The truck pulled over to the left side of the road and stopped in front of a big white house that almost backed into the ski slope. A sign in front announced that this was the Slalom Inn.

“I see that Cousin Anna is still a good housekeeper” said Bob.

The inn was a trim wooden building, white-painted and glowing in the afternoon sun. The windows were so crystal-clean that they were almost invisible. Unlike many of the buildings in Sky Village, Anna Schmid’s inn did not try to look Swiss or Austrian. It was simply a mountain lodge with a broad porch across the front. The door had been painted bright red, and plants in red and blue pots marched along the porch railing. There was a neat gravel drive on the left side of the house, and a small parking area which contained a dusty station wagon and a shiny red sports car.

Hans and Konrad climbed out of the truck and the boys scrambled down from the back.

“I think Anna has done well,” decided Hans.

 “Anna always did well,” said Konrad. “You remember when she was only ten she could bake better pastries than our mother. We always wanted to go to Anna’s and have hot chocolate and pastries.”

Hans smiled. The sun had started to dip toward the cliffs above the ski slope and the thin mountain air was cool. “Let’s go in. We will wait for Anna to come back from her big shopping, and perhaps she will have some pastries for us.”

Hans and Konrad started up the steps to the porch. Jupiter, Pete, and Bob stood where they were.

“You aren’t coming?” asked Hans.

“Maybe we should get on to the campground,” said Bob. “You haven’t seen your cousin for a long time, and we don’t want to intrude.”

Hans and Konrad both laughed. “How can you intrude?” said Hans, “You are no stranger. We have written to Anna and told her the smart things you do. She says you are clever boys. She always writes that we must come and see her, and she wants us to bring you.”

So the three boys followed Hans and Konrad up the steps. The front door was unlocked. It opened directly into a huge room which was furnished with deep leather chairs and a long, leather-covered sofa. There were shining copper lamps and, above a stone fireplace on the far wall, gleaming pewter mugs. Four places had been set at a big dining table on the right; behind it was the door to the kitchen. On the lefthand wall, a rustic staircase led up to the second floor. The room smelled of wood fires and furniture polish, and there was a faint trace of an odor that made Jupe think Anna still baked very good pastries.

“Anna?” called Hans. “Anna are you home?”

No one answered.

“So we wait,” said Konrad. He began to roam about the room. Touching the backs of the leather chairs. He beamed with satisfaction. “Everything is very good,” he said. “Yes, Anna has done well.”

But then his wanderings brought him to a door in the wall to the right. Though it had a sign which read “Private, No Admittance,” the door stood open. Konrad looked in and said, “Ho!”

“Ho, what?” Pete wanted to know.

“I think that nobody is perfect,” said Konrad, “not even our Cousin Anna.”

Hans went to stand beside his brother, and he shook his head in mock dismay. “Anna, Anna! We will tease you about this. Jupe, look at the office of the great housekeeper.”

“Maybe you’d better not look at the office,” advised Pete. “My mother has a fit if I open her desk or look in her pocketbook.”

Jupiter Jones was about to settle down in one of the chairs when suddenly Hans turned to face him. “Jupe,” he said. “Bob, Pete. I think something is wrong here!”

“What is it?” Jupe went to the door and looked into a little room which was obviously the office of the inn. A large desk, covered with papers, faced the door. A file cabinet stood nearby with two drawers open. File folders and papers were dumped helterskelter on the floor, together with the crumpled debris from an overturned wastebasket. The drawers were out of the desk and leaning against the wall. The window sill behind the desk chair was a jumble of envelopes, snapshots, and picture postcards. A bookcase had been pulled out from the wall, and an overturned dish spilled a stream of paper clips across the floor.

“This place has been searched!” said Pete, who was right behind Jupe.

“It would seem so,” said Jupe, “and by someone who was either very careless or in a great hurry.”

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” snarled a husky voice from the big room behind them.

The boys spun around.

A man stood near the stairs — holding a shotgun!

 “Okay. Speak up. What are you doing?” The man near the stairs made an impatient movement and the gun in his hands swerved. Pete ducked instinctively.

The man advanced several steps. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with thick, dark hair. His eyes looked very hard and very cold. He trained the gun on the group huddled by the office door. “Speak up!” he demanded again menacingly.

“Who… who are you?” said Konrad. He couldn’t take his eyes off the gun.

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he repeated his question. “What are you doing? Can’t you see that room is private? I ought to —”

“One moment!” Jupiter Jones’ voice cut into the tirade. Jupe stood as tall as he possibly could. “Perhaps you would care to explain yourself,” he said in the haughtiest tone he could manage.

“What?”

“It appears that this place has been searched,” said Jupe. “The police might be interested in knowing what you are doing here and why you are so quick with a gun.”

Jupiter was in no position to summon the police, and he knew it. However, his air of command bewildered the man with the gun. He frowned and lowered his weapon until it pointed toward the floor. “You want the police?” he said.

“It seems to me that the proper thing to do would be to summon them,” said Jupe in his precise fashion. “On the other hand, it might be wiser to wait until Miss Schmid returns from Bishop and have her make the complaint”

“Miss Schmid?” said the man. Then he laughed. “Let me fill you in on a few things” he said.

Just then a car door slammed outside. There were quick footsteps on the porch. The front door opened and a tall woman came in carrying a sack of groceries.

“Cousin Anna!” said Hans.

The woman stood still. Her eyes went from the man with the gun to Hans and Konrad, then to the boys, then back to the man with the gun.

“Cousin Anna?” said Hans again. This time it sounded like a question.

“Cousin Anna?” said the man with the gun. “Good heavens! You must be Hans and Konrad from Rocky Beach! I didn’t recognize you from the snapshots Anna showed me. Why didn’t you say something? I might have shot you.”

“You are a friend of Anna?” asked Konrad.

“You might say so. Anna, you didn’t write to your cousins. You promised me you’d write to them before we went to Lake Tahoe.”

“Oh! Hans and Konrad!” The woman put the groceries down on a table, touched one hand to the thick blond braids which were wound around her head, then smiled a broad smile. “Hans and Konrad!” She held out both hands to Hans, who went to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“It has been so long,” she said.

Konrad elbowed his brother aside and kissed her, too.

“And look at you!” said Anna. “Such big strangers! I cannot tell.” She turned from one to the other. “No. Even though you send me pictures, I cannot tell which is Hans and which is Konrad.” Her voice was warm and full of amusement. She spoke quickly, almost without accent.

The brothers laughed and introduced themselves. They then presented Jupiter, Pete, and Bob.

“You have written me about these clever ones,” said Anna.

“Very smart boys,” Hans assured her.