The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mystery of the Fires, by Edith Lavell
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Title: The Mystery of the Fires
Author: Edith Lavell
Release Date: August 28, 2013 [eBook #43583]
Language: English
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[Illustration: _The canoe rounded a bend in the river and came
within full view of the burning resort._
(Page 64) (THE MYSTERY OF THE FIRES)]
The Mary Lou Series
THE MYSTERY OF THE FIRES
by
EDITH LAVELL
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers
New York Chicago
The Mary Lou Series
by
EDITH LAVELL
The Mystery at Dark Cedars
The Mystery of the Fires
The Mystery of the Secret Band
Copyright, 1935, by
A. L. Burt Company
Printed in the United States of America
_To My Friend_
Suzanne Simonin
[Illustration: Map of Shady Nook]
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I The Burnt Bungalow 13
II Clifford's Story 29
III The Ditmars 42
IV Another Fire 54
V Freckles' Story 68
VI More Suspects 79
VII The Crazy Woman 97
VIII Danger 103
IX The Arrest 114
X The Visit with Rebecca 128
XI Adelaide Ditmar's Plan 139
XII Getting Business 151
XIII The Threat 163
XIV The Search 177
XV Captive 190
XVI Weary Waiting 205
XVII Release 218
XVIII Return 233
XIX Conclusion 244
Characters
Mary Louise Gay a girl detective.
Jane Patterson her chum.
Mr. Gay, Mrs. Gay her parents.
Joseph (Freckles) Gay her brother.
Silky her dog.
David McCall a young insurance agent, visiting Shady Nook.
boy-friends.
Max Miller
Norman Wilder
_Residents of Shady Nook_
Reeds two adults and five young people.
Hunters mother and son.
Partridges four adults.
Mr. and Mrs. Flick owners of the inn.
Robinsons two adults and two boys.
Smiths two adults and three children.
Mr. and Mrs. Ditmar a young married couple.
Adams a farmer with three grown-up children.
Mr. and Mrs. Frazier owners of the Royal Hotel.
Eberhardt a village storekeeper.
CHAPTER I
_The Burnt Bungalow_
"For the whole month?"
Jane Patterson's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she repeated the
invitation her chum had just extended.
"Yes," replied Mary Louise Gay. "You see, we never could invite you
before, because the bungalow is so small, and there's just room enough
for our own family. But Dad will be out West all of August. He doesn't
expect to be back until Labor Day."
"On a case?" inquired Jane, for Mr. Gay was a detective on the police
force.
Mary Louise nodded.
"Yes. An important one. I almost wish I could go with him--it sounds so
thrilling."
"Didn't you have enough excitement and mystery at Dark Cedars?" demanded
Jane.
"I never have enough," returned the other girl.
"Well, please don't dig up anything to spoil our vacation at Shady Nook.
Still, I don't really suppose you could if you tried. The very name
implies peace."
"It is a peaceful spot," agreed Mary Louise. "Not a bit like a big summer
resort. Just the mountains and the woods and the lovely Hudson River.
Only half a dozen bungalows, so that everybody knows everybody else. It's
all so friendly and nice."
"Then I shan't need any fancy clothes--like dance dresses?" Jane's tone
held a faint note of disappointment. She loved outdoor sports, but she
was equally fond of parties.
"You better take a couple along," replied the other girl. "Across the
river from Shady Nook there's a big modern hotel where we often go for
dinners and dances. Everybody wears their best clothes there. But most of
the time we eat at Flicks' Inn. It's just a bigger bungalow, where they
have a dining room for the Shady Nook people and a few boarders. Very
nice and informal."
Jane jumped up and started down the steps, across the lawn that separated
the Gays' house from the Pattersons'.
"I must go tell Mother all about it," she explained, "and begin to get my
clothing ready. What time do we start?"
"Seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Rain or shine."
Left alone, Mary Louise opened the screen door and went into her own
house. Her father, with his suitcase on the floor beside him, was saying
good-bye to her mother and to his young son Joseph, whom everybody called
"Freckles."
Mr. Gay put his hand upon his daughter's shoulder and said to his wife:
"I am counting on Mary Louise to take care of you, dear. After the way
she mastered that situation at Dark Cedars, I feel that she is capable of
almost anything. Far above and beyond most girls of sixteen!"
"She is!" agreed Mrs. Gay proudly. "But I am not expecting any trouble at
Shady Nook. I'm more worried about what may happen to you before you
catch those criminals!"
"I'll be all right," her husband assured her. "Wire for me if you need
me--and I'll come back by airplane."
Mrs. Gay nodded, little thinking that she would have to follow his advice
before the month was over.
As soon as he was gone, the other three members of the family returned to
the business of packing. Silky, Mary Louise's little brown spaniel,
trotted around after them, sniffing at everything and looking serious and
important, as if he were doing most of the work.
"I'm thankful your father left us the car," remarked Mrs. Gay, as the
suitcases and packages were piled up near the back door. "We'll need it."
"Shady Nook is so far from the Junction," added Mary Louise. "Yes, we're
lucky. And isn't it nice I have my license, so you won't have to drive
all the way?"
"It certainly is," agreed her mother. "You've always been a big help to
me, Mary Louise. And so have you, Freckles," she added to the boy.
At last everything was finished, in time to allow them all a good sleep
before their trip. Shady Nook was almost a day's journey from Riverside,
if they took it in a leisurely manner, driving slowly enough to enjoy the
beautiful Hudson River, and stopping at noon at some pleasant inn to eat
lunch and rest.
Jane was on hand early, helping the Gays to stack the luggage in the back
seat and on the rack provided at the rear of the car.
"Don't forget to leave a corner for Silky!" Freckles reminded the girls,
"He can't be left behind!"
"As if I could forget him!" returned his sister, picking up the little
spaniel and giving him a hug. "Didn't he save our lives that night we
rode in Harry Grant's car?"
Jane shuddered; she could never forget the horror of that dark night or
the terror she had experienced when the tramp commanded, "Hands up!" Good
old Silky, biting a piece out of the thug's leg while the girls made
their escape!
"Who's driving first?" she asked, as the last bundle was stored away.
"I am," answered Mary Louise. "You and Silky in front with me, and Mother
and Freckles in back. We'll shift places after lunch."
It was a lovely clear day, not so hot as it often is in August, and the
whole party was in the gayest of spirits. Mary Louise loved to drive, and
she did it well. She would not have minded if she had been kept at the
wheel all day.
Nevertheless, after their pleasant lunch at a quaint little tea room on
the roadside, she was perfectly willing to exchange places with her
mother and enjoy the better opportunity to look at the scenery.
Jane, however, was more interested in Shady Nook than in the country
through which they were passing. She asked innumerable questions.
"How many bungalows did you say there are, Mary Lou?" she inquired.
"There were six last year, counting Flicks' Inn. But I understand that
there were two new ones put up this spring."
"And are there plenty of young people?"
"Not so many at the cottages, but it doesn't matter, because we have just
as much fun with the middle-aged people. Everybody swims and paddles and
dances and plays tennis. Besides, there are always extra young people
boarding at Flicks' for shorter vacations. And sometimes we meet the
people at the Royal Hotel."
"Is that where they hold the dances?" inquired Jane. "When we wear our
flossy dresses?"
"Yes. That's the place. Across the river from Shady Nook."
"Tell me some of the people's names," urged Jane.
"Well, next door to us--only it really isn't next door, because there's
quite a little woods between--is the loveliest cottage at Shady Nook. It
was built by a man named Hunter, who was very rich. He bought all the
land around there on our side of the river and sold it to people he knew
and liked. But he died last year, so only his wife and son came back this
summer."
"A son?" repeated Jane, rolling her eyes. "Not a babe in arms, I hope!"
"A sophomore at Yale," replied Mary Louise. "Rather homely, but awfully
nice--and piles of fun."
"What's the youth's name?"
"There you go! Putting him down in your notebook already! His name's
Clifford. We all call him Cliff."
"Naturally. But if he's your property, Mary Lou, just say the word, and
I'll keep off."
Mary Louise laughed.
"Nobody's my special property," she said. "Not even Max Miller," she
added, mentioning her particular boy-friend in their home town of
Riverside. "Though he sometimes acts as if he believed I were his! I like
Cliff Hunter a lot--everybody does. But we don't pair off much at Shady
Nook, except sometimes to go canoeing. Most of the time we're just one
big family."
"Who else are there besides the Hunters?" inquired the other girl. "I
mean, what other families with young people?"
"The Reeds are about the jolliest family at Shady Nook," answered Mary
Louise. "There are five children, and the father and mother are just as
much fun as the kids. The two oldest girls--Sue and Mabel--are twins
about our age. Seventeen, I believe, to be exact. Then there are two
younger boys that Freckles chums up with, and a little girl."
"I'm afraid I'll never be able to keep all those names straight," sighed
Jane.
"Wait till we get there and you meet them one at a time," advised the
other. "It's so much easier to remember people after you've seen them."
This advice sounded sensible, and Jane settled back in her corner to
enjoy the remainder of the ride. The time passed quickly; at five o'clock
they crossed the railroad junction and turned into the private road that
led to Shady Nook.
The trees were thick on one side of the road, but on the other they could
see the lovely Hudson River, gleaming blue in the August sunlight. Jane
went into ecstasies over the beauty of the spot.
"Here we are!" announced Mrs. Gay as she turned off to a dirt driveway
and brought the car to a stop at a tin garage. "Our back door!"
"Why, we're right in the woods!" cried Jane, still unable to see the
Gays' cottage.
"Wait till you see the bungalow!" returned Mary Louise. "It's like a
little dream house. You can borrow it for your honeymoon, if you
like--provided you don't get married in the summer time."
"Thanks a lot! But I think I'll wait a few years before I accept your
kind offer."
In another moment they were all out of the car, following Mrs. Gay around
to the front of the cottage, up to the screened porch, from which they
had a good view of the river.
As Mary Louise had said, the bungalow was charming. Built entirely of
logs, it combined the picturesqueness of olden times with the
conveniences of the modern day. A huge fireplace covered one entire wall
of the living room, and the chairs were big and soft and comfortable. A
drop-leaf table at one end of the room was sometimes used for meals,
because there was no dining room. But the spotless kitchen contained a
breakfast nook where the Gays always ate their first meal of each day.
Two bedrooms branched off from the living room, with a white bathroom
between them.
"A little bit too civilized for me," said Freckles, in a most superior
manner. "I sleep out back in a tent."
"In good weather," amended Mrs. Gay. "Now, girls, suppose we just unpack
one suitcase apiece and get ready for dinner. We're going over to
Flicks', of course."
"I got to have a swim!" announced Freckles.
"All right, if you'll be quick about it. And don't go in all by
yourself."
The group gathered together again at half-past six and started down the
private road to Flicks' Inn, where they would have their supper. Mary
Louise and Jane had both put on light summer dresses and looked as rested
and refreshed as if they had been at Shady Nook all summer.
"And where is our next-door neighbor's cottage?" inquired Jane, peering
through the trees on the road. "Or do the Hunters live on the other side
of you?"
"No, the Reeds live on the other side. Theirs is the last bungalow. The
Hunters' is right in here." She paused at a path between two big oak
trees.
Jane stepped to her side and looked in among the foliage.
"I don't see it," she said.
"It's been burnt down!" cried Freckles, dashing up behind the girls. "I
didn't have a chance to tell you. About a week ago, Larry Reed said.
Awful mysterious. In the night."
"Burned down!" repeated Mary Louise, rushing in through the trees beside
the path. "Honestly?"
"See for yourself!" replied her brother.
A few steps more, and they saw for themselves that it was only too true.
The blackened trunks, the dry, scarred grass, and the faint smoky odor
confirmed his statement. The beautiful cottage was gone forever. Nothing
remained but the charred stones of its foundation.
"Boy, don't I wish I'd been here!" exclaimed Freckles regretfully. "It
must have been some fire. But they say nobody saw it. It was practically
out when they discovered it."
"Lucky that it was!" said Mrs. Gay. "Suppose ours had caught too!"
Mary Louise shuddered; such an idea was too dreadful to contemplate.
"Do you know any of the details, Freckles?" asked his mother, as the
party turned back to the road again.
"No, I don't. Nobody does. It just happened, at night, while everybody
was over at a dance at the Royal Hotel across the river."
"Maybe we'll hear more about it at Flicks'. Come on, let's hurry."
They passed one bungalow on the way to the inn, which Mary Louise pointed
out to Jane as belonging to the Partridges--all middle-aged people, she
explained--so that her chum was not interested. Nobody over twenty-five
was any use to Jane Patterson.
The inn, a large square frame building, was completely surrounded by
porches on which tables were placed where people were already eating
their dinners. Of the eight families at Shady Nook, all except one took
their lunches and suppers at Flicks'. Besides them, there were at least
half a dozen boarders. Roughly, Mary Louise estimated there were about
thirty-five people at the inn.
They all seemed to know the Gays, for everybody was bowing and smiling as
the little party opened the screen door of the front porch.
Mrs. Flick, a fat, good-natured woman of about fifty, came forward to
welcome them.
"My, it's good to see you all back again!" she exclaimed, with genuine
pleasure. "But where is Mr. Gay?"
"He had to go to California on business," explained Mrs. Gay. "So we
brought Mary Louise's friend, Jane Patterson, in his place. Mrs. Flick,
this is Jane."
"Happy to meet you, Miss Jane," returned the landlady as she led the Gays
to their accustomed table. When they were seated, she pulled up a chair
beside them to talk for a few minutes with Mrs. Gay.
"Tell us about the Hunters' bungalow!" begged Mary Louise immediately.
"There isn't much to tell. Nobody knows much.... Oh, here's Hattie to
take your order." And the newcomers had to exchange greetings with the
waitress, the daughter of a farmer named Adams who lived a couple of
miles from Shady Nook.
When the order had been given, Mary Louise repeated her question.
"It happened a week ago--on a Saturday," explained Mrs. Flick. "Mr.
Clifford had four college boys visiting him, and they all went across the
river that evening to a dance at the Royal Hotel. Mrs. Hunter went along
with 'em. When they came back, the place was burned to the ground."
"Didn't anybody see the flames--or smell the smoke?"
"No. The wind was the other way from the hotel, and there wasn't anybody
at Shady Nook to notice. Everybody, except Pa and me, went to the dance.
And we were sound asleep."
Hattie came back with the soup, and Mrs. Flick rose from her chair. "I'll
see you later," she said as she hurried into the house.
"It sounds very mysterious," muttered Mary Louise.
"Oh, there's probably some simple explanation," replied Jane lightly.
"We'll have to ask Clifford Hunter. Where is he, Mary Lou? Do you see
him?"
The other girl glanced hastily about the big porch and shook her head.
"Not here," she answered. "But he may be inside. There's another dining
room in the bungalow."
"This isn't Clifford?" asked Jane, watching a tall, good-looking,
dark-eyed young man coming out of the door.
Mary Louise turned around and smiled.
"No. That's David McCall. He usually comes up just for two weeks'
vacation and stays here at Flicks'."
A moment later the young man reached the Gays' table and was introduced
to Jane. But he merely nodded to her briefly: his eyes seemed to devour
Mary Louise.
"I thought you'd never come, Mary Lou!" he exclaimed. "A whole week of my
vacation is gone!"
"But you have another week, don't you, David?"
"Yes. A measly seven days! And then another year to wait till I see you
again!" His tone was not bantering, like the boys at home. David McCall
was serious--too terribly serious, Mary Louise sometimes thought--about
everything.
"May I come over to see you after supper?" he pleaded.
"Of course," agreed Mary Louise lightly. "And then you can tell us about
the fire. You were here when it happened?"
"No. I didn't get here till Sunday. But I can tell you something about
it, all right!"
Mary Louise's eyes opened wide with interest.
"Somebody set it on fire--on purpose, you mean, David?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
The young man leaned over and whispered in her ear:
"Clifford Hunter himself!"
Mary Louise gasped in amazement. "But why?" she demanded.
"To collect the insurance!" was the surprising reply.
And, turning about, David McCall went back into the boarding house.
CHAPTER II
_Clifford's Story_
"What did he say?" demanded both Jane and Freckles the moment David
McCall was out of hearing distance.
Mary Louise leaned forward and lowered her voice.
"He said Cliff Hunter set the place on fire himself--to get the
insurance. Now that his father is dead, the bungalow belongs to him."
"How awful!" exclaimed Jane. "Do you believe that, Mary Lou?"
"No, I don't--knowing Cliff as I do. Do you, Mother?"
"Certainly not," replied Mrs. Gay emphatically. "It's just David's
jealousy. He's poor himself, and he has a sort of grudge against all rich
people."
"Maybe," admitted Mary Louise. "David never did like Cliff, all the
summers they've both been coming up here to Shady Nook."
"I wish I could meet this young Hunter," lamented Jane. "I'm keen to get
a look at him."
"Maybe he isn't here any more," remarked Mary Louise. "Since the bungalow
is gone, where would he stay?"
"The Hunters are living over at the Royal Hotel, I think," Freckles
informed them. "Seems to me that's what Larry Reed said."
"Then Cliff will be over to see you," observed Mrs. Gay confidently.
Her supposition proved correct: no sooner had the Gays returned to their
own bungalow after supper than a motorboat chugged its way across the
river and anchored at their dock. A moment later Clifford Hunter stepped
out.
As Mary Louise had said, he was not a good-looking young man. His height
was only medium, and he was so thin that even expensive tailoring could
not make his clothes look well. But his big nose and his sandy complexion
were offset by a pleasant smile and attractive gray eyes, which somehow
made you feel as if you had known Cliff Hunter all your life.
"Hello, Mary Lou!" he called as he came towards the porch. "Heard you
were here!"
He whistled a gay tune as he ascended the steps, and smiled.
"Not so homely after all," Jane thought as she looked into his pleasant
face. And his white flannels and dark blue coat were certainly becoming.
They evidently did not wear sweaters at the Royal Hotel.
"Hurry up!" returned Mary Louise. "We're dying to hear the news!"
"Yes, of course." He shook hands with Mary Louise and her mother and was
introduced to Jane.
"Sit down, Clifford," urged Mrs. Gay.
The young man fumbled in his pocket and produced a pack of cards.
"In a minute, thank you, Mrs. Gay," he replied. "But first--take a card,
Mary Lou. I know some bully new tricks."
Mary Louise burst out laughing.
"Haven't you gotten over that fad yet, Cliff?" she asked.
He regarded her reprovingly.
"Don't talk so lightly about my profession!" he said. "I'm going to be a
magician. Now--I'll explain the trick. You can look at the pack----"
"Oh, but we want to hear about the fire," interrupted Mary Louise.
"Take a card!" was his only reply.
There was nothing to do but humor him. Jane was delighted: she loved card
tricks and listened eagerly. But Mary Louise was more interested in the
burning of the bungalow.
At last, however, Clifford sat down beside Jane on the couch-hammock and
began to talk.
"You saw the ruins?" he inquired.
"Yes. But nobody over at Flicks' seemed to know how it happened."
"Most amazing thing you ever heard of! It was last Saturday night. I had
four fellows from the fraternity here for the week-end, and about nine
o'clock we all piled into the boat and went over to the Royal Hotel to
dance. There happened to be a bunch of girls staying there that we knew,
so we were sure of a swell time. The whole gang from Shady Nook went
across too--the Reed family, the Partridges, the Robinsons--practically
everybody except the Flicks. So you see Shady Nook was deserted.
"We danced till around twelve o'clock and had something to eat. Then the
fellows suggested we all get into the launch and go for a ride. Mother
was game: she went along too, and so did a couple of the girls. By the
time we took them back to the hotel and came home, it must have been two
o'clock."
"Hadn't you seen any flames?" interrupted Jane. "From the river, I mean?"
"Not a flicker! But we had been motoring in the other direction, and you
know the hotel isn't right across from our bungalow, so we shouldn't have
been likely to notice when we were dancing. What wind there was blew the
other way."
"Even when you reached your own dock, didn't you smell smoke?" demanded
Mary Louise.
"Yes, we did then. But the flames were all out. The bungalow was
gone--but the trees hadn't caught fire."
"That was queer," remarked Mrs. Gay. "Unless somebody put out the fire."
"Nobody did, as far as we know," replied Clifford. "But it was out all
right. And the bungalow gone, all but the foundation stones!"
"What in the world did you do?" asked Jane.
"Went over to the Partridges'--they're the people who live next to us on
the other side," he explained to Jane. "Fortunately they were still up,
but they hadn't noticed the smoke for the trees; they had been at the
dance themselves till about one o'clock. Well, they gave Mother their one
extra bedroom, and we fellows slept in the living room. That was O.K.,
but it was pretty ghastly, losing everything at once. Especially the
clothes and things that belonged to our guests. If it was going to
happen, I don't see why it couldn't have burned down when we didn't have
any company."
"Yes, that must have been embarrassing," agreed Mary Louise. She was
thinking of David McCall's accusation--that Clifford set the bungalow on
fire himself to get the insurance--and it seemed absurd to her. He
certainly would have chosen a more convenient time.
"What did you do the next day?" she inquired.
"Mother and I went to our New York apartment, and the fellows went home.
I put in a claim for the insurance, and after we had bought new summer
outfits, we came back here and took a suite at the Royal. We expect to
stay there all summer."
"Why not Flicks'?" was Mary Louise's next question. "Everybody goes
there."
"That's just why we didn't. They're so overcrowded, and Mother likes
plenty of room. We sure get that at the Royal. The hotel's practically
empty; I don't see how poor Frazier can pay his taxes."
"He charges too much," said Mary Louise. "If he'd be content to make a
small profit, the way Mr. Flick does, he'd probably fill his hotel."
"Well, it's an expensive place to keep up. Mother feels sorry for him, so
she's entertaining a lot to bring him some business."
"I don't feel sorry for him! I don't like him. Remember that time we
wanted to give an entertainment for the Red Cross and he tried to charge
us fifty dollars for using his dining room? So we held it outdoors
instead!"
Clifford nodded. "Yes. But he says he's poor."
"So poor he can't pay his waitresses a living wage! Hattie Adams--you
remember, Jane, the girl who waited on our table at Flicks'?--said he
tried to pay her two dollars a week and excused himself by telling her
she'd make a lot on tips! She gets ten at Flicks'!"
"A man like that deserves to fail," agreed Jane.
"To get back to the subject of the fire," said Mary Louise, in her usual
practical way whenever there was a mystery to be solved, "what is your
idea of the way it started, Cliff?"
"I believe it was just an accident," replied the young man. "Maybe it was
some tramp or those kids. You know the Smith boys and a few others. Not
the Reeds, for they were at the Royal. But they're all full of mischief.
Maybe they were smoking corn silk in our garage."
"Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed Mrs. Gay, for her son played a great deal
with the Smith boys.
"Tell Freckles to snoop around a bit and keep his eyes and ears open,"
suggested Clifford. "Maybe he'll learn something. He'll enjoy being a
detective."
Mary Louise smiled; the young man did not know that she had proved
herself a very good detective earlier in the summer.
"What does your mother think?" she inquired.
Clifford frowned.
"Mother's suspicious. She believes there's been dirty work. Actually
thinks the place was set on fire--on purpose! By Ditmar."
"Ditmar! Who is he? I never heard of him."
"Probably not. But you soon will. He's a young architect who used to plan
a lot of houses for my father before he died. You know the two new
bungalows that were put up here this year--beyond Flicks'?"
"I heard there were two. But we haven't seen them yet."
"Well, Ditmar drew plans for them both. And he and his young wife live in
one of them."
"I see. But why would your mother suspect Mr. Ditmar of setting fire to
her cottage?" asked Jane.
"That's easy," replied Mary Louise. "So Ditmar would get the job of
designing a new one! But that seems dreadful. Is this man the criminal
type, Cliff?"
The latter shrugged his shoulders.
"How can anybody tell who is the criminal type nowadays, when every day
we read in the newspapers about senators and bankers stooping to all
sorts of despicable tricks?"
"True," agreed Jane. "And is your mother going to rebuild?"
"It wouldn't be Mother--it would be I who would do it," explained
Clifford. "Because Dad left the place to me, and all this land up here at
Shady Nook that hasn't been sold yet. But I don't expect to do anything
for a while. Mother's comfortable at the Royal, and I don't mind. Though
I do like the people at Shady Nook a lot better."
"Oh, well, you can come over as much as you like," said Mary Louise.
"Which is just what I intend to do! And that reminds me, one of the
things I came to talk to you about: a swell shindig for Monday night!"
"Oh, what?" gasped Jane in delight.
"A party down on the island. Everybody goes in some kind of
boat--naturally--all dressed up. I mean, the boats are to be all dressed
up, you understand. With a prize for the best decorated of each kind.
Then we'll have a feed and play games."
"That's great!" cried Jane enthusiastically. "What'll we go in, Mary Lou?
The canoe?"
"I thought maybe you girls would come in my motorboat----"
"And lose the chance of winning a prize?" interrupted Mary Louise.
"Thanks just the same, Cliff, but I've got an idea already."
David McCall was coming up the porch steps just in time to hear the
refusal, and he grinned broadly. This was just as it should be, he
thought, looking possessively at Mary Louise.
Tall and dark and handsome, David McCall was indeed a contrast to
Clifford Hunter in appearance. But Jane had already decided that she did
not like him. Nobody twenty-two years old had any right to be so serious,
even if he had been supporting himself for five years!
Mary Louise was a trifle embarrassed as she greeted him, wondering how he
and Cliff would get along together. But Cliff spoke to him cordially.
"Hello, Dave," he said. "Sit down. I've got a brand-new trick. You take a
card----"
Jane giggled. How could anybody help liking a boy like Cliff?
"Don't let's waste our time on card tricks," was David's reply. "The
light's fading. We ought to be out on the river. Or in it, if you
prefer," he added, addressing Mary Louise.
Clifford, disappointed, put his cards away.
"You can show me all your tricks tomorrow," whispered Jane
sympathetically. "I love them!"
"It's a date!" exclaimed Cliff eagerly.
Mary Louise stood up, to conceal her nervousness at the sharp way in
which David had spoken.
"O.K.," she said. "Let's go somewhere. Where?"
"In my motorboat?" suggested Cliff.
Everybody agreed, and the arrangement proved satisfactory, for the boat
was large enough for Jane and Cliff to be together at the wheel, and
David and Mary Louise off in another corner. Silky sat upright in the
middle of the boat, as if he believed he were the chaperon and it was his
sacred duty to keep his eye on everybody.
The evening passed pleasantly, for the stars were out, and the breeze
over the river delightfully cool, and the boat itself in perfect
condition. Even David forgot his grudge against rich young Hunter and
under the magic spell of the night joined happily in the singing. Mary
Louise, however, insisted that they come home early, for though they
hardly realized it, both girls were tired from their long trip.
"It's been a glorious day!" exclaimed Jane, after the boys had gone home,
and the girls were preparing for bed. "I'm crazy about Shady Nook."
"I think it's pretty nice myself," returned the other, with a yawn. "If
only poor Cliff's bungalow hadn't burned down."
"Tell me," urged Jane, "which boy you really like best--Cliff Hunter or
David McCall or Max Miller?"
Mary Louise laughed.
"I don't know. Max, I guess. Now you answer a question for me: Who do you
think set the Hunters' bungalow on fire--Cliff himself, or that Mr.
Ditmar, the architect, or the kids?"
"There you go!" cried Jane. "Being a detective instead of a normal girl
on her vacation. Who cares, anyhow? It doesn't hurt anybody but the
insurance company, and I guess they can afford it."
"Oh, but I'd like terribly to know!"
"Well, don't let's waste our wonderful month being detectives," pleaded
Jane.
"But it may be important," Mary Louise pointed out. "If it was done
intentionally, there will probably be more fires. Don't forget--our
cottage is next door to Hunters'!"
Jane opened her eyes wide in alarm.
"I never thought of that," she admitted.
"I've got to think of it," said Mary Louise. "Daddy is trusting me to
look after things, and I can't fall down on my job. Nothing like that
must happen."
"What can you possibly do about it?"
"Investigate, of course."
"How?"
"I'll begin by talking to Freckles tomorrow and see whether he's found
out anything from the boys. Then I'll make it a point to meet Mr.
Ditmar--and follow up every clue I can get hold of."
"You would!" yawned Jane as she crept sleepily into her cot.
CHAPTER III
_The Ditmars_
"Freckles!" exclaimed Mary Louise as she entered the kitchenette of the
bungalow the following morning. "Where are you going?"
The boy grinned mysteriously.
"Can't tell you that, Sis," he replied. "It's a secret."
"But I wanted to talk to you. And it's only a little after eight
o'clock."
"I know, but I'm a busy guy. Important affairs!"
"With whom?"
Freckles hesitated; then he decided to tell part of his secret.
"The fellows up here have a secret band. It's called the 'Wild Guys of
the Road.' I was initiated last night."
Mary Louise burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. "The 'Wild Guys of
the Road'!" she repeated. "Regular hold-up men?"
"Well, not exactly," replied her brother. "But we've got some exciting
adventures on."
"Who is the leader?"
"Robby Smith. He's got some swell ideas."
Mary Louise's eyes narrowed.
"Does burning people's houses come into his plan?"
"Gosh, no! We're not really bad, Sis. We wouldn't do anything like that."
"Do you make fires at all?"
"Sure we make fires. We've got to cook our camp meals, haven't we? And
have our ceremonies."
"I see." She was thinking. "And sometimes those fires spread farther than
you want them to?"
"No, course not! Now, don't you go blaming us guys for Hunters' bungalow
burning down!"
"I'm not blaming _you_, Freckles--you weren't even here. But I'm not so
sure about those Smith boys. They are pretty wild, once they get started.
Remember the time they locked that little boy in the boathouse and almost
left him there all night?"
"Gee whiz, Sis! They wouldn't have left him there. They just wanted to
scare him."
"I'm not so sure. They're spoiled kids. I wish you wouldn't play with
them."
"Now, Sis, don't be silly! Everybody's in the gang together. I've got to
play with the Smith boys or else stay home by myself."
With a yell of good-bye for his mother, the boy was off.
Mary Louise and Jane sat down to their breakfast. Mrs. Gay, who had eaten
hers with Freckles, came in to talk to them.
"What have you on the program for today?" she inquired.
"Oh, the usual things," answered her daughter. "Tennis with the bunch
this morning, and I suppose everybody will go in swimming about eleven
o'clock. David is coming over to talk about fixing up our canoe for the
contest tomorrow night."
Jane coughed nervously.
"I--uh--sort of promised Cliff I'd go in his motorboat, Mary Lou," she
said. "Would that be all right?"
"Sure it's all right," agreed her chum. "It'll be even better, because
the less weight we have in our canoe, the more decoration we can put on.
And there's a prize for each type of boat, you know."
"Then I shan't be competing against you if I go in Cliff's launch?"
"Oh no, we are in separate classes."
After the girls had finished washing the dishes for Mrs. Gay, they
started off for a little walk, with Silky at their heels.
"Why not stop for the Reed girls?" suggested Jane, mentioning the twins
who lived in the cottage on the far side of the Gays. "I'm crazy to meet
them."
"You'll meet them when we go swimming later on," replied Mary Louise.
"But just now I want to go in the other direction. To call on the
Ditmars."
"The Ditmars?" For the moment Jane had forgotten who these people were,
for she had heard so many new names the night before.
"Yes. Don't you remember? The young architect that Cliff told us about.
The man Mrs. Hunter thinks set her bungalow on fire."
"Oh, yes, of course! In other words--a suspect."
"That's right," agreed Mary Louise.
"But how can we call on him if we don't know him?" asked Jane.
"We'll find a way!"
"Oh, sure we will!" teased Jane. "Trust the girl detective for that!"
"Sh! Please don't call me that in front of anybody, Jane. If people think
I am snooping, they'll shut up like clams and won't tell me anything."
Although there were only eight cottages at Shady Nook, the distance from
the Reeds' on one end to the Ditmars' on the other was over a mile.
Cliff's father, Mr. Hunter, who had planned the little resort, knew that
even in a small friendly community like this, people still liked privacy,
so he had left a small strip of woods between every two cottages.
The girls walked along slowly, Mary Louise pointing out the bungalows as
they passed by.
"That's where the Hunters' was, of course," she said to her chum. "And
now we're coming to the Partridges'. Next is Flicks' Inn."
"Yes, I remember this much from last night," nodded Jane. "But that's as
far as we got. Are there many cottages on the other side of Flicks'?"
"Only the Smiths' and the two new ones. The Smiths don't actually live on
the river road, and you can't call their place a cottage. It's really the
grandest house around here. Much bigger than the Hunters' was. They have
three children and a lot of servants. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are usually off
traveling somewhere, and even when they're here, they don't eat at
Flicks'."
"So we can't count on them for any fun?"
"No. Freckles plays with the boys, but except for that, we never see
them."
A little farther on, the girls came to the two new bungalows, set right
in the heart of the woods. They were both perfectly charming; it was
evident that young Mr. Ditmar was an architect with both taste and ideas.
"Don't you love it?" whispered Jane, as the two girls approached the
Ditmars' rose-trellised bungalow. "It looks like 'Honeymoon Cottage' in a
jig-saw puzzle!"
"I understand the Ditmars are practically a bride and groom," returned
Mary Louise.... "Oh, there she is, in the garden! Pretty, isn't she?"
An attractive young woman in a pink dress looked up as the girls came
nearer. She smiled pleasantly.
"Good-morning," said Mary Louise. "You are Mrs. Ditmar, aren't you?
Everybody knows everybody else here at Shady Nook, so we'll introduce
ourselves. This is my chum, Jane Patterson, and I'm Mary Louise Gay."
The young woman nodded cordially.
"I'm awfully glad to meet you both," she said. "This is a friendly
place--I like it a lot. If only my husband did----"
"Doesn't Mr. Ditmar like Shady Nook?" asked Mary Louise in surprise.
"No, he doesn't. But I guess it's just because he hasn't enough to do.
You know how men are when they haven't any work: full of gloom."
"Well, things will be better this fall," remarked Jane optimistically.
"I don't know," replied Mrs. Ditmar. "At least--for architects. Their
work comes slowly. It was fine all spring, while Horace had this bungalow
to build, and the Robinsons' next door. But now he can't get a thing."
"Maybe the Hunters will rebuild," suggested Jane openly.
Mrs. Ditmar shook her head.
"We did hope so. We went over to see them at the Royal Hotel soon after
their house burned down, but Mrs. Hunter wasn't very nice to us. She
almost acted as if it were our fault!"
Jane suppressed a giggle and muttered under her breath, "The plot
thickens."
"Oh, I guess she was just all upset," remarked Mary Louise nervously.
"She'll get over that." She smiled. "Anyway, you don't have to be gloomy,
Mrs. Ditmar. Can't you get your tennis things on and play with us this
morning?"
"Thanks awfully, but I don't think I had better leave Horace here alone."
"Bring him along!"
"He wouldn't come. No, I better not. But perhaps I'll see you in swimming
later on in the morning. It's awfully nice of you girls to be so
friendly."
"We'll look for you in the water, then.... And, by the way, you'll come
to the party on the island tomorrow night, won't you?"
Again the young woman refused.
"No, we really can't afford that. It's two dollars for the supper, you
know, and besides that; we'd have to hire one of Mr. Frazier's canoes."
"Couldn't you borrow one?" suggested Jane.
"No--I'm sorry--Horace refused to go."
Mary Louise sighed, as if to say how thankful she was that she wasn't
married to a grouch like that. So the girls said good-bye and walked
slowly back to their cottage.
"She can't be over twenty, if she's that," surmised Mary Louise. "I
certainly feel sorry for her."
"So do I," agreed Jane. "Do you really think her husband is guilty, Mary
Lou?"
"I don't know. He sounds queer." She lowered her voice: there did not
appear to be anybody around, but you never could tell, with all those
thick trees to conceal possible eavesdroppers. "And if he believes it's
his right to have work, he may try burning other cottages. That's what
worries me."
"Well, he surely wouldn't pick on yours, Mary Lou," was Jane's comforting
assurance. "He'd select somebody's who was rich--like the Smiths', or
some place that was absolutely necessary, like the Flicks'."
The girls were passing the inn at this moment, and as they looked up they
saw David McCall in his tennis clothes coming out of the door.
"I was over at the bungalow looking for you girls," he said. "The Reed
girls are on the court, but they wouldn't let me play until I found a
partner. So please hurry up!"
"O.K.," agreed Mary Louise. "Walk back with us, Dave. I want you to tell
me why you think Cliff Hunter set his own bungalow on fire--at such an
inconvenient time. When they had company, I mean."
David smiled knowingly.
"That's his alibi, of course. What did he care about those four fellows?
It didn't hurt them. You see, Mary Lou, I'm an insurance agent, and I'm
up to all these tricks. The Hunters' place was insured for ten thousand
dollars, and if it had been offered for sale, Cliff couldn't have gotten
more than a couple thousand at a time like this."
"But the Hunters are rich," objected Mary Louise. "They don't need the
money."
"Everybody needs money. And I happen to know that Cliff wants to go
around the world this fall."
"He wouldn't give up college?"
"No. There's a college course in the bargain. They study and travel at
the same time. It costs a small fortune."
"I don't believe he set that bungalow on fire," announced Jane. "He's too
honest. He just couldn't do a thing like that!"
"Besides," added Mary Louise, "we have another suspect." And she told
David what she had just learned about Horace Ditmar.
"I'm just as sure that Ditmar didn't do it as you are that Cliff Hunter
didn't," replied David when she had finished.
"Probably nobody set it on fire," concluded Jane. "Just an accident.
Let's forget it. Come on in, Mary Lou, and we'll put on our sneaks. We'll
be ready in a minute, Dave."
True to their promise, the girls returned a moment later, with Silky at
their heels, and all three young people made their way to the tennis
court. There was only one court at Shady Nook--which the boys themselves
had made--but there was another across the river on the hotel grounds.
However, nobody ever seemed to mind waiting or taking turns, so the crowd
usually stayed together.
Jane was introduced to the Reed twins, who looked and dressed so exactly
alike that she had not the faintest idea which was Mabel and which was
Sue after a couple of minutes had elapsed. Then there were three other
young people who were staying at the inn for a short time, besides David
McCall and themselves. To her dismay, Cliff Hunter did not come across
the river to join the party.
The whole crowd went in swimming about eleven o'clock, and here their
elders joined them, with some of the younger children. Not Freckles,
however, or the Reed boys or the Smiths: they had gone off hiking for the
day. Again Jane did not see Cliff Hunter, and she was giving all her
attention to a young man named Stuart Robinson, who lived in the new
bungalow next to the Ditmars', when she heard her name shouted from the
shore.
"Jane! Oh, Jane!"
Raising her head from her swimming position and treading water, she
peered towards the shore. It was Cliff Hunter--but not attired in a
bathing suit.
"Come on out!" he called.
Jane swung into the crawl, and reached the young man in a couple of
minutes. He was grinning broadly.
"Take a card," he said.
Jane burst out laughing. "How can I?" she asked. "I'm soaked."
"Oh, that's all right. I've got plenty of packs. This is a swell trick.
I've been studying it all morning."
Jane dropped down on the grass and listened to his trick. The young man
was enchanted. She stayed with him until Mary Louise literally dragged
her back into the water.
"How anybody could believe Cliff Hunter guilty of a despicable crime,"
she said later to her chum, "is beyond me. He's as innocent as a child."
"I hope so," returned Mary Louise. "Time will tell."
CHAPTER IV
_Another Fire_
Everybody at Shady Nook worked all day Monday on the decorations for the
boats. Everybody, that is, except Mr. and Mrs. Flick and a few of the
older people, who were preparing the food for the supper on the little
island that night. Jane was helping Clifford Hunter paint pieces of wood
which were intended to transform his launch into an auto-giro, and David
McCall and Mary Louise picked flowers and leaves all afternoon to make
festoons for her canoe.
"I do think Freckles and those other kids might have helped us," she
remarked as she tied on the last cluster of sunflowers.
"Oh, we didn't need them," returned David, smiling. He had enjoyed having
Mary Louise to himself all afternoon.
"It's five o'clock now. We'll have to hurry and wash and dress. Don't
forget supper at Flicks' is half-past tonight."
The young man nodded. "I'll be ready, Mary Lou."
Mrs. Gay's voice interrupted them from the inside of the bungalow.
"Has anybody seen Freckles?" she called.
"Not since this morning," replied her daughter. "I tried to get him to
help us, but he said he was off for the day with his gang."
"Yes, I know that. I gave him some lunch. But he ought to be home by
now."
"He'll probably be along in a minute."
But he did not come. David went back to the inn, and Mrs. Gay and the two
girls dressed for the picnic, but still Freckles did not appear.
"We can't go off and leave him without any supper," said Mrs. Gay.
"Because Mrs. Flick is going to close the dining room and lock up at
six-thirty."
"If we could only phone the Smiths," sighed Mary Louise. "He's probably
over there with the boys.... Suppose Jane and I run over?"
"It's too far. It will make you late for supper."
"Not very late. We'll hurry. Come on, Jane. We'll be back in ten minutes.
But you go on down to the inn, Mother, and order the dinner."
Mrs. Gay nodded, immensely relieved. What a comfort Mary Louise was! You
never had to ask her to do anything for you.
The two girls hurried away along the private road beside the river, past
the Flicks' and the Robinsons', then turned up the hill to the Smiths'
house beyond. It was Jane's first sight of the imposing-looking place at
close range. She exclaimed in admiration.
"What a marvelous house! They must be awfully rich!"
"They are," replied Mary Louise. "But they don't appreciate this place a
bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are hardly ever here at all in the summer. Those
two boys just run wild. There's a nurse to look after the little
girl--she's only four years old--but the boys do pretty much as they
please and boss the servants around. That's why Mother and I feel worried
about Freckles when he's with them."
A sedate-looking butler answered the girls' ring at the door.
"No, miss," was his reply to Mary Louise's question, "the boys haven't
been here all day."
"Did they expect to go to the picnic tonight on the island?"
"Yes, miss. Steve, the chauffeur, was to take them."
Mary Louise sighed. There was nothing she could do.
"Well, if my brother comes back here, will you please send him right over
to the inn?" she asked. "And tell him to hurry."
The girls turned away and started back. "It's going to spoil Mother's
evening," remarked Mary Louise disconsolately.
"Oh, he'll be sure to turn up soon," returned Jane reassuringly.
"I know, but even if he does, he won't be able to get to the island. All
the boats at Shady Nook are being used. Even the rowboats. Everybody's
going except the Ditmars."
"Poor Adelaide Ditmar!" sighed Jane. "Imagine missing all that fun just
because of a grouchy husband! I'm glad I'm single."
Mary Louise laughed.
"All men aren't alike, Jane. You know Cliff Hunter would never miss any
fun. Or Max or Norman," she added, mentioning their two best friends in
Riverside.
Mrs. Gay looked up hopefully as the girls entered the inn, but her
expression changed immediately. She could tell from their faces that they
had not been successful.
After supper was over, all was bustle and excitement as the people got
into the boats and pushed them out into the river. There were six canoes,
four rowboats, and three motorboats, all decorated beautifully or
fantastically, according to the taste of the owners. Three prizes were to
be awarded for the cleverest boat of each type, and everybody was to vote
on the style in which he or she was not competing. Mary Louise and David
McCall stepped into their flower-covered canoe; Mrs. Gay joined the
Partridges in a rowboat, and Jane waited for Cliff Hunter's motorboat to
come puffing across the river. It arrived at the same time as the
Fraziers' rather seedy launch, and Jane was introduced to them and to
Mrs. Hunter.
"You'll walk away with the motorboat prize, Cliff," called Mary Louise to
the young man at the wheel. She lowered her voice. "Poor old Frazier's
launch is pathetic, and Stuart Robinson's is just funny!"
"I hope the prize is a deck of cards," returned Cliff. "Mine are wearing
out."
Mary Louise laughed and dipped her paddle into the water. Her canoe did
look pretty, and it was a heavenly night. If only Freckles were there!
The boats began to move off, the launches puffing ahead, the canoes
gliding gently behind them, and the rowboats progressing more
ponderously. Somebody began to play a ukulele, and gay voices took up the
tune.
The island, a small oblong strip of land, was situated about two miles
down the river from Shady Nook. Several years ago someone at the resort
had discovered it, and everybody had taken a hand at fixing it up for
picnic purposes. There was a glorious stone fireplace, and a large spot
had been cleared for dancing and games. Seats had been scattered about,
and a couple of board tables had been erected near the fireplace. Tonight
the whole island was alight with Japanese lanterns, giving it a gay and
festive air.
When the last rowboat had finally reached its destination, the crowd all
gathered together on the grass near the shore to record their votes. The
two Robinson boys went about collecting them.
Mary Louise was sitting close to her mother, watching her intently.
"The Reed boys aren't here either," whispered Mrs. Gay. "I was just
talking to Mrs. Reed, and she said she hasn't seen Larry or George since
morning. But she doesn't seem much worried."
"Freckles must be all right if he's with the whole bunch," Mary Louise
assured her. "Nothing much could happen to five boys together."
Mrs. Gay forced herself to smile.
"I'll try not to worry, dear.... Oh, listen! Mr. Robinson is going to
announce the winners!"
The jovial-faced man, Stuart's father, stepped forward.
"First prize for rowboats goes to Sue and Mabel Reed," he said. "Come
forward, girls, and get your prize. It's a box of tennis balls."
The twins, dressed exactly alike in blue dimity, came up together, bowing
and expressing their thanks.
"The prize for canoes--to Mary Louise Gay," continued Mr. Robinson. "More
tennis balls!"
David McCall clapped loudly, and everybody else joined in the applause.
Mary Louise was a general favorite at Shady Nook.
"The prize for motorboats goes to my son Stuart for his funny-looking
contraption!"
Everybody clapped but Jane; she was terribly disappointed. She didn't see
why Cliff's clever idea hadn't taken the honors. But glancing at the
young man she could detect no resentment in his face. He was a wonderful
sport.
After the prizes had been disposed of, the games began, and continued
until dark. Almost everyone joined in the fun--even the middle-aged
people. All except a few who were helping Mrs. Flick prepare the
refreshments, and Mrs. Hunter and the Fraziers, who were too stiff and
dignified.
"How do you like Mrs. Hunter?" whispered Mary Louise once when the two
chums found themselves hiding side by side in a game.
"Kind of stuck up," replied Jane. "But she's better than those Fraziers.
He's positively oily!"
"Didn't I tell you? I wouldn't stay in his hotel if our bungalow burned
down--no matter how much money we had."
"Mrs. Hunter seems to like him. But I think it's Frazier who put the idea
into her head that Ditmar set her cottage on fire. Because I heard him
say to her, 'I wonder whose place will burn down tonight. Ditmar stayed
home!'"
"Oh, how awful!"
"Sh! Oh, gosh, we're caught! Why must girls always talk?" lamented Jane.
The moon came up in the sky, making the night more enchanting, more
wonderful than before. The games broke up, and Mrs. Flick called the
people to refreshments.
"Sit with me, Mary Lou," urged David, jealously touching her arm.
"We must find Mother," returned the girl.
"She's over there with Mrs. Hunter and the hotel bunch. You don't want to
be with them, do you?"
"Not particularly. But I do want to be with Mother and Jane and Cliff. So
come on!"
David closed his lips tightly, but he followed Mary Louise just the same.
Mrs. Gay made a place for them, and the young couple sat down.
"You're not still worried, are you, Mother?" asked Mary Louise as she
passed the chicken salad.
"I'm afraid I am, dear. If we could only see Shady Nook from here,
perhaps the boys would flash their lights."
"They're surely all right," put in Mrs. Hunter consolingly. "They're big
enough to take care of themselves."
"I'll say they are," remarked Mr. Frazier. "I caught them cutting my yew
tree to make bows. There's nothing they can't do!"
Mary Louise regarded the hotelkeeper with contempt, thinking again how
stingy he was. Anybody else would be glad to give the boys a branch of a
tree!
"So long as they don't set anything on fire," observed Cliff lightly.
"Oh, Cliff!" exclaimed Mary Louise in horror.
David McCall nudged her meaningly.
"Criminals always try to cover up their crimes by laying the suspicion on
somebody else," he whispered. "But only a cad would blame innocent
children."
Mary Louise cast him a withering look. She was beginning to despise David
McCall.
When the whole party had eaten all they possibly could, somebody started
to play a ukulele, and the young people danced on the smooth grass that
had been worn down by so many picnics. Nobody apparently wanted to go
home, except Mrs. Gay. Finally Mrs. Reed, beginning to be anxious about
her own two boys, seconded the motion for departure.
"Let's give the rowboats twenty minutes start," suggested Cliff Hunter.
"And the canoes ten. We'll beat you all at that!"
"If our engines don't give out," put in Stuart Robinson doubtfully. He
never felt confident about his ancient motorboat.
"Suits me fine!" cried Jane, realizing that the arrangement gave her
twenty extra minutes to dance.
The rowboats pushed off, and ten minutes later Mary Louise and her mother
and David stepped into their canoe. It was a light craft, built for
speed, and both she and David were excellent paddlers. In no time at all
they were leading the procession.
It was David's sharp eyes which first detected signs of a disaster.
"There's a fire at Shady Nook!" he cried breathlessly.
"Oh!" gasped Mrs. Gay in horror, and turning about swiftly, Mary Louise
thought that her mother was going to faint. But she didn't; she pulled
herself together quickly and sat up very straight.
"It's true," agreed Mary Louise, her voice trembling with fear. Suppose
it were their own cottage--and--and--Freckles!
The canoe rounded the bend in the river and came within full view of the
little resort. The Reeds' house was visible now--yes--and the Gays'!
Thank heaven it was unharmed!
"It's either the Partridges' or Flicks'," announced David. "And my bet is
that it's Flicks'. I was expecting it."
"You were expecting it, David?" repeated Mrs. Gay in consternation. "What
do you mean by that?"
"Because Cliff Hunter holds a big mortgage on Flicks' Inn," replied the
young man. "It means ready cash for him."
"Don't be absurd!" commanded Mary Louise. "How could Cliff have anything
to do with it when he was with us all evening?"
"Haven't you ever heard of a bribe, Mary Lou?" he asked.
The girl did not answer. The increasing noise of the engines behind them
told them that the motorboats had caught up with them. Everybody knew
about the disaster now; Mrs. Flick was crying, and Mr. Flick was yelling
and waving his arms wildly, calling upon everybody to help him.
He was out of his boat first--he happened to be riding in the Robinsons'
launch--and he dashed madly through the trees that stood between his inn
and the river. In his excitement, he almost knocked over a small boy
carrying a pail of water from the river.
"Freckles!" cried Mrs. Gay, in a tone of both relief and fear: relief
that her child was safe, fear that he had had something to do with the
fire. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to save the trees," explained the boy. "The inn was gone when we
got here, but us guys kept the fire from spreading." He looked up
proudly, as if he expected a medal for his bravery.
"I don't believe a word of it!" thundered Mr. Flick. "I believe you boys
set the place on fire. And now you're trying to lie out of it!"
"I wouldn't put it past 'em," muttered Mr. Frazier, at his side. The
Fraziers had landed at Shady Nook instead of crossing to the hotel's
shore.
"Tell the truth, boys!" urged Mrs. Gay, for by this time both the Smiths
and the two young Reeds had joined Freckles.
"We came along here about dark," said Larry Reed, who was the oldest of
the group, "and smelled smoke. Course, we investigated. The inn was gone.
But the ashes were still smoldering, and there was smoke coming out from
the bushes. So we ran over to Gays' and to our house and got buckets and
carried water from the river. It's about out now."
"You're sure that's the truth?" demanded Mr. Reed.
"On my honor, Dad!" replied the boy solemnly.
"Did you see anybody in the woods or around Shady Nook?" inquired Mrs.
Flick.
"Yeah. A big guy who looked like a tramp from the woods--it was too dark
to see his face--and a funny-looking woman in a gray dress with a big
pitcher under her arm."
"Together?" asked Mary Louise.
"No. The big guy was in the woods. And the woman was running along the
road that leads to Four Corners."
"Nothing but a made-up yarn!" denounced Mr. Flick.
But the fire was really out; there was nothing anybody could do. Frazier
suggested that the Flicks and their guests come over to his hotel, and
the latter accepted. But the Flicks, realizing that this was not a real
invitation, that the hotelkeeper would present them with a bill later on,
chose to stay with the Partridges. So at last the group dispersed for the
night.
Mary Louise, however, was so exasperated with David McCall that she never
even answered his pleasant "Good-night!"
CHAPTER V
_Freckles' Story_
"What in the world are you doing?" asked Jane when she came out on the
porch the following morning to find her chum studiously poring over a
notebook. "You must think school has begun!"
Mary Louise looked up.
"It's harder than school--but it's more fun," she replied. "I'm working
on the mystery of the fires."
"Mystery? You really don't think the Flicks' Inn was just an accident?"
"No, I don't. If it were the first fire, I might believe that. But with
the Hunters' a week or so ago, the whole thing looks sinister to me. I'm
frightened, Jane. Ours may be the next. We haven't any insurance to speak
of. Besides, something dreadful might happen to Mother. People are burned
to death sometimes, you know."
"Yes, that's true," replied Jane seriously. "But what are you going to
do?"
"Treat it just like a case, as I did Dark Cedars. List all the possible
suspects and search the neighborhood for desperate characters."
"Such as gypsies?"
"No, not gypsies. They wouldn't have any motive this time. But somebody
must have a motive--unless it's a crazy person who is responsible."
Jane's eyes opened wide.
"That's an idea, Mary Lou! There are people like that--crazy along just
one particular line. They feel they simply have to light fires. Firebugs,
you know."
"Incendiary is the correct term, I believe," said Mary Louise.
"Oh, so you've already thought of it and looked up the word!"
"Yes, I've thought of it. Who wouldn't have? It's the first explanation
that jumps into your head when you hear of a fire. They say lighted
cigarettes start them too, and small children."
"Small children? But not boys as big as Freckles and the Smiths?"
An expression of pain passed over Mary Louise's face.
"I'm afraid everybody suspects the boys. Especially Mr. Flick.... I'm
going to call Freckles now and ask him just exactly what he did
yesterday. Then, if you're interested, Jane, I'll read you all my list of
suspects."
"Sure I'm interested. I love to play the part of Watson to the great
Sherlock Holmes Gay!" Mary Louise stuck out her tongue.
"Don't be so fresh!" she said, but she was pleased and flattered to be
called Sherlock Holmes.
Freckles, eating a bun and followed by Silky, came leisurely through the
screen door. Mary Louise asked him to sit down and talk to her.
"Can't long," was the reply. "Have to go see old man Flick."
"Don't speak of Mr. Flick in that disrespectful way!" said Mary Louise
disapprovingly.
"I will, though. I hate him. He thinks us guys set his old inn on fire,
and we really saved his trees. Sweatin' like horses, carryin' water from
the river, and that's all the thanks we get!"
"Freckles," said his sister seriously, "you must tell me all about what
you did yesterday. Everything! No secrets. Because this is important. It
may save somebody innocent from imprisonment--and help spot the real
criminal."
"O.K., I will, Sis." He sat down on the hammock, and Silky jumped up
beside him. He gave the little dog a piece of his bun, and then he began.
"Up in the woods beyond Shady Nook--past the Ditmars', you know, and all
the cottages--we're building a shack. A clubhouse for the 'Wild Guys of
the Road.' So yesterday we took our lunch--the two Smiths, the two Reeds,
and I--to set to work."
"Did you make a fire?" demanded Mary Louise.
"Sure we made a fire. We got to have a fire. But don't you go thinking
that fire spread to Flicks'. If it had, why wouldn't Ditmars' and
Robinsons' cottages have been burned? They're in between."
"Yes, that's true. Did you stay there in the woods all day?"
"Yeah. Cooked some hot dogs for our supper, and Larry Reed had a can of
baked beans. Boy, we had a swell feed! And never thought a thing about
the picnic on the island till it started to get dark. Then we put out the
fire, packed our stuff away, and made tracks for home."
"About what time was that?" asked Mary Louise. "I mean, when you finally
left your camp?"
"Nine-thirty or ten, maybe. I don't know."
"And you saw two people on your way back, you said?"
"Four people, really, because the Ditmars were taking a walk in the
woods. They were quarreling, I'm sure. She was mad at him. Said she
thought he was positively cruel!"
"What!" exclaimed Jane. "Looks as if Horace Ditmar might have set the
place on fire himself--just as Mr. Frazier was expecting!"
Mary Louise wrote something in her notebook, and Freckles continued:
"Then, a little farther on, we met a tramp. At least, we think he was a
tramp, though it was too dark to see his face. He was a big man in shabby
old clothes. Overalls, I think. He was coming towards us--away from Shady
Nook. We think he's the man you want!"
"Had you ever seen him before?"
"I don't think so, but I wouldn't want to be sure. After we passed him,
we saw the funny-looking woman with the big pitcher under her arm. The
moon was out then, and we got a good look at her. We all think she was
crazy--kind of talking to herself as she went along.
"Then, as we came nearer to Shady Nook, we smelled smoke and found out it
was Flicks'. The inn was burned down by then--it was all wood, you
know--but there was plenty of fire smoldering around. So we got some
buckets at our own houses and began carrying water from the river. We
must have worked a couple of hours.... Till you came along.... That's
all."
"You're going to tell this story to Mr. Flick?"
"It's not a story!" cried the boy indignantly. "It's the truth!"
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," Mary Louise hastened to assure him. "I
believe you, Freckles. But I do wish you had someone to swear to the
truth of it--for the people who may not believe you. Some witness, I
mean. Did the Ditmars see you boys in the woods?"
"No. When we heard their voices--and I told you she was good and mad--we
beat it around another path. Women murder their husbands sometimes, you
know!" he added solemnly.
"I don't believe Mrs. Ditmar would commit murder," replied his sister.
"We met her yesterday morning, and she seemed awfully nice."
Freckles stood up.
"Guess I better be on my way. Old man Flick's got an awful temper."
"Well, be sure to keep yours," Mary Louise warned him as he walked down
the steps.
She turned to Jane. "What do you think about it?" she asked.
"I think it's a mess. But I don't believe anybody's guilty. Probably just
some careless servant girl."
"I don't know. I'm going over to see Mr. Flick this morning. I'll have a
good reason now that Freckles is sort of involved.
"Now I'll read you my list of suspects and their motives, and you tell me
what you think and whether you can add any names:
"'Horace Ditmar--motive, to make work for himself.
"'Mr. Flick and Cliff Hunter--owners, to collect insurance.
"'Tramp and queer-looking woman--firebugs.
"'Careless servants--and
"'The boys.'... Now, can you think of anybody else?"
"It looks like Mr. Ditmar to me--or else the careless servants," replied
Jane. "I'd never believe it was Cliff Hunter. Or Mr. Flick. Why, Mr.
Flick was making money this summer--he'd be a fool to set his place on
fire. Besides, he was at the picnic. How could he?"
"Things like that can be arranged," replied Mary Louise, thinking of
David McCall's accusation. "That tramp, for instance, might have been
bribed."
"Well, I'm sure he wouldn't want to. Now, if it were that man Frazier's
place, the Royal Hotel, I mean, it would be possible. You know what Cliff
said about the way he's losing money. The hotel is practically empty,
except for the Hunters and their friends."
"Maybe it will give Mr. Frazier an idea," remarked Mary Louise, "and his
hotel be the next to burn!"
"You seem to feel sure that something is coming next!"
"I'm afraid so. And I only hope it won't be our bungalow!"
Mary Louise sighed and closed her notebook.
"It's much more difficult than that mystery at Dark Cedars," she said.
"Because there you had only one place to watch. If I knew which cottage
would be the next to burn, I could hide there and spy. But Shady Nook's a
mile long, and I can't be everywhere."
"No," agreed Jane. "And you don't like to stay home from all the parties
just on a chance that there will be a fire. Has it occurred to you, Mary
Lou, that both fires started when everybody from Shady Nook was off on a
party?"
"Yes, it has. That's why it seems like a planned crime to me--not just an
accident. As if the criminal picked his time carefully."
The familiar "chug-chug" of a motorboat interrupted the girls'
discussion. Clifford Hunter shut off his engine and threw the rope around
the Gays' dock.
"Hello, girls!" he called, with his usual grin. "I haven't had time to
work up any new card tricks, but I hope I'll be welcome just the same."
"Oh, we have more serious things to think about than tricks," responded
Mary Louise.
"You mean that now you have to turn in and do the cooking since Flicks'
Inn is gone?"
"I really hadn't thought of that," answered Mary Louise. "Though of
course we shall have to do that very thing. We aren't rich enough to eat
at the Royal Hotel."
"It's not so steep, considering the service you get. Maybe Frazier will
lower his prices, for he sure needs the business. But, of course, you
have a large family. It would be kind of expensive."
"Where can we buy food?" inquired Jane. So far, the Gays' breakfasts had
consisted of supplies they brought along with them, with the addition of
milk, butter, and eggs from a farmer who stopped daily at Flicks'.
"There's a store over at Four Corners," replied her chum, naming the
nearest village--about five miles away. "We usually drive over once a
week for supplies. I suppose I better go in now and ask Mother how soon
she wants me to go."
"Be my guests tonight at the Royal for dinner," suggested Cliff. "Then
you won't have to bother about buying stuff."
"Thanks, Cliff, but there are too many of us. Besides, I'd have to go to
the store anyway. We'll need things for lunch. You know how hungry we are
when we come out from swimming."
"By the way," asked Jane, "where is David McCall staying? And the other
people who were boarding at Flicks'?"
"They're all over at the hotel," answered Cliff. "Makes the place seem
quite lively. Frazier's stepping around at a great rate, looking pleased
as Punch."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mary Louise significantly, and she wrote another name
into her notebook.
She ran inside the cottage and five minutes later returned with her
mother's list of groceries and the keys to the car.
"I'm going over to Four Corners now, Jane," she announced. "Will you come
with me or play around with Cliff?"
Her chum stood up.
"I'll go with you," she said. "If you'll excuse me, Cliff."
The young man made a face.
"Jane only likes me for my card tricks," he whined. "If I can't amuse
her, I'm no use."
Both girls burst out laughing.
"Work up a new one while we're gone," advised Jane. "And we'll see you in
swimming."
CHAPTER VI
_More Suspects_
"I told Mother we girls would take every other day at the housekeeping,"
said Mary Louise as she backed the car out of the garage and onto the
road behind the cottages. "That will give her a chance to get some rest
from cooking--some vacation. You don't mind, do you, Jane?"
"Course I don't mind!" replied her chum. "Maybe the family will, though!"
"Don't you believe it! We're swell cooks, if I do say it myself."
She drove the car along past the backs of the cottages, turning at the
road beyond Ditmars in the direction of the little village of Four
Corners--a place not much bigger than its name implied. It was a still,
hot day; all the vegetation looked parched and dried, and the road was
thick with dust.
"I wish it would rain," remarked Mary Louise. "If we should have another
fire, it might spread so that it would wipe out all of Shady Nook."
"Oh, let's forget fires for a while," urged Jane. "You're getting
positively morbid on the subject!... Is this the grocery?" she asked as
her companion stopped in front of a big wooden house. "It looks more like
a dry-goods store to me. All those aprons and overalls hanging around."
"It's a country store," explained the other girl. "Wait till you see the
inside! They have everything--even shoes. And the storekeeper looks over
his glasses just the way they always do in plays."
The girls jumped out of the car and ran inside. Jane found the place just
as Mary Louise had described it: a typical country store of the
old-fashioned variety.
"Hello, Mr. Eberhardt! How are you this summer?" asked Mary Louise.
"Fine, Miss Gay--fine. You're lookin' well, too. But I hear you had some
excitement over to Shady Nook. A bad fire, they tell me. Can you figure
out how it happened?"
"No, we can't," replied the girl. "You see, everybody was away at the
time--at a picnic on the little island down the river."
"Looks like spite to me," observed the storekeeper. "Bet Lemuel Adams or
his good-fer-nuthin' son done it!"
"Lemuel Adams?" repeated Mary Louise. "Who is he? Any relation to Hattie
Adams, who always waited on the table at Flicks' Inn?"
"Yep--he's her father. You ought to know him. He's a farmer who lives up
that hill, 'bout a couple of miles from Shady Nook. Well, he used to own
all this ground around here, but he sold it cheap to a man named Hunter.
The one who started the settlement at Shady Nook."
"Yes, I knew him," said Mary Louise. "He was Clifford Hunter's father.
But he died not long ago."
"So I heard. Anyhow, this man Hunter got fancy prices for his building
lots, and naterally old Lem Adams got sore. Always complainin' how poor
he is and how rich old Hunter got on his land. Reckon it got under his
skin, and mebbe he decided to take revenge."
"Oh!"
Mary Louise wanted to write the name of Lemuel Adams into her notebook
then and there, but she didn't like to. Should she add Hattie's name too?
Had the girl taken any part in the plot?
"What sort of looking man is Mr. Adams?" she inquired, thinking of the
"tramp" whom the boys had mentioned seeing in the woods.
"Old man--with white hair. Has a bad leg--rheumatism, I reckon. He walks
with a limp," explained the storekeeper.
Mary Louise sighed: this couldn't be the same person, then, for the boys
would surely have noticed a limp.
"Here's my list," she said, handing her mother's paper to Mr. Eberhardt.
"Do you think you have all those things?"
"If I ain't, I can get 'em fer you," was the cheerful reply.
The girls wandered idly about the store while they waited for their order
to be filled. Jane had a wonderful time examining the queer articles on
display and laughing at the ready-made dresses. At last, however, a boy
carried their supplies to the car, and Mary Louise asked for the bill.
"Nine dollars and sixty-two cents," announced Mr. Eberhardt, with a grin.
"You folks sure must like to eat!"
"We do," agreed Mary Louise. "I suppose this will mean more business for
you. Or did the Flicks buy groceries from you anyhow?"
"No, they didn't. They got most of their stuff from the city.... Yes, in
a way it's a streak of luck fer me. The old sayin', you know--that it's
an ill wind that brings nobody luck!... Yes, I'll have to be stockin'
up."
Mary Louise and Jane followed the boy to the car and drove away. As soon
as they were safely out of hearing, Mary Louise said significantly, "Two
more suspects for my notebook!"
"Two?" repeated Jane. "You mean Lemuel Adams and his son?"
"I wasn't thinking of the son," replied Mary Louise, "Though, of course,
he's a possibility. No, I was thinking of Mr. Eberhardt, the
storekeeper."
"The storekeeper! Now, Mary Lou, your ideas are running wild. Next thing
you'll be suspecting me!"
"Maybe I do," laughed her chum. "No, but seriously--if Dad is working on
a murder case, he always finds out immediately who profited by the
victim's death. That supplies a motive for the crime. Well, it's the same
with a fire. Didn't this storekeeper profit--by getting extra
business--because Flicks' burned down?"
"Yes, he did," admitted the other girl. "But, on the other hand, it
didn't do him a bit of good for the Hunters' bungalow to be destroyed."
"No, of course not. But, then, that may have been an accident."
"Yet this Lemuel Adams might have been responsible for both fires. He
seems a lot guiltier to me. If he hated Mr. Hunter particularly, he'd
naturally burn his cottage first. Then he'd go about destroying all the
rest of Shady Nook."
"Your reasoning sounds good to me, Jane," approved Mary Louise, her brown
eyes sparkling with excitement. "And we've got to make a call on Mr.
Adams right away. This very afternoon!"
"Not me," said Jane. "I'm going canoeing with Cliff Hunter."
Mary Louise looked disappointed.
"Suppose Watson had told Sherlock Holmes that he had a date with a girl
and couldn't go on an investigation with him when he was needed?"
"Watson was only a man in a book who didn't make dates. I'm a real girl
who's full of life. I came up here for some fun, not just to be an old
character in a detective story! And besides, Mary Lou, you have a date
too. I heard you promise David McCall you'd go canoeing with him today."
"I'm mad at David," objected Mary Louise. "He certainly made me furious
last night."
"What did he do?"
Mary Louise frowned, but she did not tell Jane what the young man had
said about Cliff Hunter. No use getting her chum all excited, so she
merely shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, just some remarks he made," she replied. "But I really had forgotten
all about the date. When did I promise him?"
"Yesterday afternoon, before I went off with Cliff. Oh, come on, Mary
Lou! Go along with us. Let's pack a supper--it'll be easy with all that
food we brought back from the store. Maybe your mother and Freckles will
go along."
"No, I really can't, Jane. I don't want to be rude to you--you are my
guest, I know--but honest, this is important. That I go see old Mr.
Adams, I mean. If he has made up his mind to burn down the entire
settlement at Shady Nook, our cottage will be included. I've just got to
do something to save it--and everybody else's. You know--Dad's counting
on me!"
"Yes, I understand how you feel, Mary Lou. But you may be all
wrong--these two fires may just have been accidents--and then you'll be
wasting your perfectly good vacation for nothing."
"Oh, but I'm having fun! There's nothing I love better than a mystery.
Only this one does scare me a little, because we may actually be involved
in it."
"Well, you do whatever you want," Jane told her. "Just regard me as one
of the family, and I'll go my own way. I know everybody here now, and I'm
having a grand time. Only don't forget you have David McCall to reckon
with about breaking that date!"
They drove up to the back door of the cottage, and Freckles, who had
returned home by this time, helped carry in the boxes. Mary Louise asked
him how he had made out with the Flicks.
"Not so good," was the reply. "He's sore as anything. Still believes we
had something to do with starting the fire, though he admits he doesn't
think we did it on purpose. They're going away today."
"Oh, that's too bad!" exclaimed Mary Louise. "I was hoping they would
build some kind of shack and continue to serve meals."
"Nope, they're not going to. They've decided to go right back to Albany,
where they live in the winter."
"Where are they now?" demanded Mary Louise. She realized that she must
hurry if she meant to interview them before they left Shady Nook.
"Mr. Flick's on his lot, and Mrs. Flick is over at the Partridges'. They
stayed there all night, you know, Sis."
As soon as the supplies from the store were carefully stored away, the
two girls walked over to the spot where the Flicks' Inn had stood. The
charred remains were pitiful to see; the fire had been much harder on the
Flicks than the Hunters' disaster had been for them, because the
innkeeper and his wife were poor. And what they made in the summer went a
long way toward supporting them all the year round. Mary Louise felt
sorry for them, but nevertheless she resented their laying the blame upon
her brother.
The girls found Mr. Flick standing under a tree talking to some men in
overalls--working men, whom Mary Lou remembered seeing from time to time
around the hotel across the river.
"May I talk with you for a moment, Mr. Flick?" inquired Mary Louise, as
the former turned around and spoke to her.
"Yes, of course, Mary Louise," he replied. "I'll be with you in a
minute."
"You really don't think the boys are responsible, do you, Mr. Flick?" she
asked directly, when he joined the girls.
"I don't know what to think," replied the man. "It may have been an
accident. That one servant girl we have is awfully careless."
"Which one?"
"Hattie Adams. The one who waits on your table and washes the dishes."
"Hattie Adams!" repeated Mary Louise. "Lemuel Adams' daughter!"
"Yes. And Tom Adams' sister." He lowered his voice. "That's Tom over
there--remember him?--he does odd jobs for both me and Frazier
sometimes."
Mary Louise nodded and glanced at the young man. He was a big fellow with
a somewhat sullen expression. He looked something like Hattie.
"How do you know Lem Adams?" inquired Mr. Flick.
"I don't," replied Mary Louise quietly. "But the storekeeper over at Four
Corners told me about him. How he used to own all this land and sold it
cheap to Mr. Hunter. So he thinks maybe Mr. Adams is burning the cottages
to spite the Hunters."
"But Hunter is dead!" objected Mr. Flick. "And it doesn't spite the
Hunters one bit, because they are fully insured. That's the worst of it
for me. My insurance only covers my mortgage--which Cliff Hunter happens
to hold. I'm as good as wiped out."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Mary Louise sympathetically.
"Not half as sorry as I am." He scowled. "And when I get to Albany I'm
going to hunt up a lawyer. If those Smith kids did it, their parents can
pay for the damage!"
"Oh, but they didn't!" protested Mary Louise.
"It's too bad if your brother was in it too. But if he was, he ought to
be punished--though I blame that Robby Smith as the ringleader. Boys like
those aren't safe to have around. They don't have anybody to control
them. They ought to be locked behind the walls of a reform school."
There was nothing Mary Louise could say: the man was far too wrought up
to listen to reason. So she and Jane merely nodded goodbye and turned
away.
They stopped at the Partridges' cottage to see Mrs. Flick and found her
much calmer.
"I blame the Adams girl," she said. "Hattie's so careless! And she was
the last one at the inn. I never should have left her alone. But my other
waitresses wanted to get back to their hometown, and they left
early--before we did. So I can't lay the blame on them."
"You really don't think the boys did it, do you, Mrs. Flick?" inquired
Mary Louise anxiously.
"No, I don't," was the reassuring reply, "even if my husband does!"
"Thank goodness for that!" exclaimed the girl in relief. "Well, I'm going
to call on the Adams family this afternoon and find out all I can. I'll
pump Hattie, and old Mr. Adams too."
"Good luck to you, my dear!" concluded Mrs. Flick.
CHAPTER VII
_The Crazy Woman_
Jane went off early after lunch in Cliff Hunter's canoe, and Mary Louise
sat on the porch waiting for David McCall. She was still angry at him for
the way he had accused Cliff to her the night before, but a promise is a
promise, and she meant to see him. If she had had a chance to go swimming
that morning, she might have tried to break the date.
He came along about half-past two, smiling shyly, as if he were not quite
sure how he stood with Mary Louise.
"You're not still mad at me, Mary Lou, are you?" he asked, looking
straight into her eyes.
"Yes, I am," replied the girl. "I'm disappointed that a boy with your
brains can't reason more intelligently. The finest detective in the world
wouldn't be sure that one certain person was guilty of a crime until he
had made some investigations."
"But it's so obvious, Mary Lou! Hunter holds a big mortgage on one place
and big fire insurance on another. He can't sell either of them, and he
needs the money. So he sets them both on fire and collects that way! What
could be simpler?"
"There are lots of other people, besides Cliff, who profited from those
two fires. In fact," concluded Mary Louise, "the thing that worries me is
that there are so many suspects. It's terribly confusing."
David opened his eyes wide in amazement.
"I don't see who----" he began.
"Oh, don't you!" snapped the girl. "Then just listen to this bunch of
names!" She opened her notebook and read him the list:
"'Horace Ditmar, Lemuel Adams, Eberhardt'--the storekeeper--'Frazier, a
tramp the boys saw in the woods, and a queer-looking woman.' Not to
mention the boys, because I really don't think they did it."
David shook his head. "All possible, of course, but not any of them
probable. Of course, I understand you have reasons for suspecting Ditmar,
and I admit he is a queer cuss. Still, I don't think he'd do a thing like
that. But tell me why you suspect men like Adams--I suppose he's the
farmer, isn't he?--and Frazier and Eberhardt. Sounds silly to me."
"Frazier and Eberhardt both gained something by the fires: more business.
And Dad always tells me to hunt for motives."
"They didn't get enough business to go to all that trouble," remarked
David.
"I'm not so sure. Then, the storekeeper told me that Lemuel Adams felt
spiteful towards the Hunters because they made so much money out of his
land. So Adams may be doing it for revenge."
"Hardly likely, when the fires actually put money into the Hunters'
pockets."
"Well, I don't know. Anyway, I'm going to do my best to find out who did
it--to clear Freckles, for one reason, and to prevent our own bungalow
from burning down, for another."
"You needn't worry about your bungalow," said David stubbornly. "Cliff
Hunter hasn't any mortgage on it."
Mary Louise gave him a scornful look. She stood up.
"I can't go canoeing with you, David," she announced. "I'm driving over
to Adams' farm. You can come along with me if you want to," she added
grudgingly.
The young man looked disappointed.
"You are mean, Mary Lou," he said. "My vacation's nearly over."
"I'm being a lot nicer to you than you deserve," she replied. "Letting
you in on all the thrills of solving a real mystery.... Well, are you
coming or not?"
"Sure I'm coming," he muttered disconsolately. But he gazed longingly at
the river and wished it were a canoe, and not a car, in which they were
to spend the afternoon.
Remembering the farmhouse where Hattie Adams had said she lived, Mary
Louise turned off the drive beyond Shady Nook into a dirt road which
wound around to the top of a hill. She was going slowly--in second
gear--when a strange-looking creature in a gray dress darted out from the
bushes into the direct path of the car. With a gasp of horror, Mary
Louise ground down her brakes, missing the woman by only a couple of
inches.
"What did you do that for?" shouted David.
The woman looked up and smiled innocently at the two young people in the
car. Her eyes were vacant and expressionless; her gray hair hung about
her face in tangled curls, tied with a faded blue ribbon, in a childish
fashion. And under her arm she lugged an immense china pitcher--the kind
that is used in the country for carrying water to the bedrooms. She was
indeed a strange-looking person--probably the same woman the boys had
noticed on the road the night before.
"You better move out of the way!" called David.
The woman wagged her head confidently: evidently she had no idea of the
danger she had just escaped.
"I'm looking for well water," she said. "Well water to put out the
dreadful fires."
"Fires?" repeated Mary Louise sharply.
"Yes, fires. The Lord said in His holy Book that He would burn down the
cities of pleasure because of the sins of the people. But I am sorry for
the little children. I must help put out the fires with pure water from a
well. I am Rebecca--at the well!"
Mary Louise was horror-stricken. This woman might indeed be the "firebug"
whom she and Jane had considered as a possibility. Although she seemed to
want to put fires out, perhaps she lighted them first for that very
purpose.
"I'm sorry, but we don't know where there is a well," she replied. "But
tell us where you live, Rebecca. We'll take you home."
The woman shook her head.
"No, no, I can't go home. I must find water. There will be a fire
tonight, and I must be ready to put it out. I must go."
"Where will the fire be tonight?" demanded Mary Louise apprehensively.
"I don't know. One of those wicked cottages, where the people go about
half clad, and where they dance and feast until past midnight. I can't
tell you upon which the Lord's anger will descend, but I know it will
come. I know it. I must get water--pure water. I can't have innocent
children burned to death."
"But who are you?" repeated Mary Louise.
"I am Rebecca. And I am going to meet my bridegroom at the well. My
Isaac!" Her eyes gleamed with happiness as she trotted off down the hill,
carrying that ridiculous pitcher in her hand.
David and Mary Louise sat still, looking at each other in speechless
wonder, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry at the poor deluded woman.
"But she seems happy," remarked David. "So I guess we needn't pity her."
"She's like that bride in the Dickens book," said Mary Louise. "The woman
who was deserted on her wedding day and wore her wedding dress all the
rest of her life, expecting her bridegroom to come back. Remember? That
always gave me the creeps."
"But this woman is happier. She's sure she's going to meet her Isaac at a
well." He laughed. "No, I think we're more to be pitied than she is. For
if she goes around setting fire to people's places----"
"She ought to be locked up! Yet that seems a shame, if she does happen to
be harmless." Mary Louise stepped on the starter. "Well, let's go on up
to the Adams'. Maybe they can tell us who she is."
They continued on up the hill to the farm and left the car at the
entrance to the front yard, just outside the picket fence. The Adams
place was a neat-looking frame house, painted white, and pleasant to look
at. A big porch surrounded it on all sides, and here they saw Hattie
Adams, seated in a rocking chair, sewing. She waved to Mary Louise.
"Hello, folks!" she called genially. "Come on up! Any news?"
"No, we haven't," replied Mary Louise as she sat down. "But I did want to
ask you what you knew about the fire, Hattie, because Mr. Flick is sort
of blaming my brother and the other small boys, and I know they didn't
start it. So will you tell us when you left Flicks'--and all you know
about it?"
Hattie nodded solemnly.
"Well, let me see," she began. "We had supper at half-past five last
night, didn't we? And everybody was through eatin' about quarter to
seven. Even Mis' Flick. The other two hired girls helped me wash some of
the dishes, and then Mr. Flick drove 'em over to the Junction. He come
back for Mis' Flick about half-past seven, I reckon. They put the car
away and went to the picnic in a boat. I was just finishin' washin'
dishes."
"Did you see the boys or anybody around at all?" questioned Mary Louise.
"Nary a soul. Everybody went to the picnic, as far as I know. I expected
to go home, get fixed up, and get my brother Tom to row me over. But he
wasn't anywhere around when I got back, and I didn't feel like gettin'
the boat and goin' all by myself, so I just stayed home with Dad. I never
knew a thing about the fire till I went over this mornin' as usual to
work at Flicks'."
"Your brother--or your father--didn't know anything about it, either?"
"Dad didn't. I don't know about Tom. I didn't see him. He was off milkin'
the cows when I got up, and I left before he come in for his breakfast. I
usually get it and set it on the table and then run down to Flicks' quick
as I can. But Mis' Flick never cares if I don't get there early, because
we haven't many people for breakfast."
"And that's all you know?"
"Yes. Except what I heard this mornin' at Shady Nook--same as you heard."
Mary Louise sighed. She didn't feel as if she were making any progress.
She wanted to ask more about Hattie's father--Lemuel Adams--but she
didn't know how. And about this brother Tom, too. If he had been away
from the farm last night, maybe he was responsible for setting the inn on
fire.
Instead, however, she inquired about the strange creature who wandered
about the countryside with her big pitcher under her arm.
"Do you know a woman with gray hair who calls herself Rebecca, Hattie?"
she asked. "We almost ran over her half a mile down the road. She stepped
right in front of our car."
The other girl laughed.
"Rather!" she said. "Rebecca's my sister. She's never been right. But
she's perfectly harmless, so we let her wander about as she wants. She
wouldn't hurt a kitten."
"But do you think she could be setting the places on fire?"
"No," replied Hattie positively. "Rebecca's afraid of fires. She always
wants to put 'em out. No, I wouldn't blame her."
Mary Louise sighed and stood up.
"I certainly wish we could find out what is the cause before anything
else happens," she said.
"I wouldn't worry about it if I was you," returned Hattie. "They can't do
anything to your brother without proof.... It's lots worse for me. I've
lost my job. And so has my brother Tom. He used to pick up a lot of work
at odd times for Mr. Flick."
Mary Louise stared in surprise; she had never thought of this angle of
it. Here were two people who actually lost out by the fire! Surely this
fact proclaimed the innocence of the entire Adams family, with the
possible exception of Rebecca.
"Did you need the work, Hattie?" she asked, gazing around at the big farm
land that stretched out on all sides of the house.
"Oh, we won't starve without it! But it meant spendin' money for Tom and
me. And extra clothes. Besides, I liked it. It's awful dull livin' on a
farm with only the chores to do. I'd go to the city and get a job if
there was any. But I know there ain't."
"Maybe Mr. Frazier will give you a job at the Royal Hotel," suggested
Mary Louise. "Now that he has more business. Because I understand that
most of the Shady Nook people are going to eat there."
Hattie wrinkled her nose.
"I hate that guy. But I suppose I will ask him--it's better than nuthin'.
Tom goes every other day with butter and eggs and milk, so it would be
easy to get there."
"Well, good luck to you!" was Mary Louise's parting hope. "We'll be
getting on. I'd like a swim this afternoon."
David McCall's eyes brightened. They were going to have some fun, after
all!
"We'll get into our suits and go out in the canoe," said Mary Louise as
she directed the car towards Shady Nook. "Maybe we can find Jane and
Cliff and all go in together."
The young man sighed: always this Clifford Hunter had to share his good
times!
But it was better than nothing, and later on, when the couple found not
only Jane and Cliff, but the Robinson boys and the Reed twins, he had to
admit that his afternoon had turned out pleasantly after all.
CHAPTER VIII
_Danger_
"Freckles," said Mary Louise at supper that evening, "will you lend us
your tent tonight? Jane and I want to sleep outside."
Jane raised her eyebrows. She couldn't remember expressing any such
desire. But she said nothing: she wanted to see what Mary Louise was up
to now. For her chum must have some purpose in the request: something to
do with the mystery of the fires. It couldn't be just a desire for fresh
air!
"I suppose so," agreed her brother. "But you know my cot isn't very
wide."
"Oh, we'll manage all right," returned Mary Louise. "And thank you very
much."
It was not until after supper, while the girls were waiting for their
boy-friends to come, that Jane had a chance to ask Mary Louise why she
wanted to sleep outdoors tonight.
"I want to sleep in my clothing, Jane," was the surprising reply.
"Remember the scout motto, 'Be prepared'? That's ours for tonight."
"Prepared for what?"
"For a fire. I think there's going to be one. I'm only hoping that it
won't be our cottage. But you never can tell."
"What makes you think there will be one tonight?" demanded Jane.
"From something I learned this afternoon from that Adams family. You
remember hearing Freckles describing a queer creature he saw last night
on his way home from the woods? Well, we almost ran over her this
afternoon! With her pitcher, looking for well water! 'To put out the
fires which the Lord sends upon the wicked' were her words."
Jane giggled.
"You think we're as wicked as that, Mary Lou?" she asked.
"You know I don't believe that, Jane."
"Then what do you believe? Why do you think that there will be another
fire?"
"I think that either this crazy woman sets the cottages on fire herself,
believing that she is appointed by the Lord, or else that somebody she
knows is doing it, and she has inside information somehow."
"More likely she's just prattling," remarked Jane.
"I hope so. But, anyhow, I want to be prepared to jump up at the first
sign of smoke. I'm going to rig up a hose with the river, so that I can
put it out if it does happen around our cottage."
"You sound almost as crazy as the old lady, Mary Lou! Next thing you'll
be taking your pitcher out for river water!"
"Now, Jane, be yourself! You'll sleep out with me, won't you?"
"I suppose so. But let's keep Silky with us, in case one of those gypsies
comes along and grabs you, the way she did at Dark Cedars."
"There aren't any gypsies anywhere around here," Mary Louise assured her.
"No, but there's a tramp. Freckles saw him. And a crazy woman. And from
the way Mr. Flick was carrying on this morning, he'll soon be crazy."
"He's gone to Albany. And the crazy woman is harmless. But you're wise
about Silky: he will protect us from any tramps that might show up."
To Mary Louise's delight, Mrs. Gay raised no objection to the plan. After
all, her daughter had often slept outdoors before. So, after a pleasant
evening of games and dancing at the Reeds' cottage, the two girls went
out to the tent.
"You forgot your pajamas, Mary Louise!" called Mrs. Gay as she fixed up
the girls' room for Freckles.
"Oh, of course," replied her daughter. No need to alarm her mother by
telling her that they intended to sleep in their clothing.
They took off their shoes, changed into sweaters and skirts, and climbed
into the cot. Silky lay down on the rug beside it.
"It is close quarters," whispered Jane. "But nothing like that could keep
me awake."
"Me either," returned Mary Louise, with a yawn.
Five minutes later they were both sound asleep, entirely forgetful of
fires or danger. But their rest was short. About one o'clock Mary Louise
was awakened by a soft growl from Silky. Instantly she sat up and peered
out into the darkness. It was utterly black at the opening of the tent,
for the night was starless, and the trees closed out all view of the sky.
Yet she perceived something light--something white--coming towards her.
For one wild moment a terrible thought took possession of her
imagination: Was this indeed the angel of wrath, coming to destroy their
house--as that queer woman had predicted?
But, no: common sense came to her rescue and assured Mary Louise things
like that didn't happen nowadays. There must be some other explanation.
It must be----
A horrible inane laugh burst upon the silence of the night, wakening Jane
with a cry of terror on her lips. A long arm reached through the opening
of the tent, touching the girls' cot, snatching at their feet. Then
another laugh, followed by hysterical sobbing.
Mary Louise reached for the flashlight underneath her pillow. But she was
calm now; she was sure of the identity of the intruder. It must be the
crazy woman.
She flashed the light into the creature's face, and the woman gasped in
fear.
"Don't harm me! Please!" she begged. "I'm the Lord's messenger. To tell
you that the Smith's house is on fire. There are little children to be
rescued. Go! Run! I'll follow as soon as I can fill my pitcher."
Jane and Mary Louise looked at each other in wonder. Was what she said
the truth, or only a figment of her crazy brain?
But they did not dare take a chance. As the poor woman said, there were
children at Smiths' big house on the hill: three children, two boys and a
little girl, with only servants to look after them. And servants, unlike
parents, too often think of their own safety first.
"We'll go right away, Rebecca," Mary Louise assured her as she stepped
into her pumps. "We're all ready."
Taking only their flashlight for protection, she and Jane ran off as fast
as they could go, with Silky faithfully following them.
As soon as they had passed the ruins of Flicks' Inn, they could see the
smoke rising from the hill beyond. There could be no doubt about it.
Rebecca was right: the Smiths' house was on fire.
The girls redoubled their pace and tore up the hill. As they came nearer
they saw the flames and heard wild shouts of excitement. Then they met
the Smith boys and several of the servants racing madly about.
"How did it start?" demanded Mary Louise breathlessly as she almost
bumped into Robby Smith.
"Don't know. In the back, somehow. That's all wood, you know."
"Can they save it?"
"Doin' our best. All us men are working!" He stuck out his chest proudly,
evidently enjoying the adventure immensely. Money was never a thing to
the Smith boys.
"Where's your sister?" demanded Mary Louise.
"Around somewhere. Everybody got out safe."
"With her nurse?" inquired Jane.
"No. Nurse took the canoe across to the Royal--to phone to Four Corners
for the fire engine."
"Then we better hunt up little Ethel and take care of her," asserted Mary
Louise. The child was only four--anything might happen to her.
Flames were rising upward from behind the house, lighting up the scene
vividly, showing the chauffeur, the gardener, and two maids desperately
pouring water from buckets and pails. But Mary Louise did not see little
Ethel.
"Ethel! Ethel!" she cried wildly, raising her voice above the shouts of
the men. "Where are you?"
"Here me is!" came a plaintive reply, and a tiny head leaned out of a
second-story window. "I comed up for my dolly!"
A cold chill of horror crept over Mary Louise as she realized the
dreadful peril of the child. But without a thought for her own danger she
dashed through the front door and up the wide, smoke-filled staircase.
"Come to the steps, Ethel!" she shrieked, her throat choking with smoke.
"Come here--I'll get you."
"Tan't. Too smoky," replied the little girl, beginning to sob.
Mary Louise took one desperate leap and dashed through the upstairs hall
to the nursery. Grabbing the child in her arms she groped her way back to
the head of the stairs.
She never knew how she reached the bottom of those steps. With her hand
on the railing and her eyes tightly closed, she somehow made her slow
progress. All she could remember was Jane's voice at the door as she
lifted the child from her arms. Then darkness--choking for
breath--silence, and blessed unconsciousness!
When Mary Louise finally came to, Rebecca was giving her water out of her
huge pitcher and patting her shoulder gently.
"Speak, Mary Lou!" cried Jane frantically. "Oh, say you're still alive!"
"I'm all right," replied her chum, managing a smile. "And little Ethel?"
"She's fine. With her nurse. She's back from across the river now."
Mary Louise turned her head and saw the woman at her side, clutching the
child in her arms and sobbing hysterically.
Other people had arrived by this time. Mr. Frazier had come over from the
Royal Hotel, accompanied by Cliff Hunter, David McCall, and several other
young people who were staying there, and Mr. Reed and all the Robinsons
had gathered from Shady Nook. In another minute the fire engine from Four
Corners came, and the volunteers got the flames under control. The front
of the house was saved; only the wooden structure at the back was
completely destroyed.
"How did it happen?" Frazier was asking the Smiths' chauffeur, half an
hour later, when the crowd had finally gathered about Mary Louise.
"Nobody knows," replied the man. "Everybody here was in bed and asleep.
No signs of any prowler, either. The fire just started with the back
shed--and spread. I was the first to wake up."
David McCall looked knowingly at Mary Louise.
"No signs of anybody?" he asked the chauffeur. "No clues at all?"
"Maybe this is a clue," interrupted one of the volunteer firemen, coming
forward with a small box in his hand. "I found this pack of cards right
where the fire must have started. But it had dropped into a pail of
water--that's why it wasn't burned."
"Maybe the boys were playing cards and smoking corn silk," suggested
Cliff Hunter lightly.
The chauffeur took the box from the fireman.
"No, they ain't our cards," he said as he examined them. "I know ours,
because I've bought them for the kids."
David McCall stepped nearer and uttered a sudden exclamation of surprise.
"Gosh!" he said solemnly.
"Recognize them, McCall?" inquired Frazier.
"I sure do. They're Cliff Hunter's. Nobody else around here can afford to
pay a dollar a pack. Look--they're monogrammed!"
Mary Louise glanced apprehensively at Cliff. He was holding the cards in
his hand, nodding his assent.
"Sure they're mine. The kids must have swiped them--or maybe I lost them
and they found 'em. I myself haven't been up here to Smiths' once this
summer before tonight."
"Sez--you!" muttered David McCall under his breath. But not too low for
Mary Louise to hear him and be genuinely frightened!
CHAPTER IX
_The Arrest_
When the girls came home from the fire that night they found Mrs. Gay and
Freckles both awake and dressed. The boy was pleading with his mother to
be allowed to go to the Smiths'.
"The fire's out," announced Jane, sinking wearily into the swing on the
porch. "Mary Lou passed out for a few minutes, too."
Mrs. Gay uttered an exclamation of alarm.
"Oh, but I'm all right now, Mother," her daughter hastened to assure her.
"Only I would like something hot to drink. And my own bed to sleep in, if
Freckles doesn't mind changing again."
"A hot drink?" repeated her brother, in amazement. "Why hot?"
Briefly Jane told the story of Mary Louise's daring act of heroism, and
Mrs. Gay hurried off to make her daughter comfortable for the night.
In their own soft bed again, the girls slept soundly until nearly noon
the following day. Mary Louise was vexed with herself for wasting so much
time when she saw the lateness of the hour. For if she was to do anything
about solving the mystery of the fires she hadn't a single minute to
lose.
"Have you heard any news this morning?" she demanded of her brother as
the family all ate their breakfast-lunch together.
"Not much," replied the boy. "We went over to see the place, of course,
as soon as we were up this morning. It must have been some fire! What's
left of the house isn't fit to live in.... Gee, Sis, you and Jane were
lucky to be in on it!"
"Lucky for the Smiths!" amended Mrs. Gay. "I shudder every time I think
of what might have happened to little Ethel."
"Where are the Smiths now?" inquired Jane.
"Moved over to the hotel. The chauffeur telegraphed Mr. Smith, and he and
Mrs. Smith are coming this afternoon, with clothes and stuff."
"Did you see the boys this morning?" questioned Mary Louise.
"Yeah," replied the boy. "I took the canoe across the river, where they
were in swimming early, with the chauffeur."
"And couldn't they tell you anything more about the fire?"
"Nope. Robby said he never wakened up till he heard the chauffeur yelling
at them. Then they all grabbed their clothes and ran. The nurse was
sleeping in the same room with little Ethel, and she saw to it that the
kid got out safely."
"And she went back for her dolly!" whispered Mrs. Gay, with a catch in
her voice.
"Mother, please stop thinking about that!" begged Mary Louise.
"Everything came out all right--so do try to forget it."
"I will, dear. But I think I've had enough of Shady Nook for one summer.
I've about decided to pack up and go home tomorrow."
"Oh, no!" protested Mary Louise, aghast. "We can't--run away!"
"If only your father were here, he'd find out what's the cause of all
these disasters. But I feel so unsafe--so helpless without him!"
"I'm going to find out!" announced Mary Louise, with determination in her
voice. "Just stay a little while, till we have a chance to see what
develops!"
"I won't promise. By the way, I've decided that we'll all go over to the
Royal Hotel for dinner tonight. It will be a nice change--and you girls
can dance afterwards, because practically everybody from Shady Nook eats
there now."
"Everybody except the Ditmars," said Mary Louise, with a significant look
at Jane.
She said nothing further about the young couple now, but an hour later,
when the two girls were getting into their bathing suits, she mentioned
the Ditmars again.
"I've come to the conclusion that the criminal, the person responsible
for the fires, is one of two people," she said, "with the possible chance
of a third."
"You suspect Horace Ditmar, of course?" asked Jane.
"Yes. I think everything points to him. First, he has the _motive_. To
get work for himself--to plan new houses to take the place of those that
have been destroyed. If you've noticed, Jane, the three places that have
been burned have all been big, expensive ones. The finest at Shady Nook!
The Smiths and the Hunters are rich people, well able to afford to
rebuild. And Flicks' was such a flourishing business that anybody would
naturally expect them to want to start it up again.
"Next, Horace Ditmar had the _opportunity_. He was absent from the two
parties which were going on when the Hunters' and Flicks' places burned,
and he could easily have slipped out last night and set Smiths' on fire.
"And last--and most important of all, Dad often says--Ditmar's the kind
of man who could do it. Quiet, almost sullen, I think, and deceitful.
I've never spoken two words with him, but that's my opinion."
Jane nodded solemnly: her chum's logic appeared sound.
"But still," she remarked, "Horace Ditmar isn't profiting any by these
fires. Nobody seems a bit inclined to rebuild."
"No. Not yet. But wait till the Smiths come, and see whether Horace
Ditmar tries to chum up with them. You know Adelaide Ditmar admitted that
they went over to call on Mrs. Hunter after their fire and the woman
almost snubbed her."
"True.... Who's your other suspect, Mary Lou? Is it--Cliff?"
"No. Positively not Cliff! In spite of that pack of cards they found over
there last night. Imagine Cliff Hunter setting fire to a house that had
three children asleep in it! It's unthinkable."
Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear you say that," she
said.
"The other person I suspect strongly is Rebecca Adams," continued the
young detective. "I hate to, for she seems harmless, but you just never
can tell about a half-witted person like that. She wanders around at such
queer times, and then her coming here last night, after predicting a fire
in the afternoon, looks bad. She's got to be watched."
"Right again," agreed the other girl admiringly. "But go on, 'Spencer
Dean'! Who's your third suspect--the one you called a possible chance?"
"The hotelkeeper, Frazier. It's meant a lot to his business. He has the
motive all right, but I just can't see how he could have actually
accomplished setting the places on fire. He was with us all evening the
night Flicks' burned down, and Cliff says he was at the hotel when the
Hunters' cottage burned. Still, Frazier's sly. He might have managed it."
"I'll have to take a good look at him tonight when we go over to dinner,"
observed Jane, "and try to size up his character."
Mary Louise reached for her beach robe and stepped into her slippers.
"Come on, Jane," she said. "We've got to hurry, or the crowd will go home
before we get there."
They ran out to the canoe and jumped in, paddling down the river half a
mile to the spot which was generally accepted as the best swimming place
near Shady Nook. Here they found about twenty-five people gathered on the
shore, all talking in the wildest excitement. And not a single person was
in the water!
"What's happened?" demanded Jane. "Anybody drowned?"
"Another fire?" asked Mary Louise.
"Neither," explained Sue Reed, turning to the newcomers. "But something
almost as bad. A detective arrived from Albany and arrested Cliff Hunter!
As an incendiary, I believe he said. A person who sets things on fire."
"No!" gasped Jane in horror.
"But how could he?" cried Mary Louise incredulously. "I mean, how could a
detective from Albany know about the fires here at Shady Nook--let alone
suspect Cliff?"
"Somebody wired," said Sue.
"Who?" demanded both girls in the same breath.
Nobody seemed to be able to answer that question. All anyone knew was
that Cliff had gone off in the detective's car and that his mother had
insisted upon going with him. Mrs. Hunter was positive that it was all a
put-up job, a plot of some kind to kidnap her son.
The talking died down at last, and the crowd dispersed into the water.
But nobody seemed to enjoy the swim that day. Discouraged and worried,
Mary Louise and Jane decided to paddle back home in their canoe.
"All your detective work gone for nothing!" lamented Jane miserably. "I'd
just like to know, who's responsible for that arrest! It was such a dirty
trick. I wonder if it was one of the Smiths' servants."
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out tonight," returned Mary Louise.
"Thank goodness we're going to the Royal to dinner, where we'll see
everybody! Keep your eyes and ears open, Jane."
As soon as the girls reached their cottage they told Mrs. Gay the
startling news about Cliff Hunter. She was as much distressed as they
were over the announcement, for she had known the young man so long that
he seemed almost like a son. And, like the girls, she was positive of his
innocence.
"Let's get dressed early and go over to the hotel. Maybe we can find out
something there," she suggested.
"That's just what we're hoping," replied Jane. "And believe me, if we
find that the Smith chauffeur is responsible--or that sneaky Frazier----"
"It wasn't Mr. Frazier, I can assure you," interrupted Mary Louise.
"He'll be losing money without the Hunters and their friends. No--but
maybe----"
"Maybe what?"
"Nothing. No use of making guesses in the dark. We'll wait and see."
The girls went into their room to dress. Mary Louise was surprised to see
Jane take a simple white voile out of the closet.
"Why, Jane, we're going to the Royal Hotel! To dine and dance. Don't you
want to wear your pink georgette?"
Her chum shook her head.
"No. White's more appropriate for the way I feel tonight. I'm not in a
party mood. Maybe I'd wear black, if I had it!"
Mary Louise lowered her voice.
"Do you care that much about Cliff, Jane?" she asked seriously.
"I don't know about that part of it, Mary Lou--but I do feel dreadfully.
Cliff was always so care-free and happy--just like a child with his card
tricks. And then for somebody to pounce down on him like that and carry
him off without any chance to defend himself----"
"Don't worry about that, Jane," interrupted Mary Louise. "Don't forget
that the Hunters are rich, and Mrs. Hunter will hire the best lawyer in
the whole state of New York to defend him."
"Well, that's comforting! But, just the same, it was a mean trick. And
I'm going to miss Cliff dreadfully.... By the way, where was David McCall
today? I didn't see him in swimming."
Mary Louise frowned. "Neither did I," she muttered.
Jane swung about sharply.
"Mary Lou, you think David sent that wire, don't you?" she demanded.
"I'm trying not to think so!" responded her chum. "But we'll find out
tonight."
The girls were ready in a few minutes, but they waited for Mrs. Gay and
Freckles. They had expected to go across the river in the canoes, but
Stuart Robinson stopped in to invite them to join their family in the
motorboat, so that there was further delay. Instead of getting off early,
the party did not leave until after six.
Naturally, everybody talked of the arrest on the way over, but none of
the Robinsons knew who was responsible for it. Stuart blamed it upon the
Smiths' servants.
When they reached the porch of the hotel, they found it deserted.
Everybody ate early at the resort.
The large dining room, with its pale yellow walls, its long screened
windows, and its snow-white tables, was certainly a pleasant-looking
place. The floors were of polished hardwood, so that when these same
tables were removed the room was fine for dancing. The space was ample,
too, for it was intended to accommodate a couple of hundred people at a
meal. Tonight it looked fairly well filled, with all the guests from
Shady Nook in addition to the regular diners.
Mr. Frazier himself came up and found two tables for the Gays and the
Robinsons. The little man looked happy and confident tonight, pleased, no
doubt, that business was more flourishing.
"Is David McCall here, Mr. Frazier?" asked Jane abruptly.
"Yes," was the reply. "He's sitting with the Smiths this evening. Mr. and
Mrs. Smith arrived this afternoon."
"Thank you," answered Jane, without going into any explanation.
Mary Louise smiled. "Nothing like going right to the point, Jane," she
remarked when the hotelkeeper had turned away.
"I mean to ask David point-blank! I hope I can make him ashamed of
himself, if he did cause Cliff's arrest!"
"I'm afraid you can't do that," put in Mrs. Gay wisely. "These
self-righteous people who feel that it is their duty to tell on
others----" She stopped, wondering whether she was hurting Mary Louise's
feelings by speaking thus about David McCall, but her daughter was
scarcely listening. "I think he'll come over to see us," Mrs. Gay
concluded as she gave her order to the waitress, "with the Smiths."
Mrs. Gay was correct in her surmise: when the Smiths had finished their
dinner, they came straight to the Gays' table.
Mrs. Smith, a well-dressed woman of perhaps thirty-five--though she
looked much younger--put her hand on Mary Louise's arm.
"I can never thank you enough for saving my baby, Mary Louise," she said.
"All my life I'll be grateful to you!"
Mary Louise smiled.
"I'm thankful I was there in time, Mrs. Smith," she said. "Ethel is such
a darling."
"I wish we could do something for you, Mary Lou," put in her husband.
"Can't you think of something you want?" He was too well bred to offer
her a reward in money, the way old Miss Mattie Grant at Dark Cedars had
done.
"All I want is to find out who really did start that fire at your house,"
replied the girl. "Because I'm sure Cliff Hunter didn't!"
She was staring past Mrs. Smith right at David McCall as she said this,
with scorn in her eyes.
Jane couldn't keep quiet any longer. She turned angrily to the young man.
"Are you responsible for Cliff's arrest, David McCall?" she demanded.
"I am," he stated calmly. "I did it to protect our insurance company. It
just happens that our company holds most of the insurance up here at
Shady Nook. And they've paid enough already--or will pay. So I don't want
any more fires. It's my duty to protect their interests."
"Oh, yeah?" retorted Jane, hot with fury. "Well, you're not doing it!
Cliff Hunter never started those fires, and you'll find out soon he's
innocent!"
"How?" demanded David.
"There will be another fire, just the same. We haven't got the guilty
person yet. I know it!"
Mrs. Gay shuddered. "Oh, I hope not!" she exclaimed. "But I believe we'll
go home tomorrow."
"We're planning to stay on here at the Royal while we see about repairing
the damage," said Mrs. Smith. "But if it isn't safe----"
"I guess the hotel's safe enough," put in her husband. "It's practically
fireproof."
David turned nonchalantly to Mary Louise. "Will you dance with me after
supper, Mary Lou?" he asked. "It's my last night here. I'm going to
Albany tomorrow."
"I don't believe I care to dance," replied the girl icily--to Jane's
infinite delight. "Jane and I are going to stay with Mother this
evening."
The party moved on, and Jane reached for her chum's hand under the table.
"That's telling him!" she murmured in deep satisfaction.
CHAPTER X
_The Visit with Rebecca_
The following morning Mrs. Gay relented from her decision to pack up the
family's things and go home immediately. It was such a perfect day; the
river sparkled beautifully in the sunlight, the birds sang sweetly in the
trees beside the cottage, and her children seemed happy. Yes, it would be
absurd to run away from all this beauty.
Mary Louise was overjoyed at her mother's decision. Immediately she began
to make important plans for the day. She would go over to Adams' farm and
find out where Rebecca was. If necessary, she could have the boys trail
her during the day, in case the crazy woman might be planning another
fire for tonight. Then she would call on the Ditmars and make it a point
to talk to the man himself. Maybe she'd run over to Eberhardt's store at
Four Corners, later in the afternoon, just to check up on his business.
Oh, it promised to be an interesting day for Mary Louise!
"Where will the 'Wild Guys of the Road' be today?" she asked her brother
at breakfast.
"Over at our cabin, I guess," replied Freckles. "Why?"
"I may want to call on you for some sleuthing," explained Mary Louise. "I
am a little suspicious about Rebecca Adams--that queer-looking woman you
boys saw the night Flicks' Inn burned down. Remember her?"
"Sure I do! Nobody'd forget a scarecrow like that!"
"Well, you stay around here, where I can get hold of you, while I drive
over to Adams' farm right after breakfast. If I can locate her, I'd like
you boys to keep your eyes on her all day."
Freckles' face lighted up with excitement.
"You can count on us, Sis!" he assured her.
"Thanks a lot. Now, you help Mother with the dishes, and I'll run along.
Want to come with me, Jane?"
"Yes, I do," replied her chum. "I'm really interested in the mystery of
the fires. I admit now that they couldn't all be accidents."
"And you'd kind of like to prove Cliff Hunter is innocent, wouldn't you,
Jane?" teased Freckles.
"Naturally! Who wouldn't?" was the retort.
Mary Louise backed the car out of the garage and followed the same road
she and David McCall had taken on their first visit to Adams' farm. She
drove very cautiously now, almost as if she expected Rebecca Adams to
dart out again from the bushes into the path of her car.
But nothing happened, and the girls reached the top of the hill in
safety. An old man was sitting out on the porch with one leg propped up
on a chair. A young man was standing on the steps talking to him. He was
a big fellow in overalls; Mary Louise remembered seeing him at Flicks'
the day after the fire. He must be Hattie's brother Tom.
The girls left the car at the fence and approached timidly, not quite
sure how they would be received.
"Good-morning," began Jane briskly, to hide her nervousness. "Is Hattie
home today?"
The old man looked questioningly at his son.
"Have you seen her since breakfast, Tom?" he inquired.
"Yeah," replied the young man. "She's still in the kitchen, or else
upstairs with Rebecca.... Well, I'll be movin' on, Dad. I'll be away all
afternoon--the hired man'll have to look after things."
"Where you goin'?"
"Four Corners."
"What for?"
Tom shrugged his shoulders: he wasn't going to tell his business in front
of strangers, Mary Louise decided. Then he shuffled off.
"See that you get back in time for the milkin'," was his father's
command. "And stop around at the back now and call to Hattie. Tell her
she's got visitors."
Mary Louise and Jane sat down on the step and waited.
"Too bad about that fire night before last," remarked the old man. "Lucky
thing they saved the little girl."
"It was Mary Louise who did that," announced Jane proudly, nodding
towards her chum.
"Hm! You don't say!" returned Mr. Adams. "Well, I reckon girls are
braver'n boys nowadays. My Hattie's a good girl, too. Can't say anything
ag'in' her."
"Oh yes, everybody likes Hattie," agreed Mary Louise instantly.
She wished that she could ask Mr. Adams about his other
daughter--Rebecca--but she didn't know just how to begin.
Jane, however, came bluntly to the point, as usual.
"Mr. Adams," she said, "may I ask a question? You wouldn't mind--if it
was something about your family?"
The old man grinned.
"I know what it is, miss. It's about my daughter Rebecca, ain't it? Yes,
go ahead. I ain't sensitive about her--we ought to be used to her by
now!"
"That's right," agreed Jane. "Do you think she could be starting the
fires? Do you know, she warned Mary Louise day before yesterday there
would be another fire? And of course there was. And then she came to our
tent that night and wakened us up to tell us that Smiths' house was on
fire."
Mr. Adams nodded.
"I can believe it. But I don't think Rebecca would ever set anything on
fire. She's afraid of 'em. She won't even light the stove or do any
cookin' for that very reason. Many's the time she's come in with her
pitcher of water and poured it right on the coals in the stove. It's
aggravatin' if you're ready to get dinner. Hattie and me have both
slapped her for doin' it, but she keeps right on.... No, I don't see how
we could lay the blame on poor old Rebecca."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," said Mary Louise. "She seems like such a
happy, harmless creature that it would be a shame to shut her up
somewhere or accuse her of a crime."
"Didn't you say she is home now?" inquired Jane.
"She's upstairs in bed with a sore throat," replied Mr. Adams. "That's
why Hattie's stayin' around--and because my rheumatism is bad ag'in.
Otherwise I reckon she'd be over to the Royal trying to get work. She was
sorry to lose her job at Flicks'."
"Yes, she told us."
The girl herself appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, hello, girls!" she exclaimed. "Glad to see you. Come on into the
kitchen. I'm fixin' some broth for Rebecca. She's upstairs sick."
The two girls entered the old farmhouse and followed Hattie through the
hall, back into the old-fashioned kitchen. It was a large room, with
several chairs near the windows, and Mary Louise and Jane sat down.
"I am going to be frank with you, Hattie," began Mary Louise, "and tell
you why we've come. You've heard, I suppose, that they arrested Cliff
Hunter on the charge of burning three houses, and Jane and I believe he's
innocent. So we want to find out who really is responsible. We thought
there might just be a chance that it was Rebecca."
"I don't blame you for thinking that," agreed the girl. "But I'm sure she
couldn't be guilty of that particular thing. She's crazy enough to do
it--only she's scared of fires."
"Yes, so your father said. But she must know something, or how could she
predict when they are going to occur?"
"She's always predicting them," laughed Hattie. "Even when there aren't
any. And sometimes when it's just a fire to toast marshmallows she gets
all excited and swears it's the wrath of heaven descending on Shady
Nook."
"She came and warned us about the Smiths'," put in Jane.
"She probably saw the flames. Sometimes she gets up in the middle of the
night and goes out with her pitcher. She was probably wandering around
that night. I guess that's how she caught her sore throat."
Mary Louise nodded. "Could we go upstairs and see her when you take up
her broth?" she inquired.
"Sure. But I'm afraid you won't get much sense out of her today. She has
a slight fever, and her mind's wandering a lot."
Nevertheless, the girls followed Hattie up the carpeted staircase to a
room on the second floor. The blinds at the windows were pulled down, but
they could see Rebecca's face, surrounded by its tangled gray curls, on
the pillow. She was muttering to herself when they entered the door.
"Here's some chicken broth for you, Rebecca," said Hattie cheerfully.
"And a couple of visitors."
The woman stared at the girls blankly, and then shook her head.
"Don't know them," she remarked.
"Of course you do!" insisted Hattie, pulling up the window shade. "These
are the girls who saved the little child at the Smith fire the other
night."
Rebecca sat up and peered at them. Suddenly a smile broke over her face.
"Yes, oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "I do remember. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are
wicked people, traveling off and leaving their children alone, and the
Lord sent a fire to punish them. But I put the fire out with my well
water, and these girls saved the baby. Yes, yes, I remember."
Hattie straightened her sister's pillow and handed her the tray.
"Get me my well water," commanded the woman, indicating the familiar
pitcher which she always carried with her about the countryside.
"Can't you tell us where you were when that fire started?" asked Mary
Louise. "Didn't you go to bed that night?"
The woman sipped her broth slowly.
"No, I didn't," she said finally. "I was sittin' on the porch till Tom
come home. About midnight, I guess you call it. And then it seemed as if
I could see smoke over at Shady Nook. We're high up here on the hill; we
can look down on the wickedness of you people in the valley."
Jane repressed a giggle. Without noticing it, Rebecca continued:
"So I picked up my pitcher and ran down the hill to Shady Nook to warn
the people. I saw Smiths' house burnin' then, and I heard folks shoutin'.
So I run along and tried all the doors at Shady Nook. All of 'em was
locked. Then I looked in that tent and found you girls sleepin' and give
you the warnin'."
Apparently exhausted with the effort of eating and talking, she dropped
over on her pillow asleep. Hattie picked up the tray, and the girls
followed her out of the room.
"I wish we could talk to your brother," remarked Mary Louise as they
reentered the kitchen. "If he was out late that night, maybe he saw the
fire start. Maybe he knows something----"
"Maybe he wasn't out at all," laughed Hattie. "You can't depend on what
Rebecca says. For the most part she's sensible, but sometimes she gets
sadly muddled. Especially about fires. That's the one subject in
particular that she's hipped about."
"Well, I guess we better be going, Hattie," concluded Mary Louise, "if we
want a swim this morning. Why don't you come over and go in with the
crowd, now that you haven't any job? We'd like to have you."
"Thanks awfully," returned the girl, "but I've got to stay here. Tom's
gone off in the Ford, and I have to look after things. Dad can't even
cook his lunch, on account of his rheumatism."
"Where did your brother go?" inquired Mary Louise.
"Four Corners, I think. He likes to play cards over there. I'm afraid he
gambles. Dad doesn't know about it."
No sooner were the girls out of the gate than Jane asked her chum why she
had shown any interest in Tom Adams' whereabouts. "You don't suspect him,
do you?" she questioned.
"I suspect everybody," returned the other girl laughingly. "No, I really
don't," she corrected, "because Tom Adams lost a job by Flicks' burning
down. That won't be so nice for him, especially if he likes to gamble and
needs the money to pay his debts. But I just thought he might know
something, if he really was out till after midnight the night before
last. He might even be protecting somebody!"
"So I suppose we have to go to Four Corners this afternoon?" sighed Jane.
"Not till after we call on the Ditmars," replied Mary Louise. "And a swim
and a lunch come before that!"
CHAPTER XI
_Adelaide Ditmar's Plan_
"There are four new young men at the Royal," announced Jane as she set
the table for lunch after their swim that morning.
"Who? How do you know?" demanded Mary Louise.
"Sue Reed told me. She says they used to come to Flicks' every summer for
two weeks' vacation. So instead they are staying one week at the Royal
Hotel. I don't know their names."
Her chum nodded.
"I know now. I can't think of their names either, but they'll probably
come to me. They're Harrisburg people.... But, Jane, how can you take an
interest in men when your own boy-friend is in such trouble? Last night
you seemed so sad!"
"You can't be sad all the time," replied the other girl. "It doesn't help
Cliff any. Besides, I wasn't engaged to him, so I can get a kick out of
meeting new men. Can't you, Mary Lou?"
"I don't believe I can at the present moment. I've too much else to think
about. But what do you want me to do about them, Jane? Have a party and
invite them over?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. Sue asked me to come to her cottage this
afternoon to meet them. She said to tell you to come along, in case she
didn't see you to invite you herself."
"You go by yourself."
Mary Louise set a plate of chicken salad on the table. "It does look
good, doesn't it?" she remarked--"if I do say it myself!"
"Yum! Yum!" agreed Jane. "But what makes you think you don't want to go
over to the Reeds' with me?"
"Because--I have other plans for this afternoon."
"The mystery of the fires!" cried Jane, rolling her eyes. "Oh, Mary Lou,
forget it for a while and have some fun!"
"No, I can't. I've got to have a talk with the Ditmars."
"You better stay away from them!" warned Jane. "You never can tell what
that man might do if he got desperate!"
Nevertheless, Mary Louise was firm in her resolution not to join the
young people, and she was thankful that she had stayed home, for no
sooner had Jane gone to the Reeds' and her mother to the Partridges' than
Mrs. Ditmar herself came to the Gays' bungalow!
"Oh, Mary Louise, I'm so glad to find you alone!" exclaimed the young
woman. "Have you any engagement, or can I talk to you for a while?"
"I haven't a thing to do but knit," replied Mary Louise, smiling to
herself. "Jane has gone over to the Reeds' to dance, but I was sort of
tired, so I thought I'd just take it easy. And I'll be delighted to have
you, Adelaide." She addressed Mrs. Ditmar by her first name, for though
she had a prefix of "Mrs.," she was, after all, hardly more than a girl.
And Mary Louise wanted to make her feel at home.
"Oh, thank you!" replied the visitor, sinking into a chair with a sigh of
content.
"You see, I haven't any friends up here at Shady Nook," she explained.
"Nothing's turned out right. I thought Horace and I would have a lovely
time with the young people--belong to the crowd and have lots of fun. But
everybody avoids us. It's all Horace's fault, of course, for people were
friendly at first. But when you repeatedly turn down invitations and are
grouchy when you do go anywhere, naturally nobody invites you again."
"It's a wicked shame--for you, I mean!" exclaimed Mary Louise.
"And yet I can't blame Horace entirely. It's circumstances. Nothing
turned out right," she repeated.
"Tell me how you happened to come here, Adelaide," urged Mary Louise. She
wanted to hear the story from the girl's own lips, to see whether it
coincided with Cliff Hunter's.
"Well, Horace is an architect, you know," began Adelaide. "And he did
some work for Mr. Hunter last fall, just before we were married and
before Mr. Hunter died. Mr. Hunter was so pleased with it that he gave
Horace a little piece of land up here as an extra bonus, to build a
cottage for ourselves, and he got Mr. Robinson to let him design his too.
"We got married, and everything went finely until Mr. Hunter died. Then
Horace didn't have much work. But Mr. Hunter had indicated that it would
be good business for us to live up here during the summer and meet
wealthy people."
"Some of us are far from wealthy!" put in Mary Louise.
"We didn't know that. We judged everybody to be like the Hunters.
Besides, Mr. Hunter said that he owned a lot more land around Shady Nook,
and as he sold it off in lots, he'd see that Horace got the contracts to
design the new cottages.
"We came up early in the spring, and Horace enjoyed designing our
bungalow and the Robinsons'. We had enough money left to see us through
the summer, but no prospects for the fall, unless something unexpected
turned up.... Then Horace began to worry....
"Naturally, we thought Mrs. Hunter would be nice to us, but she was
horrible. Just icy. I really think she believes Horace started that fire
just to get the contract to build her a new cottage!"
Mary Louise flushed. It was amazing to have Adelaide Ditmar calmly state
the suspicion which was being whispered behind her back. It almost proved
her husband's innocence, she thought. Evidently Adelaide did not notice
Mary Louise's embarrassment, for she continued her recital in the same
tone of voice.
"I hate to tell you so much of my troubles, Mary Louise," she said, "but
there's a reason for it. I have a plan, and I thought maybe you'd help me
carry it out. You're so popular that anything you took a hand in would be
sure to be a success."
"Popular?" repeated Mary Louise in amazement. Even if she were, she
wondered how popularity could help solve Adelaide Ditmar's worries.
"I want to make some money to help Horace, and I think I see a way.
Before I was married, I took a course in home economics, and I was
assistant director of a Y.W.C.A. dining room. So you see I really do know
something about food."
Still Mary Louise did not see what on earth she was driving at.
"So I'd like to start a dining room here at Shady Nook, now that the inn
has been destroyed. No boarders, like Flicks', but just lunch and dinner
service. I believe we could do it by using our living room and dining
room and porch. That young Adams man--Tom, I believe his name is--could
knock together some benches and tables for us, and we could gather up
enough dishes, I think. Would you--go into it with me, Mary Louise?"
Mary Louise was startled by the suggestion. What an idea! Yet she could
not help admiring Adelaide's courage.
"You really are serious?" she asked. "It would mean an awful lot of
work."
"Oh, I know that! But I don't have enough to do now.... Yes, I've thought
it all out. We could hire Hattie Adams to wash dishes, and I could cook,
and you and Jane could wait on the tables.... Would you, Mary Louise?"
"I don't know," replied the other hesitatingly. "Maybe--if Mother is
willing.... Does your husband approve, Adelaide?"
"Oh, yes, he's keen about it! He has promised to do anything he can to
help me. Buy all our supplies for us, and keep accounts, and even take
turn in washing dishes, if we need him.... Oh, Mary Louise, please!"
Adelaide seized her hand excitedly, and Mary Louise could not bear to
refuse point-blank.
"Mr. Frazier won't like it," she said.
"Who cares about that old stiff?" returned the other girl. "He has no
business to charge such terrible prices. I'll bet the people of Shady
Nook will be glad to get out of paying them!"
Still Mary Louise hesitated. Was this plan just another proof of the
Ditmars' guilt in the burning of the cottages? No; that didn't seem
possible. Whatever crime Horace Ditmar might commit, Mary Louise felt
sure that his charming wife could have no part in it. And she longed
dreadfully to help her out.
"I'll talk it over with Mother and Jane," she finally agreed, "and let
you know tonight after supper. Will you be home then?"
"Yes, indeed! Horace and I will be waiting for you on the porch of our
bungalow.... And now I must go, Mary Louise, and talk over the plans with
him. I'm really thrilled about it--it'll give us a new interest in life.
Oh, I do hope you'll decide to help me!"
And, pressing Mary Louise's hand affectionately, she darted off down the
steps.
For a long time Mary Louise sat still, her knitting lying forgotten in
her lap, while she thought over Adelaide's startling proposition. Maybe
it was the best thing in the world that could have happened; perhaps fate
was playing right into her hands. The opportunity to know and to watch
Horace Ditmar would be perfect; if he really were guilty, she surely
ought to be able to find it out upon such close association.
But, on the other hand, the work would take a great deal of time. Time
from recreation, time from following up other clues that might transpire
concerning other suspects. Her mother would probably disapprove, and no
doubt Jane would object. Well, she wouldn't insist upon Jane's helping
her; no doubt Mabel Reed would jump at the chance of making some extra
money, for she expected to earn her own way through college.
She'd give it a try, she finally decided as she folded up her knitting
and put it back into her bag. Now she must turn her attention to other
matters. She wanted to drive over to Four Corners and ask the storekeeper
some questions about Tom Adams. And possibly have a talk with the young
man himself.
She wished she had kept Freckles with her, even though she didn't need
him to trail Rebecca Adams. With Jane over at the Reeds', she would have
to drive to Four Corners alone. But, after all, it wasn't much of a
trip--only four or five miles at the most.
She found a list of needed groceries on a pad in the kitchen which her
mother kept for that very purpose, and took her own pocketbook.
Twenty minutes later she drew up at the entrance to the store. As Jane
had remarked, Eberhardt's looked like anything but a grocery store. It
was an old-fashioned country house with a wide front porch, and although
Mary Louise had never noticed it before, there was a screened-in porch
around at the side, partially hidden by a huge elm tree.
As she locked her car she heard voices from this porch: men's voices; and
the remark which one of them made caused her to listen in astonishment.
"I'm sick of your card tricks, Tom Adams!" he sneered. "Think you'll make
me fergit them hundred berries you owe me? Well, I ain't a-goin' a fergit
it! You pay me by tonight, or I'll----"
"You'll what?" drawled Tom Adams in a voice which Mary Louise instantly
recognized from having heard it that morning. "Beat me up?" His laugh was
contemptuous. Evidently the other fellow was a little man, Mary Louise
decided.
"I'll see that nobody ever plays another game with you, Tom Adams, that's
what I'll do! A liar and a cheat----"
"Hold on there!" interrupted the other. "I'm a-goin' a pay you, Bill!
Don't I always square up my debts?"
"You always win," returned his accuser. "This is my first streak of luck
in a year!"
"I'm payin' you tomorrow, after I collect a little bill a guy owes me!"
"A little bill? Who around here could owe you a hundred smackers?"
"None of your business----"
A voice from the store interrupted this argument. "Boys, boys! Not so
much noise!" called the storekeeper.
Mary Louise, realizing that she had been sitting in her car for several
minutes, got out and went into the store.
"Quite a card party you have out there, Mr. Eberhardt," she remarked.
The man's face flushed.
"Yeah. Those boys are gettin' too old fer that sort of thing. I let 'em
play games there when they was nuthin' but kids, but now they're growed
up, and it gives my store a bad look. Harmless, of course, but I reckon I
better put a stop to it."
"Not so harmless if they gamble to the extent of owing each other a
hundred dollars," remarked Mary Louise shrewdly.
"Oh, you must be mistaken about that, Miss Gay. That was only their
little joke. Nobody round here has a hundred dollars to throw away."
Mary Louise smiled and pretended not to have any further interest in the
matter. Nor did she ask Mr. Eberhardt any questions about Tom Adams--for
it wasn't necessary. She had learned plenty about the young man for
herself! So she merely handed the storekeeper her list, paid her bill,
and departed.
"So Tom Adams does card tricks!" she muttered to herself as she started
the car. "With Cliff Hunter's cards, no doubt!" She smiled with
satisfaction: she'd write that fact to Cliff tonight.... "But who," she
asked herself, "could be paying Tom Adams a hundred dollars--and for
what? Surely not for the odd jobs he did for the people of Shady Nook, or
for Frazier at the Royal Hotel!"
At last, she believed, she was on the right trail in solving the mystery
of the fires!
CHAPTER XII
_Getting Business_
No one was at home when Mary Louise returned from her visit to the store
at Four Corners. What a splendid chance it was to write to Clifford
Hunter to tell him about Tom Adams' card tricks! With this piece of
evidence, a clever lawyer ought to be able to clear Cliff of all
suspicion.
"Tom Adams probably left that pack of cards at the Smiths' deliberately,"
she wrote. "I feel almost positive now that he is the person who is
starting the fires. He had the _opportunity_; each time one occurred, he
was nowhere to be found. I think he is doing it at somebody else's
orders--for a sum of money. But I can't find out who is paying him, and I
feel rather certain it isn't his father.
"I intend to watch Tom Adams like a hawk for the next twenty-four hours,
and as soon as I can find out who is responsible, I'll wire the police.
But in the meantime, Cliff, I think you ought to be freed, and I wish you
and your lawyer would come back to Shady Nook."
She signed and sealed the letter and took it immediately to the box at
the entrance to Shady Nook, where the rural postman collected mail each
day. Then, feeling that a fine piece of work had been accomplished, she
put away the groceries and started the evening meal.
But Mary Louise made no mention of her suspicions to the family that
evening, nor did she say anything about her letter to Cliff. She'd tell
Jane later, when they were alone, for there was no need of bringing up
the subject of the fires again in front of her mother. If Cliff did
return, it would be a pleasant surprise for Mrs. Gay--and the other
inhabitants of Shady Nook. Mary Louise's only regret would be David
McCall's absence: she would love to have the pleasure of saying, "I told
you so!" to that cocksure youth.
There was plenty to talk about at the supper table that evening, without
bringing up the mystery of the fires. Jane had to tell all about the new
young men she had met and the fun they had had over at the Reeds'. She
thought it was a crime for Mary Louise to have missed it all.
"But I had a caller," announced her chum. "In a different way, my
afternoon was just as thrilling as yours!"
"You don't mean David McCall, do you?" snapped Jane.
"Oh no. He's gone home. No--not a man. A girl. Adelaide Ditmar."
"Adelaide Ditmar! What in the world did she want?"
"I'll tell you," replied Mary Louise. "And you must listen, too, Mother,
for I want your advice." And she proceeded to outline the proposition
which the young woman had made to her.
"I want to go into it," she concluded. "I think it means everything to
Adelaide. Lots of people have been poorer than the Ditmars at one time or
another, but I don't believe anybody has ever been much more desperate."
Jane frowned.
"I don't see why _we_ have to give up our vacation and work hard just
because a married couple can't get on!" she objected.
"You don't have to," replied Mary Louise. "But it happens I want to. And
I think Mabel Reed will be keen to help--if you don't want the job, Jane.
So, if you don't mind, I'll run right over there after supper."
"Of course I don't mind," laughed Jane. "Anybody that's ambitious has a
right to work! But you better wait a while, Mary Lou. The Reeds may be
over at the hotel, eating their dinner."
"No, they're not," put in Mrs. Gay. "Mrs. Reed told me herself that they
couldn't afford to go over there oftener than once a week--with all that
family."
"You don't mind my doing it, Mother?" inquired Mary Louise.
"No, dear--provided you don't get too tired. But if you do, you can
easily stop. Will you promise me that?"
"Of course I will, Mother," agreed the girl as she started to gather up
the dishes.
"Stop that!" protested Jane. "I may not be ambitious, but I'm not going
to let you get the supper and wash the dishes both. Freckles and I are
clearing up tonight. You run along, Mary Lou!"
"Suits me!" agreed her chum as she hurried off to the Reeds' cottage.
Mabel Reed listened to the proposition with delight and immediately
consented to help.
"Let's go right around Shady Nook now," she suggested, "and get the
people to sign up for the meals. Then we'll have something definite to
take to Adelaide."
"You are a business woman, Mabel!" exclaimed Mary Louise admiringly. "But
we'd have to quote prices, wouldn't we?"
"Make it the same as Flicks' used to be--forty cents for lunch and sixty
for dinner. The Royal charges a dollar for lunch and a dollar and a half
for dinner. So everybody would save a dollar and a half a day by eating
with us!"
"Frazier is going to hate us," remarked Mary Louise.
"Of course he is. But who cares?"
"He'll huff and he'll puff----" muttered Mary Louise, half to herself.
"Well, come on--let's go. I've got a pencil and paper."
"You always have a pencil and paper with you," observed Mabel. "Is that
because you expect to become a writer?"
"No, I don't believe I'll ever be a writer, Mabel. I'd rather _do_ things
than write about them." She wished she might tell the other girl what she
had accomplished earlier in the summer at Dark Cedars with the help of
her notebook and pencil, but that would seem too much like bragging.
Besides, the only way to succeed in life is to forget about the past and
keep looking forward.
"Write down seven Reeds and four Gays," said Mabel. "And two Ditmars.
That makes thirteen already."
"But four of those won't eat till the others are served, so we'll need
only nine chairs so far.... Now, let's see. Where shall we go first?"
"Let's go right up the line of the cottages. Hunters' is gone, of course,
so we'll try the Partridges. They have four in their family."
"Mrs. Partridge is a great friend of mother's," observed Mary Louise. "I
think they will sign up."
The two girls walked a quarter of a mile up the private road that wound
along beside the river, past the Hunters' grounds, on to the pleasant
five-room cottage that belonged to the Partridges. As there were no young
people in this family, Mary Louise did not know them so well, but she
felt sure that they would like the idea of having their meals on this
side of the river.
Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, and the two sisters who spent the summer with
them, were just coming across the river in Mr. Frazier's launch when the
girls reached the scene. The hotelkeeper himself was running the
motorboat.
Mary Louise smiled at them and waited until the launch had puffed off
before she explained her plan.
Mrs. Partridge was delighted.
"Of course we'll come--for our dinners," she agreed immediately. "My
husband is going back to the city, except for week-ends, and we three
women would just as soon have a bite of lunch at home. But I hate this
bothering with a boat every night for dinner, although Mr. Frazier has
been most kind."
"Then we can count on you three?" asked Mary Louise in delight.
"Yes--and Mr. Partridge too on Saturdays and Sundays," added the woman.
Mary Louise marked down the names, and the two girls continued on their
way, pleased with their success.
"That's three more paying guests," she said, "totaling twelve!"
"It's thrilling!" exclaimed Mabel.
It was even more thrilling to find the Robinsons just as enthusiastic
about the plan, adding four more names to their list.
"That's all!" sighed Mabel. "Unless we go over to the Royal and try to
get the Smiths."
"They wouldn't come," returned Mary Louise, "because they'd have nowhere
to sleep. And besides, they don't care about economy. They have piles of
money."
"True. But I'll tell you whom we can get, Mary Lou: those four Harrisburg
boys. They can put up tents in the woods and eat at Ditmars'. They'll
love it, and besides, it will make it possible for them to stay at Shady
Nook a lot longer. Their money will go so much farther than it would at
the Royal."
"That is an idea, Mabel!" cried Mary Louise. "And maybe they'd be willing
to eat at a second table, so we shouldn't have to get extra chairs."
"The very thing. Sixteen chairs isn't so bad. I guess the Ditmars have
four, and we each have a card-table set. I suppose the Robinson boys can
knock together a bench and some chairs for a porch table."
"Adelaide Ditmar suggested getting Tom Adams to do it."
"Then we'd have to pay him! No, I think we better ask the Robinson boys
or Horace Ditmar."
The girls reached the bungalow and found the young couple waiting for
them on the porch. Horace Ditmar was a good-looking man of perhaps
twenty-five--not much older than David McCall, Mary Louise thought--and
Adelaide was scarcely twenty. They were a handsome pair: it was too bad
if they weren't happy.
Adelaide's eager blue eyes were gazing into Mary Louise's as if she could
not wait for her answer.
"Mabel and I have decided to help you, Adelaide," announced Mary Louise
immediately. "We just stopped at all the bungalows to find out how many
people we can get to promise to come to the meals. We have sixteen for
dinners and thirteen for lunches--besides all of us who will be working."
"Sixteen!" repeated the young woman in delight. "Oh, Mary Lou, I knew
everybody adored you! If I'd asked them myself they would all have
refused."
"Now, dear!" remonstrated her husband, with such an affectionate look at
his wife that Mary Louise was surprised. Maybe Horace Ditmar was all
right after all!
The girls sat down on the porch and plunged right into the discussion of
all the details of carrying out the plan. The young man was surprisingly
helpful and resourceful. As Adelaide had said, he was keenly interested.
He not only promised to provide the needed tables and chairs, but he drew
plans for placing them and for arranging the kitchen to utilize every bit
of its space. He knew how to make home-made ice cream, he said, and he
would drive over for all the supplies twice a week. In fact, he took so
much of the work upon his own shoulders that the girls felt as if there
was little for them to do in advance. They were to open for business the
day after tomorrow.
"And all we have to do is borrow some silverware and dishes," remarked
Mabel as the girls rose to go.
"And engage Hattie Adams to wash them," added Adelaide. "But I wish you
wouldn't go home yet, girls. I was hoping we might play a little bridge."
Her tone was wistful. Mary Louise knew how eager she was to make friends.
"We'll be over tomorrow," replied Mabel, "but I think we ought to go now,
because those Harrisburg boys are over at our bungalow, and I want to see
whether I can't get them to camp over here in the woods and take their
meals with us. There are four of them."
"Good girl!" approved Horace. "Go right after the business!"
So the girls said good-night and hurried off, full of excitement over
their new adventure. All the young people who had gathered at the Reeds'
were enthusiastic too: they were tired of dressing up and going to the
Royal Hotel, and enjoyed the informal intimacy of a small boarding house
like Flicks'. The four young men from Harrisburg were only too glad to
adopt Mabel's suggestion, and planned to borrow the tents and start
camping out the same day that the dining room was to open.
During the entire evening the mystery of the fires was not mentioned.
Indeed, nobody thought of them until Jane and Mary Louise were alone
again, getting ready for bed. Then the former referred to them casually.
"I guess you won't have time for solving any more mysteries now, Mary
Lou," she remarked, "with this dining room on your hands."
"On the contrary," returned her companion, "that is just one reason why I
wanted to go into the thing. I was anxious to get to know Horace Ditmar
better. And I'm practically convinced that he had nothing to do with the
fires!"
"Then who?" inquired Jane. "Rebecca Adams?"
"No, not Rebecca. But I did get a new clue this afternoon, Jane. I
learned something that made me suspicious about her brother Tom!"
"Tom Adams? Why, Mary Lou, I thought you dismissed him long ago. When we
learned that the Adams family are losing jobs by these fires."
"Yes, I know. But there's something we don't understand yet. Anyhow, Tom
Adams does card tricks."
"Card tricks?"
"Yes. He probably learned them from Cliff, and maybe swiped his cards to
do them!"
Jane's eyes opened wide with understanding. "That pack of cards at the
Smith fire!" she cried.
Mary Louise nodded. "Exactly! That's just what I've been thinking. So I
wrote to Cliff this afternoon and told him about it."
Jane threw her arms around her friend and hugged her.
"You are a wonder, Mary Lou!... But--but--can you prove anything?"
"Not yet. But I mean to watch Tom Adams and see whether I can't learn
some more."
"If he really is guilty and finds out that you suspect him," observed
Jane, "he'll take out his spite by setting fire to this bungalow. You
better be careful, Mary Lou!"
"I expect to be," was the reply. "I'm looking for trouble!"
But she hardly expected it in the form in which it came the following
day.
CHAPTER XIII
_The Threat_
"Is there anything I can do to help you people?" inquired Jane of Mary
Louise the following morning at the breakfast table. "Pare potatoes--or
something?"
"No, thanks, Jane," returned her chum. "We're getting along fine. I would
like to have you pull a load of dishes over to the Ditmars' for me,
Freckles," she added, turning to her brother, "in your wagon."
"O.K., Sis," was the cheerful reply.
They left soon after breakfast, promising to be back again in time for
lunch. It was a beautiful day, and Mary Louise was in high spirits,
anxious to get everything arranged for the opening of the dining room the
following morning. Naturally, she expected Adelaide Ditmar to feel the
same way; she was therefore taken aback when the young woman came to the
door with a distressed expression on her face and actual tears in her
eyes!
"That husband of hers has done something," Mary Louise thought
resentfully. "Oh, why can't he behave himself?"
"Come in, Mary Lou," invited Adelaide, repressing a sob. "You too,
Freckles, if you can keep a secret."
"Of course I can!" replied the boy proudly.
They entered the charming little house, and their hostess closed the door
behind them. Then she reached into the pocket of her apron and took out a
coarse piece of paper which she handed to Mary Louise.
"Read that," she said.
Mary Louise held the paper in front of her so that her brother could see
it at the same time. The message was printed in pencil, and the words
were misspelled, but there could be no mistaking its meaning:
"_Clos up your place rite away, or expeck FIRE!_"
Mary Louise read it twice before she handed it back to Adelaide Ditmar.
"How did this come?" she demanded.
"I found it under the back door," replied the young woman in a hoarse
whisper.
"But you didn't see anybody?"
"No."
"When did you find it?"
"Early this morning. About half-past seven."
"Did you show it to your husband?" asked Freckles.
"Not yet," replied Adelaide. "He's been so nervous, you know, and this
work has just been wonderful for him. Oh, I can't bear to give it up! It
means more than money to us--it means an occupation for Horace, saving
him from melancholia, perhaps. Mary Lou, what can we do? Isn't there some
policeman we can get to watch our house?"
"Shady Nook never had one," replied the other girl. "I certainly do wish
my Dad were here!"
"Your father? What could he do?"
"He's a detective," explained Mary Louise.
"The best detective in the world!" added Freckles.
"Oh, where is he?" sobbed Adelaide. "Can't we send for him?"
"I'm afraid not. He's out West somewhere, on a case. No, I don't see what
we can do except watch. Never leave the house." She turned to her
brother. "You boys scan the woods for suspects, Freckles--and keep a
hidden guard around the cottage.... I'm going to look for Tom
Adams--something made me suspicious of him yesterday. Don't let him into
the place, Adelaide.... And you'll have to tell Horace, because he will
need to be on guard too--especially at night."
"It's the work of a maniac, I'm sure," said Adelaide. "Nobody else would
want to burn down all these cottages."
"Of course, it may be," agreed Mary Louise. "But I don't believe it's
Rebecca Adams who's doing it. She's sick in bed.... Of course, she might
be up and around by this time--but I don't think so. Anyway, I'm going
over there this afternoon to engage Hattie for the job here, and I'll
make it a point to find out about Rebecca then. In the meantime, let's
get on with our work."
Adelaide dried her eyes, and Freckles rushed off to round up his gang.
Mary Louise settled down to work; when Mabel Reed came over an hour
later, and Horace Ditmar returned in the car with his purchase of
supplies, they were both amazed at the progress which had been made. The
little house had been transformed into a tea room!
With trembling hands Adelaide showed the threatening message to her
husband. She chose a time when Mabel Reed was out of the room, for Mary
Louise had urged secrecy. No use frightening people away from the dining
room!
Horace Ditmar did not appear to be alarmed.
"I think it's just a practical joke on the part of those Smith kids," he
said, "or maybe those Harrisburg boys. The best thing we can do is ignore
it. I don't think we need to worry." And he smiled so confidently that
Mary Louise wondered for a moment whether Horace Ditmar could have set
those other cottages on fire himself and because of this fact feel
perfectly safe about his own?
But, no, that wasn't possible, she felt sure. She had a new clue now:
someone was objecting to the serving of meals to Shady Nook people. The
same person who had destroyed Flicks' Inn by fire--the only person who
could possibly resent the project. It was Frazier, she thought, Frazier
who was guilty. The hotelkeeper could not bear to lose his business, and
he was bribing Tom Adams to start the fires.... But how could Mary Louise
possibly prove this fact?
However, she said nothing of her suspicions to the Ditmars or to
Freckles, but she warned the boy not to mention the threat at home, for
fear of alarming her mother. So the Gay family had a pleasant lunch that
day, little thinking of the danger that was lurking so terribly near.
They talked happily of the opening of the dining room on the morrow and
of their plans for that afternoon.
"We're all going to play tennis on the hotel court after lunch,"
announced Jane. "The boys said they wanted to use it while they have the
chance, because they're going to put up their tents over here tomorrow
morning. And Frazier will probably be so mad about losing them that he'll
refuse us all the use of the court."
"We've got a court of our own," observed Mary Louise.
"Yes, but it's not so good as the Royal's. Still, it will do," agreed
Jane. "I don't suppose you'd have time to play with us this afternoon,
would you, Mary Lou?"
"I don't know," replied her chum. "I have to hunt up Hattie Adams--or
we'll have to do all the dish-washing ourselves tomorrow at the dining
room. I'll paddle across the river with you--she may be working at the
Royal Hotel. If she isn't, I'll have to come back and go see her at the
farm."
"You certainly do like to work on a hot day," yawned Jane.
"After all, it's not nearly such hot work as tennis--with those strenuous
boys," returned Mary Louise.
"Well, if you do go to Adams' farm, be sure to get back in time for a
swim," urged Jane.
About an hour later the two girls put their tennis rackets into the canoe
and paddled across the river. The tennis court was around behind the
hotel, away from the shore. Here they found half a dozen young people,
four of whom were playing doubles.
The two extra boys on the bench moved over and made room for Jane and
Mary Louise.
"They'll be through in a minute--the score's five-two now," announced one
of the young men. "Then we four will have a set."
"I don't believe I had better play now," replied Mary Louise, "because I
have to go hunt up Hattie Adams."
"Who's she?"
"A girl we want to get to wash dishes at our dining room. She may be
working here now. Or perhaps I can find her brother. Do you happen to
know Tom Adams? A fellow who does odd jobs around the hotel sometimes?"
The boy nodded.
"Yes, I know the guy you mean. Big brute with light hair? I think he's
back in the garage now, fixing up Frazier's truck."
Mary Louise jumped to her feet: this was just the information she wanted.
She would rather see Tom Adams than his sister, although she didn't
actually want to talk to him. Just to check up on his movements!
"Be back in a few minutes!" she called as she disappeared through the
clump of bushes behind the tennis court.
In her sneakers she skipped along noiselessly, unconscious of the fact
that an outsider might regard her actions as "snooping." Yet when she
stopped just outside of the garage door because she heard men's voices
inside, she realized then that she was really eavesdropping.
Immediately she identified the voices as belonging to Mr. Frazier and Tom
Adams. The latter was evidently changing a tire on the truck.
"I tell you I've got to have that money tonight!" snarled Tom Adams. "I
owe a guy a hundred bucks, and I need the rest myself."
"I can't pay it all now," whined Frazier. "I just haven't got it. I can
let you have three hundred and the rest when the job is finished."
"Oh, yeah? Well, the job ain't a-goin' a be finished till you cough up!
All the dough."
Frazier's tone became more whining. "Business isn't any too good----"
"What would it have been without me to help?" retorted the younger man.
"Did I--or did I not put money in your pocket?"
"Oh, sure you did. And I'm willing to pay you for it."
There was silence for a moment, while Mary Louise waited breathlessly.
She could not see the men's faces, but she had no difficulty in following
their conversation. She heard the rattling of paper money and knew that
Frazier must be paying Tom something.
"Want a receipt?" demanded Tom presently.
"Good Lord, no!" cried the other. "Nothing in writing, Tom. It might be
used against us. Guess I can trust you."
"We've got to trust each other," sneered the younger man. "That's why I
say you have no right to hold out on me. I'm doin' the dirty work."
Mary Louise felt that she had heard enough. Everything was perfectly
clear to her. The only thing required was to wire the Albany police.
Forgetful of her own danger and her need for secrecy until her discovery
could be announced, she ran across the front of the garage to the kitchen
door of the hotel. But not lightly enough: both Frazier and Tom heard her
and stepped out of the garage to see who she was.
"What do you want, Mary Louise?" demanded Frazier, wondering whether or
not she could have overheard their conversation. "Lost a tennis ball?"
"No--no--I'm--looking for Hattie. Hattie Adams." Her voice was trembling;
she did her best to make it sound unconcerned.
"Hattie doesn't work here," replied Mr. Frazier. "Hasn't for a long time.
What gave you that idea?"
"I thought maybe she would, after she lost her job with Flicks'."
"Well, she doesn't. And I'd thank you to keep out of my kitchen and other
places where you don't belong, Miss Mary Louise Gay!" returned Frazier.
Like all guilty people, he was angry at the innocent, and he glared at
the girl with hate in his eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Frazier," replied Mary Louise. Turning to Tom she
asked, "Is Hattie over at the farm?"
"Reckon so," muttered the young man.
Mary Louise turned about and went back to the tennis court. Another set
was in progress. Jane was playing now, and Mary Louise did not like to
interrupt the game. So she merely picked up her tennis racket and told
the young people on the bench that she was going home.
"I'll have to take the canoe," she said. "But I guess some of you people
can see that Jane gets across the river in case I don't return in time."
"O.K.," agreed the boys.
Mary Louise walked rapidly toward the river, trying to formulate a plan
as she went. But it was very difficult. Since there were no police at
Shady Nook, and the only telephone anywhere near was at the Royal Hotel,
she didn't know how to proceed. There could be no doubt that Frazier and
Tom Adams were guilty of starting the fires at Shady Nook, but what were
the first steps she should take in having them arrested? Whom should she
inform first? Oh, if her father were only here to help her!
"They'll burn the Ditmars' down if I'm not quick," she thought. "And they
may do something to me, because I think both men suspect that I overheard
that conversation. Oh, what shall I do?"
She paddled across the river and tied the canoe to the dock. Then she
went inside the bungalow, debating whether or not to take her mother into
her confidence.
But that question was answered for her. Mrs. Gay was not at home, so
there was no opportunity to tell her.
Mary Louise sat down at the little desk in her bedroom and took out her
notebook. While the conversation between the two men was fresh in her
mind she'd write it down, to show to the police when they arrived. Word
for word, just as Frazier and Tom Adams had spoken.
After she had finished that, she sat still for a while, thinking. At last
she decided upon a plan.
"I'll go to Adams first and make sure Hattie will be over tomorrow," she
thought. "Because I mustn't let Adelaide down. Then I'll drive on to the
railroad station and wire the police in Albany. Maybe I'll send Mrs.
Hunter a telegram too, so that she can help me out on the other end."
She glanced at her costume--a red-and-white sports dress, which she
usually wore for tennis because of its short, full skirt. That would do,
although it was a little conspicuous--easy for Tom Adams to identify in
case he wanted to know what she was doing. She'd change her shoes,
however, for she liked pumps better than sneakers.
Ready at last, she went through the back door of the bungalow to the
garage. But here she met with a disappointment she had not expected. The
car was not there!
Then she remembered. Her mother had promised to take Mrs. Partridge and
her sisters to a country fair that afternoon and would be gone until six
o'clock!
"So there's nothing for me to do but walk," she concluded. "Oh, if Cliff
were only here so I could borrow his!" But if Cliff were here and his
house had not been burned, there would be no necessity of sending that
wire.
She started at once, cutting across a field and walking as fast as she
could, in spite of the heat, for it was almost four o'clock now, and she
and Jane had promised her mother that they would prepare the supper. But
Jane was a good scout, Mary Louise thought; she'd go ahead just the same
if she were alone, so that part needn't worry her. The important thing
was to get that telegram to Albany before anything disastrous happened.
Yet her fears were entirely for the Ditmars as she trudged up the long
hill to the Adams farm. Never once was she afraid for her own sake--not
until her own horrible fate descended upon her with the suddenness of a
clap of thunder. Then, and then only did she realize what a risk she had
taken by coming to this lonely place by herself. Away from her friends,
her family--everybody--alone, with a cruel enemy and a crazy woman!
For Mary Louise Gay was forcibly prevented from going to the station that
afternoon to send the wire to the police in Albany!
CHAPTER XIV
_The Search_
Jane Patterson finished her tennis match and came back across the river
in a canoe belonging to one of the boys, just as Mary Louise had
suggested. Although she had hoped that her chum would return in time for
the afternoon swim, she was not surprised when Mary Louise failed to
appear. Adams' farm was farther off than you thought--when you had to go
the whole distance on foot. Jane remembered that Mrs. Gay had taken the
car to the fair.
She managed to find Freckles in the water and asked him to come right
back to the bungalow after the swim.
"Mary Lou has gone to Adams' farm to see Hattie," she explained. "She had
to walk, so she'll be all in when she gets back. Your mother will be
tired too. So let's have supper ready, Freckles. You can set the table
and crack the ice for the tea."
"O.K., Jane," agreed the boy. "I'll be with you as soon as I can dress."
The two young people worked fast: at six o'clock, when Mrs. Gay drove
back from the fair, they had the meal on the table.
"It certainly smells good, girls!" she exclaimed as she came through the
kitchen door from the garage.
"Girls nothing!" retorted Freckles. "You mean 'girl and boy,' Mother. I
did a lot of work for this meal."
"That's fine, dear," replied Mrs. Gay. "But where's Mary Lou?"
"She went over to Adams' farm to see Hattie," answered Jane. "And she
hasn't come back yet."
"In all this heat? Oh, that's too bad! She should have waited till I got
home with the car. I didn't know she was going."
"She wasn't sure of it herself. She was hoping to find Hattie over at the
hotel. But evidently she didn't, for she didn't wait to play any tennis."
"Well, I guess she'll be along soon," remarked Mrs. Gay cheerfully.
"We'll keep a plate hot for her. But let's eat. We're all hungry, and
this food is too good to spoil by drying up."
The meal passed off pleasantly; nobody thought of being worried by Mary
Louise's absence. But as the minutes went by and she did not come,
Freckles was the first to become anxious. For he remembered the threat to
the Ditmars on that coarse piece of paper that morning, and he knew that
Mary Louise was involved in that same business.
When seven o'clock struck and still his sister had not put in an
appearance, he suggested that his mother take the car and drive over to
Adams'.
"It's such a lonely road up to that farm," he explained, "that if Mary
Lou had sprained her ankle or hurt herself on the way, nobody might pass
by for hours to give her help."
Mrs. Gay was startled. It had not occurred to her that anything might
have happened to her daughter. Mary Louise was always so self-reliant,
and Shady Nook was such a safe place.
"You two people go," said Jane. "I'll stay here and wash the dishes. I
want to squeeze some lemons, because some of the bunch are coming over
here tonight--if that's all right with you, Mrs. Gay."
"Certainly it's all right, dear. And Mary Lou will be delighted, too--I'm
sure."
Mrs. Gay backed the car out of the garage with Freckles in the seat
beside her and drove slowly up the dirt road which led to Adams' farm.
The boy kept a sharp watch on both sides of the road, to make sure that
his sister was not lying helpless along the way. Twice his mother stopped
the car; and they both called Mary Louise's name. But there was no
response.
"She may just have stayed for supper with Hattie," remarked Mrs. Gay.
"And of course, since neither of us has a telephone, she couldn't let us
know. She'd think we wouldn't worry so long as she got home before dark."
"Oh, sure," muttered the boy. But he was anxious: his mother didn't know
what had happened that morning.
They reached the Adams' gate at last and got out of the car. Old Mr.
Adams was sitting alone on the porch with one leg propped up on a chair.
"Good-evening, Mr. Adams," began Mrs. Gay. "Is Mary Louise here? I'm her
mother."
"No, she ain't," replied the old man, taking the pipe out of his mouth.
"Has she been here?"
"Not as I know of. Hattie and I have been to the fair all afternoon. If
your daughter was here, she must have turned right around and gone home
again. Nobody was home all afternoon except poor Rebecca. And she's sick
abed."
A feeling of alarm crept over Mrs. Gay. What could have happened to Mary
Louise?
"Was Tom home?" demanded Freckles, remembering his sister's warning.
"Don't reckon so. He was workin' over to the hotel today, after he helped
our hired man this mornin'."
"Is he here now? Could we ask him?"
The old man shook his head.
"Tom packed up and left tonight, right after supper. Hattie drove him
down to the Junction to catch the train. He's got a friend out West
somewhere who owns a ranch. So Tom decided all of a sudden to go there. I
tried to stop him, for we need him here, as I'm all crippled up with
rheumatism half the time. But he wouldn't listen to me. Pig-headed,
that's what I call it!"
Freckles' eyes opened wide with terror. It sounded as if Mary Louise had
been right in assuming Tom's guilt in connection with the fires at Shady
Nook. Running away proved it! But what had he done to Mary Lou first?
"Could we talk to Rebecca?" inquired Mrs. Gay.
"Sure," agreed Mr. Adams. "But it probably won't do no good. She can't
remember things straight, you know."
"She might remember seeing Mary Louise, if she had stopped in," replied
Mrs. Gay. "Anyhow, it's worth trying."
"Go right up," said the old man. "Room at the back of the house. You
won't have no trouble finding it. Sorry I can't go with you, but my leg's
pretty bad tonight."
"Oh, that's all right!" responded Mrs. Gay. "I'll find the way by myself.
You better stay here, Freckles."
The boy looked disappointed; he would have liked to take another look at
that queer creature and size her up for himself. Maybe she had done
something to Mary Lou! But he sat down on the steps as his mother advised
and waited patiently.
Mrs. Gay hurried on up to Rebecca's room, and found the woman in bed, as
she had expected, with her tangled gray hair spread over the pillows. She
stared blankly at her visitor.
"I am Mary Louise's mother, Rebecca," announced Mrs. Gay. "You remember
Mary Louise? The girl who saved the Smith baby in the fire?"
The woman nodded. "Yes, I know Mary Louise. She came to see me today. Got
me a drink of water. It wasn't well water, but it tasted good. She is a
fine girl. I like Mary Louise."
"What time was she here?"
"I don't know. I can't tell time. It's all the same to me--except day and
night. She was here in daytime."
Mrs. Gay sighed.
"Where was she going after she left you?" she asked. "Did she happen to
say?"
"No, she didn't.... I heard a car outside--I think it was my brother
Tom's. But I don't know if Mary Louise had gone before that or not. I
can't remember." Her voice trailed off as if she were half dreaming. "She
said she'd look for well water for me, because I'm sick. She said she'd
come again. Oh, Mary Louise is a good girl."
Mrs. Gay walked to the doorway. There was nothing more to be learned from
Rebecca. She wasn't even sure that the woman knew what she was talking
about.
If only she could talk to the brother! But it was too late now; the only
thing to do was to wait for Hattie to return from the Junction and see
whether she had any news.
"Rebecca says that Mary Louise was here this afternoon," she told Mr.
Adams and Freckles when she returned to the porch.
"I'm afraid that don't mean nothin'," remarked the old man. "Like as not,
Rebecca's confusing today with yesterday or even last week. She ain't got
no memory at all."
"Do you think Hattie will be back soon?"
"I reckon so. Sounds like the Ford now, at the bottom of the hill. But
she was away all afternoon, you recollect, at the fair."
"I know," agreed Mrs. Gay. "But Rebecca seems to remember a car arriving
about the time Mary Louise left, and she thought it was your son's. So
maybe he saw Mary Louise and mentioned it to Hattie."
Freckles' heart stood still at these words. Tom Adams, with a car! What
had he done to Mary Lou?
But he did not say anything; he waited for Hattie Adams to drive her car
into the garage.
In another moment the girl appeared on the porch and nodded pleasantly to
Mrs. Gay and Freckles.
"Where's Mary Lou?" she inquired immediately.
"That's just what we want to know!" cried Freckles. "She's--lost! Did Tom
say anything about seeing her?"
"No, he didn't. He never mentioned her. Why?"
Mrs. Gay explained again what Rebecca had said, but Hattie was just as
doubtful as her father had been about the veracity of any of Rebecca's
statements.
"I wouldn't go by that," she said. "But Mary Lou may be home by this
time, waiting for you. Don't worry till you find out."
This sounded like good advice, so Mrs. Gay and Freckles got into their
car and drove as quickly as possible back to Shady Nook. Jane, the Reed
twins, Stuart Robinson, and the four new boys were all waiting anxiously
on the Gays' porch. But Mrs. Gay knew immediately from their expressions
that Mary Louise had not returned.
"Get the boys together at once, Freckles," commanded Stuart Robinson,
"and we'll search the woods thoroughly. Two of you fellows paddle across
to the island, and two more go over to the hotel and hunt around there.
Mary Lou may have sprained her ankle somewhere and be waiting for help."
Mrs. Gay went inside the cottage, into her bedroom, and sat down, making
a desperate effort to control her fears. But she couldn't help thinking
of all the dreadful stories she had read in the newspapers--stories of
kidnaping and sudden death. Oh, if only her husband were here!
She picked up his last letter from the bureau. He was in Cleveland now
and hoped to be with them soon. Soon! She must have him immediately. She
remembered the promise she had given him when they said good-bye--to send
for him if she needed him. Yes, she would wire tonight! She'd paddle
across the river to the hotel and send a telegram over the phone.
Coming out of the door again she almost ran into Horace Ditmar, with
Freckles beside him.
"We're afraid this is serious, Mrs. Gay," he said. "Freckles said Mary
Louise suspected Tom Adams of starting the fires at Shady Nook and
writing us a threat, which we found under our door this morning. And now
your boy tells me that Tom Adams has run away.... So we're afraid that he
may have done something to Mary Louise."
"Oh no!" cried Mrs. Gay, aghast. "Oh, it just isn't possible!"
"But it is, Mother," said the boy. "And Mr. Ditmar thinks we should send
for the police immediately. He'll go over to the hotel and send a wire
now."
Mrs. Gay sank unsteadily into a chair. For an instant she thought she was
going to faint. But she made a desperate effort to control herself; she
realized that she needed all her powers in this terrible emergency.
"Yes, go, Mr. Ditmar," she said. "And telegraph to my husband at the same
time." She scribbled a message on the envelope with Mr. Gay's address and
handed it to the young man.
Mr. Ditmar left immediately, and Freckles brought his mother a glass of
water. She drank it gratefully.
"Here comes Mrs. Reed," he announced cheerfully. "Have her stay with you
while I join the boys, Mother," he said, bending down and kissing her.
"For I can't leave you alone." In these last two hours the boy had
suddenly seemed to grow up. His mother realized the fact, and, in spite
of her trouble, she was grateful and proud.
"I'll be all right, dear," she replied. "And you go along. Mary Lou knows
your whistle better than anything else, and if she is somewhere in the
woods, you'll surely find her.... Go, dear!"
Freckles ran off, and a systematic search of all the country around Shady
Nook began: with lanterns and flashlights and whistles, interspersed by
frequent calls from the boys and girls. But as the darkness grew deeper
and the silence of the woods more intense, an increasing sense of alarm
took hold of all the searchers. Joking and laughter ceased; the only
singing that broke out was forced, because someone thought it might help
find Mary Louise. But it was all in vain.
Midnight came, and the various groups made their way back to Shady Nook,
tired, hungry, and disheartened. Mrs. Gay and Mr. and Mrs. Reed and the
three Partridge women were all still sitting on the Gays' porch,
hopefully waiting for news. But they knew from the slow, silent manner of
the young people's return that they had not been successful.
"Make us some coffee, and we'll begin all over again," said Stuart
Robinson. "Mary Lou must be somewhere!"
Mrs. Gay shook her head.
"No, I think you better all go to bed. The children must have their
sleep. In the morning the police will come. Perhaps they will have some
news for us."
"If only we hadn't let Tom Adams get away from us!" muttered Horace
Ditmar. "We went back to Adams' and got the old man out of bed to try to
learn Tom's address. But he said he didn't know it, and I'm inclined to
believe he was speaking the truth."
Even in her half-frenzied state, Mrs. Gay looked at the young architect
and thought what an admirable man he was. How anyone could have thought
him guilty of any crime was more than she could understand. He was more
help to her in the crisis than anyone else--except Freckles.
So, accepting Mrs. Gay's advice, the group dispersed to their own
cottages, intending to continue the search the following morning.
CHAPTER XV
_Captive_
Mary Louise was not far away from Shady Nook in the matter of miles, but
she felt as if she were worlds away. Everything was strangely different
from anything she had ever known--grotesque and terrible. For the place
she was taken to was an asylum for the insane!
Little did she think as she entered the Adams' farmhouse that afternoon
that her freedom was to be snatched from her. That she was to be held in
hopeless captivity, without any means of communication with the outside
world. A prisoner in a house that was far worse than a jail, enduring a
life that was living death!
When no one answered her knock at the Adams' door that afternoon, she
opened the screen and walked in, calling first Hattie and then Rebecca by
name. Finally the latter replied.
"I'm up here, sick abed!" called the woman. "Who be you?"
"It's Mary Louise," she answered. "May I come up and see you, Rebecca?"
"Yes, yes. Come! Have you found a well of clear water?"
Mary Louise laughed to herself as she ran up the stairs. She wished that
she could find some well water for the poor deluded woman, but there was
none in the vicinity. She wondered what Rebecca would do if she ever did
discover a well.
She entered the bedroom, smiling and shaking her head at the poor eager
creature.
"No, Rebecca--not yet. But I'll find you one some day. How are you
feeling?"
"I'm better. I want to get out soon. Will you get me a drink of water,
Mary Louise?"
"Certainly," replied the girl. "From the kitchen?"
"Yes. From the kitchen."
The woman sank back on her pillow, and Mary Louise went for the water.
When she returned, Rebecca was half asleep.
"Here's your water, Rebecca," she said. "But where is Hattie?"
"I don't know. Gone away, I guess. They've all gone away.... Soon I'll go
too...." Her voice trailed off as if she were half dreaming, and Mary
Louise walked to the door. She heard the sound of a car in the driveway
below, and hoping that it might be Hattie, she went down the stairs.
But the car standing in front of the house was not the dilapidated Ford
that belonged to the Adams family. It was a big black limousine which
reminded Mary Louise of a hearse or a funeral carriage, and she
shuddered. It might have been an ambulance, but ambulances were usually
white. She wondered what a car like that could be doing at the Adams
farm.
Two men got down from the driver's seat in front, and Tom Adams came and
joined them at the porch steps. They talked in low tones to each other.
Mary Louise opened the screen door and came out on the porch. Suddenly
she heard her own name mentioned, and a cold chill of horror crept up her
spine. What were they planning to do to her?
"She says she's Mary Louise Gay," remarked Tom. "Insists on it. And she
does look like a girl by that name. But don't believe her. She's my
sister Rebecca." He raised his eyes and looked straight at Mary Louise.
"Hello, Rebecca!" he said. "We're going to take you for a ride!"
Mary Louise's brown eyes flashed in anger.
"Rebecca's upstairs, sick in bed," she retorted. "Go and see for
yourselves."
Suddenly, with the agility of panthers, the two men sprang forward and
grabbed Mary Louise's wrists.
"Come along, Rebecca," one of them said. "No use struggling. We're taking
you to a nice farm."
With a desperate effort to free herself from the men's grasp, Mary Louise
kicked one of her captors in the leg. He let go of her hand, but the
other man held her tightly.
"Wild little beast," he remarked. "Now, sister, you take it easy. We
ain't going to hurt you. You'll like it where you're going--you'll get
better care than you do here. Your brother says there's nobody here to
look after you now that your mother's gone."
"He's not my brother!" shouted Mary Louise. "And I can prove it! Just
drive down to Shady Nook--a couple of miles--and ask anybody!"
But the men preferred to ignore this challenge; they picked Mary Louise
up bodily and thrust her into the back of the limousine, shutting the
door and turning the key in the lock!
She found herself sitting on a long seat that ran the length of the car.
There were no windows on the side; only two tiny oval glasses in the back
door permitted a little light to enter the enclosure. Before she could
utter another sound she heard the engine start, and the vehicle went into
motion. Over the rough, stony driveway, onto the dirt road that led away
from the farm, in the opposite direction from Shady Nook.
Mary Louise's first impulse was to scream as loudly as she could in the
hope of attracting the notice of the occupants of some passing car or of
some farmer working in his field. But second consideration told her that
such a proceeding would do her no good at all. As soon as those men in
the front seat explained that she was a crazy person being taken to an
insane asylum, nobody would believe anything she said.
The realization of this fact brought a deathly hopelessness to her whole
body. Her arms and legs felt inert, her head sank back against the
cushion as if her very spirit were flowing away. Leaving her
helpless--and finished with life.
For perhaps ten minutes she sat thus, unmindful of the country through
which she was being driven. As if she had been stunned by a physical blow
and no aid were near.
Then suddenly she thought of Tom Adams, and a fierce anger took
possession of her, reviving her spirits, bringing her back to life. She
would not give up! She would fight to the bitter end; she'd make him
pay--and pay heavily--for his diabolical cruelty!
She moved along the seat to the far end of the car and peered through the
tiny window. The road over which they were passing was narrow and rough;
the country unfamiliar. It was not a main highway, Mary Louise instantly
concluded, and she wondered in which direction it lay from Shady Nook.
She wished now that she had watched it from the beginning. She did not
even know whether they had crossed the river or not.
"Still, I suppose that doesn't really matter," she thought. "Because, if
I can manage to get away at all, I can easily find my family. They'll be
hunting for me." Tears of distress came to her eyes as she pictured her
mother's anguish. And her father was so far away!
"Why did I ever try to be a detective?" she groaned. "The punishment is
too horrible. Mother and Daddy would rather lose their cottage and have
the whole settlement at Shady Nook burned than have me endure torture
like this!"
On and on they went through the lonely, unpopulated country. Time seemed
to stand still; it was as if the afternoon were to last forever. Yet when
Mary Louise glanced at her wristwatch she saw that it was not yet five
o'clock!
They crossed over a little stream, and the car turned at an angle and
climbed a hill. Up, up they went, until they reached a narrow road at the
summit. Looking down into the valley below Mary Louise could see a
stream--not as wide as the river--winding its peaceful way in the summer
sunshine. It was a beautiful spot--if you could enjoy beauty. But it
meant nothing at all to the unhappy girl.
"That looks like a main road across the valley on the opposite side of
the stream," she thought. "If I can escape, I'll make for that. Thank
goodness I know how to swim!"
She wished that she had thought to glance at her watch when the car
started, so that she could roughly judge the distance from Shady Nook by
the time it took to cover it. But she had been so miserable that she
could not tell whether she had been riding twenty minutes or a couple of
hours.
At last, however, the car came to a stop at a high iron gate which
reminded Mary Louise of a penitentiary. So this was the way they guarded
feeble-minded people!
One of the men got down from his seat, took a key from his pocket to
unlock the gate, and swung the heavy iron doors open. When the car had
gone through he locked them securely behind him.
A shiver of horror passed over Mary Louise as she heard that final click.
A sense of hopelessness overpowered her to such an intense degree that
she felt physically sick. A life of utter emptiness was closing her in,
as if her mind and her soul had been extracted from her body. How much
more fiendish her existence would be than that of any ordinary victim of
kidnapers! But then, Tom Adams had not kidnaped her because he wanted a
ransom, but only because he desired to get rid of her. Well, he had
succeeded! Nobody in the whole world would think of looking for her in an
insane asylum.
The car wound around a lovely driveway, shaded by trees, and stopped in
front of a long, low plaster building that appeared to be at least a
hundred years old. A man and a woman came out of the ivy-covered door as
the driver unlocked the back of the limousine.
With her head held high in defiance, Mary Louise stepped out.
"How do you do, Rebecca," greeted the woman, a plain-faced person of
about fifty, in a gray dress.
"There has been a ghastly mistake!" announced Mary Louise, trying to keep
her tone dignified. "Tom Adams is a criminal, and because I found him out
he has sent me here, calling me his feeble-minded sister. I am not
Rebecca Adams--but Mary Louise Gay!"
The man and the woman exchanged significant glances.
"Mr. Adams warned us that you would say that," replied the man. "He said
you do look like a girl named Mary Louise Gay. But try to forget it,
Rebecca. We have your papers, signed by your own brother and your cousin,
so there is nothing you can do about it but submit."
"My cousin!" repeated Mary Louise, thinking of her aunt's children, aged
nine and six. How could they commit anybody to an insane asylum?
"Yes. Stanfield Frazier."
"Frazier!" she cried in scorn. "He's not my cousin! He's no relation.
He's a crook too, like Tom Adams."
"Now, now, Rebecca, calm yourself," advised the woman, taking Mary
Louise's arm. "And just come along with me. You don't want to make
trouble! Wouldn't you rather walk by yourself than have these men carry
you?"
Tears of anguish came to the girl's eyes; she looked desperately about at
the group of people who were surrounding her, searching for some spark of
sympathy or understanding. But the men were all regarding her with an
amused expression of tolerance, as if her action were just what they had
expected.
"Isn't there some way I can prove that I'm sane?" she demanded. "Some
test I can take?"
"Oh, don't get yourself all worked up, Rebecca," answered the woman.
"Your brother told us you were all right most of the time and that you
probably wouldn't give us any trouble. We're not going to put you into
chains. You'll like it here."
Mary Louise groaned. There was nothing she could do or say so long as
they believed that wicked Tom Adams.
So she meekly followed the woman into the house. Its large hall and big
reception room were plain and old-fashioned, with very little furniture
in them, but she noticed that everything was scrupulously neat and clean.
For that much she was thankful. Often, she had read, the places where
kidnapers confined their victims were filthy and germ laden. She need
have no fear of disease here--except disease of the mind!
A younger woman in the white uniform of a nurse came into the hall to
meet them.
"This is Miss Stone, Rebecca," announced the older woman. "She will help
you and take care of you. Now go with Miss Stone to your room."
"Didn't you bring any bag, Rebecca?" asked the nurse, as she led Mary
Louise up a flight of stairs to a long corridor.
Mary Louise smiled grimly.
"Kidnapers don't usually allow their victims time to pack their
suitcases," she said. "And if you don't mind, Miss Stone, will you call
me by my right name? It's Mary Louise Gay."
The young woman nodded solemnly.
"Certainly, Mary Louise," she replied.
Mary Louise looked at the nurse hopefully, wondering whether she was
really finding a friend. Did the nurse believe her?
All the doors along the corridor were closed, but Mary Louise had no way
of telling whether they were locked or not until, down near the end, she
suddenly heard a loud pounding. Miss Stone stopped and, taking a key from
her chain, unlocked the door. A mild-faced woman of about thirty-five
came out.
"I just wanted to see who was coming," she said. "Ah! A pretty girl."
Miss Stone paused and introduced them courteously. The patient was
dressed in the blue calico of the institution, but there was nothing
queer or odd about her looks. She appeared to be much more normal than
Rebecca Adams.
"This is Mary Louise Gay," said Miss Stone. "She has come to live with
us. And this, Mary Louise, is Joan of Arc. The girl who saved France, you
remember?"
"Oh!" gasped Mary Louise, in amazement. Was Miss Stone joking, or did the
patient really believe she was Joan of Arc?
The woman in calico smiled proudly.
"Yes," she said. "I rode right at the head of my soldiers. I told them
God was on our side. And we won! But they are going to burn me at the
stake for being a witch if they ever find me. That's why I stay here. I'm
safe here. Aren't I, Miss Stone?"
"Yes, dear, you're safe," was the nurse's gentle assurance.
A lump came into Mary Louise's throat. The pathos of it all! Yet how kind
and sweet Miss Stone was. Oh, but--ghastly thought--the nurse was being
kind to Mary Louise in the same way! That was why she humored her by
calling her "Mary Louise." And all the time she believed her to be
Rebecca Adams!
Three doors farther down the nurse stopped and unlocked another door.
"This is to be your room, Mary Louise," she said. "It'll be nicer when
you put some flowers in it. We have a lovely garden, and most of the
patients have their own special flower beds. You can grow whatever you
like best."
Mary Louise looked about her. Never in her life had she seen such a plain
room. It contained only a bed and a washstand and one chair. Not even a
bureau or a table! The window was high and uncurtained. To her horror
Mary Louise saw that it was protected by iron bars!
"You take off your clothing now and have a bath. You can put your own
things in the drawer of that washstand, and I'll bring you fresh
clothing. Everybody wears blue here."
"Where do I take my bath?" asked Mary Louise dully. Not that she cared in
the least, except that it would be something to do.
"I'll take you to the showers when I come back with your new clothing,"
replied Miss Stone. And to Mary Louise's dismay the nurse locked the door
from the outside as she departed.
The next twelve hours seemed to Mary Louise the longest she had ever
lived through. After her bath she was told to lie down until supper time.
She was entirely alone in that bare room until six o'clock, with nothing
to do but think. Finally an attendant brought her a tray of food, well
cooked and wholesome but far from dainty. Nevertheless, Mary Louise ate
it, for she knew that she must keep up her strength if she ever hoped to
make an escape. Another attendant removed the tray, and she was left
alone again until eight o'clock. Then Miss Stone returned.
"We have a little vesper service in the reception room, Mary Louise," she
said. "Would you like to come and join us?"
The girl jumped up eagerly. Anything would be better than this dreadful
idleness.
"Don't your patients have anything to do?" she inquired as she went down
the hall with the nurse. "This doing nothing is enough to drive anybody
crazy!" She smiled to herself at the use of the common expression and
wondered whether Miss Stone noticed it.
But the nurse gave no sign of any amusement. "Oh, yes, Mary Louise," she
replied, "there will be lots for you to do tomorrow. Everybody takes some
share in the work, if possible. Unless they are too ill. And we go for
walks around the grounds and work in the garden. But we thought you'd be
too tired tonight and would just want to rest."
They joined a group of perhaps twenty people in the reception room for
the singing of hymns, and the same woman who had met Mary Louise at the
door of the building read the Bible. Mary Louise looked about curiously
at her fellow inmates and did not find them particularly strange-looking.
One or two of them had queer, staring eyes like Rebecca Adams, but for
the most part they appeared normal. Which fact made it all the harder for
Mary Louise to prove anything about herself to the caretakers!
At nine o'clock the service was over and everybody went to bed. But,
exhausted as she was, Mary Louise could not go to sleep. She tried over
and over to formulate some plan of escape, but with the locked doors, the
constant supervision of nurses and attendants, and that high stone wall,
it seemed absolutely hopeless.
It was only when the first gray light of dawn broke in the sky that she
finally dozed off and then fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
CHAPTER XVI
_Weary Waiting_
Like her daughter, Mrs. Gay did not go to sleep until dawn of the
following morning. Her mental torture was even keener than Mary Louise's,
for her imagination suggested all sorts of horrible fates, worse than the
one the girl was actually enduring. Physical violence, association with
hardened criminals, hunger, thirst--and--death. That was the most
terrifying thought of all--the fear that Mary Louise might already be
dead!
Like her daughter's, too, Mrs. Gay's suffering was all the more intense
because she had to bear it alone through the long, silent night. Freckles
and Jane, tired out from their vigorous search, had fallen instantly
asleep. There was nobody to sympathize with the poor frenzied mother. She
swallowed dose after dose of aspirin, until finally, with the first gray
streaks of dawn, she at last fell asleep.
Freckles was the first person awake in the household the next morning,
and he immediately started the breakfast. Jane, arriving on the scene
fifteen minutes later, was surprised and delighted at the boy's progress.
"We better not waken Mother," he said. "I don't suppose she got much
sleep last night."
"I'm afraid not." Tears came to Jane's eyes as they rested on the forlorn
little dog sitting so disconsolately in the corner of the kitchen.
"Freckles, what do you think could have happened to Mary Lou?" she asked.
"I think Tom Adams did something to her. Kidnaped her, probably. But I
had one idea this morning, Jane, while I was making the coffee. Maybe he
hid her in his own house somewhere! We never thought to search that."
"Bright boy!" exclaimed Jane, so loudly as to awaken Mrs. Gay, who heard
her from her bedroom. For one ecstatic moment the woman hoped that her
daughter had been found. But Freckles' next remark dispelled any such
idea.
"It's worth looking into," he continued. "But I don't really think she's
there, or Hattie would come and tell us. I can't believe Hattie is an
enemy--or on Tom's side. She's too fond of Mary Lou."
Mrs. Gay, attired in a kimono and looking white and exhausted, peered in
at the kitchen door.
"That coffee smells so good," she said, "that I just can't wait for a cup
of it."
Freckles grinned in delight and poured out the steaming liquid. It seemed
to revive his mother, and she drank it eagerly. But she could not eat any
breakfast.
"We're going up to Adams' first," announced the boy. "I'll get Stu
Robinson to drive us in his car--and we'll take Silky along. If Mary Lou
should be hidden there, Silky'd find her.... And, Mother--if the police
come, be sure to have them talk to Horace Ditmar and get a look at that
threat he found shoved under his door yesterday!"
"I will, dear," returned Mrs. Gay, smiling to herself at the idea of
taking orders from her small son. But the boy was proving himself both
practical and businesslike in the management of the whole affair.
"I wonder whether Adelaide Ditmar will open her dining room today as she
planned," remarked Jane.
A lump came into Mrs. Gay's throat, but she managed to reply calmly:
"I think so. She has all her food bought, and besides, the people are
expecting it. Mrs. Reed told me last night that Sue and Mabel are both
going to help her--if--if--Mary Lou doesn't come back in time. You had
better tell Hattie Adams to come down to the Ditmars' as soon as she can,
though I don't believe Adelaide is planning to serve lunch."
Jane nodded, and finished her breakfast. After she and Freckles and the
little dog had gone, the people from the other bungalows began to arrive
at the Gays', to start upon a new search for the missing girl. Horace
Ditmar sent them off in various directions while he and several of the
older women stayed behind to help and to advise Mrs. Gay.
At nine-thirty a small red car drove into Shady Nook and stopped at the
Gays' bungalow. Three plainclothes men got out, displaying their badges
for identification.
"We want the whole story," they said. "So far we know nothing--except
that Mary Louise Gay, of Riverside and Shady Nook, is missing."
"We don't know much more ourselves," sighed Mrs. Gay. Then she proceeded
to tell the story of the girl's disappearance the preceding afternoon.
"As far as we know, the last person who saw her alive is Rebecca Adams, a
feeble-minded woman who lives over at a farm where we know that Mary
Louise started to go. Nobody saw her after that."
"Have you any suspicions at all?" inquired the detective.
Horace Ditmar answered that question by telling about the three fires at
Shady Nook and by showing the paper which had warned him of the
possibility of a fourth.
"Mary Louise suspected Tom Adams--the brother of this feeble-minded
woman--though we don't know yet upon what clues she based her
suspicions," he concluded. "But it looks as if Adams was guilty, for he
ran away. He didn't take Mary Louise with him--we know that, because his
sister drove him to the Junction--but we're afraid he did something to
her first."
"So our first duty is to find this Tom Adams," announced the detective,
rising. "Can you take us over to the farm now, Ditmar? Or rather, just
one of us, for the other two better stay here and investigate that
threat. And we want a picture of Miss Mary Louise Gay. We'll get one of
Adams and print them both in every newspaper in the country."
"But that's not the only clue we'll work on," put in another of the men.
"That may be entirely wrong, and Miss Gay may just have met with an
accident, or even lost her memory. There are many cases of that, you
know."
Mrs. Gay nodded. That was just the trouble: so many dreadful things might
have happened to Mary Louise!
However, she resolved to keep up her spirits until she actually heard bad
news. She could endure the tension in the daytime, she thought, by
keeping herself active; perhaps, before night, her husband would come.
So she hunted out some pictures of Mary Louise for the detectives and
answered their questions for an hour. Just as the two men left to go to
Ditmars, to investigate the threat and guard Adelaide, the roar of an
airplane in the sky drew Mrs. Gay's attention. It was an auto-giro,
fluttering over a near-by field where there did not happen to be any
trees.
Breathlessly she waited while it made its landing. But the motor did not
stop, and only one man got out of the cockpit. Then, as the auto-giro
speeded away, the man on the field began to run towards Shady Nook. In
another moment she identified him as her husband--Detective Gay, of the
police force!
He took the porch steps two at a time and, out of breath as he was,
lifted his trembling wife into his arms. For the first time since the
disaster Mrs. Gay broke down and sobbed. But what a relief it was to give
way to her feelings at last! Her husband shared her anguish and
understood, comforting her as best he could with words of assurance.
"We'll find her, dear, I'm sure we will!" he said. "Mary Lou isn't a
baby: she'll show lots of pluck and courage. I'm counting on that
daughter of ours every time!"
"Have you any plans at all, dear?" she inquired.
"Yes. Lots. I'm going to do a lot of telegraphing as soon as I get the
whole story. I was never so thankful before that I'd chosen the detective
profession."
"Have you had anything to eat?"
Mr. Gay smiled. "Now that you mention it, I don't believe I have. You
might fix me some coffee while you tell me just what happened."
Freckles and Jane returned while Mr. Gay was eating his meal, but they
had nothing to report. Hattie was sure that Tom could not be guilty; she
believed that he was running away from his gambling debts. Nevertheless,
she had consented immediately to a thorough search of the house and barn
for the missing girl. Yet even Silky's sharp nose could not find her.
The boy was delighted to find his father at home; he felt immediately
that a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For, like Mary
Louise, he believed that his father could almost accomplish the
impossible.
"We're going over to the other shore after lunch--with Silky," he said,
"and hunt some more."
"That's right, Son," approved Mr. Gay. "We'll never give up till we find
Mary Lou!"
None of the other searchers returned with any news all that afternoon.
The day was hot and sultry, and to Mrs. Gay, interminable. Everything was
so strangely quiet at the little resort; no radios played, no young
people shouted to each other or burst into singing. Even the birds seemed
hushed, as if they too sensed the tragedy of the usually happy little
colony.
Late in the afternoon the four girls who were working at the Ditmars'
went into the river to cool off with a swim, and Mr. Gay decided to join
them. But it was more like a bath than a swim, and nobody seemed to enjoy
it.
Mr. Gay dressed and joined his wife on the porch, waiting for the
detectives to return. Suddenly a noisy car came towards them--a bright
green roadster which was somehow familiar yet did not belong at Shady
Nook. It was dusty and dirty; its two occupants wore goggles, as if they
had been participating in a race, and until they spoke neither of the
Gays recognized them. Then they identified them instantly as Max Miller
and Norman Wilder, from Riverside.
"Any news yet?" demanded Max eagerly as he jumped out of the car.
"No, not a bit," replied Mr. Gay. "How did you boys find out about it? Is
it in the papers?"
"It's in the afternoon edition," replied Norman, handing a newspaper to
the other. "But of course we started before that. There was a wire to the
Riverside police last night, that we got wind of. So we started early
this morning."
"I think it's fine of you both to come," said Mrs. Gay, though she could
not at the moment see what possible help they might afford.
"We're going to have a swim, clean up our car, and eat," announced Max;
"then we're going to drive all around here within a radius of a hundred
miles, tooting our horn and going slowly."
"I didn't know you boys knew how to drive slowly," remarked Mr. Gay
teasingly.
"Well, we really won't need to toot our horn," returned Norman in the
same light manner, "because the color of our car is loud enough to shriek
for us!"
Mabel and Sue Reed, passing by the bungalow on their way back to the
Ditmars', stopped in and met the boys. Mrs. Gay asked them to put two
extra places at the dinner table for them.
Gradually the searchers returned--without any success--and everybody went
to Ditmars to dinner. It was a lovely meal. Adelaide Ditmar proved that
she knew how to prepare food and serve it attractively, and, in spite of
their anxiety, everybody enjoyed it. Everybody except Mrs. Gay, who could
only pick at her food.
True to their resolve, Max and Norman drove off in their car immediately
after supper, with Freckles and Jane along with them. The rest of the
inhabitants of Shady Nook settled down to a quiet evening of waiting.
Waiting and hoping for news.
About eight o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Frazier came over from the hotel to
offer their sympathy to the Gays.
"I don't want to alarm you, Gay," said Frazier, "but I think you haven't
given enough thought to the river. Mary Louise was playing tennis on our
court early in the afternoon, and the most natural thing in the world
would be for her to take a swim afterwards. You know yourself that even
the best of swimmers have cramps."
Mrs. Gay clutched her husband's arm tightly in an effort to control
herself. What a horrible suggestion!
"Terrible as it is, drowning is better than lots of things that might
happen," remarked Mrs. Frazier.
Mrs. Gay glared at the woman with hatred in her eyes. How could she sit
there and talk like that? She rose abruptly.
"You'll have to excuse us now, Mrs. Frazier," she said unsteadily. "My
husband and I have things to do."
The hotelkeeper and his wife got up from their chairs just as the
detectives' car stopped at the bungalow. Everybody waited tensely.
"No news of your daughter, Mrs. Gay," announced one of the detectives,
immediately. "But we are on Adams' trail. He's been spotted, speeding
across the country in a stolen car. This afternoon they found the car,
abandoned near a woods. Undoubtedly he's guilty."
Frazier's white face became even more pasty-looking. Nobody noticed it,
except Mr. Gay, who made it his business to watch people's reactions.
"If I may say something," put in the hotelkeeper, looking straight at the
detective, "I think you're on the wrong track. Adams is guilty of a small
theft--he stole two hundred dollars from me, and he left some gambling
debts. That's why he's running away. But I believe your real criminal is
right here at Shady Nook!"
"Who?" demanded all the detectives at once.
"Ditmar. Horace Ditmar. These fires have proved to be a good thing for
him. Ditmars took over all that boarding-house trade after Flicks' Inn
burned down. Mary Louise was on the inside, so they were probably afraid
she'd find out too much--and--disposed of her."
"I don't believe a word of it!" cried Mrs. Gay angrily. "I'd trust both
Adelaide and Horace anywhere. And how about that threat they got? You saw
that?" she asked the detectives.
"That was just a clever trick," explained Frazier lightly, "to throw off
suspicion. You notice it has not been carried out!"
Almost in hysterics, Mrs. Gay felt that she could not bear those dreadful
Fraziers another minute. Desperately she clung to her husband's arm for
support.
"Will you men come inside?" suggested Mr. Gay, realizing how his wife was
suffering. "Good-night, Mrs. Frazier. Good-night, Frazier."
And so another long night passed without any news of Mary Louise. But it
was not so terrible for Mrs. Gay as the first one, because her husband
was with her. And Max Miller and Norman Wilder comforted her with the
assurance that they were going to find Mary Louise the following day.
Somehow, by intuition, perhaps, Mrs. Gay believed them!
CHAPTER XVII
_Release_
While her parents and her friends at Shady Nook were imagining all sorts
of horrors for Mary Louise, the day actually passed peacefully for her.
It was a terrible shock to waken up in that bare little bedroom with the
iron bars at the window, but after the first realization of it was over,
she found comfort in work. For, unlike the previous night, she was not
allowed to be idle.
Miss Stone came in at seven o'clock with a tray of breakfast in her
hands.
"And how do you feel today, dear?" she inquired cheerfully.
Mary Louise opened sleepy eyes and looked about her, trying to remember
where she was. For one ghastly moment she felt as if she would scream as
the horror of the whole thing came back to her. But, realizing that such
an act would only help to confirm her nurse's belief in her insanity, she
managed to control herself. The sun was shining, Miss Stone was
kind--surely Mary Louise would find a way out. So she smiled back at the
woman.
"I'm fine, Miss Stone," she said. "Am I supposed to get dressed?"
"Eat your breakfast first," was the reply. "After today you'll probably
eat with the other patients. But the doctor is coming in to make an
examination this morning."
Mary Louise nodded. "And then what do I do?"
"You tidy up your own room and then take some part in the household
duties. You may have your choice of cleaning, cooking, washing dishes, or
sewing. Then you'll eat lunch in the dining room and spend an hour
outdoors in the garden. After that there is a rest period, when you may
read or sew, if you like. We have a small library, and there is a class
in knitting too, if you prefer. Then supper--and vespers."
"It sounds fine--so much better than doing nothing," replied Mary Louise.
"I think for my particular work I'll choose cooking. I'm pretty good at
cakes and pies."
"That's nice, dear," concluded Miss Stone, turning towards the door. "Be
ready to see the doctor in about an hour."
"May I have a shower?"
"Yes. I'll come back in fifteen minutes to take you."
"But I'm not a baby!" protested Mary Louise. "I'm quite used to giving
myself baths."
"I know, dear, but it's a rule. Sometimes patients drown themselves if we
don't watch them. Maybe--later on----"
She did not finish the sentence, but left the room, locking the door
behind her. It was very like a nightmare, Mary Louise thought, as she
picked up her tray--a dream in which you found yourself locked up
somewhere without any means of escape. But she meant to get away just the
same, if she had to climb that ten-foot wall to accomplish it!
She decided immediately that she would be an exemplary patient, that she
would work hard and do everything she was told to do. Gradually, perhaps,
her liberty would be increased as the attendants learned that she could
be trusted.
In spite of her blue calico uniform, Mary Louise looked exceedingly
pretty that morning when the doctor came in to see her. Her cheeks were
glowing with perfect health, and her dark eyes were smiling. The room, as
well as her person, was meticulously neat.
She identified the doctor immediately as the man who had received her the
day before at the door of the institution.
"Good-morning, Miss Adams," he said, regarding her with admiration.
"You're looking well today."
"I'm fine," replied Mary Louise. "Only my name doesn't happen to be Miss
Adams," she couldn't help adding.
The physician smiled, and she detected a shade of pity in his expression.
Something like that in Miss Stone's face when she had humored that
patient by calling her "Joan of Arc."
But he made no reply and went ahead with the examination. When Miss Stone
returned he told her that Miss Adams was in perfect physical condition.
"It's only the brain," thought Mary Louise in secret amusement. How often
she and her young friends had made that remark to each other! She
resolved never to speak jokingly of insanity again.
After the doctor's visit her day proceeded in the orderly manner which
Miss Stone had outlined. She cooked and washed dishes and ate lunch with
the patients. Then she went out in the garden, where she was assigned a
flower bed of her own.
But Mary Louise was not interested in flower beds at the moment. She
pretended to work, all the while looking about her at the grounds around
the asylum, at the high stone wall below and into the valley beyond.
Across this valley, on a level with the institution, she could see a
white road that ran like a ribbon along the hill in the distance. This
road, she decided, must be a main highway, or at least a drive frequented
by automobiles--otherwise it would not be so smooth and white....
Staring at this road in silence, an inspiration came to Mary Louise. An
idea that might bring about her longed-for release!
She waited eagerly for the nurse to come over to where she was working,
but she was careful to keep her tone matter-of-fact when she did make her
request. Miss Stone must not guess her hidden purpose!
"May I break off two sticks from some bush?" she asked indifferently.
"I'd like to practice my semaphore."
"What's that, dear?" inquired Miss Stone skeptically. "Is it anything
dangerous?"
Mary Louise smiled.
"Oh, no. It's just part of a Girl Scout's training. You've heard of Girl
Scouts, haven't you?"
"Yes, I believe I have. Anyway, I've heard of Boy Scouts, so I suppose
the Girl Scouts is an organization like theirs--for girls."
"That's right," agreed Mary Louise. "And I have always been very much
interested in it. I don't want to forget all that I have learned. So if I
had a couple of sticks and a needle and thread, I could make a pair of
flags and--and--practice every day."
She uttered the last sentence haltingly, fearful lest Miss Stone might
guess her reason for wanting them and refuse. But as the nurse had no
idea that semaphore meant signaling messages, she was entirely
unsuspicious. And it had always been her policy to humor her patients in
pursuit of any harmless amusements.
So that afternoon she brought Mary Louise needles and cotton and scissors
and sat with her while she cut up her red-and-white sports dress for the
flags. It seemed a pity, Miss Stone thought, to destroy such a pretty
dress, but it was not likely that Mary Louise would ever need it again.
It was a sad fact that few of their patients ever returned to the outside
world!
Mary Louise finished her flags just before supper and laid them carefully
away behind the washstand. Tomorrow--oh, happy thought!--she would try
her luck.
Hope is indeed a great tonic. Mary Louise went right to sleep that night
and slept soundly until morning. She performed her duties so quickly and
with such intelligence that even Miss Stone began to wonder whether there
had not been some mistake in confining the girl to the institution. But
as they did not take a daily paper at the asylum, and as they were
entirely cut off from the outside world, she had no way of knowing about
the desperate search that was going on all over the country for Mary
Louise Gay.
"Now that I have finished my work, may I go out into the garden and
practice my semaphore for an hour before lunch?" the girl asked her
nurse.
"Yes, certainly," agreed Miss Stone. "I'll go with you, because I want to
spray the rose bushes."
Mary Louise was not so pleased to be accompanied, but after all, Miss
Stone's presence would mean freedom from other attendants. Nobody would
molest her while her own nurse was with her.
She selected a spot high up on the terrace, from whence she could plainly
see the ribbon of white road across the valley. Then she began to signal
her message:
"I AM MARY LOUISE GAY. HELP!"
Over and over again she repeated the same letters, hope coming into her
heart each time a car swung into view, despair taking possession of her
when it failed to stop. Perhaps, she thought, she was too far away to be
seen. She glanced behind her, at the green bushes, and moved along where
she might have the gray wall of the institution for her background. Red
and white should show up brilliantly in contrast to somber gray.
Half an hour passed, during which perhaps a dozen cars went by without
stopping, and Mary Louise's arms became weary. But she did not give up.
Sometimes, she was certain, one of her own friends' cars would come over
that hill--and stop.
Miss Stone, watching the girl out of the corner of her eye, nodded sadly
to herself. She must be crazy after all, she decided, to go through that
silly routine over and over again. Intelligent on most subjects as she
had discovered Mary Louise to be, she must be unbalanced on this
particular obsession.
Still Mary Louise went on trying.
"I AM MARY LOUISE GAY. HELP!"
she signaled again, for the twenty-fourth time, as a small, bright car
appeared on the road.
The car was proceeding very slowly; it looked as if it could scarcely
climb the hill. Then, to the girl's intense joy, she watched it stop.
Perhaps it was only because of a faulty engine or a puncture--but--oh--it
was stopping!
Her heart beat so fast and her hands trembled so that she could hardly
repeat the message. But she forced herself to go through it again. This
might be her one chance--her vital hope of escape!
She knew now what it must feel like to be abandoned at sea and all at
once to glimpse a sail on the empty waters, bringing hope, and rescue,
and life--if it stopped. But, oh, the utter despair if it continued on
its course unheeding!
Two figures which looked like little dwarfs in the distance jumped out of
the car and stood still, evidently watching Mary Louise's motions.
Frantic with excitement, she spelled the message again, this time very
slowly, forming the letters carefully and pausing a long second between
each word:
"I AM MARY LOUISE GAY. HELP HELP HELP!"
The two tiny figures waited until she had finished and then waved their
arms frantically.
She watched them in feverish anguish as they returned to the car and took
something from the back of it. For five long minutes they busied
themselves in some way which she could not understand, while she waited,
tense with emotion.
Miss Stone strolled over and spoke to her, startling her so that she
almost dropped her flags.
"Tired, dear?" inquired the nurse sympathetically.
"No! No!" protested Mary Louise. "Let me stay fifteen minutes more.
Please!"
Her eyes were still fixed upon the car across the valley. One of the men
was stepping away from it now, holding up both arms, which waved two dark
flags. Made from clothing, perhaps, on the spur of the moment. And then
he began to signal.
Breathlessly Mary Louise watched the letters as they came, spelling out
words that brought floods of joy to her heart. Overwhelming her with
happiness such as she had never known before. For the message which she
read was this:
"WE ARE COMING MARY LOU. MAX AND NORMAN."
Great tears of bliss rushed to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks; her
hands trembled, and her arms grew limp. In the exhaustion of her relief
she dropped down weakly to the ground.
Miss Stone came and bent over her anxiously, fearing that some curious
spell had come over Mary Louise. A fit, perhaps, which would explain why
her brother had wished to confine this girl in the asylum.
"I'll help you up, dear," the nurse said, "and we'll go into the house.
You had better lie down for a while."
"But I'm all right!" exclaimed Mary Louise, jumping happily to her feet.
"My friends are coming for me, Miss Stone!" She threw her arms around the
woman and hugged her. "Two boys from my home town--in Riverside."
"Yes, yes, dear," agreed Miss Stone, sure now that Mary Louise was
raving. "But come inside now and rest."
"No, I don't want to rest," objected the girl. "You said I could stay out
till lunch, and there's still ten minutes left. I want to wait for Max
and Norman."
"All right, dear, if you'll promise to calm yourself. Sit down there on
the step while I finish these rose bushes."
Mary Louise did as she was told, keeping her eyes fixed on the gate,
wondering how long it would take for the boys to get across that valley,
hoping that they wouldn't get lost. She picked up her home-made flags and
touched them lovingly. "Suppose I had never joined the Girl Scouts--and
suppose I had never become an expert signaler!" she thought. She shivered
at the very idea.
She did not have to wait long, however. In less than ten minutes she saw
the gardener unlock the big iron gate and a dear, familiar green roadster
speed up the hill and stop at the door of the asylum. In an instant both
boys were out of the car. Max was the first to reach Mary Louise. Without
any question of permission, he took her into his arms and kissed her
again and again. Then Norman kissed her too, not quite so ardently as
Max.
Finally she freed herself laughingly from their embraces and introduced
them to Miss Stone. The boys looked questioningly at the woman. If she
had been responsible for the kidnaping of Mary Louise, why was the girl
so polite to her?
Max took a revolver from his pocket, just to be prepared in case of
violence.
Mary Louise laughed merrily.
"You don't need that, Max," she said. "Miss Stone won't do anything
desperate. She is a nurse."
"A nurse? Is this a hospital?" Alarm crept into Max's voice. "Oh, Mary
Lou, you're not hurt, are you?"
"No, not a bit. Don't you know what kind of place this is, Max? It's an
asylum for the insane! I'm supposed to be crazy."
Horrified, Max sprang forward and seized Miss Stone by the arm.
"What kind of diabolical plot is this?" he demanded. "Whose accomplice
are you?" He pulled a newspaper out of his pocket and shook it in the
nurse's face. "The whole country's frantic over the disappearance of Mary
Louise Gay!"
Miss Stone gazed at the picture in the paper with increasing fear. Had
she--and the rest of the staff at the asylum--been accomplices to a
hideous crime?
But Mary Louise replied for her reassuringly.
"Miss Stone's innocent, Max," she explained. "Please let her go. So are
the others here. They're just obeying orders. Tom Adams put me in here,
calling me his feeble-minded sister Rebecca. He really does happen to
have one, you may have heard, and I understand her papers for confinement
were filed once before. Mr. Frazier signed my commitment too, pretending
to be a cousin. Those two men are the only guilty ones."
"Tom Adams!" repeated Max and Norman at the same time, and Norman added:
"Yes, that's what Freckles said. They're looking for Tom Adams. He ran
away from Shady Nook--or wherever it is he lives. The police are after
him."
"How about Frazier?" demanded Mary Louise.
"Is he guilty?" asked Max.
"More so than Tom," replied the girl. "Oh, I must get back to tell the
police before Frazier sneaks away!" She turned to the nurse. "May I go
with the boys now?"
"I'll have to ask the doctor," replied Miss Stone, hurrying inside to the
office.
It took no persuasion at all, however, to obtain the doctor's consent. As
soon as he read the account in the newspaper and saw that Tom Adams was a
fugitive from the law, he gladly agreed to let Mary Louise go free. In
fact, he was anxious that she should, lest he be blamed for participation
in the crime.
So Mary Louise jumped into the car between the two boys, and in less than
an hour she saw the dear familiar trees of Shady Nook in the distance. As
the car approached her own bungalow, she could distinguish her
mother--yes, and her father--sitting on the porch in an attitude of
hopeless despair.
Oh, what fun it was going to be to surprise them so joyfully!
CHAPTER XVIII
_Return_
Both Mr. and Mrs. Gay looked up disconsolately as the green car
approached. Suddenly their expressions of listlessness changed to
incredulity--then to rapture. Mary Louise was home!
In another second the girl had flown up the steps and was hugging both
parents at once. Mrs. Gay could only gasp in her happiness. It was Mr.
Gay who asked his daughter whether she was unhurt and unharmed.
"I'm fine!" returned Mary Louise joyfully. "And, oh, so happy!"
"Darling!" murmured her mother, her voice choked with emotion.
"Now praise these wonderful boys," insisted the girl. "My rescuers."
Max and Norman tried to look modest and to wave aside their
accomplishment with a gesture. But Mr. Gay seized their hands in a fervor
of gratitude.
"I can't find words to tell you what it means to us!" he said. "You two
boys have succeeded where four professional detectives failed. It's--it's
marvelous."
"Oh, it wasn't anything at all, except persistence on our part,"
explained Max. "The real credit goes to Mary Lou. It was a swell idea she
had."
"What idea?" demanded Mr. Gay.
"Signaling for help. With semaphore flags--just as we all used to do in
the Scouts."
"But where were you, Mary Lou?" asked her father. "Sit down and tell us
all about it."
"First tell me whether you're hungry," put in her mother.
"No, not specially," replied Mary Louise. "They fed us pretty well at the
insane asylum."
It was fun to watch her parents' startled expressions at this
announcement--fun now that the experience was all over.
"Insane asylum!" they both repeated in horror. And then for the first
time they noticed her blue calico dress.
Mary Louise nodded and proceeded to tell her story. Briefly and quickly,
for she remembered that she wanted to catch the two criminals.
"Has Mr. Frazier run away too?" she inquired, when she had finished.
"No, he's over at his hotel," replied Mr. Gay. "I saw him this morning."
"You must arrest him, Daddy!" cried the girl. "He was the cause of the
three fires at Shady Nook. I know it!"
"But how do you know, Mary Lou?" asked her father. "What proof have you?"
"I overheard him and Tom Adams talking in the hotel garage. They didn't
actually mention fires, but I'm sure they meant them. I have their
conversation down in my notebook. I left it in my desk. It's probably
still there."
"Suppose," suggested Mr. Gay, "that you tell us the story of your
suspicions--and clues--from the beginning."
"While I'm getting lunch," added Mrs. Gay.
Mary Louise ran into her bedroom and found the little notebook. "I'll
just change my dress," she called laughingly, "and be with you in a
minute.... But tell me where Jane and Freckles are."
"Out hunting for you. With Silky!" was the reply.
A couple of minutes later she returned to the porch, looking more like
herself in her own modern clothing. She sat down on the swing and opened
her notebook.
"I first suspected Tom Adams the day after Flicks' Inn burned down," she
began. "All of the people of Shady Nook were over on the little island
that night on a picnic, and Hattie Adams told me she expected to have Tom
take her. But he wasn't anywhere to be found. And the boys saw a big
fellow in the woods who answered his description.
"But I sort of gave up the idea of his being guilty when I heard he had
lost some work by Flicks' Inn burning down. It threw me off the track for
a while; I really suspected his feeble-minded sister Rebecca.
"Then the Smiths' house caught fire, and Rebecca gave us a warning--so I
suspected her all the more. Finding that pack of Cliff's cards in the can
of water didn't prove a thing to me. I never believed he was guilty."
"It was absurd to arrest him," commented Mr. Gay. "The blundering idiot
who caused it----"
Mary Louise's laugh ran out merrily.
"You and Jane will have to get together, Dad," she said. "You agree so
perfectly about David McCall!"
"Never did care for the fellow," her father muttered. "Give me men with
brains--and sense!" He looked admiringly at Max and Norman. "But get on
with the story, Mary Lou."
"It was the day after the Smiths' fire that I really seriously suspected
Tom Adams," she continued. "I trailed him to the store at Four Corners
and found him gambling. He told a man that he'd pay him a hundred
dollars, which he expected to collect immediately. And that set me
thinking."
"Why?" inquired Max.
"Because a farmhand doesn't earn a hundred dollars so easily, especially
from tightwads like Frazier. Everybody knows that man pays miserable
wages.... Then, besides that, I overheard Tom Adams explaining a card
trick, and that fact made me guess that he had gotten hold of one of
Cliff's decks of cards and either accidentally or purposely dropped them
at the Smiths'."
Mr. Gay nodded approvingly. He loved to watch the logical working of his
daughter's mind.
"So I began to put two and two together," she went on. "Somebody was
paying Tom a lot of money--lots more than a hundred dollars, I
learned--for doing something. What, I asked myself, could the job be
except setting those houses on fire? And who wanted them burned down
except Frazier, or possibly Horace Ditmar, who, as you know, is an
architect?"
"So you narrowed your suspects down to two people--besides Tom Adams?"
inquired Mr. Gay admiringly.
"Yes. And when Adelaide Ditmar got that threat I was positive Frazier was
responsible. He wanted the business, and he was doing everything he could
to get it. But even then I had no proof."
"So what did you do?" asked Max. "And why did Tom Adams suspect that you
knew anything?"
"It was all because of this conversation," answered Mary Louise, opening
her notebook. "I overheard it near Frazier's garage, and then I was
stupid enough to let them see me. I even told them I was going over to
the farm to talk to Hattie."
"That was a mistake," remarked Mr. Gay.
"A mistake I paid for pretty dearly," agreed the girl. "But it's all
right now, so it really doesn't matter.... Now let me read you the
conversation between Frazier and Tom Adams on the afternoon I was taken
away."
Quickly, in the words of the two men, she read to her listeners of Tom's
demand for money and Mr. Frazier's reluctant compliance with his claims.
When she had finished she looked eagerly at her father.
"Isn't Frazier guilty?" she asked.
"Of course he's guilty," agreed the detective. "But he won't ever admit
it. He'll squirm out of it, because we haven't got proof in so many
words. He'll say he was talking about something entirely different to Tom
Adams."
"But can't he be arrested?" persisted Mary Louise, a note of
disappointment creeping into her voice.
"I don't see how--until we find Tom Adams. He'll establish Frazier's
guilt, all right. I can't see Adams shouldering the blame alone."
Mary Louise frowned; she hated the idea of the hotelkeeper's freedom,
even though it might be only temporary. But suddenly her face lighted up
with inspiration.
"I have it!" she cried. "He can be arrested for signing that paper
confining me to the insane asylum, can't he, Dad?"
Mr. Gay looked startled.
"What paper?" he demanded.
Mary Louise explained that, since the commitment had to be signed by two
relatives of the patient, Mr. Frazier had posed as her cousin. That was
enough, Mr. Gay said immediately: all that they needed as evidence was
the paper itself. They would drive over to the institution that afternoon
and secure it.
Luncheon was indeed a happy meal in the Gay household that day. Although
Freckles and Jane did not return, the two boys and Mary Louise kept up a
constant banter of laughter and merriment. Mr. and Mrs. Gay were quieter,
but a light of rapture shone in their eyes.
Just at the conclusion of the meal Mrs. Hunter and Cliff arrived.
Prepared to enter a house of misery and fear, they could not believe
their ears as they heard the gayety from within.
"Mary Lou!" cried Cliff incredulously.
"Cliff!" exclaimed the girl, jumping up and running to the screen door.
"You're free!"
"And you're home!" returned the young man, seizing both of her hands.
In spite of his arrest, Clifford Hunter was the same care-free young
person. In a few minutes he was showing his card tricks to Max and
Norman, delighted to find a new audience.
When the whole story had been retold to the Hunters, with the caution
that they say nothing of it to Mr. Frazier, Mary Louise and the three
boys walked around the little resort to tell everybody there the glad
news. Then she and her father and Max took the car and drove to the Adams
farm. Mr. Gay thought it would be wise to take old Mr. Adams with them to
visit the asylum, and Mary Louise thought it would be interesting to
bring Rebecca--just to let Miss Stone and the other attendants meet the
real Rebecca Adams!
With Max at the wheel they had no difficulty in finding the asylum. What
fun it was, Mary Louise thought, to pass through those iron gates
now--knowing that she was safe! Yet instinctively she reached for her
father's hand and held it securely as the car proceeded up the long
driveway.
The same doctor and the same head nurse came out to receive them as upon
Mary Louise's first visit. Mr. Gay displayed his badge at once and
explained his errand. The woman nodded and hurried into the office for
the paper.
While she was gone, Rebecca Adams, growing restless, stepped out of the
car, lugging her heavy water pitcher in her arms. At the same moment Miss
Stone, Mary Louise's special nurse, came out of the building.
"Miss Stone, I want you to meet the real Rebecca Adams," said Mary
Louise, with a twinkle in her eye.
Rebecca turned eagerly to the nurse.
"Can you show me where there is a well of clear water?" she asked
immediately.
"Yes," replied Miss Stone gravely. "Back of the building. We have a fine
well."
"Oh!" cried the woman in ecstasy. "At last!" She looked over at her
father, and there were tears of earnestness in her eyes. "Let me stay
here, Father! This is my home, where I want to live!" Her voice grew more
wistful. "A well of clear water!" she repeated. "Please take me to it,
kind lady!"
"Perhaps it is for the best," agreed old Mr. Adams. "There's nobody to
take good care of Rebecca at home now that her mother's dead and I'm
crippled up with rheumatism. She can stay if she wants to."
And so, at her own request, Rebecca Adams took up her life at the quiet
institution, and the rest of the party, with the paper which was to be
used as evidence against Frazier in their hands, drove back to Shady
Nook.
Mary Louise went into her bedroom and put on her prettiest dress,
awaiting the arrival of Jane and Freckles and her friends. What a
glorious evening it was going to be for them all!
CHAPTER XIX
_Conclusion_
Mary Louise was putting the last dabs of powder on her nose when she
heard a car stop at the porch steps. Peering through the screened window
of her bedroom she immediately decided that it must be the detectives.
Yes--and, oh, joy of joys!--they had Tom Adams with them!
In another moment the men were out of the car and up on the porch, where
her father joined them.
"Congratulations!" exclaimed Mr. Gay. "I see that you got Tom Adams. I
remember him now."
"Yes," answered one of the men. "But he won't admit a thing about your
daughter. He says he never saw Mary Louise after she went back to the
tennis court that afternoon."
"On what grounds could you arrest him, then?" demanded Mr. Gay.
"He stole a car on his way to the West."
Mary Louise repressed a giggle and turned away from the window. Her
father evidently meant to find out what he could before he announced his
daughter's return.
"You have a sister Rebecca, haven't you, Adams?" he inquired.
The young man nodded. "Yes. She's feeble-minded. Why?"
"We know that Mary Louise saw her the afternoon she disappeared. Rebecca
told us so, and she also said that you came home that afternoon just as
my daughter started to leave the farm."
"Rebecca's mind wanders a lot," muttered Tom. "She don't know what she's
talkin' about half the time." He shifted his feet uneasily.
"You--have been thinking of putting Rebecca into an asylum?" persisted
Mr. Gay.
"Yeah. We considered it. Why?"
"Because she's in one now," announced Mr. Gay calmly. "Of her own free
will. An asylum about twenty miles from here. A Dr. Fetter, I believe, is
the head of the institution."
He paused and gazed intently at Tom. The young man's jaw dropped, his
face grew white, and his hands trembled.
Mr. Gay burst out laughing, and Mary Louise came to the screen door.
"Hello, Tom," she said quietly.
The young man started as if he had seen a ghost. But he managed to
stammer a reply. "Hello, Miss Gay," he said.
All three of the plainclothes men stepped forward in amazement. "You
found her, Gay?" they demanded of Mary Louise's father.
"No," answered Mr. Gay. "To be frank, I didn't. Two of her young friends
from Riverside did. She was confined in an insane asylum about twenty
miles from Shady Nook, under the name of Rebecca Adams!"
All of Tom's pretence fell away from him at this announcement. He knew
his game was up. His limbs grew weak; he groveled at the men's feet.
"Don't send me to the chair!" he cried. "I didn't harm her. She's all
right, ain't she?"
"We'll let the judge and the jury decide that," replied Mr. Gay. "Now,
suppose you sit down there and tell us the truth, Adams. You might as
well, for we know most of it already!"
The young man crawled into a seat, but he made no attempt to tell his
story.
"We know that you burned three houses here at Shady Nook," said Mr. Gay.
"We know, too, that you did it because you were bribed by Frazier. Didn't
he pay you a certain sum of money to start those fires?"
"Yes, he did," acknowledged Tom. "He gave me five hundred dollars."
"Why did he want them burned down?" asked one of the plainclothes men.
"He figured that he'd get five hundred at least from the Hunters during
the summer, entertaining their friends and all. Then Flicks' fire turned
out to be better business yet. All the folks from Shady Nook, except the
Ditmars, begun eatin' at the hotel, once the inn was gone. And Smiths'
burnin' down brought all them children and servants and even the Ma and
Pa over to the Royal."
"Did Frazier expect to burn any more cottages?" was the next question.
"No, he wasn't plannin' on it. Only, when Mrs. Ditmar started up a
boardin' house and took his business away from him, that made him sore.
But I wasn't goin' a do no more dirty work. I figured I'd just get my
money and clear out. I never did expect to burn Ditmars'--only threaten
'em."
"But what made you do that dreadful thing to Mary Louise?" demanded Mr.
Gay.
"I wanted to get rid of her till I made my get-away. Frazier and me was
scared she was onto somethin' and would send for you, and you'd figure it
all out, Mr. Gay. Frazier thought, if I was gone, he'd be safe. He'd just
deny everything. The idea of callin' Mary Louise 'Rebecca' just popped
into my head when she told us she was goin' over to the farm to see
Hattie that afternoon. I knew Hattie and Dad was off to the fair. So I
jumped in my car and run over to the asylum and made the arrangements. We
just got back in time to nab her."
One of the men stood up.
"Detective Gay," he Said, "I think you and I had better go over and
arrest Frazier now. These other two men can take charge of Adams." He
turned to Mary Louise, who was still standing in the doorway. "Is there
any question you want to ask this criminal, Miss Gay, before we take him
away?"
"Yes," answered Mary Louise, stepping through the doorway. "I would like
to know how that pack of cards came to be dropped at the Smiths' the
night of their fire--how Tom happened to have them in his possession."
The young man flushed.
"One day I was watchin' Hunter do a trick on the hotel porch. I noticed
he put the cards in his coat pocket. Later on, he hung the coat over the
back of a chair while he went off to play tennis. So I sneaked up and
took 'em out of his pocket, to use to show the trick to the boys. I
thought they was marked, but they wasn't. Hunter sure is clever at
tricks.
"Then when I heard people was suspectin' him of burnin' his own cottage
down for the insurance, I thought I might as well help that suspicion
along. So I dropped his pack of cards into that can of water at the
Smiths'. And sure enough, it worked!"
Mary Louise's eyes were filled with contempt, but she did not put her
feeling into words. Instead, she nodded to the detectives, and the men
all left the porch. Fifteen minutes later Frazier's arrest was
accomplished, and the three plainclothes men started for Albany with both
criminals in their custody.
Mary Louise and her parents watched them go with a sigh of relief.
"That's that," said her father, with a smile.
"Now, if only Jane and Freckles would come," added her mother, "we could
be perfectly happy. It's time to go to dinner."
In a couple of minutes Mrs. Gay's wish was granted. Down the road half a
dozen young people came running, for they had just heard the wonderful
news that Mary Louise was back. Silky reached his mistress first, then
Freckles arrived, with Jane and four of the boys close behind.
Never, if she lived to be a hundred, would Mary Louise forget that
wonderful dinner at the Ditmars'. The joy of being back home again, the
happiness of her friends, the companionship of her father--oh, everything
seemed perfect that night to the lovely brown-eyed girl. And not least of
it all was the satisfaction of knowing that the mystery of the fires was
solved at last! Shady Nook was safe again for everybody--to enjoy for
many, many summers to come!
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
--Retained publication and copyright information from the printed
exemplar (this book is public-domain in the U.S.).
--Obvious typographical errors were corrected without comment.
Possibly intentional spelling variations were not changed.
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