CHAPTER XIII
The Threat
“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!”
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!
CHAPTER XIV
The Search
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.”
A feeling of alarm crept over Mrs. Gay. What could have happened to Mary Louise?
“Was Tom home?” demanded Freckles, remembering his sister’s warning.
“Don’t reckon so. He was workin’ over to the hotel today, after he helped our hired man this mornin’.”
“Is he here now? Could we ask him?”
The old man shook his head.
“Tom packed up and left tonight, right after supper. Hattie drove him down to the Junction to catch the train. He’s got a friend out West somewhere who owns a ranch. So Tom decided all of a sudden to go there. I tried to stop him, for we need him here, as I’m all crippled up with rheumatism half the time. But he wouldn’t listen to me. Pig-headed, that’s what I call it!”
Freckles’ eyes opened wide with terror. It sounded as if Mary Louise had been right in assuming Tom’s guilt in connection with the fires at Shady Nook. Running away proved it! But what had he done to Mary Lou first?
“Could we talk to Rebecca?” inquired Mrs. Gay.
“Sure,” agreed Mr. Adams. “But it probably won’t do no good. She can’t remember things straight, you know.”
“She might remember seeing Mary Louise, if she had stopped in,” replied Mrs. Gay. “Anyhow, it’s worth trying.”
“Go right up,” said the old man. “Room at the back of the house. You won’t have no trouble finding it. Sorry I can’t go with you, but my leg’s pretty bad tonight.”
“Oh, that’s all right!” responded Mrs. Gay. “I’ll find the way by myself. You better stay here, Freckles.”
The boy looked disappointed; he would have liked to take another look at that queer creature and size her up for himself. Maybe she had done something to Mary Lou! But he sat down on the steps as his mother advised and waited patiently.
Mrs. Gay hurried on up to Rebecca’s room, and found the woman in bed, as she had expected, with her tangled gray hair spread over the pillows. She stared blankly at her visitor.
“I am Mary Louise’s mother, Rebecca,” announced Mrs. Gay. “You remember Mary Louise? The girl who saved the Smith baby in the fire?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, I know Mary Louise. She came to see me today. Got me a drink of water. It wasn’t well water, but it tasted good. She is a fine girl. I like Mary Louise.”
“What time was she here?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell time. It’s all the same to me – except day and night. She was here in daytime.”
Mrs. Gay sighed.
“Where was she going after she left you?” she asked. “Did she happen to say?”
“No, she didn’t… I heard a car outside – I think it was my brother Tom’s. But I don’t know if Mary Louise had gone before that or not. I can’t remember.” Her voice trailed off as if she were half dreaming. “She said she’d look for well water for me, because I’m sick. She said she’d come again. Oh, Mary Louise is a good girl.”
Mrs. Gay walked to the doorway. There was nothing more to be learned from Rebecca. She wasn’t even sure that the woman knew what she was talking about.
If only she could talk to the brother! But it was too late now; the only thing to do was to wait for Hattie to return from the Junction and see whether she had any news.
“Rebecca says that Mary Louise was here this afternoon,” she told Mr. Adams and Freckles when she returned to the porch.
“I’m afraid that don’t mean nothin’,” remarked the old man. “Like as not, Rebecca’s confusing today with yesterday or even last week. She ain’t got no memory at all.”
“Do you think Hattie will be back soon?”
“I reckon so. Sounds like the Ford now, at the bottom of the hill. But she was away all afternoon, you recollect, at the fair.”
“I know,” agreed Mrs. Gay. “But Rebecca seems to remember a car arriving about the time Mary Louise left, and she thought it was your son’s. So maybe he saw Mary Louise and mentioned it to Hattie.”
Freckles’ heart stood still at these words. Tom Adams, with a car! What had he done to Mary Lou?
But he did not say anything; he waited for Hattie Adams to drive her car into the garage.
In another moment the girl appeared on the porch and nodded pleasantly to Mrs. Gay and Freckles.
“Where’s Mary Lou?” she inquired immediately.
“That’s just what we want to know!” cried Freckles. “She’s – lost! Did Tom say anything about seeing her?”
“No, he didn’t. He never mentioned her. Why?”
Mrs. Gay explained again what Rebecca had said, but Hattie was just as doubtful as her father had been about the veracity of any of Rebecca’s statements.
“I wouldn’t go by that,” she said. “But Mary Lou may be home by this time, waiting for you. Don’t worry till you find out.”
This sounded like good advice, so Mrs. Gay and Freckles got into their car and drove as quickly as possible back to Shady Nook. Jane, the Reed twins, Stuart Robinson, and the four new boys were all waiting anxiously on the Gays’ porch. But Mrs. Gay knew immediately from their expressions that Mary Louise had not returned.
“Get the boys together at once, Freckles,” commanded Stuart Robinson, “and we’ll search the woods thoroughly. Two of you fellows paddle across to the island, and two more go over to the hotel and hunt around there. Mary Lou may have sprained her ankle somewhere and be waiting for help.”
Mrs. Gay went inside the cottage, into her bedroom, and sat down, making a desperate effort to control her fears. But she couldn’t help thinking of all the dreadful stories she had read in the newspapers – stories of kidnaping and sudden death. Oh, if only her husband were here!
She picked up his last letter from the bureau. He was in Cleveland now and hoped to be with them soon. Soon! She must have him immediately. She remembered the promise she had given him when they said good-bye – to send for him if she needed him. Yes, she would wire tonight! She’d paddle across the river to the hotel and send a telegram over the phone.
Coming out of the door again she almost ran into Horace Ditmar, with Freckles beside him.
“We’re afraid this is serious, Mrs. Gay,” he said. “Freckles said Mary Louise suspected Tom Adams of starting the fires at Shady Nook and writing us a threat, which we found under our door this morning. And now your boy tells me that Tom Adams has run away… So we’re afraid that he may have done something to Mary Louise.”
“Oh no!” cried Mrs. Gay, aghast. “Oh, it just isn’t possible!”
“But it is, Mother,” said the boy. “And Mr. Ditmar thinks we should send for the police immediately. He’ll go over to the hotel and send a wire now.”
Mrs. Gay sank unsteadily into a chair. For an instant she thought she was going to faint. But she made a desperate effort to control herself; she realized that she needed all her powers in this terrible emergency.
“Yes, go, Mr. Ditmar,” she said. “And telegraph to my husband at the same time.” She scribbled a message on the envelope with Mr. Gay’s address and handed it to the young man.
Mr. Ditmar left immediately, and Freckles brought his mother a glass of water. She drank it gratefully.
“Here comes Mrs. Reed,” he announced cheerfully. “Have her stay with you while I join the boys, Mother,” he said, bending down and kissing her. “For I can’t leave you alone.” In these last two hours the boy had suddenly seemed to grow up. His mother realized the fact, and, in spite of her trouble, she was grateful and proud.
“I’ll be all right, dear,” she replied. “And you go along. Mary Lou knows your whistle better than anything else, and if she is somewhere in the woods, you’ll surely find her… Go, dear!”
Freckles ran off, and a systematic search of all the country around Shady Nook began: with lanterns and flashlights and whistles, interspersed by frequent calls from the boys and girls. But as the darkness grew deeper and the silence of the woods more intense, an increasing sense of alarm took hold of all the searchers. Joking and laughter ceased; the only singing that broke out was forced, because someone thought it might help find Mary Louise. But it was all in vain.
Midnight came, and the various groups made their way back to Shady Nook, tired, hungry, and disheartened. Mrs. Gay and Mr. and Mrs. Reed and the three Partridge women were all still sitting on the Gays’ porch, hopefully waiting for news. But they knew from the slow, silent manner of the young people’s return that they had not been successful.
“Make us some coffee, and we’ll begin all over again,” said Stuart Robinson. “Mary Lou must be somewhere!”
Mrs. Gay shook her head.
“No, I think you better all go to bed. The children must have their sleep. In the morning the police will come. Perhaps they will have some news for us.”
“If only we hadn’t let Tom Adams get away from us!” muttered Horace Ditmar. “We went back to Adams’ and got the old man out of bed to try to learn Tom’s address. But he said he didn’t know it, and I’m inclined to believe he was speaking the truth.”
Even in her half-frenzied state, Mrs. Gay looked at the young architect and thought what an admirable man he was. How anyone could have thought him guilty of any crime was more than she could understand. He was more help to her in the crisis than anyone else – except Freckles.
So, accepting Mrs. Gay’s advice, the group dispersed to their own cottages, intending to continue the search the following morning.