Chapter XVI _Spreading the Net_
Mary Louise spied Norman Wilder's car in front of Jane Patterson's houseas she turned into her own street in Riverside; a moment later sherecognized both Norman and Max on her chum's porch. As soon as they, intheir turn, saw her, they rushed down to the gate to meet her, and Maxseized her suitcase.
"If you wouldn't be so doggone independent," he exclaimed, "and just leta fellow know when you needed a lift, Mary Lou, I'd have driven over foryou!"
"That's all right, Max," returned Mary Louise. "As a matter of fact, Dadwas coming for me at five o'clock, but I didn't want to wait that long.There was nothing to do at Dark Cedars."
"Nothing to do?" echoed Jane. "Are you going to stay home now and leaveElsie all alone?"
"Dad wants me home," was all the explanation Mary Louise would makebefore the boys. Later, she would tell her chum about the girl'sdisappearance. "I've got to go right in now," she added. "After I have abath and my supper, I'll join you people."
"After supper!" repeated Max in disgust. "We were just considering alittle picnic in the woods. It's a marvelous day for a swim."
"Picnic? Why, we had one yesterday!"
"And it was such fun that we thought we'd have an encore."
"I'm afraid I have too much to do to be in on any picnic," answered MaryLouise. "But I'll go for a walk or a drive with you all aftersupper--maybe."
Seeing that she was firm in her resolve, the young people released her,and she hurried into her own house. Mr. Gay was standing in the livingroom, holding the keys to his car in his hand and trying to persuade hiswife to drive over to Dark Cedars with him.
"Why, Mary Lou!" he exclaimed in surprise. "We were just getting ready togo for you. Why didn't you wait for me?"
"And where is Elsie?" inquired Mrs. Gay. Mary Louise dropped despondentlyinto a chair.
"She--went away," she replied briefly.
Mr. Gay turned sharply. "Where?" he demanded.
Mary Louise shook her head.
"I don't know. Hannah said she went out soon after Jane and I left forSunday school this morning, and the colored woman who lives in back ofDark Cedars saw her go through the woods. But she didn't come back intime for dinner--or at all, before I left."
"The poor child is lost!" exclaimed Mrs. Gay sympathetically. "If shewandered into Cooper's woods, it's no wonder." She turned to her husband."Hadn't we better get out a searching party, dear, immediately? The Boyand the Girl Scouts, anyhow."
Mr. Gay frowned.
"No, my dear," he replied slowly. "I don't think Elsie Grant is lost.Neither does Mary Lou. I'm afraid she's headed straight forHarrisburg--and may have arrived by this time."
"Harrisburg?" repeated Mrs. Gay. "Why, that's sixty miles away! Shecouldn't walk that far."
"No, I don't expect her to walk. I think she took the train--not fromRiverside, but from the next station."
"How could she take a train? She couldn't buy a ticket, for she hasn'tany money."
"We are afraid, my dear, that Elsie Grant has plenty of money, though shemay encounter a little difficulty in spending it, since the new law waspassed. We believe that she stole those gold pieces from her aunt--andlast night a necklace was taken, so it looks as if she had that too."
"How terrible!" exclaimed Mrs. Gay, looking at Mary Louise as if sheexpected her to protest, or at least explain, her father's accusation.But the girl was sitting disconsolately with her head bowed, as if shebelieved that every word was true.
"What shall we do, Daddy?" Mary Louise asked finally, in a hopeless tone.
"Notify the railroad stations to be on watch for a girl of Elsie'sdescription, who probably tried to buy a ticket with a gold piece. Ofcourse, it's possible she may have stolen some change from her aunt'spocketbook and used that for carfare.... Do you happen to know what kindof dress she was wearing, Mary Lou?"
"My green silk--with little flowers in it. I gave it to her." The replywas almost a sob.
"I'll attend to that part, then," announced Mr. Gay. "And you will haveto go over to see Mr. John Grant, Mary Lou, and tell him that Elsie hasgone. It will be up to him to take charge of the affair."
"Suppose he doesn't want the police notified that Elsie is missing?"asked his daughter.
"It isn't his place to decide that question. If a person is missing, it'sthe law's duty to step in and try to find him or her. The loss of thenecklace is a different matter, which concerns the Grant family alone."
Mary Louise nodded and picked up her suitcase. She wanted to be alone inher own room; she felt too miserable to talk to anybody--even her father.What would be the use of telling him about her interview with Mrs. Jones,or the establishment of Hannah Groben's alibi? He no longer entertainedany suspicions about these people: the finger of accusation pointed toosurely at Elsie Grant.
Taking off her hat and her dress, Mary Louise threw herself down upon thebed. How tired she was! And how discouraged! How dreadful it was tobelieve in somebody and to have that trust betrayed! Elsie Grant hadappeared to be such a sweet, innocent person, so worthy of sympathy. Itdidn't seem possible that while she was accepting the girls' friendshipand their gifts she could be plotting this wicked thing.
The laughter of Mary Louise's young friends rose from the porch next doorand came through the open window, but the weary girl on the bed had nodesire to join them. For once in her life she felt as if she wanted toavoid Jane. She couldn't bear to tell her that her suspicions about Elsiehad been as good as proved.
Tired and unhappy, Mary Louise closed her eyes, and before she realizedit she was fast asleep. The experience of the previous night and thestrain of this day had overpowered her, and for an hour she forgot allher troubles in a dreamless rest. Her mother wakened her by announcingthat supper was on the table.
Mary Louise sat up and rubbed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mother," she said. "I meant to help you. I haven't been muchuse to you for the last few days."
"That's all right, dear," replied Mrs. Gay. "You needed the sleep, andFreckles has been fine.... Now, come to supper."
Mary Louise was delighted to find that she felt much better after hernap. And much more cheerful. She no longer dreaded the coming necessaryinterview with John Grant, which she meant to seek after supper.
However, she was saved the trouble of going to his house, for scarcelyhad the Gays finished eating when John Grant arrived. Mary Louise and herfather received him in the living room.
"I have a message for you, Miss Gay," he announced, "from my aunt."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mary Louise. "You were able to see her, then?"
"Late this afternoon. She seemed much better and asked the nurse to sendfor me. So I went over to the hospital about five o'clock."
"Did you tell her about the necklace?" asked Mary Louise eagerly.
"Yes, I did. I thought it would be best to get it over with. She asked mewhether it was safe, and I couldn't lie. So I told her what happened lastnight."
Mary Louise gasped.
"Wasn't the shock too much for her? And wasn't she just furious at me?"
"No, she stood it quite well. She said she knew something had happenedbecause of a dream she had last night. And she said, 'Tell Mary Louisenot to worry, because I don't blame her. And I want to see her myselftomorrow morning.'"
"Why, that's wonderful!" exclaimed the girl, with a sigh of relief. "Ihad no idea she would take it so well."
"Neither did I," admitted John. "There's something queer about it--butmaybe she'll explain tomorrow. I wasn't allowed to stay with her longtoday, and she was too weak to talk much."
It was Mr. Gay who put the question that was trembling on Mary Louise'slips:
"Does she think her niece--Elsie Grant, I mean--stole the necklace?"
"She didn't say," answered John. "But I don't believe so, because sheasked whether Elsie had confessed yet about the gold pieces. Thatwouldn't indicate that she believed her guilty of another theft."
"No, it wouldn't," agreed Mr. Gay. "But everything points that way. Wehave bad news for you, Mr. Grant: Elsie has disappeared."
"Humph!"
John Grant's grunt and his nod were significant. "I was afraid of that,"he said.
"I have already notified the police," announced Mr. Gay. "They arewatching for her at the railroad stations, and I have wired the pawnshopsand jewelers in Harrisburg and other cities nearby. We'll probably catchher by tonight."
"I hope so," sighed John. "It's too bad. I feel sort of guilty about thewhole thing. If we had taken the child into our home, instead of lettingher go with Aunt Mattie, it would never have happened. But we werefeeling the depression and didn't see how we could assume any moreexpense. My brother isn't earning anything, and Mother lost most of herinheritance. While Aunt Mattie, of course, had plenty.... But it was amistake."
Mary Louise looked gratefully at the man: John Grant was the only personbesides herself who felt any pity for Elsie. How she wished he had beenable to bring her up!... But it was too late now for regrets.
"What will be done with her when they do find her?" she inquiredtremulously. "Will she be sent to prison if she is proved guilty?"
John shrugged his shoulders.
"That will be for Aunt Mattie to decide. But you know she has talkednothing but reform school since the child came to her."
"Maybe I can persuade her to give Elsie another chance," murmured MaryLouise hopefully.
"Maybe," agreed John as he shook hands with Mr. Gay and departed.
Mary Louise turned to her father after the man left.
"I have some things to tell you, Daddy," she said. "Some clues I followedup this afternoon. Do you want to hear them?"
"By all means," returned Mr. Gay.
"One thing I learned is that the gypsies stole those chickens. Atleast--the wife of the colored man who lives in back of Dark Cedarsclaims that they did."
Mr. Gay smiled.
"You don't think that's important?" asked Mary Louise in disappointment,for she could read his thought. "It occurred to me that, if they stolethe chickens, maybe it was they who stole the necklace."
"I'm afraid not, daughter. If we have only a colored woman's word for it,that's no proof. She's probably shielding herself or her husband....Besides, while gypsies might steal something on the outside, they veryseldom have been known to break into people's houses."
"Yes, I was afraid you would say that."
"It might be worth following up as a clue if we had nothing else to goon. But now we feel pretty sure that Elsie Grant is guilty.... But didthis colored woman hear them last night--the gypsies, I mean?"
"No, she didn't. It was several nights ago, and about the same time thatWilliam, the hired man, reported that the chickens were gone."
"What else did you learn this afternoon?" inquired her father.
"I sounded this Mrs. Jones out about the necklace, and she had neverheard of any jewels at Dark Cedars. I believe her--I don't think shecould have stolen that necklace--or her husband, either."
"I never thought they did, for a minute. If the thief had been a coloredperson, you would have known it, I'm sure. The hands alone are different.Didn't you say that the hand that touched you was thin?"
"Yes. Almost bony. That's one reason why I didn't suspect Elsie."
"And how about Hannah? Did you learn her whereabouts last night?"
"Yes," answered Mary Louise, and she told of the woman's visit, with herhusband and sister, to the moving-picture house--an alibi which the girlcould easily check up on tomorrow.
"I hear Jane's whistle!" exclaimed Mr. Gay. "The young people want you,dear. You better go out with them and forget all this sad business forthe rest of the evening. I think you need a little diversion."
Mary Louise thought so too, and dashed off joyously to join her friends.