The girls ran down the path to the ravine, selecting a sunny spot by a large rock. From where they sat they could look far down the valley and see the swinging footbridge which Herman Crocker had designated as a meeting place with his nephew.
"Well, here are the letters," Penny said gaily, removing them from her dress. "Wouldn't Walter rave if he knew we had them!"
"They're worth fifty thousand dollars!" Susan laughed. "At least that's the price Walter expects to make his uncle pay for them. Penny, what would happen if we just kept these letters?"
"I suppose Old Herman would refuse to pay over the money. I know I should in his case."
"Then why wouldn't that be a good solution of the matter?"
"It would from Old Herman's standpoint," Penny said dryly. "But you're forgetting that Walter isn't actually a blackmailer. The money really belongs to him."
"Then by keeping these letters we might be depriving him of his rightful inheritance?"
"It seems that way. I don't like Walter any better than you do—he appears to be a rather unscrupulous fellow even if he does have the law on his side. However, we can't let our personal feelings enter into the matter."
"That being the case, why did we interfere at all?" Susan asked. "Wouldn't it have been better not to have taken the letters? Now if we decide to give then back, we'll have a lot of explaining to do."
"You are perfectly right, of course, Susan. My curiosity simply got the best of me again. I felt as if I had to read these letters."
"Then let's read them," Susan laughed.
Penny untied the cord which bound the letters into a neat package. There were eight of them all addressed to Herman Crocker. Return notations in the corners showed that five of the letters were from the old man's sister, Jenny. The others were from the woman named Hilda Frank and were postmarked, Belgrade Lakes, Maine.
"That is a summer resort place," Penny commented as she opened the first letter. "If Herman's sister had plenty of money she may have been staying there."
Susan crowded close beside her chum so that they might read the communications together. The letter from Hilda Frank disclosed several facts of interest. The woman, evidently a housekeeper for Herman's sister, had written to say that her mistress had passed away following a sudden illness. She wished Herman to come at once to take charge of funeral arrangements and to look after Jenny's young son, Walter.
"Jenny thought that no one would take care of him as well as you," the housekeeper wrote, "and the money she left will be more than enough to keep him. It is her wish as expressed in her will that if anything should ever happen to the boy, you are to be the sole heir—otherwise the money is to be kept in trust.
"This will signed by my mistress on the day before her death is now in my possession. I await your arrival before filing it with the court."
The two additional letters from Hilda Frank had been written weeks later, and inquired after the welfare of the boy, Walter, indicating that Herman Crocker after going east to attend his sister's funeral had brought the lad home with him.
"But we're quite certain Herman never arrived here with Walter," Penny commented thoughtfully. "The only boy who has ever been seen at the Crocker place is the old man's grandson."
"What do you think happened?" Susan asked.
"Obviously, from all we have learned, Herman must have decided that he wanted all the money for himself. He then had the boy conveniently disappear."
"How could he hope to get away with anything as crude as that?"
"I don't know, but his plan seemed to work for many years. I suppose there weren't many persons who ever suspected that Jenny had a child."
"Mrs. Frank did."
"Yes, but Herman probably quieted her with some simple story. Anyway, she lived in Maine and that's a long way from here."
"It's inconceivable that he could get by with such high-handed robbery! Stealing from a child!"
"It is disgusting," Penny agreed. "We don't know what became of Walter, but probably he was brought up by some strange person in complete ignorance of his heritage."
"Then how did he learn his true name and that he had a right to the fortune? How did he know about these letters in the trunk?"
"My theory collapses right there," Penny admitted ruefully. "I can't figure that part out at all."
"Let's read the other letters," Susan suggested. "We may learn something from them."
The remaining communications were of no help at all. They were merely friendly letters written by Jenny to her brother telling him how much she and her son were enjoying their stay at the Lakes. She spoke at some length of her declining health and in one paragraph mentioned that if anything ever happened to her she trusted Herman would take good care of Walter.
"After receiving a letter like that how could the old man be mean enough to act the way he did?" Susan asked angrily. "It serves him right to lose the fortune! I'm glad that Walter finally learned the truth."
"So am I," Penny agreed. "Only it's too bad the young man couldn't have turned out to be a nicer type."
"He may not have had the advantage of a good home."
"I realize that, but aside from breeding, I don't like him."
"The point is—what shall we do with these letters?"
"Oh, I guess I'll have to give them back," Penny sighed. "I'll do it sometime before Thursday night."
She retied the letters and slipped them into her pocket. Before the girls could leave the ravine, they heard someone coming through the woods.
A moment later Michael Haymond appeared along the path. He was whistling a tune but broke off as he noticed Penny and Susan.
"Hello," he said pleasantly. "It's another warm day, isn't it?"
Penny and Susan had been too busy to notice the weather, but they agreed that it was unpleasantly humid. Michael paused to chat for a minute or two, and took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
"Have you been cutting more wood?" Penny asked with a smile.
"Yes, I didn't know what else to do."
"We have enough wood to last longer than we'll remain at the cottage," Penny said. "Why don't you try resting now and then?"
"I'm not paid to do that."
"You more than earn your salary," Penny told him. "Dad doesn't care whether you keep busy or not."
"Your father has been very good to me," Michael said soberly. "I don't feel right about it. I think he's keeping me on because he knows I'd have trouble getting any other job."
"Nonsense, Michael."
"I don't feel right about drawing pay for nothing," the young man repeated.
"You let him worry about that," Penny laughed. "Anyway, I suppose we'll be going back to the city soon."
Her words seemed to startle Michael, but after a moment of silence, he nodded.
"Well, I'll be getting on up to the cottage," he said. "Mrs. Masterbrook probably has a job for me. When she can't think of anything else she has me peel potatoes."
"That's her work, not yours," Penny told him. "You're altogether too easy, Michael."
"Your father said that part of my job was to keep Mrs. Masterbrook quiet," the young man grinned as he turned away. "I've discovered that the best way is to do exactly what she wishes with no argument!"
Michael bowed again to the girls and walked on up the path.
"I like him better every day," Susan declared in an undertone. "I think it's a great joke on you, Penny! When he first came here you thought he might be a questionable character."
Penny did not pay very much heed to her chum's words for she was staring at an object lying on the path.
"Michael dropped his handkerchief," she said.
"So he did," Susan agreed indifferently, turning to look. "We can take it to him."
Penny picked up the handkerchief, noticing as she folded it that the linen was not a very expensive grade. She suspected that Michael did not have very much money to spend upon clothing.
Turning the handkerchief over in her hand, Penny saw that it bore a monogram.
"Why, that's odd!" she murmured aloud.
"Now what have you discovered, little Miss Detective?" Susan asked teasingly.
"Look at the markings on this handkerchief," Penny commanded. "The initials are 'M. G.'"
"'M. G.'", Susan repeated slowly, staring at the handkerchief. "What's so startling about that?"
"Michael dropped this handkerchief," Penny said significantly.
"And his last name is Haymond!" Susan cried as light dawned upon her. "Why would he have a handkerchief marked 'M. G.'?"
"Why indeed? The simple answer is that maybe his name isn't Michael Haymond after all!"
"Maybe he happened to pick up some other person's handkerchief."
"He'd not be apt to be using it."
"Once one of yours got into our washing somehow," Susan defended her theory. "Don't you remember I was using it for one of my own until you happened to notice it?"
"That was different," Penny replied. "I'll venture this is Michael's handkerchief all right."
"Oh, you're too suspicious," laughed Susan. "Remember that wild chase we had to Glenhaven just because you thought Michael might be hiding something about his past."
"I'm not sure that it was a wild chase at all," Penny answered soberly. "If you recall, Michael fitted into Mrs. Havers story quite nicely—everything except his last name. And now the initials of this handkerchief could stand for Michael Gladwin."
"Why, that's so," Susan murmured in astonishment. "But it doesn't seem reasonable! What has Michael done that he's ashamed to have his true name known?"
"I may be jumping at another one of my false conclusions," Penny admitted. "Anyway, I think I'll keep this handkerchief."
"If only we had a picture of Michael we might send it to Mrs. Havers for identification," Susan said thoughtfully.
"I was thinking of that," Penny nodded. "We'll get a picture today."
"How? By telling Michael that you've suddenly taken a great fancy to him?"
"We'll take a snapshot. Fortunately I brought my camera along when we came to Kendon."
"Do you have a film?"
"Yes, it's all loaded ready to go."
"Then let's get our prey!" laughed Susan. "But Michael may refuse."
"He shouldn't unless we make him suspicious. Mind, not a word about the handkerchief."
The girls went directly to the cottage for Penny's camera. First they flattered Mrs. Masterbrook by requesting her picture. The housekeeper posed on the porch steps.
"We'd like your picture too," Penny said to Michael who was standing near.
"I'd break your camera," the young man laughed good-naturedly.
"Oh, don't be silly," Susan cried, and catching him by the hand, pulled him up on the porch.
Penny snapped the picture. To make certain that she would have a good one, she took still another.
"That's enough," declared Michael moving away.
Mrs. Masterbrook lingered on the porch, hoping that the girls would take another picture of her. However, they had no intention of wasting any film.
"Let's get it developed right away," Susan declared.
"There's one more picture I'd like to take just to make the record complete," Penny announced as she and her chum walked away from the cottage.
"Whose?" asked Susan.
"Herman Crocker's."
"It would be interesting to keep it as a souvenir of your vacation," Susan agreed. "But try to get it!"
"I believe I could."
"You'd try anything."
"We'll have an hour before the sun is low," Penny declared, glancing toward the western horizon. "Come on, let's go there now."
"I don't like the idea a bit," Susan complained but she allowed her chum to lead her down the road.
"I'll have to think up a new excuse for calling on Herman," Penny remarked as they drew near the house. "That one about wanting to buy eggs is getting pretty thread bare."
"You're inviting trouble to go there again," Susan warned darkly. "Herman will suspect something is wrong the minute you ask for his picture."
"I don't mean to ask," Penny chuckled. "Perhaps I'll just snap it and run."
There was no sign of activity about the Crocker premises. They did not see the dog, and when they rapped on the door there was no response.
"Mr. Crocker and his grandson are gone," Susan said in relief.
"I guess I'll have to give up the picture then," Penny sighed. "I had a particular use for it too."
"Why don't you snap one of the house?" Susan suggested.
"I might do that just to finish out the roll. Then we can take the film down to Kendon and have it developed."
"You mean now?"
"Yes, I'm in a hurry to get the prints. Dad may take it into his head to leave this place any day and I have considerable unfinished business on my calendar."
"It seems as if I've walked a million miles today," Susan grumbled good-naturedly.
"It's good for your figure," Penny laughed. "You don't want to get fat."
"No chance of it around you," Susan retorted.
Penny took the picture and removed the roll of exposed film from her camera. Walking down Knob Hill, the girls left it at one of the drugstores in Kendon.
"How soon may we have the prints?" Penny asked.
"Tomorrow afternoon," the clerk promised.
When the girls had left the drugstore, Penny suggested that they drop in for a moment at Turner's.
"Are you still hopeful that someone will claim the toy lantern?" Susan inquired with a trace of amusement.
"No, I gave up long ago," Penny admitted. "I just keep asking as a matter of routine."
"Mr. Turner would let you know if anything develops."
"He might forget," Penny insisted. "Let's drop in for just a minute."
Susan sighed wearily and followed her chum into the store. Mr. Turner did not look very pleased to see them. He had grown tired of their frequent calls.
"Nothing new?" Penny asked pleasantly.
The storekeeper shook his head. "I think you may as well take the lantern with you," he said. "I'm convinced it doesn't belong to any child around here."
"It begins to look that way," Penny admitted.
She was debating what to do when she felt Susan pluck her sleeve. Glancing quickly up she was surprised to see that Perry Crocker had entered the store. The boy did not notice the girls but walked toward the candy department.
"I didn't know Old Herman ever let him go any place alone," Susan whispered.
"Neither did I," Penny agreed. "Probably Perry's grandfather is waiting outside."
Susan started toward the boy, but Penny restrained her.
"Wait!" she whispered.
The boy had gone directly to the candy counter.
"Good afternoon, Perry," said the storekeeper. "I don't see you very often."
"Today is my birthday," the boy explained in an excited voice. "I'm eleven years old. My grandfather gave me ten cents to spend."
"That's fine," said the storekeeper. "What kind of candy will you have?"
"I want some of those caramels and lemon drops. Or would I get more——"
Perry broke off to stare at the broken toy lantern which stood on the storekeeper's shelf directly behind the candy counter.
"Why, where did you get my lantern?" he asked quickly. "Give it to me."
"Is this your lantern?" the storekeeper questioned, glancing toward Penny and Susan who had remained some distance away.
"Of course it's mine," said Perry. "Please give it to me."
"But how do I know it is yours?" asked Mr. Turner. He had been coached carefully by Mr. Nichols. "A great many boys have lanterns exactly like this."
"It's really mine, Mr. Turner," Perry insisted. "I can tell because I made a new wick for it out of an old piece of white cloth. Someone has smashed the isinglass."
Mr. Turner again glanced inquiringly toward Penny. She nodded her head as a signal that he was to give the lantern to the boy.
"Very well, Perry, here you are," the storekeeper said, handing him the toy. "Now what kind of candy do you want?"
He filled the order and Perry left the store without observing Penny and Susan. Through the plate glass window the girls saw him show the toy lantern to his grandfather. Then he climbed into the car and they drove away.
"I hope I did right to let him take the toy," said the storekeeper anxiously.
"Yes, you did," said Penny quietly. "The lantern has served its purpose now."
"I was very much surprised that it belonged to Perry," went on Mr. Turner.
"It was somewhat of a shock to me too," Penny acknowledged.
"Your father told me a little about the case," the storekeeper continued. "I fear that this clue has no significance for Perry's grandfather is an upstanding man in the community."
"I quite understand," replied Penny gravely. "Thank you for going to so much trouble to help my father. I'm sure that he'll not wish you to speak of this matter to anyone."
"I'll keep it to myself," Mr. Turner promised. "If there is anything more I can do, let me know."
The instant that the girls were outside the store they lost their serene attitude.
"Now what's our move?" asked Susan tensely.
"We must get home as fast as we can and tell Dad," Penny replied. "This clue has a lot more significance than Mr. Turner believes. It probably means that Herman Crocker is the man who took the Kirmenbach jewels!"
Penny and Susan ran nearly all of the way back up Knob Hill. They were quite out of breath by the time they reached the cottage.
"Is there a fire somewhere?" inquired Mr. Nichols, who was reading the evening paper on the porch. "Or are you girls running a race?"
Penny cast a quick glance about to be certain that neither Michael nor Mrs. Masterbrook were near.
"Dad," she announced impressively. "The toy lantern has been claimed."
The detective dropped his paper and quickly arose.
"By whom?" he asked.
"It was Perry Crocker who took the lantern away, Dad. Susan and I were in the store when he came in for candy."
"He made a positive identification?"
"Oh, yes, Dad," Penny declared. "Perry told Mr. Turner that he had constructed the wick from an old piece of cloth in the house."
"Then it looks as if Herman Crocker may be mixed up in the robbery."
"Don't you remember that from the very first I said he was a suspicious character," Penny reminded her father.
"Yes, I remember," Mr. Nichols replied dryly.
"What will you do now, Dad? Have Mr. Crocker arrested?"
"Not without more evidence against him," returned the detective. "Our clue is an important one but it may not lead where we expect. It's a serious matter to arrest a man on a false charge."
"But it must be Herman Crocker," Penny argued. "We know Perry couldn't have committed the robbery."
"You say that you saw Herman in town?" Mr. Nichols inquired.
"Yes, he waited for Perry in the car and then drove away."
"Toward home?"
"Why, I didn't notice," Penny admitted.
"I did," Susan declared, eager to make a contribution. "He was driving the opposite way."
"Then there is a chance he may not have returned home yet," Mr. Nichols said. "I'm going down there and look around."
"May I go along, Dad?" Penny asked eagerly.
"You both may come," Mr. Nichols said after a slight hesitation, "but you must do exactly as I say."
At that moment Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.
"Supper is ready," she announced.
"You'll have to keep it waiting," the detective told her. "I've just remembered an important engagement."
"I always serve at exactly six o'clock," Mrs. Masterbrook said primly. "The food won't be good if it stands."
"That doesn't matter to me," Mr. Nichols returned impatiently. "We'll hash up our own supper when we get back."
As he and the girls walked away, the housekeeper stood watching them with keen displeasure. Penny wondered if the woman guessed that they were going to the Herman Crocker place.
During the hike down Knob Hill, the girls told Mr. Nichols everything they had learned about Herman Crocker and his nephew, Walter. This time the detective did not term Penny's ideas wild. He listened in a manner which was most flattering.
"It's all a mix-up," Penny finished. "I feel sure that Mrs. Masterbrook is acquainted with Walter Crocker because she warned him to keep away from our cottage."
"Mrs. Masterbrook seems to have her finger in every pie," commented Mr. Nichols. "But I'm not much concerned with her affairs, or whether or not Old Herman has cheated his nephew. I'm only interested in learning if he is the one who stole the diamond necklace."
"If he'd rob his nephew it follows that he'd be the type to take jewels too."
"Not necessarily," answered the detective. "House breaking is a different sort of crime entirely. The fact is, Herman Crocker doesn't impress me as being the kind of person who would commit such an act."
"The evidence is all against him," Penny argued.
"It is," Mr. Nichols agreed. "But one can't put too much faith in circumstantial proof. We must investigate first and draw our conclusions later."
The three were close to the Crocker premises by this time. There was no sign of the old man's car, and Mr. Nichols felt hopeful that he had not yet returned from town.
At the entrance of the lane, Mr. Nichols paused.
"Susan," he said, "I'd like to have you remain here. If you see Crocker's car coming up the road, run to the house as fast as you can and call out a warning."
"I'll keep a careful watch," Susan promised.
Mr. Nichols and Penny hurried on up the lane. They were quite certain that Mr. Crocker and his grandson had not returned from Kendon, but taking no chance, they pounded several times on the door.
"The place is empty all right," Mr. Nichols declared.
He tried the door and found it locked. Nor could they enter by either the side or rear entrance.
"How are we going to get in?" Penny asked in disappointment.
"One of the windows should be unlocked," Mr. Nichols said, looking up speculatively. "Here, I'll give you a boost."
He lifted Penny on his shoulders so that she could reach one of the high windows.
"Locked," she reported.
"All right, we'll try another," said the detective.
The second window likewise proved to be fastened, but when Penny tried the third one it opened.
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Nichols. "Jump down inside and open the door!"
Penny found herself gazing into an untidy living room. The rug was moth eaten and there was dust everywhere on the old fashioned Victorian furniture. The walls were heavy with family pictures in wooden frames, and Penny's attention was drawn to a curious feather wreath.
"Hurry!" warned Mr. Nichols from below.
"I'll be there in a jiffy," Penny called back.
She jumped lightly down and ran to unfasten the door. Mr. Nichols entered and closed it behind him, turning the night lock.
"We'll have to work fast," he said crisply. "Old Herman may come back any minute."
"What do you expect to find?" asked Penny.
"Perhaps the necklace or at least some evidence which will attach Herman to the crime. I'll start searching in the upstairs bedrooms. You might go through that desk."
With a nod of his head, the detective indicated an old fashioned secretary which stood in one corner of the living room.
The desk was filled to overflowing with papers of all sorts. A quick inspection satisfied Penny that the diamond necklace was not there, but if she had time she meant to examine the papers carefully.
"When you finish with the desk, start looking through the kitchen cupboards," Mr. Nichols called down from upstairs.
Penny was working swiftly at her task when the detective came down to assist her.
"There's nothing in the bedrooms," he reported. "I thought Old Herman might have hidden the jewels in one of the mattresses. Having any luck here?"
"None yet, but there are a lot of papers in the desk."
"We'll get to those later," Mr. Nichols nodded.
The detective made a swift but thorough inspection of the kitchen. He examined the floor boards to see if any had been pried loose and even poked into the rag bag.
"Here's something!" he said triumphantly, pulling out a piece of white cloth.
"Why, that is the same material I saw in Turner's store!" Penny exclaimed.
"Yes, it was used to make the wick of the lantern. We'll keep it for evidence."
Mr. Nichols stuffed the cloth into his coat pocket.
"I've looked all through the cupboards," Penny reported. "I'm going back and examine some of those papers now."
"All right," her father agreed.
Penny had never seen such a disordered desk. Apparently, Herman Crocker had kept every letter, receipt, and paper which ever came into his possession, tossing all together in one untidy heap.
Penny thumbed rapidly through the letters, discarding all which were of a strictly business nature. Suddenly she came upon a photograph which had turned yellow with age. A glance assured Penny that it was a likeness of Herman Crocker when he had been some years younger.
"Just what I need!" she thought triumphantly. "This will be a great deal better than a snapshot!"
Slipping the photograph into her pocket she went on with her search. In one drawer of the desk she found nothing but old tax receipts showing payments paid by Herman Crocker for both the cottage property and his farm.
Penny knew she would not have time to examine each receipt in turn so she opened a second drawer. It was crammed with old checks and bank statements. In the very bottom was a thick green book.
Penny opened it up and saw that it was a detailed expense account running back many years. She was about to toss the book carelessly aside, when a notation on one of the pages caught her eye. The item read:
"Paid to the Glenhaven Orphan's Home—$100.00 for keep of Michael Gladwin."
Penny stared at the notation for an instant, and then turned toward her father.
"Dad, I've found something important!" she exclaimed. "This account book—"
Before she could finish, there was a loud pounding on the door.
"Herman Crocker is coming up the road!" Susan Altman called excitedly. "Hurry or he'll be here!"
"Bring the book and come on, Penny," Mr. Nichols ordered tersely. "We don't want Crocker to catch us here."
Penny snatched up the account book, slammed shut the desk and followed her father to the door. Susan was waiting there, nervously watching the entrance to the narrow lane. A car was just coming into view.
"Duck into the pine grove," commanded the detective.
The three disappeared behind the trees just as Herman Crocker's battered old car wheezed up the lane. Mr. Nichols and the girls remained motionless until the old man and his grandson had gone into the house. Then they moved noiselessly away, keeping to the evergreen grove until they reached the main road.
"Penny, what were you starting to tell me about an account book?" questioned Mr. Nichols as they paused.
"I'll show you," offered Penny.
She opened the account book to the item which had drawn her attention, but in the dim light it was difficult for Mr. Nichols to make out the fine writing.
"Michael Gladwin," he read slowly aloud. "I seem to be thick headed——"
"Oh, Susan and I didn't tell you that part!" Penny cried. "We think Gladwin is Michael Haymond's real name! He dropped a handkerchief bearing the initials 'M. G.', and when we were over at Glenhaven we learned from the former matron of the institution that a strange person who might have been Herman Crocker, brought a boy who was named Michael Gladwin to the Home."
"There seems to be quite a bit going on that I know nothing about," Mr. Nichols remarked dryly. "Suppose you start at the beginning, Penny, and tell me everything."
"Are you sure you'll not think my ideas wild?" Penny asked teasingly.
"I am quite willing to retract my words," Mr. Nichols said. "Your ideas and theories are proving remarkably sound."
Penny and Susan were only too glad to relate everything they had learned about Michael Gladwin.
"I'll question the young man just as soon as we reach the cottage," promised Mr. Nichols. "We'll get at the bottom of this matter and see if it can be straightened out."
"Michael may deny everything," Penny said thoughtfully. "He has some particular reason for wishing to keep his past a secret. Dad, I have an idea!"
"What is it, Penny?"
"Why couldn't we drive over to Ferndale to-night and take Michael with us? He'd have no suspicion that we were calling upon Mrs. Havers until he met her face to face!"
"Confronted with the former matron you believe that he would break down and confess the truth?"
"Yes, I think he might, Dad. At any rate, Mrs. Havers could establish definitely whether or not he is Michael Gladwin."
"Your plan is a good one," Mr. Nichols said after a moment's reflection. "We'll start right away if we can locate Michael."
"He usually walks down to the village after supper," Penny declared anxiously. "I hope he hasn't left yet."
Michael was just starting away from the cottage when Mr. Nichols and the girls arrived. The detective stopped him, explaining that they would like to have his company on a motor trip to a distant town.
"I don't enjoy changing a tire at night," Mr. Nichols said. "While I'm not looking for trouble, I'd like to have a handy man along just in case something happens."
"I'll be very glad to go, sir," replied Michael.
"You might be getting the car from the garage," Mr. Nichols directed. "I'll be along in a minute."
He started for the cottage after his light overcoat. Mrs. Masterbrook sat rocking back and forth on the porch.
"I hope you're ready for your supper now," she said tartly.
"I've not time to eat it, Mrs. Masterbrook. I am sorry to have annoyed you this way."
"I've kept it warming for over an hour," the housekeeper said crossly. "I declare, I can't understand your comings and goings."
Paying no heed to Mrs. Masterbrook's grumblings, the detective found his coat and hastened back to the car.
"What shall I say if anyone telephones?" the housekeeper called after him. "Where shall I say you are?"
"Tell them you don't know," shouted the detective.
It was evident to Penny and Susan that Michael had no suspicion where he was being taken. Even when the automobile drew near Ferndale he did not appear to grow uneasy. He was so calm and undisturbed that they began to wonder if they had made another mistake.
"Of course the Orphan's Home isn't at Ferndale," Penny told herself. "He probably doesn't know that Mrs. Havers has left the Glenhaven Home."
It was after nine o'clock when the car finally drew up in front of the former matron's home. The girls were afraid that Mrs. Havers might have retired early and so were greatly relieved to see a light burning on the lower floor.
"Michael, why don't you come in with us?" Penny asked as she alighted from the car.
"Oh, I'll wait out here," he replied.
"No, come along," Mr. Nichols invited.
He took Michael by the arm and steered him up the walk. Penny and Susan went on ahead to ring the doorbell. They were a little worried for fear that Mrs. Havers would not wish to receive them so late in the evening.
After a long wait, the door slowly opened. Mrs. Havers, her face hidden by the shadows, did not readily recognize the girls. However, after they had spoken, she urged them to come inside.
Penny and Susan entered the cottage and waited for Mr. Nichols and Michael. Mrs. Havers turned to face the newcomers. For an instant she stared blankly at Michael and then she gave a cry of delight.
"Michael Gladwin! How glad I am to see you again!"
"Mrs. Havers!" exclaimed the young man. Then he became confused and glanced quickly toward Mr. Nichols.
"We've known for some time that you were Michael Gladwin," said Mr. Nichols.
"Of course he is Michael Gladwin," declared Mrs. Havers. "Who else could he be?"
"I have a great deal to explain," said the young man, looking again at the detective. "I know you surely must be thinking that I have deceived you——"
"I am sure you had a very good reason," replied Mr. Nichols kindly.
Mrs. Havers was deeply troubled by the conversation which she could not understand. She urged her visitors to seat themselves. Mr. Nichols, always restless in moments of stress, found it impossible to remain in a chair. He annoyed his hostess exceedingly by moving about the room, appearing to examine books, bric-a-brac and objects of furniture.
"Before we ask Michael to tell his story, I should like to have you look at this picture, Mrs. Havers," said Penny. She offered the photograph of Herman Crocker. "Have you seen the man before?"
"Let me turn up the light. My eyes aren't as strong as they were."
Mrs. Havers studied the picture intently for a minute.
"This is a photograph of Mr. Keenan," said the former matron. Her gaze wandered to Michael. "He is the man who brought you to the Orphan's Home."
"You are certain?" asked Mr. Nichols eagerly.
"Of course I am," answered the old lady firmly. "I seldom forget a face. This is a very good likeness of Mr. Keenan as I remember him."
"Mr. Keenan and Herman Crocker were one and the same person!" cried Penny. "I am beginning to understand everything now!"
"Then I wish you'd explain it to me," said Michael. "I have known for some time that Crocker was supposed to be my uncle, but until now I rather doubted that there was any truth to the story."
"How did you learn that he was related to you?" Penny asked quickly.
"Through an anonymous letter," Michael replied. "It was forwarded to me after I left the Glenhaven Home. The writer informed me that my true name was Walter Crocker and that I would find evidence to support my claim to the Crocker fortune at your cottage."
"So your visit to Kendon was made for the purpose of claiming Crocker's money," Mr. Nichols said musing. "What did you expect to find in our cottage?"
"I don't know, sir," Michael returned soberly. "I thought possibly there might be letters or photographs which would establish my true identity."
"Were you the person whom I mistook for a robber a few nights ago?" Penny questioned.
"Yes," Michael admitted. "I shouldn't have been prowling about the house, but in the day time I never had a chance to search. When you heard me in the living room I ran out the door and hid in the woods."
"And I suppose it was you who took a package of letters from the attic trunk," Penny went on.
"I did take some letters, but they were valueless. To tell you the truth, I haven't a scrap of evidence to support my claim."
"I think we may be able to help you," Mr. Nichols said slowly. "But you must answer several questions. I recall that when you first came to our cottage you told us you intended to see Mr. Crocker on business. Yet to my knowledge you never went to see him."
"I don't wonder that my actions appear contrary, sir. I intended to visit Herman Crocker immediately, but while I was at your cottage, a remark was dropped which led me to believe that another person who claimed to be Walter Crocker already had called upon my uncle."
"That is true," the detective nodded. "There is another young man who claims to be Walter Crocker."
"You see my position, sir. I had no proof of anything. I was afraid that someone had played a joke on me. For that reason I gave a false name and said nothing of the matter. I thought I would wait a few days until I had gained more information."
"You acted wisely," Mr. Nichols declared.
"Obviously, Walter Crocker is an imposter," Penny said. "But who is he? What is his true name and how did he obtain the evidence against Herman Crocker?"
"We may be able to answer all those questions before we finish with the case," returned the detective. "If Mrs. Havers will testify that Michael is the same boy who was brought to the Glenhaven Home by Mr. Keenan and that Keenan and Crocker are the same person, it will be a simple matter to establish a claim to the fortune."
"The man of this photograph is the same individual who came to the Home years ago," declared Mrs. Havers. "I will be glad to sign papers to that effect."
"The masquerading Walter Crocker is merely a blackmailer," the detective continued. "Undoubtedly, he knew that he could never establish a court claim to the fortune. But with the letters in his possession, he was able to frighten Herman Crocker into dealing with him privately."
"What finally became of the letters?" inquired Michael.
"Dad has them," said Penny. "And we have other evidence which should help your cause. At Crocker's house we found an account book showing that the old man paid the Glenhaven Home various amounts of money."
"I can't understand why a man would do such a thing," Michael said slowly. "Why did my uncle hate me?"
"Probably he didn't," replied the detective. "You merely stood in Mr. Crocker's way. Greed leads many a person astray."
"It was queer that for years Herman Crocker fooled everyone in Kendon," Penny remarked. "And then someone must have discovered his secret."
"I am puzzled by the anonymous letter," Mr. Nichols admitted, turning to Michael again. "I don't suppose you have it with you?"
"Yes, I do. You may read it if you wish."
Michael took a crumpled envelope from his inside coat pocket and offered it to the detective. Mr. Nichols scanned it briefly.
"The letter was postmarked at Kendon," he said.
"May I see it, Dad?" requested Penny.
He gave the letter to her and she studied it for a moment in silence. The communication contained no new information. As Michael had said, it merely hinted that he was the true heir to the Crocker fortune, and that he would find evidence to support his claim at the Knob Hill cottage. Penny was more interested in the handwriting than in the message. It seemed to her that it looked strangely familiar.
"Why, I've seen this writing before!" she exclaimed.
"Do you know who sent the letter?" asked her father quickly.
"I can make a very shrewd guess," replied Penny. "It was our all-wise housekeeper, Mrs. Masterbrook!"