CHAPTER III
The Book Club
Mary Louise was a little awe-struck as she sat down alone in her new bedroom. The first time she had ever been away from home by herself, without any friends! Alone in a big city – working on a job! It seemed to her that she had suddenly grown up. She couldn’t be the same care-free high-school girl who had gone coasting only yesterday afternoon with her friends.
A momentary sensation of depression took hold of her as she thought of Jane and the boys and the informal party she was missing that evening. It would be wonderful if Jane could be with her now, sharing her experiences as she always had, helping her to solve this mystery. But such a thing was impossible, of course. Jane wouldn’t want to give up the Christmas gayety at Riverside, and besides, this was a real job. You couldn’t bring your friends along on a real job as if it were only play.
Then she thought of that other Riverside girl alone in this big city. Margaret Detweiler, the girl who had so mysteriously disappeared. What could have happened to her? Suppose something like that should happen to Mary Louise!
“I’m positively getting morbid,” she thought, jumping up from the chair on which she was seated and beginning to unpack her things. “I’d better get dressed and go down and meet some of the young people. I’ll never accomplish anything by mooning about like this.”
She unpacked her suitcase and hung her clothing in the closet. What a neat little room it was, with its pretty maple furniture and white ruffled curtains! So different from the common, ugly boarding-house bedroom! She was lucky to have such a nice place to live in. And Mrs. Hilliard was certainly a dear.
She found the shower bath down the hall, and feeling refreshed, slipped into a new wine-red crêpe, which her mother had bought her especially for the holidays. It was very becoming, and her eyes sparkled as she ran down the steps to the first floor. No use bothering with elevators when she had only one flight to go.
Mrs. Hilliard was at the desk, talking to the secretary, who was putting on her hat and coat.
“Oh, Mary Louise,” she said, “I want you to come here and register and meet Miss Horton. This is Miss Gay,” she explained, “a young friend of mine. She is visiting me for the holidays, and I forgot to have her register when she came in. But as she is using room 206, and not my apartment, I think she had better register.”
Mary Louise nodded approvingly and wrote her name in the book.
“You have never come across a girl named Margaret Detweiler, have you, Miss Horton?” she asked. “I want to find her if I can while I am in Philadelphia.”
The secretary shook her head.
“No, I don’t think so. You might look through the book, though. I can’t remember all the transients who have stopped here at Stoddard House.”
“Naturally,” agreed Mary Louise, and she turned the pages eagerly. But of course she did not find the name. Coincidences like that don’t often happen, and besides, she reasoned, if she did find it, it wouldn’t do her much good. That wouldn’t tell her where Margaret was now.
“Come into the music room with me,” said Mrs. Hilliard. “I see one of our newest arrivals here – a young girl who came only last week. She can’t be more than nineteen or twenty. I think you’d like each other.”
The girl, an attractive brunette with a gay manner and a little too much lipstick, was standing beside the radio, turning the dials. She looked up as Mrs. Hilliard and Mary Louise entered the room.
“Miss Brooks, I want you to meet a friend of mine – Miss Gay,” said Mrs. Hilliard. “Perhaps I’d better say ‘Pauline’ and ‘Mary Louise,’ because I know you young people don’t bother with last names.”
The girls smiled at each other, and the manager went towards the door.
“Would you be good enough to take care of Mary Louise – introduce her to any of the other guests who come in – Miss Brooks? I have to go back to the desk, for the secretary has gone home.”
“Certainly,” agreed Pauline immediately. She turned on some dance music. “What do you say we dance?” she asked Mary Louise. “And does everybody call you by both names?”
“Most people shorten it to ‘Mary Lou.’ Yes, I love to dance. That’s a dandy fox trot.”
The girls stepped off, Pauline talking gayly all the time, asking Mary Louise all sorts of questions: where she was from, how long she was going to stay, and so on. Mary Louise answered pleasantly, happy to have found a new friend. It wouldn’t be so bad without Jane, now that she had found a girl near her own age in Philadelphia, although she thought that Pauline was probably nearer twenty-five than twenty. Middle-aged people like Mrs. Hilliard weren’t so good at guessing young people’s ages, unless they had children of their own.
“I wish I could take Pauline into my confidence,” thought Mary Louise, “and have her help me the way Jane did. It would be so much nicer.” But she knew that would not be wise: her father and Mrs. Hilliard wanted her to keep her job a secret. However, she did make it a point to ask Pauline a few questions in return for those she had answered. Not that she was interested in Pauline as a suspect – the girl had only arrived last week, Mrs. Hilliard said – but because she really wanted a young companion while she was in this strange city.
“My parents are dead,” Pauline told her. “I have a rich aunt who usually stays at the Ritz when she’s in Philadelphia, but I don’t care enough about her to live with her. I sort of flit from place to place, and write fashion articles for the magazines whenever my income runs short. I have a pretty good time.”
“Have you ever stayed at Stoddard House before?” asked Mary Louise.
“No, I usually avoid women’s places like Y. W. C. A.’s and girls’ clubs,” was the reply. “But this sort of looked different to me, and I thought I’d give it a try. It’s pretty good, don’t you think?”
“I like it very much.”
By this time half-a-dozen people had entered the room, and two more couples were dancing. Suddenly Mary Louise felt bewildered. How could she possibly get to know so many people in the short space of two weeks and hope to find the thief?
The music changed, and the other dancers left the room. Apparently the dining-room doors were open.
“Gosh, I couldn’t introduce you to any of those women, Mary Lou,” said Pauline. “I don’t know any of their names.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” agreed the young detective. “I’m not feeling a bit lonely.”
“Let’s go eat – or are you supposed to wait for Mrs. Hilliard?”
“No, she told me not to. She’s such a busy person, she has to snatch her meals whenever she can. But I’ll be with her in the evenings.”
“Exciting life!” observed Pauline. “Maybe I can rake up a date for you later. I’ve got one myself for tonight, and I’ll sound Ben out. If he can get hold of another fellow for tomorrow night – ”
“Oh, I don’t think I better make any plans,” interrupted Mary Louise. “Though I do appreciate it a lot, Pauline. But you see I am Mrs. Hilliard’s guest. I have to consult her.”
“O.K.”
The two girls went into the dining room, an attractive place, with tables for two and four persons, and chose one of the smaller ones.
“We don’t want any of the old dames parking with us,” observed Pauline, glancing at a couple of elderly women just entering the room. “They cramp my style.”
“Rather,” laughed Mary Louise, though she secretly wished she might meet some of the “old dames,” as Pauline called them. Any one of them might be the thief.
Pauline Brooks was very different from the girls of Riverside – not nearly so refined, Mary Louise thought – but she was a gay companion and made witty remarks about everything. No doubt she was a clever writer.
Just as the girls finished their excellent dinner, Mrs. Hilliard came into the room. Pauline stood up.
“I’ll be running along, Mary Lou,” she said. “Now you have company I better leave you and get dressed.”
Mary Louise smiled. “Have a good time – and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Not too early!” warned Pauline. “I’ll probably be dancing till the small hours tonight.” She left the room, and Mrs. Hilliard sat down in her place.
“Will you stay here with me while I eat my dinner, Mary Louise?” she asked.
“Yes, indeed,” replied the girl.
“And did you enjoy your dinner?”
“It was wonderful! Just like a fine hotel.”
“I think Stoddard House is a fine hotel – on a small scale, of course… And now I have a suggestion to offer for tonight,” she continued as she ate her dinner. “Some of the regular guests here have a book club which meets once a week. I seldom go to the meetings – I never seem to have time – but I thought I could take you tonight, and in that way you would get acquainted with some of these people. Though I don’t suppose you’ll find the person we’re looking for among them. Thieves aren’t often book lovers.”
“But it will help me to get the people sorted out, and I am so at sea,” said Mary Louise. “I think it is a fine idea, Mrs. Hilliard. What time does the club meet?”
“Seven-thirty. But we’ll go to my room first, and you can copy down the names of all the guests, and their room numbers.”
“Oh, that’s great!” she cried, thankful to be getting at something definite to start with.
As soon as Mrs. Hilliard finished her dinner she and Mary Louise took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the long corridor to the back of the hotel. Here was Mrs. Hilliard’s own private apartment, a cozy suite of three rooms and a bath.
Mary Louise settled herself comfortably in an armchair and took out her notebook.
“Do you want the names of the maids?” asked Mrs. Hilliard as she picked up some papers from her desk.
“No, not yet,” replied the girl. “You believe in their innocence, so I think I’d rather study the guests first.”
Mrs. Hilliard handed her a paper, a methodical list of the bedrooms on the second and third floors, and Mary Louise copied it, just as it was, into her notebook:
“You have quite a lot of empty rooms, haven’t you, Mrs. Hilliard?” inquired Mary Louise, when she had finished her copy.
“Yes. It’s always dull at this time of year. And we never are very full. After all, it’s rather expensive, with wages on the scale they are now.”
“How much do you charge?”
“Fourteen dollars a week. But that doesn’t cover our expenses.”
“No, I’m sure it doesn’t. Everything is lovely – I didn’t tell you how much I like my room – and the food couldn’t be better.”
“Well, we have an income from the Stoddard estate which helps to pay expenses,” Mrs. Hilliard explained.
“There is a woman here named Miss Henrietta Stoddard,” observed Mary Louise, looking at her list. “Is she any relation of the founder?”
“Yes, she is her niece. Old Mrs. Stoddard provided in her will that Henrietta should be allowed to live here free all her life, as long as she was single or a widow.”
“How old a woman is she?”
“About forty-five now, I should judge. And very bitter. She expected to inherit her aunt’s money, and she even tried to break the will. She hasn’t any money – I think she does odd jobs like taking care of children and doing hand sewing for her spending money and her clothing.”
“Hm!” remarked Mary Louise.
Mrs. Hilliard smiled. “I know what you are thinking – and I kind of think so myself. That Miss Stoddard is the thief. But you’d never believe it to look at her. She’s prim and proper and austere.”
“You never can tell,” said Mary Louise.
“No, that’s true… Well, you’ll have a good chance to judge for yourself tonight. Miss Stoddard is the one who is in charge of the book club. There is a library fund in the endowment, and these women decide upon what to buy.”
“Tell me which of these guests belong to the club,” urged the girl.
“All the regular residents belong, except Miss Violet Granger. She is an artist – she draws for magazines and for an advertising firm – and she always keeps apart from the other guests. She is the one from whom the oil painting and the fifty dollars were stolen.”
Mary Louise nodded and put a check beside Miss Granger’s name.
“Now,” she said, “I ought to check the names of all the other people who have had valuables stolen. Who else was there?”
“Well, as I told you, the hotel itself lost the silverware and the Chinese vase. Then there were four watches stolen – my own, Mrs. Weinberger’s, and the two Walder girls… By the way, they are lovely girls, Mary Louise – they’ve lived here a couple of years, and I know their families – I’m sure you’re going to like them…
“And the final – at least, I hope it’s the final robbery – was the painting and the money from Miss Granger’s room. But I have a feeling that isn’t the end, and the guests are all nervous too. It’s hurting our business – and – making my own job seem uncertain.”
Mary Louise closed her notebook thoughtfully and sighed.
“I’ll do the best I can, Mrs. Hilliard,” she promised solemnly.
Ten minutes later they took the elevator to the first floor, and Mrs. Hilliard led the way into the library. It was a cheerful room with an open fireplace, a number of comfortable chairs and built-in bookcases around the walls.
Miss Henrietta Stoddard, a plain-looking woman with spectacles, sat at the table on one side, with a pile of books and a notebook beside her. She was talking to an elderly woman and a younger one. Mrs. Hilliard introduced Mary Louise.
“Mrs. Weinberger and Miss Weinberger,” she said, and Mary Louise immediately placed them as the mother and daughter who lived in rooms 302 and 304.
The daughter was complaining to Miss Stoddard.
“I don’t see why we can’t have some more exciting books,” she said. “Something a little more youthful.”
Miss Stoddard drew the corners of her severe mouth together.
“We buy just what the club votes for,” she replied icily.
“Because the younger members never come to put in their votes!” returned the younger woman petulantly. “I asked the Walder girls to come to the meeting tonight, but of course they had dates.” She turned eagerly to Mary Louise. “You can put in a vote, Miss Gay!” she exclaimed. “Will you suggest something youthful?”
Mary Louise smiled. “I shan’t be here long enough to belong to the club,” she answered. “I’m just visiting Mrs. Hilliard for the vacation.”
“You’re a schoolgirl?”
“Yes. A junior at Riverside High School.”
“Never heard of it,” returned Miss Weinberger, abruptly and scornfully.
“I’m afraid it’s not famous – like Yale or Harvard,” remarked Mary Louise, with a sly smile.
Miss Weinberger went on talking to the others in her complaining, whining tone. Mary Louise disliked her intensely, but she didn’t believe she would ever steal anything.
“What time is it?” demanded Miss Stoddard sharply.
“I don’t know. My watch was stolen, you know,” replied Mrs. Weinberger, looking accusingly at Mrs. Hilliard, as if it were her fault.
“You never heard anything about those watches, did you?” inquired Miss Stoddard.
“No,” replied the manager, keeping her eyes away from Mary Louise. “There was a night watchman that night, but he said he didn’t see any burglar or hear any disturbance.”
“The night watchman couldn’t watch four watches,” Mary Louise remarked facetiously.
“Yes, there were four stolen,” agreed Mrs. Weinberger. “I suppose Mrs. Hilliard told you?”
Mary Louise flushed: she must be more careful in the future.
“I think that bleached-blond chorus girl took them,” observed Miss Weinberger. “She was here then and left the next day. That name of hers was probably assumed. ‘Mary Green!’ Too common!”
Mary Louise wanted to write this in her notebook, but caution bade her wait till the meeting was over.
The door opened, and an old lady came in, leaning on her cane. She was past eighty, but very bright and cheerful, with beautiful gray hair and a charming smile.
Mrs. Hilliard sprang up and offered her the best chair in the room and introduced Mary Louise to her. Her name was Mrs. Moyer.
Now the meeting began: the guests returned the books they had borrowed and discussed new ones to purchase. At half-past nine a maid brought in tea and cakes, and the evening ended sociably.
Thankful to slip off alone to write her observations in her notebook, Mary Louise went to her own room.
CHAPTER IV
A Midnight Visitor
Mary Louise put on her kimono and stretched herself out comfortably on her pretty bed, with her notebook in her hands. What a lovely room it was! What a charming little bedside table, with its silk-shaded lamp, its dainty ice-water jug – and its telephone. For that convenience especially she was thankful: she’d far rather have a telephone than a radio. Little did she realize how soon she was to find that instrument so useful!
She opened her notebook at the page upon which she had written the guests’ names, and counted them. Fourteen people besides herself, and of that number she had met only five. Rather a slow beginning!
“If I only had Jane here, she’d know everybody in the place by now,” she thought wistfully. “Jane is clever, but she does jump at conclusions. Maybe I’m better off alone.”
She glanced at the notebook again and resolved not to bother yet with the names of people she hadn’t met. She’d concentrate instead upon the five that she did know. She began at the beginning with the girl with whom she had danced and eaten supper.
“Pauline Brooks couldn’t be guilty,” she decided. “Because she came to Stoddard House only a few days ago for the first time. After the first two robberies had taken place. So she’s out…
“Now I’m not so sure about Miss Henrietta Stoddard. She might even believe she had a right to steal things, because she was cheated out of her inheritance. Yes – I’ll watch Miss Stoddard carefully.
“Next those two Weinberger women. Hardly possible, when the mother lost her own watch. Of course, thieves sometimes pretend to have things stolen, just to establish their innocence, the same way murderers often wound themselves – for alibis. But, just the same, I believe those women are honest. They’re pretty well off, too, to judge from their clothes and their jewelry.”
She came to the last person she had met – the old lady who had come to the book-club meeting with a cane – Mrs. Moyer. Mary Louise’s face broke into a smile. Nobody in her right senses could suspect a person like that!
That was all. Except the secretary, Miss Horton, whom she had met at the desk.
Mary Louise closed the notebook and put it on the table beside her. That was enough for tonight; now she’d try to get some sleep. She put out the light and opened the window. Snow still covered everything except the streets and the sidewalks, and the moon shone over the roofs of the buildings beyond. Right below her side window was a fire escape, which made her feel somehow safe and secure.
It was not nearly so quiet here as in Riverside; automobile horns honked now and again, and the sound of trolleys from the street in front was plainly heard. But Mary Louise was not worried about the noise, and a few minutes after she was in bed she was sound asleep.
How many hours later she was awakened by a dream about Margaret Detweiler, Mary Louise had no way of knowing, for she had left her watch on the bureau. She thought she had found Margaret alone in an empty house, cold and starving to death, and she was trying to remember just what principles of first aid to apply, when she awoke and found it was only a dream.
But something, she realized instantly, had awakened her. Something – somebody – was in her room!
Her first sensation was one of terror. A ghost – no, a gypsy, perhaps – who would clap a gag over her mouth and bind her hand and foot! But before she uttered a sound she remembered where she was and why she was there. A delirious feeling of triumph stole over her, making her believe that success was at hand for her in her sleuthing. If this person were really the Stoddard House sneak thief, Mary Louise could lie still and watch her, for the room was light enough from the moon and the street lamps to show up the intruder quite plainly.
Ever so cautiously, without turning her head or making any kind of sound, she rolled her eyes toward her bureau, where she could sense the intruder to be. Her reward was immediate: she saw a short person in dark clothing standing there, carefully picking up some object.
“My purse – and my watch!” Mary Louise thought grimly. The little engraved watch her father had given her last Christmas.
The figure turned around and silently crept towards the door. But sudden, swift dismay took possession of Mary Louise, making her tremble with fear and disappointment. The thief was not a woman, whom she could hope to identify as a guest at Stoddard House. He was a man!
He turned the key in the lock so quietly that only the tiniest click could be heard. Then, just as softly, he closed the door again and vanished into the hall.
Mary Louise gasped audibly with both relief and disappointment. Relief that he was gone, disappointment that he was a common, ordinary burglar whom she could not hope to catch.
Nevertheless, she meant to do what she could, so she turned on her light and reached for the telephone beside her bed. In another moment she had told her story to the police, and, so perfect were their radio signals, in less than five minutes one of their cars stood at the door of the hotel.
Meanwhile, Mary Louise had hastily thrown on a few clothes and run down the stairs to warn the night watchman.
The halls were lighted all night, as well as the lobby of the hotel; she did not see how the burglar could escape without attracting the watchman’s notice.
She found him quietly smoking a pipe on the doorstep. He said he had seen nobody.
“I think the burglar came in through the window from the fire escape,” Mary Louise said.
“Don’t see how he could,” returned the man. “I’ve been around there at the side for the last half hour. Nobody came along that alley.”
Baffled, Mary Louise summoned Mrs. Hilliard on the house phone, and by the time she stepped out of the elevator the two policemen had arrived.
“The thief must be hiding somewhere in the building,” concluded Mary Louise. “Waiting for a chance to slip away.”
“We’ll have to make a search,” announced Mrs. Hilliard. “You guard the doorway and the stairway, Mike,” she said to the watchman, “and one of you officers go around the first floor and see whether the windows are all securely locked – in case the burglar escaped through one of them. Then the other officer can come with Miss Gay and me while we search the floors above.”
Immediately the plan was put into effect, and the searchers began on the second floor, looking first in the corridors and closets and empty rooms, then knocking at the doors of the guests’ rooms.
Pauline Brooks’ door was the first they went to, and here a light shone under the cracks.
“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Brooks,” called Mrs. Hilliard, “but a sneak thief has gotten into the hotel, and we want to find him. May we come in?”
“Just a minute,” replied the girl. “Till I put on my bath robe. I was out late – at a dance, and I’m just undressing now.”
“What time is it, anyway?” asked Mary Louise. “You see, my watch was stolen.”
“It’s only a few minutes after one,” replied the policeman.
A moment later Pauline unlocked the door, and the three people entered. The room was very untidy: clothing had been flung about everywhere, and two open suitcases occupied the chairs.
“Look in the closet,” advised Mrs. Hilliard.
“There’s nobody there,” answered Pauline. “I’ve just been in it. But you might look under the bed. That’s where men always hide in the bedroom farces.”
“You wouldn’t think this was a ‘bedroom farce’ if you’d just lost your watch and your purse,” remarked Mary Louise sharply.
“I’m sorry, Mary Lou,” apologized Pauline. “You see, I didn’t know that you were the victim.”
“We’ve got to get along,” interrupted the officer. “There’s nobody here – I’m sure of that.”
They passed on to the other rooms, waking up the guests when it was necessary, apologizing, explaining – and finding nobody. In only two of the rooms besides Pauline’s had they found lights burning. Miss Granger, the artist, was still working on some drawings she was making for a magazine, and Miss Henrietta Stoddard, who explained that she was “such a poor sleeper,” was reading a book. But both these women said that they had heard no disturbance.
When the search was completed and the group returned to the first floor of the hotel, the watchman and the officer had nothing to report. The windows on the ground floor were all securely locked, the latter announced, and the former said that no one had escaped by the front door or the fire escape.
“It’s either an inside job or your young friend dreamed it,” one of the policemen said to Mrs. Hilliard.
“It couldn’t be an inside job,” returned the manager. “For there isn’t any man who lives in the hotel.”
“And I didn’t dream it,” protested Mary Louise. “Because my watch and my purse are gone, and my door was unlocked. I locked it myself when I went to bed last night.”
“Well, we’ll keep an eye on the building all night,” promised the policeman as he opened the door. “Let us know if you have any more trouble.”
When the men had gone, Mrs. Hilliard persuaded Mary Louise to come to her apartment for the rest of the night. She had a couch-bed in her sitting room which she often used for her own guests.
Mary Louise agreed, but it was a long while before she fell asleep again. She kept listening for sounds, imagining she heard footsteps in the hall, or windows opening somewhere in the building. But at last she dozed off, and slept until Mrs. Hilliard’s alarm awakened her the next morning.
“You had better go down to the dining room for your breakfast, Mary Louise,” said the manager. “I just have orange juice and coffee, up here – if I go into the dining room I am tempted to overeat, and I put on weight.”
“All right,” agreed Mary Louise. “I want to go to my room for fresh clothing anyway – I just grabbed these things last night in a hurry… Mrs. Hilliard, what do you think of last night’s occurrence?”
“I don’t know what to think. I was convinced that all our robberies before this were inside jobs, because our watchman was so careful. But now I don’t know. Of course, this may be something entirely different. We’ll see if anything happens tonight. You’re sure it was a man, Mary Louise?”
“Positive. He wore a cap pulled down over his head, and a mask over his eyes. He had on a dark suit – sneakers, too, for I couldn’t hear him walk.”
“Did he have a gun?”
“I don’t know, because I pretended to be asleep, so he didn’t need to defend himself. He got out so quickly. Where could he have vanished to?”
Mrs. Hilliard shook her head with a sigh.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said.
“Of course, he might have had an accomplice,” mused Mary Louise. “Some woman may have let him out her window to the fire escape. Still, the watchman was keeping his eye on that…” Mary Louise’s tone became dreary. “I guess I’m not much use to you, Mrs. Hilliard. I don’t think I ought to take the salary.”
“You mean you want to go home, Mary Louise?”
“Oh no! I wouldn’t leave now for anything. But I mean I probably shan’t be any help in finding a thief like that. So I oughtn’t to accept any pay.”
“Don’t worry about that,” returned Mrs. Hilliard, patting Mary Louise’s arm affectionately. “You just do the best you can. Nobody can do more. I’d really like it proved that none of our guests is the thief. I’d much rather find out that it was a common burglar.”
Reassured, Mary Louise went to her own room and dressed. By the time she reached the dining room the guests who held positions had already eaten their breakfasts and gone, and the others, who had nothing to do all day, had not yet put in an appearance. It was only a little after eight, but the dining room was deserted.
“I wish I had somebody to talk to,” she thought sadly as she seated herself at a little table by a window. The sunlight streamed in through the dainty ruffled curtains, there were rosebuds in the center of her table, and a menu from which she could order anything she wanted, but Mary Louise was not happy. She felt baffled and lonely.
She ordered grapefruit first, and just as she finished it, Mrs. Weinberger came into the room. She made her way straight to Mary Louise’s table.
“May I sit with you, Miss Gay?” she asked. “My daughter won’t eat breakfast for fear of gaining a pound, and it’s so lonesome eating all by yourself.”
Mary Louise smiled cordially.
“I think so too, Mrs. Weinberger,” she replied. “I’ll be delighted to have you.”
“Do you feel nervous after last night? It must have been terrible to be right in the room when the burglar got in. I was away when my watch was stolen.”
“Tell me about it, Mrs. Weinberger,” urged Mary Louise.
“I was over in Mrs. Moyer’s room,” the woman explained, after she had given her order to the waitress, “and my daughter went out of my room and couldn’t remember whether she locked the door or not. Anyway, I discovered that my watch was gone when I was dressing for dinner.” She sighed. “It was very valuable – a present from my late husband.”
Mary Louise had an inspiration.
“I believe I’ll visit some pawnshops today, to ask about mine,” she said, “and I can inquire about yours at the same time, if you want me to, Mrs. Weinberger.”
“Yes, indeed! But I am afraid it is too late now. Mine was an old-fashioned watch – we used to wear them pinned on our dresses, with a brooch. Mine had seven diamonds on it in front, and my initials ‘E. W.’ in tiny pearls on the back.”
“Did you advertise?”
“Yes, of course. But nothing came of it. My daughter thinks that transient guest – a chorus girl named Mary Green – stole it. We tried to trace her, but we couldn’t find her name with any of the theatrical companies in town at the time.”
“She never came back here to Stoddard House?”
“Oh no.”
“And were the other watches stolen the same day?”
“Yes. Mrs. Hilliard’s was taken during the supper hour, but she had laid it down on the desk, so that was her own carelessness. But the Walder girls had theirs taken while they were asleep – just as yours was.”
“What were theirs like?”