they blocked the door and replaced the books.

"There. He won't be bothering anybody again tonight," Fred said. "Back to bed, Bob, but think of the tale we'll have to tell Major Davis tomorrow – well, later on today, really."

"I wonder if th' secesh owner came back to look for somethin'?" Bobby mused.

"Maybe, or maybe it was one of his secesh friends that's been keeping things up here while the house was empty. Whatever it is, Major Davis will find out."

"You bet he will. If there's anything to be found, th' major will find it," Bobby said confidently.