Mary Louise’s heart stood still in her excitement. Who was the intruder? Was it the Margaret whom Mrs. Ferguson had mentioned in her letter, or was it the woman herself? Whoever it was, was he or she armed with a revolver?
Much as Mary Louise longed to find Margaret Detweiler, she dared not take a chance now of coming face to face with an unknown person in this dark house, since all the valuables were in her possession. Her only desire at the moment was for escape. Silently she moved towards the door of the kitchen which led directly into the hall.
She heard the newcomer go into the living room, and as Mary Louise crept past the doorway she saw the gleam of a flashlight. But the person, whoever it was, was hidden from her view, and Mary Louise did not wait to find out who it was. She reached the front door in safety and found the key still reposing in the lock.
A second later she removed the key and slipped out of the door into the clear, cold sunshine. She was free at last!
And with a chuckle of triumph she inserted the key on the outside of the door and turned it, imprisoning the intruder, just as she herself had been imprisoned for the last sixteen hours!
For one ecstatic moment Mary Louise stood motionless on the front porch, breathing the cold, delicious air of freedom. Then she ran around the side of the house to the rear to look for her car.
At first she thought it was gone, for she could not see it, huddled up close to the barn. But a few steps more revealed it to her view, and, weak as she was, she darted forward eagerly.
She decided that she would drive directly to the hotel and have some breakfast; afterwards she would inquire her way to the constable’s house. He could take charge of the valuables in her possession and go back with her to meet the intruder. For Mary Louise had no intention of returning to Philadelphia without first learning that person’s identity.
Besides, she had forgotten to bring out with her the basket containing the vase and the picture and the silverware. No use going back to Stoddard House without the entire loot!
She climbed into the car and put her foot on the starter—without any success. She pulled out the choke and tried again and again. Five minutes passed. She made one final effort, in vain. The car was frozen!
Despair seized her; she did not know what she could do. In her weakened condition, cold and hungry as she was, she did not believe herself physically capable of walking to the hotel. The distance must be at least a mile, although it had seemed so short by automobile.
She got out of the car and silently walked back to the front porch of the house, listening for sounds from the prisoner locked within its walls. But she heard nothing until she reached the driveway. Then a young man stepped from behind a tree and almost frightened her to death.
He was a tough-looking fellow of about nineteen or twenty, she judged, in slovenly corduroy trousers, a dirty lumber jacket, and cap. He eyed her suspiciously; Mary Louise forced herself to meet his gaze, although she was trembling so that she had to keep her hand on the jewelry in her pocket to prevent its rattling.
The young man edged up nearer to her.
“You one of Mrs. Ferguson’s girls?” he demanded.
“Yes, I know her,” replied Mary Louise. “I——”
“You been in the house now?”
“Yes,” admitted Mary Louise.
“Anything gone?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“That’s lucky,” remarked the young man. “I come around last night about six o’clock, same as I do every night, and I seen a window was broke on the side of the house. But I didn’t see nobody prowlin’ around, so I just nailed a board across it. I’m still watchin’ fer that guy that come in a car. You kin tell Mrs. Ferguson he ain’t come back yet.”
“What guy?” inquired Mary Louise, feeling more at ease now, since this young man evidently regarded her as one of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang of girls.
“That fellow that drove up here last Sunday night,” was the reply. “Didn’t Mrs. Ferguson tell you?”
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Ferguson to talk to,” she stammered, hardly able to keep from laughing.
“Well, this guy meant trouble, I’m a-thinkin’. He drove up here in a car with a dame alongside of him. I hid in a tree when I heard the car comin’, and when it was under the tree I dropped a rock on the dame’s head. Knocked her out, and the guy had to rush her off to a doctor.”
“Suppose you had killed her!” exclaimed Mary Louise solemnly.
“I ain’t supposin’. Besides, nobody knows I done it except Mrs. Ferguson and you girls, and if any of you dames tell on me, I’ve got plenty to tell on you!”
“No doubt about that,” agreed Mary Louise. “Well, I must be getting on. I’m going to the hotel for breakfast.”
“How about my money?” demanded the young man. “Mrs. Ferguson wrote me you’d be along today and said you’d pay me. She promised me ten bucks.”
This announcement scared Mary Louise; she didn’t know whether she should pay the man or not, in order to keep up the pretence that she was a member of the secret band. If she refused, mightn’t he knock her down? Yet if she complied with his demand and let him see the roll of bills, what would prevent his stealing them all at once?
However, a solution came to her mind, and she decided to risk it.
“I haven’t more than five dollars in my purse,” she said, opening it and showing him the contents. “I’ll have to pay you when I get back, after I have something to eat. I’m starved—I didn’t have any supper last night.”
“O.K.,” agreed the young man, to Mary Louise’s surprise. “Meet me here in an hour?”
“Yes, just about,” returned Mary Louise, hurrying down the driveway.
The minute she reached the road, out of sight of the house, Mary Louise started to run, and she kept on running for perhaps a couple of minutes. Then she stopped abruptly, dropping down on the cold, hard ground. She was so faint, she did not believe that she could take another step.
“Oh, I must get there!” she panted. “I must—must—must——”
But the main highway was not even in sight: only the long, desolate country road before her, without a sign of a person or a house.
She staggered somehow to her feet and took two or three steps forward. Utterly exhausted, she sank again to the ground.
“A lot of good all my discoveries will do me or the people of Stoddard House,” she mused bitterly, “if I pass out here on the road!”
She made another effort to rise, but she was growing colder and weaker every minute. In utter dismay she buried her head in her arms.
A sense of numbness began to creep over her as she sat there; she was losing consciousness of where she was when the sharp sound of a motor horn aroused her to her senses.
A car stopped opposite her; for one tense second she was afraid to look up for fear the occupants were some of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang. When a pleasant masculine voice addressed her, she felt the tears rush to her eyes in relief.
“What is the trouble, my girl?” inquired the man. “Can I help you?”
Reassurance and an overwhelming sense of gratitude almost prevented Mary Louise from answering. The man with the kind voice was someone she could trust: she saw by his manner of dressing that he was a Catholic priest.
“Oh, yes!” she replied. “Can you take me to the constable? Do you know where he lives?”
“Yes, of course I can.” It was an odd request, but the good man asked no questions. He merely got out of his car and lifted Mary Louise in beside him.
“I’d tell you the story—only I’m so cold and hungry,” she said. “Maybe—later——”
“That’s all right, my child,” he replied soothingly.
In less than five minutes he stopped his car in front of a plain brick house and helped Mary Louise to the doorway.
“Merry Christmas, Hodge!” he said, when the door was opened to his knock. “This young lady——”
“Merry Christmas, Father,” returned the constable, gazing at Mary Louise. Almost instantly he recalled who she was. “Come in, Miss Gay,” he said.
“Oh, how can I ever thank you enough?” said Mary Louise, fervently to the priest. But the good man only smiled and departed as quickly as he had appeared.
The smell of coffee, of breakfast—for it was only a little after nine o’clock—was overpowering to the hungry, exhausted girl. She sank into a chair with only one cry on her lips: “Coffee!”
Before the constable could even ask her a question, his wife hurried from the dining room with a steaming cup in her hands. She was a motherly woman of about forty-five; three children immediately followed her into the living room to see who the stranger was who had arrived so mysteriously.
“Drink this, dear,” said Mrs. Hodge, holding the cup to Mary Louise’s lips. “I put cream and sugar in it, so it won’t burn you.”
Nothing in her life had ever tasted half so good to the cold, hungry girl as that fragrant cup of coffee. She finished it to the last drop, and a smile broke over her face.
“Was that good!” she exclaimed. “Oh, how much better I feel!”
“You must have some breakfast now,” urged Mrs. Hodge. “Don’t crowd around Miss Gay so closely, children! She needs room to breathe.”
“I’m all right now—really,” said Mary Louise. The warmth of the room was working its magic spell; for the first time now she noticed the Christmas tree and the toys around the floor.
“I’ve been locked up alone in that empty house of Mrs. Ferguson’s since five o’clock last night——” she began. But Mrs. Hodge refused to let her talk until she had eaten her breakfast.
Mary Louise ate everything that was on the table: a steaming bowl of oatmeal, an orange, half a dozen hot-cakes, two pieces of sausage, a glass of milk, and another cup of coffee. When she had finally finished she said that she believed she had enjoyed that breakfast more than any meal she had ever had.
The whole family listened while she briefly told her story. Beginning with the code letter which had directed her to Center Square, she explained how she had broken into the empty house and how she had been imprisoned by a man who was evidently in Mrs. Ferguson’s employ.
“He admitted hitting me—only of course he didn’t know it was I—over the head last Sunday. He thinks I’m one of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang. So will you go back with me and arrest him, Constable Hodge?” she asked.
“I sure will,” agreed the man, and he told one of his children to run across the yard to get a neighbor to help him.
“I found the stolen goods,” concluded Mary Louise, reaching into her dress and producing the roll of bills and taking the bag of jewelry from her pocket. “Will you take charge of it till I can bring my father up to get it? He’s a detective too, you see.”
Everyone gasped in amazement at the heap of valuables which Mary Louise displayed before their eyes. The children rushed forward excitedly, and the young detective saw no reason why they should not examine them to their hearts’ content. One of the boys even wanted to count the money.
“But how did you get out of that house?” demanded the constable. “Did that man open the door for you?”
“Oh no,” replied Mary Louise. “A member of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang came with a key. I slipped out and locked her inside. That’s why we must hurry back, to catch her before she escapes.”
Mary Louise rose from her chair.
“Can we go now, Constable?” she asked.
“Certainly. Yep, here comes my neighbor, who often helps me make arrests. We’ll take him along in case your man or your prisoner gets uppish.”
“Could we take a mechanic to fix my car, too?” she asked. “It’s frozen.”
“One of the kids will phone to the garage right now to send somebody out.”
They gathered up the treasure, and, leaving it in Mrs. Hodge’s care, Mary Louise, the constable, and the neighbor—a husky six-foot fellow—got into the car. The distance which had seemed so long to the girl an hour ago was covered in less than five minutes.
At the turn into the driveway, Mary Louise saw the man who was waiting for her. Recognizing the constable at once, he made a quick dash to get away. But he was not fast enough: the constable was out of the car in a second, commanding him to stop and displaying his revolver. With an oath on his lips he surrendered.
The constable’s big friend took charge of him while Mary Louise and the officer entered the dark, cold house. The moment they opened the door they heard a girl’s terrified sobs from the living room.
“Who—are—you?” she called, in a voice choking with fear and misery.
“The Constable of Center Square and Mary Louise Gay!” replied the young detective.
The prisoner jumped to her feet and ran out to the open door.
“Mary—Louise—Gay!” she repeated incredulously, bursting afresh into tears.
But Mary Louise had identified her immediately. She was Margaret Detweiler!
Mary Louise thought she had never seen anyone change so much in the short space of two years as Margaret Detweiler had changed. How much older she looked, how much sadder, in spite of her expensive clothes! What a strange, trapped expression there was in her eyes, like that of an animal caught in a cage!
“You—are—going to arrest me?” the girl stammered, directing her question to the constable.
“I am doing just what Miss Gay says, at the present time,” replied the man. “So far, I don’t know that you’re guilty of any crime.”
“No, no, don’t arrest Margaret!” protested Mary Louise. “I just can’t believe that she is a member of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang. Why, it’s too impossible!”
“No, it isn’t impossible,” said Margaret, more calmly now. “Mrs. Ferguson is a special kind of criminal who makes young girls do her stealing for her. She picks up country girls who don’t know anybody in the city and trains them.... Oh, it’s a long story—and a sad one!”
“Do you mean to say that you did steal, Margaret?” demanded Mary Louise incredulously, for she had never believed that story of Margaret’s theft at the department store. “You must tell me the truth! For the sake of your grandparents.”
“I can honestly say that I have never stolen anything in my life,” replied the other girl steadfastly. “Mrs. Ferguson soon found out that I was no good for that, so she made me guardian of the treasure. I felt almost as wicked. But I never stole.”
“Thank heaven for that!” exclaimed Mary Louise.
“But now I’ve lost her valuables, and she’ll send me to prison,” whimpered Margaret. “Oh, Mary Lou, did you take them?”
“Yes, I took them. They’re at the constable’s home now, and most of them belong to the guests at Stoddard House in Philadelphia. But you shan’t suffer, Margaret, unless you’re really guilty.”
“The young lady is very cold,” remarked the constable. “Hadn’t we better go back to my house, where it’s warm, till your car is fixed, Miss Gay?”
“Oh yes, if you will let us!” agreed Mary Louise enthusiastically. She could see that Margaret’s teeth were chattering, and she remembered how cold she herself had been after an hour or so in that empty house.
“Wait until I get my other things,” she said, running back into the kitchen for the basket which she had packed early that morning. “I’ll put them into the car and see how soon the mechanic thinks he will have it ready.”
She returned in a couple of minutes and found the others already seated in the constable’s sedan. Mary Louise was glad to find that the officer had put Margaret Detweiler in front with him, not beside the tough young man with his huge guardian in the rear seat. She squeezed in next to Margaret, and the car started.
“The mechanic is going to drive my car to your place in about half an hour,” announced Mary Louise. “And then we’ll start for Philadelphia.”
“Fine!” exclaimed the constable. “That’ll give you girls a chance to get warm. And maybe have a cup of coffee.”
“It’s marvelous coffee,” commented Mary Louise. “It just about saved my life.”
Not another word was said about the crimes or the secret band. Margaret Detweiler was introduced to Mrs. Hodge as a friend of Mary Louise’s from Riverside, and the two girls spent a pleasant half hour in the constable’s home, sipping their freshly made coffee and looking at the children’s Christmas toys.
The constable, who had taken the young thug away, returned just as Mary Louise’s hired car drove up to the door.
Mary Louise jumped up and reached for her coat.
“Wait a minute!” cautioned the constable. “Company’s comin’ here to see you, Miss Gay! I just met somebody askin’ for you at the hotel.... So don’t be in too much of a rush!”
From the obvious twinkle in the man’s eyes, Mary Louise believed that Max Miller must have driven down to Philadelphia again and, missing her there, had naturally traced her to Center Square. But at that same moment a yellow taxi stopped at the constable’s gate, thereby dispelling any such illusion. Max would never ride in a taxicab on his limited allowance!
The door of the cab opened, and a tall, handsome man stepped out, paid the driver, and dismissed the cab. It was Mary Louise’s father.
Flinging open the door, the girl shouted at him in delight, so loud that Mr. Gay heard her in spite of the noise of the departing cab. In another moment he entered the open door of the house and held Mary Louise tightly in his arms.
“Mary Lou!” he cried in delight. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, ushering him into the constable’s house. “Merry Christmas, Daddy!”
“The same to you, dear.” He gazed at her fondly. “I believe it will be—now. You certainly look happy, Daughter.”
“I am, Daddy. These people have treated me royally!” She turned around and introduced her father to Mrs. Hodge and the children, for he had already met the constable. “And, oh, Dad, here is Margaret Detweiler,” she added. “You remember her, don’t you?”
“I certainly do,” replied Mr. Gay, extending his hand cordially. “My, but your grandparents are going to be glad to see you, Margaret!”
The girl blushed and looked down at the floor in embarrassment. Wisely, Mr. Gay asked no questions.
“I have all the stolen valuables, Dad,” continued Mary Louise. “Every single thing that was taken from Stoddard House, and even the money!”
Mr. Gay gazed at his daughter in speechless admiration: she had excelled his fondest hopes!
“Mary Lou, that’s—wonderful!” he said after a moment.... “I have good news too. I caught your thieves. Seven of ’em. They are in a Baltimore jail now.”
Both girls exclaimed aloud in amazement and delight. Margaret Detweiler started forward and clutched the detective’s arm.
“It’s really true, Mr. Gay?” she demanded breathlessly. “Mrs. Ferguson—is she in jail too?”
“Locked up without any chance of getting out on bail!” he said authoritatively.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” murmured the girl thankfully.
“Now we’ll be able to take the valuables right back to their owners at Stoddard House, Constable Hodge,” announced Mary Louise. “I’m not afraid to carry them, with Dad beside me.”
Mrs. Hodge brought the jewelry and the money from its hiding place and gave it all to Detective Gay. Both he and Mary Louise tried to thank the Hodges for their help and their hospitality; Mr. Gay wanted to give the constable some sort of recompense, but the good man refused. Only after a great deal of persuasion would he accept a five-dollar bill as a Christmas present for his children.
“Ready, Daddy?” inquired Mary Louise as she slipped on her coat.
“Just a minute,” replied her father. “I want to telephone to Mrs. Hilliard to let her know that you are safe. She’s been terribly worried, Mary Lou.... And shall I tell her that we’ll eat Christmas dinner with her at Stoddard House?”
“Oh, yes! I’ve heard about the menu. There won’t be a sweller dinner anywhere in Philadelphia than at Stoddard House. But shall we be in time?”
Mr. Gay consulted his watch. “It’s only a little after eleven,” he said. “We ought to make it by one o’clock.”
As soon as the telephone call was completed, the three people got into the little car. Mary Louise herself took the wheel, for, as she explained, she was familiar with it by this time.
“Now tell me about your experiences, Mary Lou,” urged her father, as soon as they were well under way.
Mary Louise explained, for Margaret’s benefit as well as for her father’s, about deciphering the code letter and coming up to Center Square and breaking into the empty house in search of the valuables. But she made light of the coldness and desolation of the dark house and of her own hunger. She concluded with the statement that Margaret had come that morning and let her out with a key.
“But how did you happen to have the key, Margaret?” demanded Mr. Gay.
“I will have to tell you my whole story from the beginning,” answered the girl. There was a tragic note in her voice, which drew out her listeners’ sympathy, but neither made any comment.
“Then you can decide what to do with me,” she continued. “I guess I deserve to go to prison, but when I assure you that I have never done anything wrong except under compulsion, maybe you will not be so angry with me.”
“We’re not angry with you, Margaret,” Mary Louise told her. “Only terribly sorry. So please tell us everything. You remember that your grandparents have never heard anything from you since last Christmas.... So begin your story there.”
“All right.... Let me see—I was working in that department store in Philadelphia, and doing pretty well, for I got commissions besides my salary on everything I sold. I started in the cheap jewelry department and was promoted to the expensive kind. Christmas brought me in a lot of business, but I guess I overworked, for I got sick the week before and had to stay home and have the doctor. I’d already spent a good deal of money on presents, and when my doctor’s bill was paid I found my salary was all gone. So I went back to the store before I should—on the twenty-third of December, I remember.”
“The twenty-third of December!” repeated Mary Louise. “That was the day Mrs. Ferguson registered at the Benjamin Franklin Hotel.”
“How did you know, Mary Lou?” demanded Margaret.
“I went to the hotel and looked through the old register,” she explained. “But go on, Margaret. What happened then?”
“I found that a ring, an expensive diamond ring, had been stolen from our department,” continued the girl. “They insisted that it was taken before I was away, but they couldn’t prove anything. Just the same, I know the store detective had his eye on me.... Well, that very day something else disappeared: a link bracelet. This time they accused me immediately.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, except that I was the newest salesgirl in the department—in fact, the only girl. The store detective stepped behind my counter and leaned down to the floor.And he picked that bracelet right out of my shoe!”
“How dreadful!” cried Mary Louise. “Somebody had ‘planted’ it there?”
“Of course. Mrs. Ferguson had, as I later learned. But at the time I hadn’t a suspicion. She was standing right near the counter, examining some rings. When she heard me accused and told to leave the store, she stepped forward, saying that she was sorry for me. She asked me whether I had any family, and I told her they were too far away for me to go to, without any money.
“‘But you’ll have trouble getting a job without a reference,’ she said. ‘So perhaps I had better help you.’”
“The sly cat!” cried Mary Louise.
Margaret nodded. “But I didn’t know it then. I simply asked her whether she could get me a job, and she told me to come to the Benjamin Franklin Hotel that afternoon and ask for Mrs. Ferguson.
“Of course, I went—I had nothing else to do. She engaged me at once as her secretary. We went out to Center Square for a few days, and I met a lot of other girls. Two daughters, two nieces, and a couple of friends. We had a good time, but I didn’t do any work, for she had two servants and a chauffeur, and I felt as if I didn’t earn my pay.”
“Did she give you a salary?” asked Mary Louise.
“Yes,” replied Margaret. “For the first couple of weeks. But I had to send it to my landlady in Philadelphia. After that, Mrs. Ferguson bought my clothes and paid my hotel bills, but she never gave me any cash.”
“So you couldn’t get away!” observed Mr. Gay.
“Exactly. Gradually I began to suspect that there was something crooked about this bunch, and then one day I found the diamond ring which had been stolen from the store: among Mrs. Ferguson’s stuff at Center Square!”
“What did you do?” demanded Mary Louise.
“I showed it to her and said I was going to take it right back to the store, and she stood there and laughed at me. She said it would only prove my own guilt!
“The next day we all went to Washington and stayed in different hotels. Mrs. Ferguson kept me with her, but I soon saw through her tricks. Her girls were all skilled hotel thieves. She tried to teach me the business, as she called it, but I refused to learn. So she made me take charge of the stuff they stole. The girls would bring their loot to her, and she’d send me with it to Center Square. Every once in a while she would dispose of it all to a crooked dealer who asked no questions.”
“Were you out at Center Square last Sunday, Margaret?” interrupted Mary Louise.
“Yes. Mrs. Ferguson and I both went. We had intended to get the place ready to spend Christmas there, but for some reason, Mrs. Ferguson got scared. She said that Mary Green talked too much, and she thought we ought to clear out. She made plans to dispose of everything in Baltimore, and then we were all going to sail to Bermuda.... But why did you ask that, Mary Lou?”
“Because I was in that car that drove up to the house then. I saw you and then Mrs. Ferguson. I wouldn’t have thought of its being you, only Mary Green admitted that she knew you. That made me suspicious.”
“You disappeared pretty quickly!”
“Rather,” laughed Mary Louise, and she told the story of being hit over the head by a rock and of catching the young man and having him arrested that very morning.
“That was clever!” approved her father. “Who was he, Margaret?”
“A neighborhood bum that Mrs. Ferguson employs to watch the place and keep the people away,” replied the girl.
“But I’m afraid I interrupted you, Margaret,” apologized Mary Louise. “Please go on with your story.”
“There isn’t much left to tell. I was too far away from home to run away, without any money, and I hadn’t a single friend I could go to. All the store people thought I was a thief, so I knew there was no use asking their help. I just kept on, from day to day, not knowing how it would ever end and never expecting to see my grandparents or my Riverside friends again. Oh, you can’t imagine how unhappy I have been!”
She stopped talking, for emotion had overcome her; tears were rolling down her cheeks. Mary Louise laid her hand over Margaret’s reassuringly.
“It’s all right now, isn’t it, Daddy?” she said. “We’ll take you home to your grandparents.”
“But I can’t go back to them!” protested the other girl. “How can I tell them what has happened? They’d be disgraced for life.”
“You can tell them you have been working for a queer woman who wouldn’t allow you to write home,” said Mr. Gay. “A woman whose mind was affected, for that is the truth. There is no doubt that Mrs. Ferguson is the victim of a diseased mind.”
“Wouldn’t you ever tell on me?” questioned Margaret.
“No, of course not. It was in no way your fault, child.... And now try to be happy. I think I can find you a job in Herman’s Hardware store, right in Riverside. And you can live with your grandparents. They need you.”
“It seems almost too good to be true,” breathed the grateful girl.
Mary Louise turned to her father.
“Now for your story, Dad,” she begged. “About capturing the thieves.”
“I think that had better be kept till dinner time,” replied Mr. Gay. “This traffic we’re approaching will require all your attention, Mary Lou. And besides, Mrs. Hilliard will want to hear it too.”
Mary Louise brought the car to a stop at Stoddard House at a quarter to one. Carrying the money and the jewels in her father’s briefcase, and the other articles in the basket, she and Margaret went into the hotel to get ready for dinner while Mr. Gay returned the hired car to the garage.
“I’ll notify the police that you’re found, Mary Lou,” he said. “Then I’ll call your mother. I think it will be best if she goes over to your grandparents, Margaret, and tells them about you herself. They haven’t a telephone, and I don’t like to frighten elderly people with telegrams.”
Both girls nodded their approval to these suggestions and hurried into the hotel. Mrs. Hilliard was waiting for Mary Louise with open arms; she loved the young detective like a daughter.
“Now, run along, girls, and get ready for dinner,” she said finally. “We are going to have one big table, instead of all the little ones in the dining room. With a tree in the center, and place cards, just like a jolly family party.”
“That’s swell!” exclaimed Mary Louise. “It’ll be real Christmas after all.”
“And thank you so much for the lovely handkerchiefs, dear,” added the manager. “It was sweet of you to think of me.... That reminds me, you haven’t had your presents yet.”
“Put them at my place at the table,” suggested Mary Louise. “And I’ll have presents for some of the guests,” she added, with a significant glance at the briefcase and basket.
When the girls returned to the first floor, after washing their faces and powdering their noses, they found Mr. Gay waiting for them. For a moment he did not see them, so intent was he in the newspaper he was reading.
“Want to see the gang’s picture?” he asked when Mary Louise came to his side.
“Oh yes! Please!”
In spite of the fact that it was Christmas Day, a large photograph of Mrs. Ferguson and her six accomplices occupied much of the front page of this Philadelphia paper. In an inset above the picture of the crooks was Mary Louise’s smiling face!
“Daddy!” cried the girl in amazement. “Are you responsible for this?”
“I am,” replied her father proudly. “I want everybody to know that the credit belongs to you, Daughter.”
Other guests, who had not yet read their newspapers, crowded about Mr. Gay eager for the exciting news. They all remembered Pauline Brooks, and Mary Green; several of them identified the two transients who had stolen the other things from Stoddard House.
A loud gong sounded from the dining room, and Mrs. Hilliard threw open the doors. The room was beautifully decorated with greens and holly; a long table stretched out before them, covered with a lovely lace cloth and bearing a small Christmas tree as its centerpiece. Bright red ribbons had been stretched from the tree to each guest’s place, adding brilliancy to the spectacle.
“Hello, Mary Louise!” said a voice behind the young detective, and, turning around, Mary Louise saw Mrs. Weinberger behind her.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weinberger!” she replied. “It’s nice to see you back here.”
“I’ve come back to stay,” announced the older woman. “I got lonely at the Bellevue. And Mrs. Macgregor is here too, for Christmas dinner.”
It was a happy group who finally found their places around the beautiful table and sat down. Mrs. Hilliard was at one end, and Miss Stoddard was honored with the seat at the other end. Mr. Gay was the only man present, but he did not seem in the least embarrassed.
Mary Louise found her pile of presents at her place, and Margaret Detweiler discovered a bunch of violets and a box of candy at hers. Even in his haste, Mr. Gay had remembered the lonely girl.
The guests ate their oyster cocktails and their mushroom soup before any formal announcement concerning the valuables was made. Then Mrs. Hilliard rose from her chair.
“As you all know from the papers, our criminals have been caught by Mary Louise Gay and her father, and are now in prison. But even better news than that is coming. I’ll introduce Mr. Gay, whom some of you know already, and he’ll tell you more about it.”
Everybody clapped as the famous detective stood up.
“I’m not going to make a speech,” he said, “and keep you waiting for the turkey we’re all looking forward to. I just thought that maybe some of you would enjoy this wonderful dinner even more if you knew that you are going to get everything back again which was stolen. My daughter found all the valuables and the money this morning in Mrs. Ferguson’s house at Center Square, and she will now return them to their rightful owners.”
As the newspaper had not mentioned anything about the stolen goods, the guests were not prepared for this pleasant surprise. A loud burst of applause greeted Mary Louise as she smilingly rose to her feet and opened the briefcase and drew out the basket from under the table where she had hidden it.
“I’ll begin at the beginning,” she said. “With the vase and the silverware belonging to Stoddard House.” She carried these articles to Mrs. Hilliard, amid appreciative hand-clapping.
“Next, Miss Granger’s picture and her fifty dollars,” she continued.
Tears actually came to the artist’s eyes as she took the painting from Mary Louise’s hands.
“You keep the fifty dollars, Miss Gay,” she said. “My picture is what I care for most.”
“No, Miss Granger, no, thank you,” replied the girl solemnly. “I am being paid a salary for my work by Mrs. Hilliard, but I can’t accept rewards for doing my duty.”
She picked up the watches next: Mrs. Weinberger’s and Mrs. Hilliard’s. The Walder girls would get theirs when they returned from their holidays.
“And, last of all, Mrs. Macgregor’s diamond earrings and her five hundred dollars,” she concluded, restoring the jewelry and the bills to the delighted woman. “I believe that is all, for I am wearing my own wrist-watch, and I have my purse with its five dollars contents.”
Loud cheering accompanied the applause which followed. When it had at last quieted down, both Mrs. Weinberger and Mrs. Macgregor tried in vain to give Mary Louise a reward, but she remained firm in her refusal. Then the turkeys were brought to the dining room, and everything else was temporarily forgotten in the enjoyment of Christmas dinner.
When it was all over, Mr. Gay told Mary Louise to pack her clothing and her presents while he returned the remaining valuables to the Ritz and to the police. “For I hope we can make the three-thirty train,” he explained.
“But with that change at the Junction, we’d have to wait all night, shouldn’t we, Daddy?” inquired Mary Louise. Anxious as she was to get back to Riverside, she had no desire to spend the night in a cheerless railway station.
“No,” replied her father. “Because there’s going to be a surprise waiting for you at the Junction.”
“Max and Norman?” guessed Mary Louise instantly. “You mean that they’ll drive down for us?”
Mr. Gay nodded. “That isn’t all,” he said.
Mary Louise did not guess the rest of the answer until the train pulled into the Junction shortly after eight o’clock that night. Then a war whoop that could come from no one else but her small brother greeted her ears, and she knew that her mother must be there too. Yes, and there was her chum, Jane Patterson, grinning at her from the boys’ car! And her little dog, Silky!
In another minute Mary Louise was clasping her arms around Mrs. Gay and hugging Freckles and Jane and Silky all at once. Max, at her side, had to be content with pressing her arm affectionately.
Questions, Christmas greetings, words of joy and congratulation poured so fast upon Mary Louise’s ears that she could scarcely understand them.
“You’re home to stay, darling?” This from her mother.
“You’ll go to the senior prom with me?” demanded Max.
“You’re the most famous girl detective in the world!” shouted Norman Wilder.
“You were a lemon to duck my party, but I’ll give another one just in your honor,” promised Jane.
“Did you get your salary—your twenty-five bucks?” asked Freckles.
Mary Louise nodded, smiling, to everything. Then she got into Max’s car beside him, with Jane and Norman in the rumble seat. Mr. Gay took the wheel of his sedan, with his wife beside him; Margaret Detweiler, who was quietly watching everything, sat behind with Freckles.
The drivers of the two cars did not stop for any food on the way; they sped along as fast as they dared towards Riverside. Old Mr. and Mrs. Detweiler were waiting up for their precious granddaughter, their lost Margaret.
A little before midnight the cars pulled up in front of the old couple’s home, and everybody in the party went inside for a moment. The greeting between Margaret and her grandparents was touching to see. Even Norman Wilder, who prided himself on being “hard-boiled,” admitted afterwards that the tears came to his eyes.
Mrs. Gay discreetly drew her own party away, back to her home, where a feast was waiting for the travelers. This, Mary Louise felt, was her real Christmas celebration—with her family and her three dearest friends. Now she could tell her story and listen to the praises which meant so much to her.
“But the best part of it all,” she concluded, “is that I’m a real professional detective at last!”