The two girls rushed at each other in joy, and Dot bounded around the house to join in the happy reunion.
“First I’m going to get some fresh air and some fresh water,” announced Helen. “Then let’s go.”
“Go?” repeated Linda. “Why, we just came.”
Helen looked puzzled.
“But didn’t you come for me?” she asked. “And now that you’ve set me free——”
“We weren’t sure that you’d be here,” explained Linda. “In fact, we didn’t expect to find you—we thought you were with Mrs. Fishberry. We really came to explore.”
“Explore?”
“Yes. The tower—the ghost you were so frightened of.” Linda did not add that she had seen it herself.
“Oh, maybe that was my imagination,” returned Helen, lightly. “I don’t care about it now that everything has come back. All I want is to find my old nurse—Mrs. Smalley.”
“Mrs. Smalley?” repeated Dot. “You don’t mean Mrs. Fishberry?”
“No, I don’t. I’ll tell you all about it, while we explore the house, if you insist on doing that.”
So, as the girls walked about from room to room, examining everything, peeping into closets, inspecting Helen’s bedroom, the girl told them the story of her life. They listened breathlessly, sharing with her the intense desire to find the dear old nurse who had been all the mother Helen had ever known.
Both Dot and Linda agreed that it was necessary to set to work at once, but Linda was not willing to leave until she had visited that tower. Though Helen had been able to put the vision of the ghost out of her mind, Linda could not do it so easily. She had seen for herself—in daylight.
“We’ll go as soon as we have a look at the tower,” she agreed. “But I’ve just got to go up there, Helen. Please show us the way.”
The girl shuddered.
“I’m afraid something may happen, Linda. I—I don’t want to go.”
“Well, just show us the staircase, and you can stay at the bottom of it and wait for us.”
“But I’m as much afraid for you as I am for myself,” she insisted.
“Nevertheless, I’ve got to go. It may have something to do with Mrs. Fishberry—it may help clear things up. By the way, Helen, do you remember her now?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you remember your uncle?”
“Only that there was one, and neither Mrs. Smalley nor my grandfather liked him. They both said he was wicked.”
“He may be up in this tower, ready to spring at us with a gun,” suggested Dot. “That would be worse than a ghost.”
Helen led the way to the third floor of the big old house, and thence to a room which was scarcely more than a closet, with a spiral staircase which ascended to the tower. Linda went up first, followed by Dot, while Helen slowly mounted after them.
It was so dark that had it not been for the flashlight, Linda would never have noticed the door at the top. This opened inward, and she stepped into the tower room. But it, too, was pitch black—a fact which she could not explain when she recalled seeing at least two windows in the tower from the autogiro.
“What a horrible place!” exclaimed Dot, as she too reached the top. “Such a musty smell! And dust!”
“Are you still alive?” came a faint voice from below, and a moment later Helen joined them.
“Better close that door,” advised Linda. “We don’t want to fall down the steps.”
“Where are the windows?” demanded Dot.
“Behind those curtains,” cried Linda, making the discovery as she turned her flashlight upon a heavy drapery which hung over the wall.
“Let’s pull them down and get some daylight,” she suggested. Grasping them with both hands, she gave a tremendous pull, and the heavy curtains fell to the floor in a heap.
The sight which she disclosed made all three girls cry out in horror. The ghost which both Linda and Helen had seen was revealed to them now!
Helen hid her head on Dot’s shoulder, but Linda was no longer afraid. Seen from behind, for the figure was facing the window, it was by no means so gruesome. A human skeleton had been draped with a black cloak, and the hollows in the bones of its face had been filled with some preparation like wax. When she examined it closely, Linda saw that the eyes were glass, probably covered with some phosphorous compound, to make them gleam. And the hands, which had especially confounded her on that previous occasion, were actually moving now. But there was a reason: a light string attached them to each other, and a small weight slid along the string, pulling first one hand down and then the other. It was clever and ingenious—and horrible.
But Linda could not help laughing at herself for being fooled so.
“It looks like a college boy’s prank,” she said, as Helen was finally induced to examine it for herself. “I suppose your father or your uncle did it in their youth—to frighten the other boys. And they must have forgotten all about it, and left it here.”
“Maybe my uncle did it on purpose to frighten me,” remarked Helen. “I think he had some reason for wanting Mrs. Smalley and me to move—perhaps so that he could get the house for himself.”
“Possibly,” admitted Linda.
“Well, let’s pull the old thing down, anyway,” suggested Dot. “No use frightening the countryside. And hadn’t we better take down the other curtains and see whether there are any more?”
Linda turned about and pulled at another drapery. This, however, disclosed only a bare window. A third showed a blank wall behind. Then she and Dot proceeded to dismantle the ghost and to pile it into the corner. It was while they were doing this that a panel fell out of the wall.
“More mysteries!” exclaimed Dot, excitedly. “Here’s a hidden closet. Maybe we’ll find some money!”
“Or a lost will,” added Linda, jokingly, never thinking that she had guessed the very thing.
“How did you know, Linda?” demanded Dot, picking up the yellowed packet. “That’s exactly what it is! What was your grandfather’s name, Helen?”
“Henry Adolph Tower,” replied the girl. “I never knew that he left a will. Is it his?”
“Yes. Oh, come on over here, Linda—give me your flashlight. It’s getting dark in here again. Let’s read it!”
So busy had the girls been that they had hardly noticed the fading light until they tried to read the words on the written and printed pages. But they had not started from Lake Winnebago until three o’clock, and the flight had been a considerable distance.
Breathlessly, Dot read out the formal, legal words of the will, picking her way slowly among the unfamiliar terms. But there could be no doubt about the contents. Henry Adolph Tower had left the house and grounds and the sum of one hundred thousand dollars in bonds and cash to his granddaughter Helen, and a bequest of five thousand dollars to Mrs. Smalley. A Trust Company in Chicago had these in keeping until the will should be probated.
Helen’s eyes were gleaming and her cheeks were flaming. She simply could not believe her good fortune. Oh, if she could only tell dear old Nana about it, this very minute!
“Now aren’t you glad we came up here?” demanded Dot.
“I should say I am,” she replied. “Oh, Linda—and Dot—you have done so much for me!”
“What’s that queer smell?” asked Linda abruptly changing the subject.
“Something’s burning,” said Dot.
“I wonder if I left any beans on cooking,” remarked Helen. “I was so excited when I heard you girls come in that plane, that I don’t remember whether I left the oil stove burning or not.”
“Could the kitchen be on fire?” demanded Dot, holding the will tightly in her hands. “Girls, we’ve got to get out of here!”
Taking the flashlight Linda led the way down the staircase and opened the door of the small room that led to the hall. An overpowering cloud of smoke rushed against her, stifling her so that she closed the door immediately again.
“Stay here!” she commanded to the others, who had just come down the spiral staircase. “Keep the door closed, while I see whether I can force my way through. The house is on fire!”
Closing the door again, she crept out on her hands and knees through the smoke-filled passageway. The atmosphere was dense with the smoke, so overpowering that Linda gasped helplessly for breath. But she pushed onward to the main staircase, only to see that great wooden structure already in flames.
With a cry of terror she crept back to the door of the room that led to the tower, and fell with a dull thud against it. Dot rushed forward and opened the door, and knew from one look at her chum’s face that escape through the house was impossible.
“Come back to the tower!” she cried, “where we can get some air through the windows!”
But Linda only leaned weakly against the steps. She could not answer.
“We’ll have to carry her, Helen!” Dot said. “Take hold of her feet. I’d rather jump from the tower if I have to die than be burned alive!”
Together the two girls managed to get Linda up the steps and once there they shattered the glass of the tower windows, for they could not raise them. The fresh air was reviving; Linda was able to stand up and lean out of the window while the others cried for help.
At that very moment, Mike O’Malley drove up to the house in his car, followed by a huge telephone repair truck!
When Mrs. Fishberry left Helen Tower locked in the empty house on Saturday evening, to take a train back to Chicago, she was exceedingly pleased with herself. Everything had turned out wonderfully, she believed, and she would soon be married to a rich man. When the law suit was over she would go abroad with Ed—or perhaps join him abroad, for he seemed to think it was necessary to get out of the country immediately. Well, perhaps he was a little bit crooked——
But Mrs. Fishberry did not believe him to be as wicked as he really was. She thought that perhaps Linda Carlton had hit Helen with her autogiro, and though there was no real witness to the accident except Dorothy Crowley, Mrs. Fishberry did not consider it wrong to bribe someone to make up the testimony. After all, Linda Carlton must be rich; there was no reason why she shouldn’t part with some of her money. The girl was always winning prizes—probably without much effort on her part, Mrs. Fishberry believed.
She was so late getting into Chicago that night that she waited until Sunday noon to call Ed. She was anxious to tell him of her success, not only in obtaining the pictures and the records about his niece, but of securing the girl herself under lock and key. Ed would rejoice at the news, for he had not expected her to accomplish this feat before Sunday.
To her dismay, however, a strange voice answered the telephone in Ed’s apartment. When Mrs. Fishberry gave him her name, he explained that he was Leo Epstein, the lawyer whom Tower had employed to take charge of the damage suit against Linda Carlton.
“And I have sent a telegram to Miss Carlton, informing her of our intentions,” he said.
“In my name?” demanded Mrs. Fishberry.
“Yes, of course.”
“But I’m not married to Mr. Tower yet,” she protested. “It won’t be legal for me to sue Miss Carlton unless I’m the girl’s real aunt.”
“It’ll be legal by the time the case comes up. Those things take a long time—unless Miss Carlton is willing to settle out of court. Maybe she will pay us twenty-five thousand dollars to keep us from suing her.”
“She’ll never do that!” asserted Mrs. Fishberry.
“Why do you say that?” asked the lawyer. “Mr. Tower seemed to think that there might be some chance of it.”
“Because I know Miss Carlton. She isn’t the sort of person to run away from trouble. And Mr. Tower doesn’t know Miss Carlton, or he wouldn’t think she would.”
“Hm,” remarked Mr. Epstein.
“Well, when will Mr. Tower be back?” the woman inquired impatiently. “I would like to be married before we get the girl.”
“That isn’t possible, Mrs. Fishberry,” he said. “And it really doesn’t make a bit of difference. Mr. Tower is out of town now and may not be back for several days. He left word for me to tell you to call him up at the Central Hotel in Milwaukee to-morrow morning, if you had anything to say to him that was important. I suppose if you wanted to see him, you could go there. That is the only message I have, Mrs. Fishberry.”
“I see,” replied the other, as she hung up the receiver. She was so angry at the way Ed Tower did things, the way he never seemed to consider what she wanted to do, that she thought of going home to Montana, and dropping her part in the affair. After all, was it worth it? What was she going to get out of it? And she certainly didn’t want to have to look after Helen Tower for the rest of her life.
Ed was certainly a selfish man. Oh, he was attractive, and nice if he wanted to be, but wasn’t he just using her now to help him get this money? How was she to be sure that he would ever share it with her if he did get it?
She would have dropped the whole thing then and there—for Mrs. Fishberry had never been a dishonest woman before—had it not been for the thought of poor Helen Tower locked alone in that empty house. Although she had no love for the girl, and believed her to be feeble-minded, she could not bear the thought of her being burned alive, as she might be if Ed went alone to the house without knowing that Helen was there. No; Mrs. Fishberry couldn’t back out now. She’d have to take the sleeper to Milwaukee in time to be there in the morning, to go with Ed and rescue the girl.
A little after eight o’clock the following morning she arrived at the Central Hotel and was informed that Mr. Tower was at breakfast. She joined him, for she had eaten nothing on the train.
“Hello, there, Elsie!” he cried, cheerily, as she seated herself at the table with him. “Have you found my niece?”
“Yes,” she replied, briefly.
“Where is she now?”
“Locked in the empty house.”
“But we don’t want her there!” he stormed. “Of all the fool places to leave her—” He stopped, remembering that he was in a public place, and refused to discuss the subject until they were both seated in his gray open roadster, speeding away from Milwaukee somewhat later in the day.
It was then that Mrs. Fishberry insisted upon an explanation of his disapproval of what she had done with Helen.
“I don’t see why I should have been bothered with her over Sunday,” she said resentfully, “when you were off having a good time!”
“Oh, is that so?” he retorted, in irritation. “Well, I told you to get hold of her—and keep her. Now if she sees me set fire to the house, how’s that going to fix me with the police?”
“I never thought of that,” admitted Mrs. Fishberry.
“That’s the trouble with you! You never think! Well, we’ll have to think of something now.”
They drove along at a rapid rate after leaving the city, stopping only once to have an early dinner at a wayside inn. It was then that the man decided upon a plan.
“I think the best idea is for you to drive when we get in sight of the house, and I’ll get out and hide somewhere while I put on a disguise. You take the key and go into the house and get the kid. But when you get outside again, you’ll have to pretend that there’s something the matter with the car, because I want it left for me. So you and the kid can walk to the station. I won’t sneak up to the house till after you’re well out of sight, so as Helen won’t see it burning.”
“That’s all very well for you,” objected the woman, “but not so good for me. You know it’s at least five miles to the station!”
“Can’t help that! It’s your fault for not thinking what would happen if you left the kid in that house.”
“Oh, all right,” she agreed, sullenly. There seemed to be nothing else to do.
But this plan was naturally never carried out, for the simple reason that when Mrs. Fishberry arrived a little after seven o’clock, the girl was nowhere to be found. A hasty glance at the broken lock on the front door, the open kitchen door, and the smashed windows assured her that Helen had made her escape. It never occurred to her to suspect that the latter might be somewhere else in the house—or in the tower. She felt relieved that she was gone; she was tired of the whole affair.
She ran back to her companion with the news. He fairly snorted with anger.
“Balled everything up, didn’t you?” he cried.
Mrs. Fishberry stood still and laughed. He was such a funny-looking object in that disguise—a gray wig and a false beard, and a long linen duster. Though the sun had set, it was not yet dark, and she could plainly see him, crouched under some bushes.
“You’re a sight!” she sneered. “And I bet they catch you!”
“What’s the matter with you, Elsie?” he demanded.
“Nothing—oh, nothing,” she replied hastily, but already she had decided that she was through with Ed Tower.
The man came out of his hiding place and lifted a suitcase from the rear of his car. But he did not think to ask Elsie Fishberry for the key, and here he made a mistake which he was to regret bitterly later on.
He trudged along up the path to the house, afraid to hurry lest someone see him and suspect him. If he walked along like an ordinary old peddler, nobody would think anything about him.
But once inside the house, he did not loiter a minute. Opening up his suitcase, he took out great wads of cotton waste which had been previously soaked in oil. These he piled under the huge wooden staircase, and applied a match. As the rags burst into flames he hurriedly left the house, carefully closing the door behind him.
Before he had reached the road he could see the smoke pouring through the chimney of the fireplace, and out of the broken kitchen window. There was no doubt that he had succeeded in setting the house on fire, no doubt that it would burn to the ground. By to-morrow the news would have reached the papers. On Wednesday he ought to be able to go to the Trust Company in Chicago and collect that money which was his father’s small fortune. For now at last the officials would be assured that Henry Adolph Tower’s will could never be found.
He chuckled to himself with satisfaction as he reached the road and looked about for his car. But that chuckle abruptly changed to an oath as he failed to see it. It was gone! Elsie Fishberry had double-crossed him, and had run away!
For a few minutes he stood there in the road, hoping that she was only playing a practical joke upon him, and that she would suddenly drive into sight. But as the time passed he gave up hoping, and snatching off his wig and his beard, he flung them, with his linen coat, into the bushes, and started on his five-mile hike to the station.
The very cause of Mike O’Malley’s delay in arriving at the empty house on Monday evening proved to be the thing that saved the three girls in the tower. It was the huge ladder on the telephone repair truck.
When Mike left the girls on Sunday with his promise to help them, he drove straight back to Milwaukee to give the story of the treasure hunt to his newspaper. At the same time he asked for Monday afternoon off, in order to follow the “Linda Carlton Mystery,” as he called the accident to Helen Tower. When this leave was granted he sat down in his boarding-house bedroom to contemplate what he had better take with him.
“There’s something in that tower that mystifies Miss Linda,” he said to himself. “And she seems to think it is closed off from the rest of the house. I wonder how we could get in.”
He had all sorts of ideas—of going up in the autogiro and coming down in a parachute, of jumping from the “Ladybug” to the window—but, of course, these things wouldn’t do, because most likely the windows would be closed and locked. No; a ladder was the only solution; but how could he carry a ladder on his little Ford?
It was one of his brothers who solved the problem for him. As he had told Miss Carlton on the occasion of his first visit to the bungalow at Green Falls, Mike O’Malley was one of a large family. Two of his brothers had left the farm for jobs in Milwaukee, and one of these was with the telephone company. Pat—for that was his name—would be the very person to help!
It was easily arranged, the only difficulty being that his brother could not leave until four o’clock. However, the boys planned to meet outside of the city, thereby avoiding the worst of the traffic, and they made good speed along the country road. A little before eight, supperless but happy, they drove up to the empty house.
“We’re too late!” shouted Pat, leaning out of his truck. “She’s on fire!”
Mike had been pretty sure of this fact several minutes earlier, when he had noticed some smoke in the sky, but he had said nothing. They must go on, he had decided, for Linda and Dot might be trapped inside.
“We better get out of here,” called Pat, above the noise of the two engines. “Don’t forget we’ve got gas, and both our cars may explode.”
“Pull over there in the field,” directed Mike, briefly. “I’ve got to make sure that the girls are safe.”
And then they heard the cries, the wild terrified screams of those three girls trapped in the tower of the burning house.
There wasn’t a moment to be lost. Pat took down his extension ladder, and directed Mike how to help him get it up. They worked as fast as they could, but the task appeared to be endless to the tortured girls, watching them in breathless silence from the high windows. It seemed to them as if the ladder would never reach to their height.
“Wish I was a real fireman,” was the only remark which Mike made during the whole tense proceeding.
The flames were reaching the roof of the house now, and smoke was streaming from the tower windows. Forcing his hands not to shake, Mike held the ladder while Pat pulled it to its full height. There was one terrible moment, while they all waited to see whether it would reach to the edge of the window— It did! The boys let out a cry of, “Ready now! Come down, girls!” and held tightly—and prayed.
Dot leaned out of the window to make sure that the ladder was firmly gripping the ledge, and to Mike’s surprise, neither she nor Linda climbed out, but little Helen instead. Holding on to Dot’s hand, the young girl stepped over, and made her perilous way down the ladder, to the ground.
There was a slight delay, while more smoke poured from the windows. Evidently Dot and Linda were arguing about who should come next, but Dot had to give in, for she knew it was of no use to try to withstand Linda. So she climbed over the ledge and started downward, only to see the window ledge itself catch fire when she was halfway down!
If Linda had been wearing a dress instead of knickers, there would have been little hope for her now. But as it was she managed to straddle the flame and to step on the ladder, just as it, too, caught fire at the top. It swayed for one dreadful second, but the boys held tightly, and pushed it farther against the wall. No one ever came down a ladder faster than Linda Carlton at that moment; it seemed as if her feet scarcely touched the rungs. When she was finally only six feet above the ground she jumped. It was none too soon; the ladder gave way, and the young people all ran to safety.
“Mike!” cried Linda joyously grasping his hands in an ecstasy of relief: “You’re a wonder! How did you ever know to bring a ladder?”
The young man was too excited to talk. He couldn’t say a word.
“We must get these cars out of the way,” ordered Pat, who had not even been introduced. “Let’s all meet down by the road.”
“O.K.,” agreed Mike, signaling to Helen to get into his Ford.
“My ‘Ladybug!’” exclaimed Linda abruptly. She had all but forgotten it. Suppose it were burned!
“Want any help?” asked Mike, as Pat started to drive his truck down to the road.
“No, thanks. But take Dot and Helen with you. I’ll meet you there—I hope!”
Running as fast as she could, keeping her face turned from the intense heat of the fire, she passed the barn and saw that it too was beginning to burn. Oh, if the “Ladybug” were only safe! Next to their lives she valued her trusted autogiro. Insurance would mean little to her; it was this particular plane that she loved, almost as if it were a horse or a dog.
But, miraculously, it was all right, though she realized that she was just in time, for now that the barn was burning, a spark might fly any moment that would set it into flames. Never before had she been so quick in starting its engine. Thank goodness it was in perfect condition, after her work of the morning!
As soon as she had left the ground she circled down to the road, and saw the lights of the truck and the Ford, for it was almost dark now. Selecting a field opposite, she landed her autogiro again and ran across to join the group around the cars.
All the young people had by this time regained their spirits and were talking excitedly and happily, asking each other questions, hardly waiting for explanations, and all shouting at once. Though Pat O’Malley had been a stranger to the girls fifteen minutes before, he now seemed like one of their best friends.
“If we only had something to eat!” sighed Mike, “my joy would be complete.”
“Didn’t you boys have any supper?” demanded Dot. It was quite dark now, it must be after eight o’clock, she thought.
“No. Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you, Helen?” inquired Mike, who still had only a hazy idea how the young girl had happened to be there.
“No. And I only had dried lima beans for lunch.”
“The nearest village is about five miles,” volunteered Pat. “I’ve worked along this road before. Shall we all pile into my truck and hunt it?”
“I couldn’t leave my autogiro—” began Linda, when Dot interrupted with a suggestion. She had just remembered the food she had brought from the inn at Lake Winnebago.
“Wait!” she cried, joyfully. “I’ve got chicken sandwiches and peaches in the plane! Does that sound good?”
“Does it sound good!” repeated Mike. “Oh, boy!”
Linda and the two young men ran over to the field immediately, and returned in a few minutes, their arms piled with boxes and the thermos bottles of water which Linda always carried in the “Ladybug.” Going over to the bank beside the road, they all sat down while Dot untied the bundles.
“I’ll have to count the sandwiches and divide them evenly,” she said, laughingly. “Just as if we were all starving Armenians.”
“I think Helen should get the most,” suggested Mike. “She really has almost starved.”
“Oh, this is great!” exclaimed Dot, as she examined the boxes. “There are ten sandwiches—and six peaches—and—and——”
“And what?” demanded Pat, hungrily.
“And two apple pies!”
Both boys let out a whistle, and Helen clapped her hands.
“But how did you two girls ever expect to eat all that for your supper?” asked Pat.
Dot giggled.
“I told the cook to put in a lot,” she replied, “because when Linda and I go off on trips we never know how long we’ll be stranded.”
“But there aren’t any desert islands around here,” remarked Mike, who had heard the story of the girls’ adventures in the Okefenokee Swamp.
“No, but you never can tell,” returned Dot. “Now—fall to! Here are two sandwiches and a peach for each one of you, and Helen gets the extra peach.”
They ate silently for several minutes, everybody too hungry to talk. Suddenly Helen stopped in the act of breaking her second peach in two, and cried in dismay,
“Dot! We forgot the will!”
“What will?” demanded Mike.
Linda explained briefly, while Dot reached down into her blouse. Even in the darkness they could all see the yellowed packet which she triumphantly held up to their view.
“I wasn’t going to let that get away!” she announced, proudly.
She handed it to Mike who, with the aid of his flashlight, examined it with the greatest satisfaction.
“That’s bully, Helen!” he cried, when he had seen enough of it to make sure that it was legal. “And don’t let the Fish get any of the money!”
“You’re not planning to go back to her, are you?” asked Linda. She was thinking of the law suit, and wondering how Mrs. Fishberry could sue her if Helen denied ever having known her.
“I certainly am not!” replied the girl, emphatically.
Dot proceeded to cut the pies, which they ate perhaps less ravenously, but at least with as great enjoyment as the sandwiches, while they discussed what they would do next.
“I’ve got to get back to Milwaukee to-night,” announced Pat, as he began to collect the sandwich papers into a pile.
“So do I,” agreed Mike. “Anybody want to come with me?”
“No, thank you,” replied Linda, rising from the ground. “I’ll take both the girls back to Green Falls with me in the ‘Ladybug.’”
“You aren’t afraid to fly at night?” inquired Pat.
“Mercy no! The only thing I’m worried about is Aunt Emily. She expected us for supper.”
“Perhaps she didn’t get there herself,” suggested Mike. “They had a motor trip and a boat trip both you know.”
“But Mr. Clavering’s cars and boats are always reliable,” returned Linda. “Oh, well, so long as we arrive before midnight, I don’t suppose that she’ll be terribly worried.”
“We’ll wait here till we see you safely up in the air,” concluded Mike. “Then Pat and I will be going.”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed his brother, who had just finished his task of picking up the papers. “Look what I’ve found over here in the bushes!”
To the amazement of everyone, he held up a gray wig and beard, and a linen coat to their view.
“What are they?” demanded Linda, as Pat turned the flashlight upon his discovery.
“Looks like a Hallowe’en suit,” volunteered Mike. “But what is it doing here?”
“Helen,” asked Dot, turning to the young girl, “can you remember having any masquerade parties at your house?”
“We never hadanyparties,” she replied. “We were too poor. On my birthdays Nana—I mean Mrs. Smalley—would make cookies, and she and I and my doll would play it was a party. That was all.”
Linda was silent. There had been something familiar about the beard in particular, for it was bigger and longer than most real ones. Now she remembered what it reminded her of.
“Remember that old man who knocked Helen down, Dot?” she inquired.
A smile broke over Dot’s face.
“Of course! A disguise! I never could understand why a man apparently so aged would be driving at that reckless rate of speed. He wasn’t old at all, I guess!”
“By George, that’s the answer!” cried Mike, positively elated by the discovery. “Now all we’ve got to do is to catch the man. Helen, have you any idea who he could be?”
“I’m afraid,” answered the girl reluctantly, “that he’s my uncle. And if he is, you won’t catch him. He’s wicked—and clever.”
“Anyhow, we’ll try,” Mike assured her. “Shall I take charge of this stuff, while I see what can be done?”
Helen nodded, and he walked with the girls over the field to the “Ladybug,” and stood watching Linda take off into the sky. Fascinated, he continued to gaze at the autogiro until its light was all that he could see—a little spark of flame in the heavens—and then he turned about and joined his brother across the road.
It was a strange and wonderful experience to Helen Tower to fly at night—for on that other occasion she had been only semi-conscious—and she was more thrilled than she had ever been in her life. No longer did the darkness frighten her; the immensity of the heavens, the brightness of the stars, the exhilaration of the swift motion through the air all held her entranced. She did not try to say a word to Dot who was sitting so close to her; she only watched the sky with wide-open eyes.
It was cold, up there in the skies, in the night, but all the girls were dressed warmly, for even Helen wore the flyer’s suit which she had put on Saturday morning for the treasure hunt. How many things had happened in the meanwhile; yet here she was riding back to Green Falls in the autogiro, just as she had expected to do!
The night was calm and pleasant, and Linda felt sure of her way. She made the journey in record time, crossing Lake Michigan, and arriving at the airport long before midnight. Before summoning a taxicab, she hastened to telephone to her aunt.
“Hello, Aunt Emily,” she said. “I’m so sorry we had to be late——”
“Are you speaking from long distance, Linda?” asked the older woman, immediately. “Where are you? And are you all right—you and Dot both?”
Linda laughed. It was exactly what Miss Carlton always asked, every time her niece took the autogiro up in the air.
“Of course we are!” she replied. “And we’re right here at Green Falls airport.”
“Oh, that’s a relief, dear! I was so worried. Ralph is here with me, waiting for news. I’ll send him right over in his car.”
“That’s fine, Aunt Emily. And by the way, we have Helen—Amy, you know—with us.”
“That’s good news! And tell her that I have some news to tell her, too. I hope that she will find it good this time—not like Mrs. Fishberry’s surprise visit.”
“What is it?”
“Better wait and see,” replied Miss Carlton. “Ralph’s leaving now—see you in ten minutes—good-by dear.”
Linda turned to Dot, who had just finished calling her mother.
“Ralph’s coming for us,” she told her. “So he can take you home first——”
Dot giggled.
“Jim’s on the way, too,” she explained to Linda. “Isn’t it funny, though, the way our boy friends go and sit with our families when we are out on our adventures?”
“They really didn’t know what an adventure this was,” said Linda. “How much shall we tell them?”
“Oh, everything, of course. It’ll be all in the papers to-morrow—trust Mike O’Malley for that! But it can’t worry our folks now, because it’s all over.”
Ralph and Jim arrived at the same time, and almost fell over each other in their wild rush to the girls.
“Where have you been, Linda?” Ralph demanded, as if he were a father speaking to a disobedient child. “Bert Keen’s and Tom Hulbert’s planes both came back ages ago. What made the ‘Ladybug’ so slow?”
“We were rescuing Helen,” she replied, with a nod towards the girl beside her. “And being rescued ourselves!”
“Rescued! Linda, why don’t you let me go with you when you’re planning something dangerous, instead of always taking another girl?”
“I didn’t know it was going to be dangerous, Ralph,” she apologized. “But I’ll tell you all about it when we get home, because Aunt Emily will want to hear it, too.”
And recount it she did to every last detail, even including the improvised ghost in the tower, to the consternation of Ralph and her Aunt Emily, when, fifteen minutes later, they were seated on the porch of the Carltons’ summer home.
“It’s a miracle that you came out alive!” exclaimed Miss Carlton, incredulously, when Linda had finished the story. “If Mike O’Malley and that brother of his hadn’t just happened along——”
“They didn’thappenalong, Aunt Emily,” Linda insisted. “Mike had promised to help us!”
“Why is it that some outsider like O’Malley or Ted Mackay always has to be the one to protect you,” muttered Ralph, “when I’d be only too glad——”
“Well, you can next time,” agreed Linda, smiling. “Now, Aunt Emily, how about something to eat?”
“Certainly, dear,” agreed the latter. “And we ought not to sit out here on the porch, for you girls must be cold. Come into the dining room, and I’ll make some hot cocoa.”
It was while they were drinking this, and eating their cookies, that Linda suddenly remembered the surprise which her aunt had mentioned.
“What is the news you have for Helen?” she inquired.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” exclaimed Miss Carlton. Then, turning to the girl, she asked, “You say that you have recovered your memory, dear? Can you recall a woman named Mrs. Smalley?”
Helen’s eyes lighted up with affection and joy.
“Indeed I can! She’s the very dearest memory I have!” she replied, eagerly.
“Well, dear, she’s here. Up in bed. She arrived yesterday, while we were away—absolutely worn out. It seems that she had trudged miles and miles in search of you. So Anna very wisely put her to bed. She was somewhat rested to-day, but decided not to get up.”
“Can I see her?” demanded Helen.
“I think that she’s asleep.”
“Oh, I won’t awaken her! I just want to look at her.”
“All right, dear,” agreed Miss Carlton, and, as soon as Ralph had left, she led the girls up to the old lady’s room.
Helen tiptoed over to the bedside and, kneeling down, looked eagerly at the worn face on the pillow. Her voice choked with emotion, as she sobbed in thanksgiving.
“Nana darling!” she whispered.
The old lady opened her eyes, and put out her wrinkled arms to embrace the girl.
“My precious child!” she cried. “You do remember me, Helen?” she asked hastily, for Miss Carlton had told her of the girl’s loss of memory.
“Yes, yes! I am all right, Nana dearest! And so happy!”
The reunion of the two devoted friends—the child and the nurse—was touching to see. Linda and her aunt crept noiselessly away, and Helen slept that night with her dear old nurse.