‘When you think about the money,’ said Tom. ‘What if the whole gang of us, the whole mob, went up in the clock tower and cleaned it up, if we did the whole machine over somehow? We couldn’t repair the whole darned thing, no, but we could spend a couple hours and make it look right and maybe run right, maybe we could save all the expenses and save you from being a slave for the rest of your life.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Doug.

‘We could give it a try,’ said Tom. ‘Ask Grandpa. He’ll ask the courthouse people if they’ll let us up there again, this time with lots of polish and oil and sweat, and maybe we could bring the darn dead machine back to life. It’s gotta work. It’s gonna work, Doug. Let’s do it.’

Doug turned and walked back to Tom’s bed and sat on the edge. ‘Dibs on some of that ice cream,’ he said.

‘Sure,’ said Tom. ‘You get the first bite.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next day, at noon, Douglas walked home from school to have lunch. When he got there, his mother sent him straight next door to his grandparents’ house. Grandpa was waiting, sitting in his favorite chair in a pool of light from his favorite lamp, in the library, where all was stillness and all the books on the shelves were standing alert and ready to be read.

Hearing the front door open, Grandpa, without looking up from his book, said, ‘Douglas?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Come in, boy, and sit down.’

It wasn’t often that Grandpa offered you a chance to sit down, which meant there was very serious business ahead.

Douglas entered quietly and sat on the sofa across from Grandpa and waited.

Finally Grandpa put aside his book, which was also a sign of the serious nature of things, and took off his gold–rimmed specs, which was even more serious, and looked at Douglas with what could only be called a piercing stare.

‘Now, Doug,’ he said, ‘I’ve been reading one of my favorite authors, Mr Conan Doyle, and one of my favorite characters in all the books by Conan Doyle is Mr Sherlock Holmes. He has honed my spirit and sharpened my aspects. So on a day like today, I woke up feeling very much like that detective on Baker Street in London a long time ago.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Douglas, quietly.

‘I’ve been putting together bits and pieces of information and it seems to me that right now the town is afflicted by lots of boys who are suddenly staying home from school, sick, they say, or something or other. Number one is this: I heard tell from Grandma this morning a full report from your house next door. It seems that your brother Tom is doing poorly.’

‘I wouldn’t say that exactly,’ said Doug.