CHAPTER IX A Warning
The air was brisk now, and the countryside had taken on that hushedfeeling that comes just before a snowstorm. At the moment the roadsseemed quite deserted, and their little roadster hummed along with allits prideful speed and importance.
Suddenly Arden spoke. "Let me off near the library, Sim, will you?" sheasked. "I'll get a cab back. I'm going to see if I can't find a book withsomething about Jockey Hollow. I've heard so much, I'm greedy for more."
"We can wait for you, Arden," Sim answered. "It's not so very late, andit's only beginning to snow. You might not get a cab handy."
"No, I'd rather you didn't," Arden objected. "I want to take my time.Besides, you've got the top down, and Moselle will be worried. You goalong and I'll come later," she insisted, pulling her collar up closeraround her neck.
Sim finally agreed and turned toward the village, where she dropped Ardenat the corner nearest the library, so she wouldn't have to turn around.Sim was not yet an expert driver and often went blocks out of her way toavoid turning. Arden stood at the corner and waved goodbye as her friendscontinued on their way. The corner drugstore was brilliantly lighted, andthe usual group of men was hanging about the entrance, leaning up againstthe window, talking and laughing. They were the least desirable elementin the town, lazy and shiftless and, somehow, they always gatheredtogether.
Titus Ellery was in this group, Arden noticed, as she hurried along. Athin man, unshaven and carelessly dressed, Arden gave him a glance out ofthe corner of her eye. His booming voice rang out on the night air, forhe made no effort to control it, and Arden could not help hearing himsay:
"Swears he don't know a thing about it. But there's a chance to pick upsome easy money. If we can do it. Thing is to find the stuff. It's aroundthere some place, I'll bet. That old Mrs. Howe ain't as dumb as shelooks. You got the job all right, Nick?"
Arden started. Could she stop and learn some more, or would they becomesuspicious and stop talking? She thought suddenly of a plan and, enteringthe store, bought some powder she did not need, emerging just in time tohear the man called "Nick" laugh rancorously and say: "That Callahan'sgot his job cut out for him. Every darky in Pentville's scared to death.I didn't have no trouble gettin' him to hire me."
"Good!" exclaimed Ellery. "Then tomorrow----"
But Arden could linger no longer and so continued reluctantly down thestreet to the library, although she was now anxious to get back and tellthe others what she had heard. She reasoned nothing could be done thatnight, so she would try again to locate the books in which she hoped tofind important details.
It was almost closing time when she reached the library, and the placewas deserted except for a young girl putting books back on the shelves.
Arden approached her. "Are you Betty Howe?" she asked impulsively.
The girl looked at her coldly. "No, she's not here this afternoon. May Ihelp you?" She flashed a brief professional library smile.
Arden felt rebuffed and explained that she had come for a book on thehistory of Jockey Hollow.
"We haven't very much on the subject. Most of the papers and maps tellingabout it were destroyed in a fire years ago. There is this book, though,"she said, and going to a shelf took a thin red book from it. "They sayRichard Howe, the old one, that is, refused to trust his papers to anyonebut himself and they were lost when a fire broke out in Sycamore Hallwhile he was still living. Betty says the deeds to the old place werelost then also."
Arden took the book eagerly. It was pitifully small, she thoughtregretfully, but thanked the librarian and, after having it stamped, leftto get one of the rickety village cabs and tell the girls all about it.
It was odd though that Betty Howe was not there, and she had not appearedat tea, either. "Oh, well," thought Arden, "perhaps she's gone into NewYork or some place." And holding the precious book close to her, sheclimbed into old Pop Warner's car and told him to take her to Sim'shouse. He was a talkative old man, and he knew Arden and her friendsquite well. He seemed to know a lot about them, in fact, and asked herquestion after question as he drove her to Sim's. She squirmed withimpatience and then sat bolt upright as he asked in his squeaky voice:
"Heard you was chased by a ghost in Sycamore Hall! What would your dadsay if he knew you was galavantin' around there? No place for youngladies, I'll say! Stay on your own side of the railroad tracks." Then helapsed into silence as he turned into the driveway.
"What do you mean, Mr. Warner?" Arden asked quickly. "Who told you wewere there?"
"I hear things in this business. People always talk when they're ridingalong. There's bound to be fire where there's smoke," he chuckled. "If Iwas you, I'd let well enough alone. Hannah Howe is a smart woman," hemanaged to say as the car stopped with a jerk. "That'll be fifty cents."He took the money and started away after a curt, "G'afternoon."
Arden felt rather suffused with the day's adventures. There had beenGranny's story; then the overheard remarks from those men at thedrugstore, and last but not least, the insinuations of the old cabdriver.
At any rate, she had news for the girls, and she hurried up the drive andinto the house to give it to them. This historical study was fastbecoming a deep-dyed mystery, decided Arden.