There was a treasure hidden in the White House, and Mrs. Duffit might know about it. But how did she find out? And what did she know?

Kermit’s face looked pinched and nervous again. “What do we do now?” he asked.

Ethel clenched her fists the way she does when she’s determined. “We’ll do the only thing we can do. We’ll solve the puzzle.”

That seemed to make Kermit feel better. He boosted himself back up onto the chair and studied the portrait. “What was the riddle again?”

Ethel said, “It’s right here on the paper:

“What do you think it means?”

Kermit searched the portrait. Ethel hopped up next to him to get a better view.

“Don’t forget me,” I said, crowding in beside Ethel.

Kermit said, “Look at this. In the painting, there’s a book leaning against the table leg.”

“You’re right,” said Ethel. “It says, ‘The Constitution and Laws of the United States.’”

Kermit said, “That must be what the riddle means! We’re supposed to look up above the Constitution.”

“So what’s above it?” asked Ethel.

“There’s a table leg with an eagle on the corner,” said Kermit, “a silver inkstand, a quill pen, red curtains . . .”

“There’s George Washington’s hand,” I said.

“Keep looking,” said Ethel.

Kermit said, “I don’t see anything else. Unless you count the sky outside the window.”

“Maybe the treasure’s outside,” Ethel told him.

“But where exactly? We can’t just go digging up the whole yard. People would notice.”

I giggled. “If they did, we could blame the Democrats.”

“Why would the Democrats be digging up the White House lawn?” asked Ethel.

Kermit said, “There’s got to be some way for them to get into the White House. They certainly can’t get elected.”

Ethel sighed. “So the answers to the first two clues seem to be ‘seven’ and ‘outside.’”

“Whatever that tells us,” said Kermit.

“Maybe the next clue will make it obvious,” I said.

I hopped down from the chair to look at the clues. Ethel and Kermit followed. Ethel sat down at the desk and spread the paper out in front of her. She said, “Here’s the next one:

“And it’s signed . . .”

“Jura Roams,” said Kermit, reading over her shoulder.

“Who is that guy?” I asked.

“Maybe if we figure it out,” said Ethel, “he could lead us to the treasure.”

Kermit said, “But we’ve never heard of him.”

Ethel looked at us with a sly grin. “We’ve been thinking of it as an actual name. But what if it’s not? What if it’s an anagram?”

“Anna who?” I said.

“Anagram,” said Ethel. “It’s where you’re given a word or phrase that has all the letters of another word or phrase, but they’re scrambled to hide the real word. You know, like no more stars is an anagram of astronomers.”

“So what’s an anagram of Jura Roams?” asked Kermit.

Closing my eyes, I leaned forward. “Our Sam Jar,” I said.

“Possible,” said Kermit.

I moved the letters again. “Ma As Juror.”

“Perhaps,” said Ethel.

“Sour Rajma,” I said.

Kermit said, “We get the point, Archie.”

“Rum Soraja,” I added. Hey, this was fun!

“Archie!” exclaimed Kermit.

“All right, all right,” I mumbled, opening my eyes.

It didn’t seem fair. Finally I’d found something I was good at, and they didn’t want me to do it.

“Come on,” said Ethel, “let’s get back to finding the treasure. The riddle says ‘the next clues, three.’ So maybe we’re looking for three clues in one.”

I read over the riddle again. “What does it mean by ‘not west, young man, but otherwise’?”

Ethel shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe another direction.”

“You mean, like north or south?” I said.

Kermit glanced over at Ethel. “Or east!” they said together. Without another word, the two of them raced from the room.

I looked around. Did I just miss something?

I started to follow them out, but then I heard a strange sound. It was like the rattle of bones. Like the creak of old joints. Like feet dragging across the floor.

“Hello?” I said. “Is someone there?”

A white shape appeared across the room, with slumped shoulders and gleaming eyes. “Archie . . . ,” it moaned.

It looked like a ghost. It sounded like a ghost. But my parents had taught me there was no such thing. So I spoke up in a shaky voice.

“Wh-who’s there?”

“Archie . . .”

I wanted to run from the room, but my father always said to be brave. “Can I help you?”

Its voice was dry as parchment. “Solve the puzzle, Archie, before the others do.”

“Wh-what others? You mean Mrs. Duffit?”

The voice said, “Find the treasure before the others.”

Okay, I was scared, but I was also starting to get upset. I don’t like taking instructions from my parents, let alone from a figment of my imagination.

“But I’m just a kid,” I said. “I don’t know that I can really—”

“Find the treasure,” repeated the voice. “Before the night is out, Archie, find the treasure. Find the treasure. Find the treasure . . .”

The voice faded out. The shape melted away. I stood there alone in the room. Did I mention that I don’t like being alone?

“Um, okay,” I said. “Can I go?”

The wind howled. An open door beat against the side of the house. Or maybe it was the sound of my heart.

I said, “Okay, I’m leaving now.”

I began to walk backward, slowly and carefully. I felt my way across the room. When I reached the door, I went screaming into the night.