“Just the soapy film with the light behind it,” Mr. Stott affirmed.

Nate stole one more peek before allowing the others a turn. They had to dip the wire hoop again each time the film broke.

“Come with me,” Mr. Stott said. He led them down a hall to a bedroom dominated by a big four-poster, complete with canopy and curtains. On a nightstand sat a small platform fashioned out of pink granite, with a single vacant mounting for a teleidoscope. Trevor, Summer, Pigeon, and Nate gathered around it.

“This base was designed and built by Hanaver Mills,” Mr. Stott said. “He left it to me in his will. He was not a relative, but we were friends. A teleidoscope is meant to point at this surface.” He indicated a smooth surface speckled with variegated flecks opposite the empty mounting. “Hanaver told me that the right teleidoscope would reveal a message hidden in the stone.”

“You think we found the teleidoscope?” Pigeon said.

“It was this base that instigated my teleidoscope collection,” Mr. Stott said. “After inheriting the platform, I tracked down several teleidoscopes attributed to Hanaver Mills. None revealed a message. I also experimented with teleidoscopes made by a variety of random craftsmen, hoping to get lucky. Again, success eluded me. I suspect Mrs. White now possesses the teleidoscope I have been seeking all these years, a vital clue to locating the treasure. I have kept this base a closely guarded secret, but perhaps she somehow learned of it. That might explain why she would want my mind erased.”

“She didn’t mention anything about the base to us,” Nate said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

“How does she know so much?” Trevor asked. “Does she sneak around at night?”

“I see that Belinda has not explained much about herself,” Mr. Stott chuckled. “A magician cannot leave his or her lair. The lair is empowered with magical defenses and spells that keep them safe and postpone their aging. If Belinda abandoned her lair to snoop around, she would become a pile of bones in no time.”

“But what about your ice cream truck?” Pigeon asked.

“Part of my lair,” Mr. Stott said. “Although making a vehicle part of my lair creates certain vulnerabilities, to me the added mobility justifies the risk. Magicians can journey from lair to lair, setting up new abodes as needed, traveling in temporary lairs, but a price of the lives we lead is that we surrender the ability to move about freely.”

“You’re saying Mrs. White lives at Sweet Tooth?” Pigeon asked.

“Most assuredly,” Mr. Stott said.

“Then how does she know so much?” Trevor asked again.

“Belinda has always employed henchmen,” Mr. Stott said. “Most of us also have a trick or two that allows us to personally spy on the outside world. Which is why I worry about you kids. There is no way to be sure where Belinda is looking, or when. You must be most cautious.”

“What are the chances of us stealing the teleidoscope from Mrs. White?” Nate asked.

Mr. Stott frowned. “It would be very difficult. Her lair will be well-guarded by spells.”

“What if we use her Mirror Mints against her?” Nate suggested.

Mr. Stott’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sure she keeps no mirrors in her lair large enough for anyone to gain access that way, since she is aware that the secret of mirror travel endures.”

“What if we planted a mirror inside the candy shop?” Nate proposed.

Mr. Stott scratched his hairy cheek. “Possible,” he said, eyes lost in thought. “If I could get my hands on that teleidoscope, we just might beat her to the treasure. Once we acquire the treasure, she’ll start preparing to leave town the next day. She’ll have no more interest in Colson, California. And if she tried anything foolish out of spite, I would have the means to protect you.”

“Maybe we should go for it,” Trevor said.

“Yeah,” Nate said. “I’d rather take action than wait around for her to punish us.”

“I can’t advise you to try this,” Mr. Stott said. “It is too bold. But . . . if you insisted on taking the risk, your advantage would come from the fact that Belinda probably thinks her candy shop is invulnerable. Our lairs are designed to keep intruders out. If you can discover a way in, you may not find many obstacles between you and your goal.”

“She probably just keeps it stashed under that table in her workshop,” Trevor said.

“On the outside chance you were daring enough to attempt such an inadvisable mission, you would probably need to do it before you were supposed to wipe my memory,” Mr. Stott said. “When you fail to complete that assignment, her guard will be up.”

“Good point,” Nate said.

Mr. Stott put his hands behind his back and stood up straight. “Of course, this could all be an elaborate ruse by Belinda to ferret out what I know. If it is, well done, you utterly fooled me. I have laid my cards on the table. Please keep this information private. There are many others besides Belinda White who would try to destroy me simply to lay their hands on this teleidoscope base.” He rubbed the pink marble platform.

“We won’t blab,” Summer said.

“Having heard your news, I should eliminate all mirrors from my home,” Mr. Stott said. “Whether she has been peeking through windows, or having spies use mirror travel, Belinda will probably notice if I do that, so I will wait for a few days while you figure things out. Would you like my telephone number?”

“Yes,” Nate said.

Mr. Stott opened a drawer and withdrew four business cards, handing one to each of the kids. His address and telephone number were on one side. On the other, they read:

Sebastian Stott

The Candy Wagon

Homemade and Brand Name

Ice Cream · Frozen Treats · Candy

Nate pocketed his card as Mr. Stott led them toward the front door. “Feel free to contact me if you need anything,” he said. He opened the door.

“Thanks, Mr. Stott,” Pigeon said.

“Thank you again for the warning,” Mr. Stott said. “I’m quite fond of my identity.”

They filed out the door. Nate exited last. “You’ll hear from us again,” Nate promised.

Mr. Stott winked. “I hope so.”

Chapter Eleven

Mirror Mints

Summer and Pigeon crouched beside a white cake box on the jogging path about twenty paces from Greenway Avenue. Summer had purchased a mint-chocolate-chip ice cream cake from the Sweet Tooth Ice Cream and Candy Shoppe earlier that afternoon using money from the little yellow safe on her bedroom shelf. The cake now resided in her freezer, bundled in plastic wrap. The point had not been to get a cake. The point had been to acquire the box.