“I’ll talk it over with Mother and Jane,” she finally agreed, “and let you know tonight after supper. Will you be home then?”
“Yes, indeed! Horace and I will be waiting for you on the porch of our bungalow.... And now I must go, Mary Louise, and talk over the plans with him. I’m really thrilled about it—it’ll give us a new interest in life. Oh, I do hope you’ll decide to help me!”
And, pressing Mary Louise’s hand affectionately, she darted off down the steps.
For a long time Mary Louise sat still, her knitting lying forgotten in her lap, while she thought over Adelaide’s startling proposition. Maybe it was the best thing in the world that could have happened; perhaps fate was playing right into her hands. The opportunity to know and to watch Horace Ditmar would be perfect; if he really were guilty, she surely ought to be able to find it out upon such close association.
But, on the other hand, the work would take a great deal of time. Time from recreation, time from following up other clues that might transpire concerning other suspects. Her mother would probably disapprove, and no doubt Jane would object. Well, she wouldn’t insist upon Jane’s helping her; no doubt Mabel Reed would jump at the chance of making some extra money, for she expected to earn her own way through college.
She’d give it a try, she finally decided as she folded up her knitting and put it back into her bag. Now she must turn her attention to other matters. She wanted to drive over to Four Corners and ask the storekeeper some questions about Tom Adams. And possibly have a talk with the young man himself.
She wished she had kept Freckles with her, even though she didn’t need him to trail Rebecca Adams. With Jane over at the Reeds’, she would have to drive to Four Corners alone. But, after all, it wasn’t much of a trip—only four or five miles at the most.
She found a list of needed groceries on a pad in the kitchen which her mother kept for that very purpose, and took her own pocketbook.
Twenty minutes later she drew up at the entrance to the store. As Jane had remarked, Eberhardt’s looked like anything but a grocery store. It was an old-fashioned country house with a wide front porch, and although Mary Louise had never noticed it before, there was a screened-in porch around at the side, partially hidden by a huge elm tree.
As she locked her car she heard voices from this porch: men’s voices; and the remark which one of them made caused her to listen in astonishment.
“I’m sick of your card tricks, Tom Adams!” he sneered. “Think you’ll make me fergit them hundred berries you owe me? Well, I ain’t a-goin’ a fergit it! You pay me by tonight, or I’ll——”
“You’ll what?” drawled Tom Adams in a voice which Mary Louise instantly recognized from having heard it that morning. “Beat me up?” His laugh was contemptuous. Evidently the other fellow was a little man, Mary Louise decided.
“I’ll see that nobody ever plays another game with you, Tom Adams, that’s what I’ll do! A liar and a cheat——”
“Hold on there!” interrupted the other. “I’m a-goin’ a pay you, Bill! Don’t I always square up my debts?”
“You always win,” returned his accuser. “This is my first streak of luck in a year!”
“I’m payin’ you tomorrow, after I collect a little bill a guy owes me!”
“A little bill? Who around here could owe you a hundred smackers?”
“None of your business——”
A voice from the store interrupted this argument. “Boys, boys! Not so much noise!” called the storekeeper.
Mary Louise, realizing that she had been sitting in her car for several minutes, got out and went into the store.
“Quite a card party you have out there, Mr. Eberhardt,” she remarked.
The man’s face flushed.
“Yeah. Those boys are gettin’ too old fer that sort of thing. I let ’em play games there when they was nuthin’ but kids, but now they’re growed up, and it gives my store a bad look. Harmless, of course, but I reckon I better put a stop to it.”
“Not so harmless if they gamble to the extent of owing each other a hundred dollars,” remarked Mary Louise shrewdly.
“Oh, you must be mistaken about that, Miss Gay. That was only their little joke. Nobody round here has a hundred dollars to throw away.”
Mary Louise smiled and pretended not to have any further interest in the matter. Nor did she ask Mr. Eberhardt any questions about Tom Adams—for it wasn’t necessary. She had learned plenty about the young man for herself! So she merely handed the storekeeper her list, paid her bill, and departed.
“So Tom Adams does card tricks!” she muttered to herself as she started the car. “With Cliff Hunter’s cards, no doubt!” She smiled with satisfaction: she’d write that fact to Cliff tonight.... “But who,” she asked herself, “could be paying Tom Adams a hundred dollars—and for what? Surely not for the odd jobs he did for the people of Shady Nook, or for Frazier at the Royal Hotel!”
At last, she believed, she was on the right trail in solving the mystery of the fires!
No one was at home when Mary Louise returned from her visit to the store at Four Corners. What a splendid chance it was to write to Clifford Hunter to tell him about Tom Adams’ card tricks! With this piece of evidence, a clever lawyer ought to be able to clear Cliff of all suspicion.
“Tom Adams probably left that pack of cards at the Smiths’ deliberately,” she wrote. “I feel almost positive now that he is the person who is starting the fires. He had theopportunity; each time one occurred, he was nowhere to be found. I think he is doing it at somebody else’s orders—for a sum of money. But I can’t find out who is paying him, and I feel rather certain it isn’t his father.
“I intend to watch Tom Adams like a hawk for the next twenty-four hours, and as soon as I can find out who is responsible, I’ll wire the police. But in the meantime, Cliff, I think you ought to be freed, and I wish you and your lawyer would come back to Shady Nook.”
She signed and sealed the letter and took it immediately to the box at the entrance to Shady Nook, where the rural postman collected mail each day. Then, feeling that a fine piece of work had been accomplished, she put away the groceries and started the evening meal.
But Mary Louise made no mention of her suspicions to the family that evening, nor did she say anything about her letter to Cliff. She’d tell Jane later, when they were alone, for there was no need of bringing up the subject of the fires again in front of her mother. If Cliff did return, it would be a pleasant surprise for Mrs. Gay—and the other inhabitants of Shady Nook. Mary Louise’s only regret would be David McCall’s absence: she would love to have the pleasure of saying, “I told you so!” to that cocksure youth.
There was plenty to talk about at the supper table that evening, without bringing up the mystery of the fires. Jane had to tell all about the new young men she had met and the fun they had had over at the Reeds’. She thought it was a crime for Mary Louise to have missed it all.
“But I had a caller,” announced her chum. “In a different way, my afternoon was just as thrilling as yours!”
“You don’t mean David McCall, do you?” snapped Jane.
“Oh no. He’s gone home. No—not a man. A girl. Adelaide Ditmar.”
“Adelaide Ditmar! What in the world did she want?”
“I’ll tell you,” replied Mary Louise. “And you must listen, too, Mother, for I want your advice.” And she proceeded to outline the proposition which the young woman had made to her.
“I want to go into it,” she concluded. “I think it means everything to Adelaide. Lots of people have been poorer than the Ditmars at one time or another, but I don’t believe anybody has ever been much more desperate.”
Jane frowned.
“I don’t see whywehave to give up our vacation and work hard just because a married couple can’t get on!” she objected.
“You don’t have to,” replied Mary Louise. “But it happens I want to. And I think Mabel Reed will be keen to help—if you don’t want the job, Jane. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll run right over there after supper.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” laughed Jane. “Anybody that’s ambitious has a right to work! But you better wait a while, Mary Lou. The Reeds may be over at the hotel, eating their dinner.”
“No, they’re not,” put in Mrs. Gay. “Mrs. Reed told me herself that they couldn’t afford to go over there oftener than once a week—with all that family.”
“You don’t mind my doing it, Mother?” inquired Mary Louise.
“No, dear—provided you don’t get too tired. But if you do, you can easily stop. Will you promise me that?”
“Of course I will, Mother,” agreed the girl as she started to gather up the dishes.
“Stop that!” protested Jane. “I may not be ambitious, but I’m not going to let you get the supper and wash the dishes both. Freckles and I are clearing up tonight. You run along, Mary Lou!”
“Suits me!” agreed her chum as she hurried off to the Reeds’ cottage.
Mabel Reed listened to the proposition with delight and immediately consented to help.
“Let’s go right around Shady Nook now,” she suggested, “and get the people to sign up for the meals. Then we’ll have something definite to take to Adelaide.”
“You are a business woman, Mabel!” exclaimed Mary Louise admiringly. “But we’d have to quote prices, wouldn’t we?”
“Make it the same as Flicks’ used to be—forty cents for lunch and sixty for dinner. The Royal charges a dollar for lunch and a dollar and a half for dinner. So everybody would save a dollar and a half a day by eating with us!”
“Frazier is going to hate us,” remarked Mary Louise.
“Of course he is. But who cares?”
“He’ll huff and he’ll puff——” muttered Mary Louise, half to herself. “Well, come on—let’s go. I’ve got a pencil and paper.”
“You always have a pencil and paper with you,” observed Mabel. “Is that because you expect to become a writer?”
“No, I don’t believe I’ll ever be a writer, Mabel. I’d ratherdothings than write about them.” She wished she might tell the other girl what she had accomplished earlier in the summer at Dark Cedars with the help of her notebook and pencil, but that would seem too much like bragging. Besides, the only way to succeed in life is to forget about the past and keep looking forward.
“Write down seven Reeds and four Gays,” said Mabel. “And two Ditmars. That makes thirteen already.”
“But four of those won’t eat till the others are served, so we’ll need only nine chairs so far.... Now, let’s see. Where shall we go first?”
“Let’s go right up the line of the cottages. Hunters’ is gone, of course, so we’ll try the Partridges. They have four in their family.”
“Mrs. Partridge is a great friend of mother’s,” observed Mary Louise. “I think they will sign up.”
The two girls walked a quarter of a mile up the private road that wound along beside the river, past the Hunters’ grounds, on to the pleasant five-room cottage that belonged to the Partridges. As there were no young people in this family, Mary Louise did not know them so well, but she felt sure that they would like the idea of having their meals on this side of the river.
Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, and the two sisters who spent the summer with them, were just coming across the river in Mr. Frazier’s launch when the girls reached the scene. The hotelkeeper himself was running the motorboat.
Mary Louise smiled at them and waited until the launch had puffed off before she explained her plan.
Mrs. Partridge was delighted.
“Of course we’ll come—for our dinners,” she agreed immediately. “My husband is going back to the city, except for week-ends, and we three women would just as soon have a bite of lunch at home. But I hate this bothering with a boat every night for dinner, although Mr. Frazier has been most kind.”
“Then we can count on you three?” asked Mary Louise in delight.
“Yes—and Mr. Partridge too on Saturdays and Sundays,” added the woman.
Mary Louise marked down the names, and the two girls continued on their way, pleased with their success.
“That’s three more paying guests,” she said, “totaling twelve!”
“It’s thrilling!” exclaimed Mabel.
It was even more thrilling to find the Robinsons just as enthusiastic about the plan, adding four more names to their list.
“That’s all!” sighed Mabel. “Unless we go over to the Royal and try to get the Smiths.”
“They wouldn’t come,” returned Mary Louise, “because they’d have nowhere to sleep. And besides, they don’t care about economy. They have piles of money.”
“True. But I’ll tell you whom we can get, Mary Lou: those four Harrisburg boys. They can put up tents in the woods and eat at Ditmars’. They’ll love it, and besides, it will make it possible for them to stay at Shady Nook a lot longer. Their money will go so much farther than it would at the Royal.”
“That is an idea, Mabel!” cried Mary Louise. “And maybe they’d be willing to eat at a second table, so we shouldn’t have to get extra chairs.”
“The very thing. Sixteen chairs isn’t so bad. I guess the Ditmars have four, and we each have a card-table set. I suppose the Robinson boys can knock together a bench and some chairs for a porch table.”
“Adelaide Ditmar suggested getting Tom Adams to do it.”
“Then we’d have to pay him! No, I think we better ask the Robinson boys or Horace Ditmar.”
The girls reached the bungalow and found the young couple waiting for them on the porch. Horace Ditmar was a good-looking man of perhaps twenty-five—not much older than David McCall, Mary Louise thought—and Adelaide was scarcely twenty. They were a handsome pair: it was too bad if they weren’t happy.
Adelaide’s eager blue eyes were gazing into Mary Louise’s as if she could not wait for her answer.
“Mabel and I have decided to help you, Adelaide,” announced Mary Louise immediately. “We just stopped at all the bungalows to find out how many people we can get to promise to come to the meals. We have sixteen for dinners and thirteen for lunches—besides all of us who will be working.”
“Sixteen!” repeated the young woman in delight. “Oh, Mary Lou, I knew everybody adored you! If I’d asked them myself they would all have refused.”
“Now, dear!” remonstrated her husband, with such an affectionate look at his wife that Mary Louise was surprised. Maybe Horace Ditmar was all right after all!
The girls sat down on the porch and plunged right into the discussion of all the details of carrying out the plan. The young man was surprisingly helpful and resourceful. As Adelaide had said, he was keenly interested. He not only promised to provide the needed tables and chairs, but he drew plans for placing them and for arranging the kitchen to utilize every bit of its space. He knew how to make home-made ice cream, he said, and he would drive over for all the supplies twice a week. In fact, he took so much of the work upon his own shoulders that the girls felt as if there was little for them to do in advance. They were to open for business the day after tomorrow.
“And all we have to do is borrow some silverware and dishes,” remarked Mabel as the girls rose to go.
“And engage Hattie Adams to wash them,” added Adelaide. “But I wish you wouldn’t go home yet, girls. I was hoping we might play a little bridge.” Her tone was wistful. Mary Louise knew how eager she was to make friends.
“We’ll be over tomorrow,” replied Mabel, “but I think we ought to go now, because those Harrisburg boys are over at our bungalow, and I want to see whether I can’t get them to camp over here in the woods and take their meals with us. There are four of them.”
“Good girl!” approved Horace. “Go right after the business!”
So the girls said good-night and hurried off, full of excitement over their new adventure. All the young people who had gathered at the Reeds’ were enthusiastic too: they were tired of dressing up and going to the Royal Hotel, and enjoyed the informal intimacy of a small boarding house like Flicks’. The four young men from Harrisburg were only too glad to adopt Mabel’s suggestion, and planned to borrow the tents and start camping out the same day that the dining room was to open.
During the entire evening the mystery of the fires was not mentioned. Indeed, nobody thought of them until Jane and Mary Louise were alone again, getting ready for bed. Then the former referred to them casually.
“I guess you won’t have time for solving any more mysteries now, Mary Lou,” she remarked, “with this dining room on your hands.”
“On the contrary,” returned her companion, “that is just one reason why I wanted to go into the thing. I was anxious to get to know Horace Ditmar better. And I’m practically convinced that he had nothing to do with the fires!”
“Then who?” inquired Jane. “Rebecca Adams?”
“No, not Rebecca. But I did get a new clue this afternoon, Jane. I learned something that made me suspicious about her brother Tom!”
“Tom Adams? Why, Mary Lou, I thought you dismissed him long ago. When we learned that the Adams family are losing jobs by these fires.”
“Yes, I know. But there’s something we don’t understand yet. Anyhow, Tom Adams does card tricks.”
“Card tricks?”
“Yes. He probably learned them from Cliff, and maybe swiped his cards to do them!”
Jane’s eyes opened wide with understanding. “That pack of cards at the Smith fire!” she cried.
Mary Louise nodded. “Exactly! That’s just what I’ve been thinking. So I wrote to Cliff this afternoon and told him about it.”
Jane threw her arms around her friend and hugged her.
“You are a wonder, Mary Lou!... But—but—can you prove anything?”
“Not yet. But I mean to watch Tom Adams and see whether I can’t learn some more.”
“If he really is guilty and finds out that you suspect him,” observed Jane, “he’ll take out his spite by setting fire to this bungalow. You better be careful, Mary Lou!”
“I expect to be,” was the reply. “I’m looking for trouble!”
But she hardly expected it in the form in which it came the following day.
“Is there anything I can do to help you people?” inquired Jane of Mary Louise the following morning at the breakfast table. “Pare potatoes—or something?”
“No, thanks, Jane,” returned her chum. “We’re getting along fine. I would like to have you pull a load of dishes over to the Ditmars’ for me, Freckles,” she added, turning to her brother, “in your wagon.”
“O.K., Sis,” was the cheerful reply.
They left soon after breakfast, promising to be back again in time for lunch. It was a beautiful day, and Mary Louise was in high spirits, anxious to get everything arranged for the opening of the dining room the following morning. Naturally, she expected Adelaide Ditmar to feel the same way; she was therefore taken aback when the young woman came to the door with a distressed expression on her face and actual tears in her eyes!
“That husband of hers has done something,” Mary Louise thought resentfully. “Oh, why can’t he behave himself?”
“Come in, Mary Lou,” invited Adelaide, repressing a sob. “You too, Freckles, if you can keep a secret.”
“Of course I can!” replied the boy proudly.
They entered the charming little house, and their hostess closed the door behind them. Then she reached into the pocket of her apron and took out a coarse piece of paper which she handed to Mary Louise.
“Read that,” she said.
Mary Louise held the paper in front of her so that her brother could see it at the same time. The message was printed in pencil, and the words were misspelled, but there could be no mistaking its meaning:
“Clos up your place rite away, or expeck FIRE!”
“Clos up your place rite away, or expeck FIRE!”
Mary Louise read it twice before she handed it back to Adelaide Ditmar.
“How did this come?” she demanded.
“I found it under the back door,” replied the young woman in a hoarse whisper.
“But you didn’t see anybody?”
“No.”
“When did you find it?”
“Early this morning. About half-past seven.”
“Did you show it to your husband?” asked Freckles.
“Not yet,” replied Adelaide. “He’s been so nervous, you know, and this work has just been wonderful for him. Oh, I can’t bear to give it up! It means more than money to us—it means an occupation for Horace, saving him from melancholia, perhaps. Mary Lou, what can we do? Isn’t there some policeman we can get to watch our house?”
“Shady Nook never had one,” replied the other girl. “I certainly do wish my Dad were here!”
“Your father? What could he do?”
“He’s a detective,” explained Mary Louise.
“The best detective in the world!” added Freckles.
“Oh, where is he?” sobbed Adelaide. “Can’t we send for him?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s out West somewhere, on a case. No, I don’t see what we can do except watch. Never leave the house.” She turned to her brother. “You boys scan the woods for suspects, Freckles—and keep a hidden guard around the cottage.... I’m going to look for Tom Adams—something made me suspicious of him yesterday. Don’t let him into the place, Adelaide.... And you’ll have to tell Horace, because he will need to be on guard too—especially at night.”
“It’s the work of a maniac, I’m sure,” said Adelaide. “Nobody else would want to burn down all these cottages.”
“Of course, it may be,” agreed Mary Louise. “But I don’t believe it’s Rebecca Adams who’s doing it. She’s sick in bed.... Of course, she might be up and around by this time—but I don’t think so. Anyway, I’m going over there this afternoon to engage Hattie for the job here, and I’ll make it a point to find out about Rebecca then. In the meantime, let’s get on with our work.”
Adelaide dried her eyes, and Freckles rushed off to round up his gang. Mary Louise settled down to work; when Mabel Reed came over an hour later, and Horace Ditmar returned in the car with his purchase of supplies, they were both amazed at the progress which had been made. The little house had been transformed into a tea room!
With trembling hands Adelaide showed the threatening message to her husband. She chose a time when Mabel Reed was out of the room, for Mary Louise had urged secrecy. No use frightening people away from the dining room!
Horace Ditmar did not appear to be alarmed.
“I think it’s just a practical joke on the part of those Smith kids,” he said, “or maybe those Harrisburg boys. The best thing we can do is ignore it. I don’t think we need to worry.” And he smiled so confidently that Mary Louise wondered for a moment whether Horace Ditmar could have set those other cottages on fire himself and because of this fact feel perfectly safe about his own?
But, no, that wasn’t possible, she felt sure. She had a new clue now: someone was objecting to the serving of meals to Shady Nook people. The same person who had destroyed Flicks’ Inn by fire—the only person who could possibly resent the project. It was Frazier, she thought, Frazier who was guilty. The hotelkeeper could not bear to lose his business, and he was bribing Tom Adams to start the fires.... But how could Mary Louise possibly prove this fact?
However, she said nothing of her suspicions to the Ditmars or to Freckles, but she warned the boy not to mention the threat at home, for fear of alarming her mother. So the Gay family had a pleasant lunch that day, little thinking of the danger that was lurking so terribly near. They talked happily of the opening of the dining room on the morrow and of their plans for that afternoon.
“We’re all going to play tennis on the hotel court after lunch,” announced Jane. “The boys said they wanted to use it while they have the chance, because they’re going to put up their tents over here tomorrow morning. And Frazier will probably be so mad about losing them that he’ll refuse us all the use of the court.”
“We’ve got a court of our own,” observed Mary Louise.
“Yes, but it’s not so good as the Royal’s. Still, it will do,” agreed Jane. “I don’t suppose you’d have time to play with us this afternoon, would you, Mary Lou?”
“I don’t know,” replied her chum. “I have to hunt up Hattie Adams—or we’ll have to do all the dish-washing ourselves tomorrow at the dining room. I’ll paddle across the river with you—she may be working at the Royal Hotel. If she isn’t, I’ll have to come back and go see her at the farm.”
“You certainly do like to work on a hot day,” yawned Jane.
“After all, it’s not nearly such hot work as tennis—with those strenuous boys,” returned Mary Louise.
“Well, if you do go to Adams’ farm, be sure to get back in time for a swim,” urged Jane.
About an hour later the two girls put their tennis rackets into the canoe and paddled across the river. The tennis court was around behind the hotel, away from the shore. Here they found half a dozen young people, four of whom were playing doubles.
The two extra boys on the bench moved over and made room for Jane and Mary Louise.
“They’ll be through in a minute—the score’s five-two now,” announced one of the young men. “Then we four will have a set.”
“I don’t believe I had better play now,” replied Mary Louise, “because I have to go hunt up Hattie Adams.”
“Who’s she?”
“A girl we want to get to wash dishes at our dining room. She may be working here now. Or perhaps I can find her brother. Do you happen to know Tom Adams? A fellow who does odd jobs around the hotel sometimes?”
The boy nodded.
“Yes, I know the guy you mean. Big brute with light hair? I think he’s back in the garage now, fixing up Frazier’s truck.”
Mary Louise jumped to her feet: this was just the information she wanted. She would rather see Tom Adams than his sister, although she didn’t actually want to talk to him. Just to check up on his movements!
“Be back in a few minutes!” she called as she disappeared through the clump of bushes behind the tennis court.
In her sneakers she skipped along noiselessly, unconscious of the fact that an outsider might regard her actions as “snooping.” Yet when she stopped just outside of the garage door because she heard men’s voices inside, she realized then that she was really eavesdropping.
Immediately she identified the voices as belonging to Mr. Frazier and Tom Adams. The latter was evidently changing a tire on the truck.
“I tell you I’ve got to have that money tonight!” snarled Tom Adams. “I owe a guy a hundred bucks, and I need the rest myself.”
“I can’t pay it all now,” whined Frazier. “I just haven’t got it. I can let you have three hundred and the rest when the job is finished.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, the job ain’t a-goin’ a be finished till you cough up! All the dough.”
Frazier’s tone became more whining. “Business isn’t any too good——”
“What would it have been without me to help?” retorted the younger man. “Did I—or did I not put money in your pocket?”
“Oh, sure you did. And I’m willing to pay you for it.”
There was silence for a moment, while Mary Louise waited breathlessly. She could not see the men’s faces, but she had no difficulty in following their conversation. She heard the rattling of paper money and knew that Frazier must be paying Tom something.
“Want a receipt?” demanded Tom presently.
“Good Lord, no!” cried the other. “Nothing in writing, Tom. It might be used against us. Guess I can trust you.”
“We’ve got to trust each other,” sneered the younger man. “That’s why I say you have no right to hold out on me. I’m doin’ the dirty work.”
Mary Louise felt that she had heard enough. Everything was perfectly clear to her. The only thing required was to wire the Albany police. Forgetful of her own danger and her need for secrecy until her discovery could be announced, she ran across the front of the garage to the kitchen door of the hotel. But not lightly enough: both Frazier and Tom heard her and stepped out of the garage to see who she was.
“What do you want, Mary Louise?” demanded Frazier, wondering whether or not she could have overheard their conversation. “Lost a tennis ball?”
“No—no—I’m—looking for Hattie. Hattie Adams.” Her voice was trembling; she did her best to make it sound unconcerned.
“Hattie doesn’t work here,” replied Mr. Frazier. “Hasn’t for a long time. What gave you that idea?”
“I thought maybe she would, after she lost her job with Flicks’.”
“Well, she doesn’t. And I’d thank you to keep out of my kitchen and other places where you don’t belong, Miss Mary Louise Gay!” returned Frazier. Like all guilty people, he was angry at the innocent, and he glared at the girl with hate in his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Frazier,” replied Mary Louise. Turning to Tom she asked, “Is Hattie over at the farm?”
“Reckon so,” muttered the young man.
Mary Louise turned about and went back to the tennis court. Another set was in progress. Jane was playing now, and Mary Louise did not like to interrupt the game. So she merely picked up her tennis racket and told the young people on the bench that she was going home.
“I’ll have to take the canoe,” she said. “But I guess some of you people can see that Jane gets across the river in case I don’t return in time.”
“O.K.,” agreed the boys.
Mary Louise walked rapidly toward the river, trying to formulate a plan as she went. But it was very difficult. Since there were no police at Shady Nook, and the only telephone anywhere near was at the Royal Hotel, she didn’t know how to proceed. There could be no doubt that Frazier and Tom Adams were guilty of starting the fires at Shady Nook, but what were the first steps she should take in having them arrested? Whom should she inform first? Oh, if her father were only here to help her!
“They’ll burn the Ditmars’ down if I’m not quick,” she thought. “And they may do something to me, because I think both men suspect that I overheard that conversation. Oh, what shall I do?”
She paddled across the river and tied the canoe to the dock. Then she went inside the bungalow, debating whether or not to take her mother into her confidence.
But that question was answered for her. Mrs. Gay was not at home, so there was no opportunity to tell her.
Mary Louise sat down at the little desk in her bedroom and took out her notebook. While the conversation between the two men was fresh in her mind she’d write it down, to show to the police when they arrived. Word for word, just as Frazier and Tom Adams had spoken.
After she had finished that, she sat still for a while, thinking. At last she decided upon a plan.
“I’ll go to Adams first and make sure Hattie will be over tomorrow,” she thought. “Because I mustn’t let Adelaide down. Then I’ll drive on to the railroad station and wire the police in Albany. Maybe I’ll send Mrs. Hunter a telegram too, so that she can help me out on the other end.”
She glanced at her costume—a red-and-white sports dress, which she usually wore for tennis because of its short, full skirt. That would do, although it was a little conspicuous—easy for Tom Adams to identify in case he wanted to know what she was doing. She’d change her shoes, however, for she liked pumps better than sneakers.
Ready at last, she went through the back door of the bungalow to the garage. But here she met with a disappointment she had not expected. The car was not there!
Then she remembered. Her mother had promised to take Mrs. Partridge and her sisters to a country fair that afternoon and would be gone until six o’clock!
“So there’s nothing for me to do but walk,” she concluded. “Oh, if Cliff were only here so I could borrow his!” But if Cliff were here and his house had not been burned, there would be no necessity of sending that wire.
She started at once, cutting across a field and walking as fast as she could, in spite of the heat, for it was almost four o’clock now, and she and Jane had promised her mother that they would prepare the supper. But Jane was a good scout, Mary Louise thought; she’d go ahead just the same if she were alone, so that part needn’t worry her. The important thing was to get that telegram to Albany before anything disastrous happened.
Yet her fears were entirely for the Ditmars as she trudged up the long hill to the Adams farm. Never once was she afraid for her own sake—not until her own horrible fate descended upon her with the suddenness of a clap of thunder. Then, and then only did she realize what a risk she had taken by coming to this lonely place by herself. Away from her friends, her family—everybody—alone, with a cruel enemy and a crazy woman!
For Mary Louise Gay was forcibly prevented from going to the station that afternoon to send the wire to the police in Albany!
Jane Patterson finished her tennis match and came back across the river in a canoe belonging to one of the boys, just as Mary Louise had suggested. Although she had hoped that her chum would return in time for the afternoon swim, she was not surprised when Mary Louise failed to appear. Adams’ farm was farther off than you thought—when you had to go the whole distance on foot. Jane remembered that Mrs. Gay had taken the car to the fair.
She managed to find Freckles in the water and asked him to come right back to the bungalow after the swim.
“Mary Lou has gone to Adams’ farm to see Hattie,” she explained. “She had to walk, so she’ll be all in when she gets back. Your mother will be tired too. So let’s have supper ready, Freckles. You can set the table and crack the ice for the tea.”
“O.K., Jane,” agreed the boy. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can dress.”
The two young people worked fast: at six o’clock, when Mrs. Gay drove back from the fair, they had the meal on the table.
“It certainly smells good, girls!” she exclaimed as she came through the kitchen door from the garage.
“Girls nothing!” retorted Freckles. “You mean ‘girl and boy,’ Mother. I did a lot of work for this meal.”
“That’s fine, dear,” replied Mrs. Gay. “But where’s Mary Lou?”
“She went over to Adams’ farm to see Hattie,” answered Jane. “And she hasn’t come back yet.”
“In all this heat? Oh, that’s too bad! She should have waited till I got home with the car. I didn’t know she was going.”
“She wasn’t sure of it herself. She was hoping to find Hattie over at the hotel. But evidently she didn’t, for she didn’t wait to play any tennis.”
“Well, I guess she’ll be along soon,” remarked Mrs. Gay cheerfully. “We’ll keep a plate hot for her. But let’s eat. We’re all hungry, and this food is too good to spoil by drying up.”
The meal passed off pleasantly; nobody thought of being worried by Mary Louise’s absence. But as the minutes went by and she did not come, Freckles was the first to become anxious. For he remembered the threat to the Ditmars on that coarse piece of paper that morning, and he knew that Mary Louise was involved in that same business.
When seven o’clock struck and still his sister had not put in an appearance, he suggested that his mother take the car and drive over to Adams’.
“It’s such a lonely road up to that farm,” he explained, “that if Mary Lou had sprained her ankle or hurt herself on the way, nobody might pass by for hours to give her help.”
Mrs. Gay was startled. It had not occurred to her that anything might have happened to her daughter. Mary Louise was always so self-reliant, and Shady Nook was such a safe place.
“You two people go,” said Jane. “I’ll stay here and wash the dishes. I want to squeeze some lemons, because some of the bunch are coming over here tonight—if that’s all right with you, Mrs. Gay.”
“Certainly it’s all right, dear. And Mary Lou will be delighted, too—I’m sure.”
Mrs. Gay backed the car out of the garage with Freckles in the seat beside her and drove slowly up the dirt road which led to Adams’ farm. The boy kept a sharp watch on both sides of the road, to make sure that his sister was not lying helpless along the way. Twice his mother stopped the car; and they both called Mary Louise’s name. But there was no response.
“She may just have stayed for supper with Hattie,” remarked Mrs. Gay. “And of course, since neither of us has a telephone, she couldn’t let us know. She’d think we wouldn’t worry so long as she got home before dark.”
“Oh, sure,” muttered the boy. But he was anxious: his mother didn’t know what had happened that morning.
They reached the Adams’ gate at last and got out of the car. Old Mr. Adams was sitting alone on the porch with one leg propped up on a chair.
“Good-evening, Mr. Adams,” began Mrs. Gay. “Is Mary Louise here? I’m her mother.”
“No, she ain’t,” replied the old man, taking the pipe out of his mouth.
“Has she been here?”
“Not as I know of. Hattie and I have been to the fair all afternoon. If your daughter was here, she must have turned right around and gone home again. Nobody was home all afternoon except poor Rebecca. And she’s sick abed.”