CHAPTER III
THE DERELICT
"Didn't you find anything, Tom?" Ruth Fielding asked, as Helen's twinre-entered the summer-house.
His long automobile coat glistened with wet and his face was wind-blown.Tom Cameron's face, too, looked much older than it had--well, say a yearbefore. He, like Ruth herself, had been through much in the war zonecalculated to make him more sedate and serious than a collegeundergraduate is supposed to be.
"I did not see even a piece of paper blowing about," he told her.
"But before we came down from the house you said you saw a paper blow overthe roof like a kite."
"That was an outspread newspaper. It was not a sheet of your manuscript."
"Then it all must have been stolen!" she cried.
"At least, human agency must have removed the things you left on thistable," he said.
"Oh, Tom!"
"Now, now, Ruth! It's tough, I know----"
But she recovered a measure of her composure almost immediately. Unnervedas she had first been by the disaster, she realized that to give way toher trouble would not do the least bit of good.
"An ordinary thief," Tom suggested after a moment, "would not consideryour notes and the play of much value."
"I suppose not," she replied.
"If they are stolen it must be by somebody who understands--or thinks hedoes--the value of the work. Somebody who thinks he can sell a movingpicture scenario."
"Oh, Tom!"
"A gold mounted fountain pen would attract any petty thief," he went on tosay. "But surely the itching fingers of such a person would not be temptedby that scenario."
"Then, which breed of thief stole my scenario, Tom?" she demanded. "Youare no detective. Your deductions suggest two thieves."
"Humph! So they do. Maybe they run in pairs. But I can't really imaginetwo light-fingered people around the Red Mill at once. Seen any trampslately?"
"We seldom see the usual tramp around here," said Ruth, shaking her head."We are too far off the railroad line. And the Cheslow constables keepthem moving if they land _there_."
"Could anybody have done it for a joke?" asked Tom suddenly.
"If they have," Ruth said, wiping her eyes, "it is the least like a jokeof anything that ever happened to me. Why, Tom! I couldn't lay out thatscenario again, and think of all the details, and get it just so, in ayear!"
"Oh, Ruth!"
"I mean it! And even my notes are gone. Oh, dear! I'd never have the heartto write that scenario again. I don't know that I shall ever writeanother, anyway. I'm discouraged," sobbed the girl suddenly.
"Oh, Ruth! don't give way like this," he urged, with rather a boyish fearof a girl's tears.
"I've given way already," she choked. "I just feel that I'll never be ableto put that scenario into shape again. And I'd written Mr. Hammond soenthusiastically about it."
"Oh! Then he knows all about it!" said Tom. "That is more than any of usdo. You wouldn't tell us a thing."
"And I didn't tell him. He doesn't know the subject, or the title, oranything about it. I tell you, Tom, I had _such_ a good idea----"
"And you've got the idea yet, haven't you? Cheer up! Of course you can doit over."
"Suppose," demanded Ruth quickly, "this thief that has got my manuscriptshould offer it to some producer? Why! if I tried to rewrite it and bringit out, I might be accused of plagiarizing my own work."
"Jimminy!"
"I wouldn't dare," said Ruth, shaking her head. "As long as I do not knowwhat has become of the scenario and my notes, I will not dare use the ideaat all. It is dreadful!"
The rain was now falling less torrentially. The tempest was passing. Soonthere was even a rift in the clouds in the northwest where a patch of bluesky shone through "big enough to make a Scotchman a pair of breeches," asAunt Alvirah would say.
"We'd better go up to the house," sighed Ruth.
"I'll go right around to the neighbors and see if anybody has noticed astranger in the vicinity," Tom suggested.
"There's Ben! Do you suppose he has seen anybody?"
A lanky young man, his clothing gray with flour dust, came from the backdoor of the mill and hastened under the dripping trees to reach the porchof the farmhouse. He stood there, smiling broadly at them, as Ruth and Tomhurriedly crossed the yard.
"Good day, Mr. Tom," said Ben, the miller's helper. Then he saw Ruth'stroubled countenance. "Wha--what's the matter, Ruthie?"
"Ben, I've lost something."
"Bless us an' save us, no!"
"Yes, I have. Something very valuable. It's been stolen."
"You don't mean it!"
"But I do! Some manuscript out of the summer-house yonder."
"And her gold-mounted fountain pen," added Tom. "That would temptsomebody."
"My goodness!"
Ben could express his simple wonderment in a variety of phrases. But heseemed unable to go beyond these explosive expressions.
"Ben, wake up!" exclaimed Ruth. "Have you any idea who would have takenit?"
"That gold pen, Ruthie? Why--why---- A thief!"
"Old man," said Tom with suppressed disgust, "you're a wonder. How did youguess it?"
"Hush, Tom," Ruth said. Then: "Now, Ben, just think. Who has been aroundhere to-day? Any stranger, I mean."
"Why--I dunno," said the mill hand, puckering his brows.
"Think!" she commanded again.
"Why--why----old Jep Parloe drove up for a grinding."
"He's not a stranger."
"Oh, yes he is, Ruthie. Me nor Mr. Potter ain't seen him before for nighthree months. Your uncle up and said to him, 'Why, you're a stranger, Mr.Parloe.'"
"I mean," said Ruth, with patience, "anybody whom you have never seenbefore--or anybody whom you might suspect would steal."
"Well," drawled Ben stubbornly, "your uncle, Ruthie, says old Jep ain'tany too honest."
"I know all about that," Ruth said. "But Parloe did not leave his team andgo down to the summer-house, did he?"
"Oh, no!"
"Did you see anybody go down that way?"
"Don't believe I did--savin' you yourself, Ruthie."
"I left a manuscript and my pen on the table there. I ran out to meet Tomand Helen when they came."
"I seen you," said Ben.
"Then it was just about that time that somebody sneaked into thatsummer-house and stole those things."
"I didn't see anybody snuck in there," declared Ben, with more confidencethan good English.
"Say!" ejaculated Tom, impatiently, "haven't you seen any tramp, orstraggler, or Gypsy--or anybody like that?"
"Hi gorry!" suddenly said Ben, "I do remember. There was a man along herethis morning--a preacher, or something like that. Had a black frock coaton and wore his hair long and sort o' wavy. He was shabby enough to be atramp, that's a fact. But he was a real knowledgeable feller--he was that.Stood at the mill door and recited po'try for us."
"Poetry!" exclaimed Tom.
"To you and Uncle Jabez?" asked Ruth.
"Uh-huh. All about 'to be or not to be a bean--that is the question.' Andsomething about his having suffered from the slung shots and bow arrers ofoutrageous fortune--whatever that might be. I guess he got it all out ofthe Scriptures. Your uncle said he was bugs; but I reckoned he was apreacher."
"Jimminy!" muttered Tom. "A derelict actor, I bet. Sounds like aShakespearean ham."
"Goodness!" said Ruth. "Between the two of you boys I get a very strangeidea of this person."
"Where did he go, Ben?" Tom asked.
"I didn't watch him. He only hung around a little while. I think he axedyour uncle for some money, or mebbe something to eat. You see, he didn'tknow Mr. Potter."
"Not if he struck him for a hand-out," muttered the slangy Tom.
"Oh, Ben! don't you know whether he went toward Cheslow--or where?" criedRuth.
"Does it look probable to you," Tom asked, "that a derelictactor---- Oh, Jimminy! Of course! _He_ would be just the person tosee the value
of that play script at a glance!"
"Oh, Tom!"
"Have you no idea where he went, Ben?" Tom again demanded of the puzzledmill hand.
"No, Mister Tom. I didn't watch him."
"I'll get out the car at once and hunt all about for him," Tom saidquickly. "You go in to Helen and Aunt Alvirah, Ruth. You'll be sick ifyou let this get the best of you. I'll find that miserable thief of a hamactor--if he's to be found." He added this last under his breath as he ranfor the shed where he had sheltered his automobile.