Up ahead, Forrest Ashleigh, Mrs. Ashleigh’s son, had just come out of the bank. He looked like a banker himself in his dark suit and tie.
But it wasn’t Mr. Ashleigh that Jessie was pointing toward. It was the person in the gray raincoat. He — or she — was in the shadows, leaning against the side of a building. The person raised a hand and signaled Mr. Ashleigh to come over. Mr. Ashleigh looked around, scowled, and then walked toward the stranger.
“We have to get closer,” said Henry. “We have to see who that is.”
Trying to act as if nothing were wrong, the four children walked casually toward the bank.
“Don’t stare, Benny,” said Jessie. “It looks suspicious.”
“I’m not,” said Benny, keeping his gaze fastened on Mr. Ashleigh and the stranger.
“So Mr. Ashleigh knows the stranger,” said Jessie. “Hmm. Very interesting.”
“Very suspicious, if you ask me,” said Henry.
Violet said, “I don’t think Mr. Ashleigh ever smiles. He is always frowning when we see him.”
Mr. Ashleigh shook his head. He folded his arms. The stranger pointed toward the bank. Mr. Ashleigh shook his head again.
Just then a voice said, “Henry! Jessie! Violet! Benny! Over here!” Mrs. Ashleigh came down the steps of the bank toward the Aldens.
As she did, the stranger turned and ducked quickly down the alley by the building. Mr. Ashleigh looked over his shoulder at his mother.
She saw him and waved. “Forrest! Come over here. I want you to meet someone.”
Grudgingly, her son came over to join them. “Forrest works in this bank,” she said. “He’s vice president!”
Forrest Ashleigh shook hands with each of the Aldens and said hello. “I hear you’ve been helping my mother with Hurricane Heap,” he said.
“Hurricane Heap?” asked Violet.
Forrest smiled unexpectedly at Violet. When he did, he looked a lot like his mother. And a lot nicer than he had seemed earlier. At least, that’s what Violet thought.
“It’s what I call the old house. Oh, it’s a nice old house and I love it. But sooner or later it’s going to blow away in a hurricane and then what will be left?”
“It’s been around a lot longer than you or I have,” said Mrs. Ashleigh.
Forrest looked as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Well, nice to meet you. Thanks for helping Mother with Hurricane Heap. I just hope another hurricane doesn’t come along and blow you away before you finish cleaning up the mess from this one!”
Henry cleared his throat. “Mr. Ashleigh? Who were you talking to just then?”
Forrest Ashleigh paused. He frowned again. Suddenly he didn’t look so friendly. “Nobody,” he said, after a long moment. “That is, nobody I knew. It was just someone who asked me the time.”
Still frowning, he turned on his heel and left.
The Aldens painted the railings of the porch all afternoon. As they painted, they talked about the mystery.
“I think someone is definitely after the pirate’s treasure,” Benny insisted. “The gold that Mr. Ashleigh buried. Not Mrs. Ashleigh’s son,” he added. “Mr. Ashleigh the pirate.”
“I think so, too,” said Jessie. “This all started when we were helping Mrs. Ashleigh go through those boxes of papers for the museum.”
“But there is no map in the papers,” said Henry. “We have been all through them. There is nothing that looks like a treasure map.”
“Maybe there’s some other clue,” said Violet. “A clue that leads to the map. Or the treasure.”
“Maybe the map is drawn in invisible ink!” said Benny.
“Maybe, Benny,” said Jessie. “But I don’t think so.”
“As soon as we finish painting, we’ll go through the papers again,” said Henry. “Maybe we will see a clue that we missed.”
They had just finished painting for the day when Mr. Farrier’s red truck pulled up in front of the house. “Hello,” he said. “I finished repairing the gate and brought it back. Is Mrs. Ashleigh here?”
“No,” said Violet. “But she will be back soon. She just went to the post office and the grocery store.”
Mr. Farrier didn’t look happy when he heard that.
“You could hang the gate while you wait,” suggested Henry. “We can help you.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Farrier said, “No. I think I’ll put the gate around back.” He hoisted the gate out of the truck and put it on a hand truck. Then he wheeled it around to the back of the house.
“What happened here?” he called a few minutes later. He stopped at the fence where the gate had hung and pointed at the hinge.
“Someone came in the night and vandalized the fence,” Jessie explained. To her surprise, Mr. Farrier didn’t seem at all shocked.
He took his glasses off and polished them on his shirtsleeve. “Hmmm,” he said. “Interesting. Well, I can fix that hinge in no time.”
The blacksmith was as good as his word. In no time at all, the hinge was like new. “But don’t hang that gate up until I talk to Mrs. Ashleigh. Don’t even touch it,” he warned. He looked at his watch. “I can’t wait any longer. Please tell her to call me as soon as possible. It’s urgent!” He got into his truck, slammed the door, and drove away.
“Mr. Farrier is acting weird,” said Jessie.
“Yes,” said Violet. “As if he thinks we’ll hurt the Pirate’s Gate. But why would we do that?”
“Did you notice that he wasn’t at all surprised when we told him about the vandal?” Jessie asked.
Henry nodded. “I noticed that, too. You don’t think Mr. Farrier did it, do you?”
“Why would he do that? He just had to fix it again,” said Benny.
Jessie said slowly, “Maybe we are wrong. Maybe the mystery didn’t start when we began to go through those old papers. Maybe the mystery started before that.”
“What do you mean, Jessie?” asked Violet.
“I mean, maybe the mystery started when we solved that first mystery — when we found the Pirate’s Gate,” she answered. “Come on. I think it’s time we looked at those papers again.”
The Boxcar Children cleaned the paintbrushes and put everything away. Then they washed up and went back to the study.
“What are we looking for?” Henry asked Jessie.
“I’m not sure,” said Jessie. “But someone really wants the Pirate’s Gate. Maybe there’s something in these papers that will tell us why.”
“Do you think a clue to the buried treasure might be hidden in the gate?” asked Violet.
“Maybe,” said Jessie.
“A treasure gate,” said Benny. “Like that bridge where Diana used to live.”
“What are you talking about, Benny?” asked Henry, pulling a folder out of a pile on the desk. “Here. Here are the plans for the house and the gate.”
“What bridge, Benny?” said Violet.
“You know. That gold bridge,” said Benny. “With the earthquakes.”
“Oh.” Jessie laughed. “You mean the Golden Gate Bridge, Benny. The Golden Gate . . .” her voice trailed off. Her eyes got wide.
“That’s it,” she cried.
“It is?” asked Benny. “Have I solved another mystery?”
“I think you have,” said Jessie, giving him a hug.
She bent over the plans spread out on the desk. They all stared at them.
“What is it, Jessie? Have you found the treasure?” asked Henry.
“Yes,” said Jessie dramatically. She pointed at the design for the Pirate’s Gate. “Right there!”
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