Ghost of the Chattering Bones by Gertrude Chandler Warner Page B

speed, they raced for another cluster of shrubs.
    “Can’t you work faster?” someone was saying. It was Annette!
    “Give me a break!” came a grumbling male voice. It was clear the man was jabbing at the mortar that held the stones together. “I’m doing the best I can.”
    “The mortar’s old and crumbling,” Annette was saying. “Should be easy enough to get that stone out.”
    The Aldens looked at each other in alarm.
    “I’m counting on your hunch being right,” the man said. “Everything depends on it.”
    “I’m telling you, that plaque’s the final clue,” said Annette. “The hiding place is right behind that stone.”
    Jessie looked at Henry. It hadn’t occurred to them before, but it made sense. After all, didn’t the clues lead to Jon’s Blunder? Wasn’t that the name on the bronze plaque bolted to one of the stones?
    All of a sudden, the battering noise stopped. “I think the stone’s ready to come out,” the man said. “Keep your fingers crossed.”
    “Thief!” Benny shouted. In a flash, he had scooted out from behind the shrubbery. There was no stopping him.
    The time for action had come. Henry and Benny raced onto the bridge from one side, Violet and Jessie from the other. Annette whirled around so suddenly, she dropped her flashlight. It rolled along the bridge.
    “Who’s there?” she shouted, blinded by Henry’s flashlight.
    “The Aldens,” Jessie answered.
    “I should’ve known!” Annette said. “This has nothing to do with you.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.
    Henry looked her straight in the eye. “We’re not going anywhere.” Then he shone the flashlight’s beam on the man nearby.
    The Aldens could hardly believe their eyes! It wasn’t Spence Morton. It was Bob Ferber!
    “You’re the man from the potluck dinner,” Violet said in surprise.
    But Bob Ferber paid no attention to the Aldens. Instead, he plunged his hand into the dark space where the stone had been.
    “Nothing!” He turned around, empty-handed. “Absolutely nothing.”
    Annette’s jaw dropped. “How can that be?”
    “You tell me!” Bob shot back. “You always seem to know so much.”
    “This is all your fault!” Now Annette was almost shouting. “You and your crazy ideas.”
    Just then, the bare bulb over the back door flicked on. Norah and Mrs. McGregor rushed out, pulling their robes around them. Half-walking and half-running, they hurried over to the bridge.
    “Well, what’s all the fuss … oh, my …” Norah stopped and stared at the gaping hole where the stone had been.
    “What in heaven’s name is going on?” Mrs. McGregor demanded.
    “They’re trying to steal Meg’s brooch!” Benny said accusingly.
    Norah looked from Annette to Bob and back again. “You two know each other?”
    Bob struggled to find something to say. “Uh, well … I, er …” Suddenly, he stopped talking. His shoulders slumped and he leaned against the bridge, looking defeated. “Annette Tanning is my cousin.” He could hardly look at Norah.
    “What …?” Norah was too shocked to speak.
    For a moment, Norah and her assistant just looked at each other. Then Annette suddenly wheeled around to face Bob. “The whole thing was his idea,” she shrieked, pointing a finger of blame.
    Norah threw a sharp glance at Bob Ferber. “What do you have to say for yourself, Bob?”
    Bob opened his mouth several times as if about to speak, then closed it again. Finally he let out a sigh and said, “All right, it’s true. I was after your great-great-grandmother’s brooch.”
    Norah stared at him, open-mouthed.
    “The truth is, I happened to come across an old letter,” Bob confessed, “when I was working on your house, Norah. I guess it slipped through a crack in the floorboards a long time ago.”
    “Oh?” Norah raised an eyebrow.
    “It was a letter from Meg Eton’s grandmother.” Bob hesitated a moment, then plunged in. “The letter made it clear that Meg was planning to find a safe