“Oh, we haven’t seen him since you did yesterday,” returned Kitty. “But I heard about the flight before he left, and he seemed awfully excited. Just like a kid of sixteen, in love for the first time.”
Linda blushed; so other people had noticed it, too! She wondered if it would be the talk of Green Falls.
“Have you known him long, Kit?” she inquired.
“No. One of Tom’s friends—John Kuhns—met him in a railroad station, just after he had landed from England, and he seemed so sort of lost and lonely that he entertained him. His family liked him so much that they invited him to their summer place, and then suddenly changed their plans and went abroad instead. So John asked Tom to look out for him, and that is how we happen to be entertaining him at Green Falls. I was kind of scared at the idea of royalty, but he seems just like anybody else.”
“I wonder how old he is,” mused Linda, more to herself than to Kitty.
“Too old for you, dear,” replied Kitty. She knew how much Ralph cared for Linda, and she hated to see him suddenly cut out by a foreigner with a title, charming as Lord Dudley was. “You’re not serious about him are you, Linda?”
“Oh, I like him,” replied the other. “I guess all the girls do— By the way, Ralph invited me to your house to lunch to-day. Is that right?”
“Yes indeed, I’m expecting you. And you know it’s the last chance to register for the hunt. You’re entering, aren’t you?”
“I hope to. I’m going to pin Aunt Emily to a definite answer before I come over to-day. I must go in now, Kitty, for I see that Amy is tired of swimming. She’ll want to go home in a minute.”
“Haven’t her parents turned up yet?”
“No, they hadn’t when we left.”
“It seems queer.”
“Yes, it does. I’m really worried about her now. If she could only remember!”
“Well, as long as your Aunt Emily is taking care of her, she’ll be all right. Now go along—get your swim, and I’ll see you at one o’clock.”
Linda dived into the water, but she did not swim long. Amy was standing still, up to her neck, clinging nervously to Mike’s hands. Though the sun and the air were warm, she seemed to be shaking all over.
“Miss Amy’s scared to death,” announced Mike. “She acts like a person who has never gotten over a drowning scare.” He turned to the girl. “Have you ever been drowned, Miss Amy?”
The girl burst out laughing at the absurdity of the question, and seemed her normal self again. But she was glad that Linda suggested that they all go home.
They entered the house with the usual hope, a hope which was gradually dying now, of hearing from Amy’s family. But Miss Carlton had to tell them again that no one except her own friends had telephoned. Linda hurried off to dress for the luncheon at Kit’s.
“Where are you going, dear?” Miss Carlton asked her, half an hour later, when her niece appeared in a new dress, a flowered chiffon, which she would hardly have worn for lunch at home by themselves.
“I’m going to Kitty’s, Aunt Emily. To help plan for the treasure hunt. You—you don’t mind if I take part in it, do you? I have to let them know to-day.”
Miss Carlton sighed.
“I suppose it would be unreasonable to try to keep you out,” she admitted. “But I am so afraid of crashes with other planes. It is just like driving a car—much safer where there is no other traffic, for you never can tell what the other people will do.”
“I know. But I’ll be careful, Aunt Emily. And Ralph and Kitty are so anxious for me to go into it.”
Miss Carlton weakened; as usual the mention of the Claverings had a softening effect upon her. She liked Linda to be with them, to take part in the social affairs of her young friends.
“All right, dear. I agree, though I really don’t approve.”
Linda kissed her.
“But you never do approve, even if I only go up in the air for half an hour,” she teased.
“I thought I was growing used to it, till those awful things happened to you in the Okefenokee Swamp.”
“But it was thieves, not airplanes, that caused all the trouble. It might have happened if I had been riding horseback.”
“True. Have your own way, dear.” But Linda could tell by her voice that she wasn’t angry.
Ten minutes later Linda parked her roadster in front of Kit’s bungalow and ran up the porch with the good news. Kit and Dot, Ralph and Mr. Clavering were all sitting on the big couch hammock, poring over a map.
“We have to fly over Lake Michigan!” announced Dot, proudly. “Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Perfect,” agreed Linda, glad that this hunt was not to be a “play” flight of a few miles or so. A hundred miles as a beginning—that ought to be thrilling.
“The first landing is to be the Milwaukee airport,” said Mr. Clavering. “That is all I am going to tell you. The seven planes are to leave Green Falls at ten o’clock Saturday morning.”
“Seven?” repeated Linda. “Who are the seven?”
Fumbling in his pocket, Ralph produced a typewritten list. He read it aloud.
“1. Tom and Kitty Hulbert.
2. Dot Crowley and Jim Valier——”
“So you’re taking Jim after all!” interrupted Kit. “I thought you said he was too lazy.”
Dot smiled.
“I guess I was only teasing,” she admitted.
“To continue,” said Ralph.
“3. Bert and Madge Keen.
4. Frank Lawlor and Sue Emery.
5. Joe Elliston and Sarah Wheeler——”
“Joe Elliston!” cried Linda. “Since when has he become a flyer?”
“He just received his private pilot’s license last week,” explained Ralph. “He hasn’t a plane of his own, but Dad’s renting one for him.”
“I guess I’m taking a chance,” remarked Mr. Clavering. “But the plane’s insured.”
“And you and I are the sixth and seventh, Linda,” concluded Ralph. “May I ask who your passenger is to be?”
“If you tell me who yours is,” she countered.
“I am going alone.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m taking Harry.”
“Not Lord Dudley?” inquired the young man, with a gleam of jealousy.
“Oh, no. I promised Harry.”
“Lord Dudley thinks he’s going with you,” remarked Kitty. “He expects to be back.”
“Then why doesn’t he take a plane and enter,” sneered Ralph. “I’ll bet he’s not so much of a flyer as he makes out to be.”
“How you love him!” remarked Kitty, rising to greet Madge Keen, who was the last of her guests to arrive.
“Now come to luncheon,” added the young hostess, with a nod to the maid who was waiting for the signal. “You must all be starved after your swims.”
A simple affair like this was always a party at Kitty Hulbert’s, for the young matron had such beautiful things, such lovely flowers, such trained servants that she enjoyed displaying them. The table was arranged as elaborately as if a banquet were being served.
As usual, Linda found herself seated next to Ralph, and she began to talk to him immediately, to take his mind away from the subject of Lord Dudley.
“Has your autogiro come yet?” she inquired.
“No, but it’ll be here to-morrow. Want to go up on a test flight with me, Linda?”
“Of course I do!” she replied eagerly. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re getting it, before you even graduated from college.”
“Now Linda, don’t rub it in,” replied the young man. Although he should have completed his course at Harvard the preceding June, there had been a condition in mathematics, which kept him from getting his degree. His father had wanted him to go to summer school, but with his usual lazy attitude towards life, Ralph had refused. He was just as well satisfied that he did have to return in the fall; it would be more fun to hang around college than to buckle down to his father’s business.
“I didn’t want to be mean,” apologized Linda. “Only you know you weren’t supposed to get a plane of your own till you graduated.”
She stopped talking; Kitty was taking a telegram from the maid, and glancing at Linda. What was it? For her? News of Amy—or a message from her father?
“This is for you, Linda,” said her hostess. “I do hope it isn’t bad news.”
“Maybe it’s something about Amy,” she said expectantly, and all eyes were on her as she slit open the envelope.
But as she read the message, a vivid blush spread over her face, and she felt as if the others about the table must know what it contained.
“Am returning to-night with Tom for my answer. Love. Claude.”
“Why Linda! What’s happened?” demanded Dot, in surprise.
“Nothing, nothing,” she murmured, in confusion. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s—just a personal message.”
“Not about Amy?”
“No.”
There was an embarrassed silence, and Kitty came to the rescue by leading the conversation back to the subject of the treasure hunt.
“I’m allowed to tell you this much about it,” she added. “Everybody flies to Lake Winnebago after the hunt for a big celebration. Dad’s rented an entire Inn for the week-end, and all our parents are invited to be chaperons.”
“And will the prize be awarded then?” asked Dot, more to keep the conversation away from Linda than because she wanted to know.
“No. The lucky pilot finds the prize for himself—after following the directions he receives.”
“You better say ‘she,’” remarked Ralph, “for I think it’s a great deal more likely that Linda or Dot will get it, than any of us fellows.”
Linda forced a smile, but her mind was not on the conversation. Even the treasure hunt had lost its interest; she longed to get home, where she could be alone to think things out.
The party broke up at last, and she managed to get away without even an explanation to Dot of the mysterious contents of the telegram.
She paused in the living room of her own bungalow only long enough to give Mike O’Malley the facts and the names of the contestants in the hunt, for the young man was returning to Grand Rapids. With a sigh of relief, she rushed up to her own room, and locked the door, there to try to come to some decision.
But the conclusion she came to was not at all to Lord Dudley’s liking, as he learned to his dismay after supper, when he came over to take her canoeing.
“My plan is this, Linda dear,” he said, as they pushed off from the shore: “Take me as your passenger in the hunt on Saturday—win the prize, as, of course, you will—and instead of returning, simply elope in the autogiro. We can wire your aunt from the nearest city, wherever that happens to be, when we are married. Doesn’t the romance of that appeal to you?” he asked, rapturously.
Linda slowly shook her head.
“I couldn’t, Lord Dudley——” she began.
“Please call me ‘Claude!’” he pleaded.
She smiled.
“Well, then—Claude—I couldn’t. First of all, I’ve promised to take Harriman Smith on the flight——”
“Shucks!” he interrupted, abandoning his usual dignity.
“And besides, I couldn’t be so mean to Aunt Emily. She would hate it—and she’d have a right to. No, Claude, I’m not willing to marry you on so short an acquaintance. A year from now—or possibly six months—I don’t know.”
The man stopped paddling and regarded her helplessly.
“It’s because I’ve told you I’m only a poor man,” he said, thinking immediately that money had something to do with her refusal. “And you’re an heiress!”
Linda opened her eyes wide in amazement.
“What makes you think I’m an heiress, Lord Dudley?” she asked, forgetting to use his first name. “Really—we’re not rich.”
“But the newspapers said you were. And that big prize you won, flying the Atlantic alone——”
The man’s surprise was evidently as great as Linda’s.
“Yes, I have that—invested in bonds. But $25,000 isn’t a fortune. And I haven’t anything else, except the money I sold my Bellanca for, which Daddy put into a trust fund for me, in case his business fails. No, Lord Dudley, I really expect to earn my own living.”
“I see,” he replied, and he could not keep the bitter disappointment out of his tone. “That is why we had better not risk it?”
He seemed content to leave it at that, and Linda was silent. As a matter of fact, money had never entered into her consideration of the marriage. The idea of leaving her aunt, her friends—especially Harry and Dot, and even Ralph—to go to a strange country had been a much more vital drawback. Charming as he was, Lord Dudley was only a stranger.
“Let’s forget it, and talk about something else,” she suggested, quietly. “Tell me why you don’t go into the treasure hunt yourself. It’s going to be lots of fun.”
“I’m too busy,” he replied irritably, as one might speak to a child. “I have to get back to Chicago early to-morrow morning.”
“In that case,” concluded Linda, “hadn’t we better paddle back home now?”
Without any reply the Englishman turned the canoe about and silently made for the shore. It was only half-past nine when he left her at the steps of her bungalow, refusing her invitation to come in to see her Aunt Emily.
“And that is the end of him,” Linda thought as she went quickly to bed, little imagining that she would ever see him again.
“Linda, it’s come! My autogiro!” shrieked Ralph Clavering, bursting into the Carltons’ bungalow, without even waiting to knock. “And I’ve had her up already! The man gave me a lesson!”
Linda almost fell down the steps in her wild excitement at this piece of news. Another autogiro in Green Falls! Her “Ladybug’s” twin!
“Wonderful! Great!” she cried, seizing both his hands and executing a dance. “In plenty of time for the treasure hunt.”
“Yes. Don’t forget that you promised to go up with me this afternoon!”
“Try and keep me out!” she replied. “I just can’t wait. I don’t even care about lunch, if you’ll just give me time to get into my flying suit——”
“What’s this? What’s this?” demanded Miss Emily Carlton, entering the living room with Amy at her heels. “You’re not going to go without your lunch, Linda!”
“Then may we have ours right away?” pleaded her niece. “Ralph and I, I mean?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Only do be careful, Linda, with a new plane. Are you quite sure all the parts are there?”
Ralph smiled.
“The autogiro couldn’t have arrived safely, Miss Carlton, if it hadn’t been perfect. You see they don’t deliver planes in trucks—they fly ’em!”
“All right, then,” agreed the older woman, grudgingly. “Then I’ll go and see about lunch.”
It was a thrilling afternoon for Linda, and even more pleasant for Ralph, in the possession of his first flying machine. Together they went over to the airport and took the new autogiro into the skies, first with Linda, then with Ralph at the controls. In the joy of flying Linda forgot for the time being all about the queer experience of the preceding day with Lord Dudley. She was Linda Carlton the aviatrix to-day, interested in nothing but aviation.
She even forgot about Amy until she returned to the bungalow at supper-time, and found the little girl waiting wistfully on the porch all alone. Linda knew from her expression that no one had telephoned.
“Nobody cares about me except the newspaper reporters,” she remarked the following day—the Friday before the treasure hunt—when still nothing had happened, and no one had come to claim her. “And even they are beginning to lose interest.”
“Not Mike O’Malley!” replied Linda, cheerfully. “I had a letter from him to-day—he’s arriving this morning. He expects to drive that battered Ford of his over to Lake Winnebago, to be in at the finish of the hunt.”
Amy sighed; she had not been included in the plans for the event, although Miss Carlton had been invited for the week-end at the Inn. The girl would have to be left in care of Anna, Miss Carlton’s competent cook.
“I wish Mike would stay here with me,” said the girl. She didn’t add that she would be lonely; it wouldn’t be grateful to these wonderful people who were doing so much for her.
“Mike has work to do for his paper,” replied Linda.
Scarcely had she finished the sentence when the Ford stopped at the gate, and the young man, sunburned and grinning, jumped out. He felt almost as if he were coming home, to be back again at the Carltons’.
“Hello, everybody!” he cried merrily. “Here I am—all ready for the big hunt!”
“It’s more than I am,” replied Linda. “I’ve got to spend the whole day going over the ‘Ladybug.’ But come on in, Mike—I’ll get you something to eat. Of course, you’re hungry?”
“You said it!”
“And as soon as you finish eating, you better take Amy swimming. Aunt Emily went shopping, and I have to go to the airport, so I’ll be glad if you can keep Amy from being lonely.”
“O.K. with me,” he agreed, following Linda into the dining room. “By the way, Miss Carlton, any change in plans, or contestants, for the treasure hunt?”
“Not that I know of,” she replied, as she hunted some buns and milk for the boy, who ate hungrily, as usual.
Suddenly he stopped eating, and peering towards the living room, listened intently.
“Do my ears deceive me, or is somebody snitching my Lizzie?” He jumped up and ran to the living-room window.
“No, I think that’s the station taxicab,” replied Linda. “Its engine sounds like a boiler factory.”
“Almost as loud as an airplane’s!” teased Mike.
“Who is it, Linda? Who is that getting out of the cab?” demanded Amy holding the other girl’s arm tensely. “Do you know her?”
“No,” replied Linda, as she watched a woman in black who was coming up the porch steps. “She’s a stranger to me—oh—maybe—Amy, do you remember her?” She peered anxiously into the younger girl’s face.
The latter shook her head sorrowfully.
“No, I don’t. Not a glimmer—not even a vague memory, like I had when I saw that man at the tennis matches.”
“What man?”
“Lord Somebody——”
“Oh! Lord Dudley. But you saw him afterwards. He was here——”
“No, I never happened to be around. And I couldn’t remember anything about him anyway. But I feel positive I never saw this woman.”
The girls were standing close together, Amy still clinging to Linda’s arm, when Mike opened the screen door to the stranger’s knock.
The woman hesitated a moment, and stepped inside, looking quickly about the room. With a bright smile of recognition, she came over to Amy.
“Helen darling!” she exclaimed, pushing Linda aside and kissing Amy gushingly. “Oh, I’m so thankful to have you safe!”
Tears came to Amy’s eyes, but she could not pretend that she remembered the woman.
“Who—are you?” she stammered.
The woman looked shocked.
“Helen! Can’t you remember me? I am your Aunt Elsie—I’ve cared for you ever since your mother died. Oh, surely, dear—” She looked helplessly at Linda.
“Helen—we call her ‘Amy’—has lost her memory,” explained the latter. “You see she was hit on the back of the head by a car. But surely you read about it in the papers?”
“Yes, yes. But I thought that she would recognize me,” wailed the woman hysterically, wiping tears from her eyes. “She disappeared about two weeks ago—we live in a little town in Montana—and I was almost crazy with fear. Then I read about this girl being hit by something—it was an airplane, wasn’t it?—and I came on to Grand Rapids, and a newspaper man there showed me the picture.”
Mike swelled with pride. That must have been his newspaper!
“It was a car she was hit by,” corrected Linda. “An airplane rescued her.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed the woman. “I heard it the other way about. Well, we’ll prove that later. Now, come along, Helen.”
But anxious as the girl had been for people of her own to claim her, now that this stranger had done so, she was afraid to go. She did not like the woman.
“What is my other name?” she questioned, without making any move to obey her.
“Tower—Helen Tower. I am Mrs. Fishberry. Can’t you possibly remember, dear?”
The girl shook her head.
“Couldn’t I stay here a little longer—Mrs. Fishberry?” she asked.
“Certainly not.” The woman looked annoyed.
Amy clung to Linda, her whole frame shaking violently.
“She must have been unkind to me before,” she sobbed. “You know I felt that there was something to be afraid of in my past life. Oh, Linda, please keep me till that doctor who is treating me can make me well! I’ll work and repay all you do for me!”
“Of course, we’ll be glad to, Amy, dear,” replied Linda, reassuringly. “Just so long as you’re content to stay!”
“That is impossible,” interrupted Mrs. Fishberry. “I cannot allow it for a minute, and will bring legal proceedings if you try to steal this child! Come, Helen—the taxi’s waited long enough!”
Reluctantly Amy started to obey, when Mike O’Malley stepped forward and held up his hand like a traffic cop.
“Just a minute! Just a minute!” he said.
All eyes turned towards him instantly.
“You spoke of legal proceedings, Mrs. Fishmarket, or whatever your name is—what legal proofs have you that the girl belongs to you?”
The woman winced in surprise, and Amy and Linda looked at Mike with admiration. How clever of him to think of that!
The stranger drew herself up haughtily.
“I confess I did not bring legal proofs,” she said. “I thought that after sacrificing the best years of my life to bringing up Helen, that she would know me, and want to come to me. But it seems that I cannot expect love or gratitude.”
“Well, you can’t expect us to turn her over to a person she dislikes, unless that person has a right to her,” returned Linda.
“Very well,” concluded the other. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back with the proofs. And you are going to be sorry for your insolence, Miss Linda Carlton!”
With this final remark, she turned and left the house.
“Whew!” exclaimed Mike, wiping his forehead. “She’s a hot one. But I think there’s something fishy about her, besides her name. I don’t believe she’s your aunt at all, Helen.”
“Don’t call me that!” pleaded the girl. “That name means nothing to me, and I am used to being called ‘Amy’ now.”
“All right, dear,” agreed Linda. “Now don’t think any more about it. You’ll be my adopted sister, for as long as you like—” She turned to the boy, “Mike, you are a bright man—I certainly am thankful we had you here!”
The young man blushed vividly over his freckles, and suggested that they go on with their swim as they had planned.
Drying her eyes, Amy ran off to get into her suit, but Linda remained some minutes where she was, thinking. It was queer—terribly queer. The woman was so unlike Amy, so different a type, so common—so really vulgar. Yet Amy was one of the sweetest, most refined little girls Linda had ever met; she might almost have been brought up by her own Aunt Emily, from the training she showed. Yet if the woman weren’t a relation what could she possibly want with Amy? The child was obviously poor; what could be the reason, unless it were love?
Linda sighed; the problem was too much for her. So, as she often did with other difficulties, she put it aside while she flung herself wholeheartedly into the inspection of her autogiro.
Dressed in overalls, and covered with grease, but satisfied that her afternoon’s work had been worthwhile, she returned to the house just in time for supper. She parked her roadster in the garage and dashed into the house, hoping to be able to get to her own room to dress before anyone saw her. But she was unsuccessful; Harriman Smith was waiting for her in the living room.
“Hello, Harry!” she exclaimed, laughing. “Don’t look at me! I’m a sight. But if you’ll just give me fifteen minutes——”
“You look fine, Linda!” protested the boy, thinking that her blue overalls were becoming and that her hair was all the more attractive when it blew around her face. “You see,” he continued, talking rapidly, “I’m in a hurry. I’m here because I have bad news—at least bad for me, though it will be good news for some other lucky fellow. I have to go back to work to-night, and that means I can’t go in the treasure hunt with you to-morrow.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry!” she exclaimed, with genuine regret.
“Another fellow in the company got sick, and so they just had to recall me,” he explained. “I shouldn’t have cared so much if it had happened Monday, but I was looking forward to this affair a great deal.”
“I’m awfully disappointed, too,” said Linda, wondering whether she would go alone or ask somebody else.
“Thanks, Linda—I really appreciate that. When there is a whole stag line just dying for the honor— But Linda, may I ask a favor?”
“Why, yes, certainly, Harry.”
“Don’t take Lord What’s-his-name in my place. Anybody but him!”
“Why?” asked Linda in surprise, not that she had the slightest idea of doing any such thing, but because she wanted to know Harry’s reason. Unlike Ralph Clavering, Harriman Smith never stooped to petty jealousy.
“Well—I want to be fair, but—there’s something slimy about that man.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, he’s too smooth. None of us fellows like him. It’s not because he’s an Englishman—I’ve known several of them, and thought them O.K., but—well—he just doesn’t click with me. So will you take somebody else?”
Linda smiled.
“I wouldn’t take Lord Dudley anyway, Harry, because he has gone away,” she replied. “But I really think you’re unfair about him. It’s because he’s a lot older than all you boys that he seems so different. He’s halfway between us and our parents. That sort of makes him a different generation.”
“You do like him, don’t you, Linda?” persisted the young man, keeping his eyes fastened on her, fearing her answer.
Linda shrugged her shoulders.
“You needn’t worry, Harry,” she said. She was silent a moment, thinking of something different. “I know what I’ll do!” she cried. “I’ll take Amy with me!”
“Amy!”
“Yes. The kid is crazy about planes. She’s afraid of a lot of things, like the water, and the dark, and a strange woman who came here to-day, but she adores flying. And she hates to be left alone.”
“Well, that’s O.K. with me!” exclaimed Harry, with a sigh of relief. It was better than he had expected. “Now I must say good-by, Linda. I just have time to get supper and catch my train.”
Linda hurried into her bath as soon as the young man left, and in half an hour she was ready for supper, when she told Amy her good fortune about being included in the hunt. The girl was so delighted that she almost forgot the unpleasant experience of the morning. But Miss Carlton, who had listened gravely to the story when she returned from her shopping trip, was worried.
The day after Mrs. Fishberry’s visit to the Carlton bungalow, the woman stepped off the train at Chicago and took a taxicab to an apartment house in the center of that city. Ringing the bell three times, she was finally admitted by a man about her own age.
“Hello, Ed,” was her greeting.
“Well, Elsie,” he said, questioningly, as she drew off her gloves and seated herself in a large leather chair. The apartment was obviously that of a bachelor, furnished by the hotel, in a style that one would expect to appeal to a man.
“Did you see the kid?” he asked, as he lighted a cigarette.
“Yeah. But she didn’t like me. Claimed she never saw me before, and that I’m not her real aunt.”
“Well, of course, you aren’t,” he observed, in a matter of fact tone.
“No, but I will be soon—when you and I are married. You’re surely her uncle, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. No doubt about that.”
“Well, then——”
“We won’t be married till we make sure we get the money!” he announced, firmly.
The woman looked sulky.
“You’ve got the money, haven’t you?” she demanded. “The girl’s father is dead, isn’t he?”
“Listen, Elsie,” he said, irritably. “I’ve told you about this before, but you can’t seem to get it through your thick head. There were two of us boys, and the old man. My mother died young. Well, I was supposed to be a ‘bad egg,’ but my brother was everything my father admired. That’s the kid’s father, you see. He married early, but soon after the child was born he and his wife were killed in an automobile accident. So, of course, Dad—the kid’s grandfather—took her to raise.”
“But I’ve heard all that!” interrupted Mrs. Fishberry.
“Sure you have. But you don’t understand about the old man’s money. It seems he left a will hidden in the house, and nobody could find it. And I happen to know that he meant all his money to go to the kid, and not a cent to me.”
He smiled, in a way that was always fascinating to women, and Elsie Fishberry smiled, too. How clever he was!
“Lucky thing for me,” he continued, “that the will was lost! I might have had to work all these years!”
“Well, you got the money!” she concluded, happily. “So it beats me why you want more, when the old man left a hundred thousand dollars!”
Ed frowned impatiently.
“I tell you I haven’t got it, Elsie! Why can’t you believe me?”
“Then how is it that you live in luxury while that kid and her nurse almost starved in that old house?”
“Because a Trust Company still keeps charge of the bonds. They won’t hand ’em over to me till the girl dies, or till the old man’s will is found. But they give me the income, and I’m supposed to let the nurse have some of it to take care of the kid.”
The woman laughed harshly.
“Did you ever give her a cent?”
“Yes. You’d be surprised. I visited the old place two or three times and gave the woman five dollars. Once the kid almost drowned in the Fox River, when I was there.”
“I guess you didn’t do anything to save her!” laughed Mrs. Fishberry.
“No, I can’t say that I did. It would have been easier for me if she had died. But a couple of boys happened along and fished her out.”
“Didn’t she yell for help?”
“Sure. But I pretended I was deaf. And that nurse really is deaf—she’s so old. About eighty, I figured. She took care of me and my brother—the kid’s father—when we were children.”
“And where is that nurse now?”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe at home—maybe out looking for the kid.”
“That reminds me what I specially wanted to tell you,” remarked Mrs. Fishberry. “So long as they won’t believe I’m the child’s aunt—they call her ‘Amy,’ you know—we’ve got to dig up some pictures and records to prove it.”
“You meanyou’vegot to dig them up—at the old house,” corrected Ed. “I’m not going near the place till Monday, and then I’m going to set it on fire.”
“Set it on fire!” exclaimed the other, in horror.
“Sure. If the Trust Company knows that the place is burned, they will give up all hope of finding the will, and hand out the old man’s bonds to me. After all, I’m the real heir. I’m the son, and this kid is only a granddaughter, even if Dad did like her better than me.”
“You’re a wise one,” remarked Mrs. Fishberry, with admiration. “But suppose that old nurse happens to be inside—and catches you?”
“I’ve thought of that. I’m going disguised as an old man, and I expect to work at night, anyway. Don’t worry, Elsie—I’m not going to bungle this— But you get those pictures before Monday—they ought to be in the family Bible and the album on the parlor table. I’ll map out the directions how to get to the house.”
“Suppose the nurse is there?”
“If she is, don’t say anything about the kid. Just tell her that I sent you for the stuff. After all, I’ve got a right to ’em.”
“And if she isn’t there, how’ll I get in?”
“I’ll give you my key.”
The woman was silent for a moment, thinking rapidly.
“Listen, Ed,” she said, finally, “if you’re going to get all that money in bonds from your father’s estate, let’s give up this other scheme. It’s not worth it.”
The man jumped up angrily.
“Not worth it!” he snarled, and his face was far from attractive now. “Not worth it for twenty-five thousand dollars!”
“We may not get it,” she whimpered.
“Oh, yeah? Well, if we don’t, it’ll be your fault! Because you balled up the works. Listen, Elsie, did you do what I asked when you were at the Carltons’? Suggest that you believed it was Linda Carlton hit the kid with her autogiro, and not a car?”
“Yeah. I did. But I don’t believe they hardly took it in.”
“Linda Carlton’ll take it in when we sue her for damages. I think maybe we better ask fifty thousand, and then we’ll be sure to get twenty-five.”
“Are you sure Linda has twenty-five thousand?”
“Positive. Didn’t she get that for her ocean flight?”
“Sure. But maybe she blew it in on clothes,” suggested the woman.
“Somehow I don’t believe she did,” replied Ed, with a knowing smile. Then, abruptly he frowned. “Elsie, you’ve got to get hold of that kid and take her away somewheres—pretend it’s her old home. It’s a lucky break for us that she lost her memory.”
“I’ll say so.”
Suddenly Mrs. Fishberry jumped up and darted over to her host’s chair, seating herself on the arm.
“Listen, Ed,” she said, coyly taking his hand, “have you thought that we’ve got to be married before this suit comes into court, if you don’t want to appear in it? If I sue for damages, I’ve got to be the child’s real aunt.”
The man laughed.
“You win, Elsie! O.K. with me. You get those pictures by Sunday, and the kid too, and I’ll get the license. We’ll get married Monday morning.”
Mrs. Fishberry stood up, satisfied. She had won everything she wanted. The plan was simple; she would go out in the country to that old house on the Fox River on Saturday, and get her pictures and records. On Sunday she would take them to the Carltons’, and demand that the young girl come away with her. She would return to Chicago and put the child into an insane asylum, from which there would be no hope of escape. On Monday, Mrs. Fishberry would be married to Ed Tower, and after the old house was burned to the ground, they would go on their honeymoon. When they returned, they would collect the small fortune from the Trust Company and proceed to sue Miss Linda Carlton for the sum of fifty thousand dollars!
She did not see a single flaw in the plan, for if the young girl was in an asylum, there would be no one to protest.
“I think Mr. Clavering is too optimistic,” remarked Miss Carlton at the breakfast table Saturday morning. “It doesn’t seem possible to me that all seven planes will come through that treasure hunt without any mishaps. And if someone is injured, nobody would feel like having a week-end party at that Inn.”
“Nothing’s going to happen, Aunt Emily,” Linda replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She and Amy were both dressed for the flight, and anxious to get off.
Miss Carlton rose from the table and kissed her niece good-by. She and half a dozen of the older folks were going by boat across Lake Michigan, and then on by automobile to Lake Winnebago, where the party was to be held.
“I hope you win, dear,” she said. “And don’t forget to take the lunch Anna has packed for you.”
“We’ll see you to-night, Auntie,” returned Linda. “At the Inn.”