CHAPTER VII _The Abandoned House_
When Mary Louise returned to the hotel, she found everything quiet. Shewent immediately to the fourth floor; Mrs. Hilliard was in her sittingroom, knitting and listening to the radio.
"Has anything happened since I left?" asked the girl eagerly.
"No," replied the manager. "Except that another guest has departed. Yourfriend Pauline Brooks came back, packed her bag, paid her bill, and left.Of course, she was only a transient anyway, but the hotel is so emptythat I was hoping she would stay a while."
"I met her on the street with her aunt," Mary Louise said. "But shedidn't have time to talk to me. Did you question her about Ida's story?"
"Yes, and she said it was true that Ida did come into her room to makethe bed at that time, because she, Miss Brooks, had slept late. But shedidn't know how long the maid had stayed because she left the hotelbefore Mrs. Macgregor discovered her loss and screamed. So it is possiblethat Ida went back into Mrs. Macgregor's room."
"Personally I believe the girl is innocent," stated Mary Louise.
"So do I. As I said, she has been with me two years, and I have alwaysfound her absolutely trustworthy. It probably was a sneak thief. Thepolice are on the lookout for somebody like that."
"Did you talk to Miss Stoddard?"
"No, I didn't. She went out this afternoon."
"She'll bear watching," remarked Mary Louise.
"I think so too," agreed the other.... "Now, tell me what you did withyourself this afternoon."
Mary Louise related the story of her visit to Margaret Detweiler's formerboarding house and the scant information she had obtained. "Is CenterSquare far away?" she asked.
"Oh, a couple of hours' drive, if you have a car. But do you really thinkit would do you any good to go there? The girl was probably only passingthrough and stopped at the postoffice to mail her letter to thelandlady."
"Yes, I am afraid that is all there was to it. But I could at least makeinquiries, and after all, it's the only clue I have. I'd never besatisfied if I didn't do the very best I could to find Margaret for hergrandparents."
Mary Louise stayed a little longer with Mrs. Hilliard; then she went toher own room to dress for dinner. But suddenly she was terribly homesick.Jane and the boys would be coasting all afternoon, she knew, for therewould still be plenty of snow left in the country, and there was a dancetonight at another friend's. Max would be coming for her in his runabout;she would be wearing her blue silk dress--and--and----Her eyes filledwith tears. Wasn't she just being terribly foolish to stay here inPhiladelphia, missing all those good times? And for what? There wasn't achance in the world that she'd discover the thief, when even the policewere unsuccessful.
"But I'll never learn to be a detective until I try--and--learn to acceptfailures," she told herself sternly, and she knew that, all thingsconsidered, she had not been foolish. It might be hard at the time togive up all the fun, but in the long run it would be worth it. She oughtto be thanking her lucky stars for the chance!
Somewhat reassured, she dressed and went downstairs to the receptionroom, where the radio was playing. She found the two Walder girls, whomshe had met at noontime when Mrs. Macgregor raised the commotion. MaryLouise greeted them cordially.
"It's beginning to rain," said Evelyn Walder, "so Sis and I thought we'dstay in tonight and try to get up a game of bridge. Do you play, MaryLou?"
"Yes, indeed," replied Mary Louise. "I love it. Whom shall we get for afourth? Mrs. Hilliard?"
"Mrs. Hilliard doesn't like to play, and besides, she has to get up andanswer the telephone so much that she usually just knits in the evenings.Maybe we can get one of the Fletcher girls."
"No, I heard Lucy say that they had a date," returned Ruth Walder.
Mary Louise looked disappointed; she was so anxious to meet all theguests at Stoddard House. She had an inspiration, however. "How aboutMiss Stoddard?" she asked. "Does she play?"
The other two girls looked at Mary Louise in amazement.
"Sure, she plays bridge," replied Evelyn. "But we don't want her! If youdon't mind my slang, I'll say she's a pain in the neck."
Mary Louise smiled: she thought so too.
"Mrs. Weinberger is nice, even if she is a lot older than we are,"observed Ruth. "And she loves to play, because her daughter goes outevery Saturday night with her boy-friend, I think."
The others agreed to this suggestion, and Mrs. Weinberger accepted theinvitation immediately. So the evening passed pleasantly, but Mary Louisedid not feel that she had learned anything of value to her job.
The party broke up about ten-thirty; Mary Louise went to her room andtook out her notebook.
"It's getting so confusing," she mused. "So many things stolen, so manypeople involved. These two robberies since I came--the one in my roomlast night, and Mrs. Macgregor's today--make five in all. I wonder ifthey could all have been done by the same person. Maybe--maybe it's asecret band of some kind! With Miss Henrietta Stoddard as its leader!"
Her one determination, when she awakened the next morning, was to have atalk with Miss Stoddard. Accordingly, after breakfast she asked Mrs.Hilliard how that could best be arranged.
"Miss Stoddard always goes to Christ Church," was the reply. "Whycouldn't you plan to go with her?"
"That's a wonderful idea, Mrs. Hilliard! I always did want to visitChrist Church--we read so much about it in history."
"I'll ask her to take you with her," offered the manager, "when she comesout of the dining room."
The arrangement was easily made, and a couple of hours later Mary Louisemet Miss Stoddard in the lobby of the hotel. Today the spinster was notwearing the shabby brown suit; indeed, she looked quite neat and stylishin a dark blue coat trimmed with fur.
The rain had washed most of the snow away, and the sun was shining, soboth Mary Louise and Miss Stoddard thought it would be pleasant to walkdown to Second and Market streets, where the historic church wassituated. For a while they talked of its significance in colonialPhiladelphia, and Miss Stoddard promised to show Mary Louise the pew inwhich George Washington and his family had worshiped.
It was Miss Stoddard, however, who gave the conversation a personal turn.
"You saw me come out of that pawnshop yesterday, didn't you, Miss Gay?"she inquired. "I wanted to ask you not to say anything about my visit toMrs. Hilliard or to any of the other guests."
"But it is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Stoddard," protested MaryLouise. "Lots of people pawn things."
"I know. But not women of my type, usually. I'm rather hard pressed formoney now, so I sold an old brooch of my mother's. It didn't bring much."
Mary Louise nodded and looked at her companion. But she could not tellwhether she were telling the truth or not.
"Then," continued Miss Stoddard, "my visit might look suspicious to somepeople--after all these robberies at the hotel."
"Yes, I suppose that's true."
"But it really proves my innocence, because if I had taken all that moneyof Mrs. Macgregor's I shouldn't be rushing to a pawnshop now to get alittle more."
That was a good point; Mary Louise had not thought of it before.
"Who do you think did all the stealing, Miss Stoddard?" she askedpoint-blank.
"The Weinberger girl! I suppose you'd call her a woman, but she seemslike just a girl to me. She and the young man she goes with are in leaguetogether. I think he's out of work, and the two of them have beenplanning to get married. So they've been stealing right and left."
"Even her own mother's watch?"
"Yes, even that."
Mary Louise was silent. It was an entirely new idea to her. Yet it waspossible; the Weinbergers had been at Stoddard House ever since thethings began to be stolen. If Hortense Weinberger were going to marrythis young man of hers, she could use the silverware, the vase, and thepainting in her new house or apartment. The watches could be pawned, andthe money would be enough to keep the young co
uple for a while.... Yes,the explanation was logical.
"I have reason to believe that this couple will elope tonight," announcedMiss Stoddard.
Mary Louise's eyes opened wide with excitement. "If that man is thethief, and if I can see him to identify him," she said, "maybe that willsolve the mystery. You remember, Miss Stoddard, a man stole my watch. Hewas short and of slight build--but of course I couldn't see his face. IsMiss Weinberger's friend like that?"
"I don't know. I never saw him. But I overheard a phone call, andHortense Weinberger said she'd slip out about eleven tonight. Could yoube watching then?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Mary Louise joyfully. Oh, suppose it were true, and shecould identify the man! Wouldn't it be too wonderful?
"I think you're terribly clever, Miss Stoddard," she said, "if you reallyhave found the solution. It will mean so much to Mrs. Hilliard. She hasbeen worried to death."
They had been so interested in their conversation that they did notrealize how near they were to the church. In another minute they werewalking reverently into the old building, and for the next hour and ahalf, robberies and mysteries were forgotten in the solemn beauty of theservice. Nor did they refer to the subject afterwards, but walked back tothe hotel talking about historic Philadelphia.
Mary Louise went to her room after dinner and wrote down everything MissStoddard had said about Hortense Weinberger. The explanation was soplausible that she could hardly wait for the evening to come, with herchance to identify her own particular burglar. If he were the man who hadentered her room, the whole thing would be solved and she could go homefor Christmas! Oh, how glad she was that she had had that talk with MissStoddard!
In the midst of her daydreams a knock sounded at the door. A maid handedher a card with the name "Max Miller" engraved on it.
Mary Louise let out a wild whoop of joy and, not waiting to explain,dashed past the maid and down the steps to the lobby. And there he was.Good old Max--looking handsomer than ever! Mary Louise could have huggedhim in her delight.
"Max! You angel!" she cried. "How did you know I'd be so glad to seeyou?"
"Because I knew how glad I'd be to see you," he replied, still holdingonto her hand.
Mary Louise withdrew it laughingly.
"Women talk," she reminded him, glancing about her.
"O.K.," he grinned. "How are you? Solved your mystery yet?"
"Oh no. I've had my own watch and five dollars stolen--that's all!"
"And you call this a good time! Well, Mary Lou, you certainly can takeit.... But haven't you had enough, little girl? Please come home withme!"
Mary Louise's eyes flashed in anger.
"Is that what you came here for, Max Miller?" she demanded.
"No--oh, no! I didn't expect you'd come home. I just wanted to see you,so I drove down. Started early this morning. Now let's go places and dothings!"
"Where? You can't do much in Philadelphia on Sunday."
"Anywhere. We can take a drive and have our supper at some nice placeaway from this henhouse."
"Now, Max----"
"Get your coat and hat. There's a good girl."
"But, Max, you must be sick of driving. And if you expect to start backtonight----"
"I don't. I'm staying over at the Y.M. for a couple of days. So I canwatch you. Now, don't get excited! I have your parents' consent. In fact,they thought it was a bully idea. You may be a wonderful detective, MaryLou, but just the same you're a darned pretty girl. And pretty girlsalone in strange cities...."
"I have Mrs. Hilliard," she reminded him.
"Yes, I know. That's what makes it _look_ all right. But it doesn't makeyou safe, just the same. You could easily be kidnaped."
"You're not going to follow me everywhere I go, are you?" she asked, inconcern.
"No. Just keep an eye on you for a couple of days. And maybe help you abit. With a car at your disposal, you may be able to clear up thingsquicker and go home in time for the senior prom. That's my little scheme,in a nutshell."
"It will be wonderful," agreed Mary Louise. "I'll admit there have beenmoments when I've been homesick, Max." Her eyes brightened. "I know whereI want to go this afternoon! To Center Square."
"Where's that?"
"I don't know. Out in the country somewhere--you can look it up on yourmap."
"O.K. I'm ready, Mary Lou. The car is at the door. Run up and get yourhat and coat. Wrap up warmly. It's a lot warmer, and most of the snow'sgone, but you know my runabout isn't like a heated limousine."
In five minutes she was back again, looking very pretty in her squirrelcoat, with its matching toque. Leaving word for Mrs. Hilliard that shewould not be back for supper, she got into the car with Max.
As the couple started, Mary Louise explained why she wanted to go toCenter Square: that her project had nothing to do with the thefts at thehotel but was the hope of tracing Margaret Detweiler. And she told hercompanion the facts she had learned about the girl.
"I'm even more anxious to find her than to solve the mystery at StoddardHouse," she said, "because of those two old people. It's just toodreadful for them."
Max nodded. He knew the Detweilers and felt extremely sorry for them.Everybody in Riverside liked them and pitied them in their distress.
"I just can't bear to tell them that Margaret was dismissed from thedepartment store for stealing," she added.
"I wouldn't," advised Max. "Better tell them nothing at all than that. Itwouldn't help any and would only cause them unhappiness."
Mary Louise asked about everything that had happened at Riverside sinceshe had left. It had been only two days, but it seemed like an age. Maxdescribed the party the night before, but it was a poor affair withoutMary Lou, according to his idea, and he had left early so he could getoff at daybreak this morning.
The day was clear and warm, and except for the slush on the roads thedrive was delightful. The young people were happy to be together againand enjoyed every minute of it.
It was already dusk of the short winter day when they arrived at CenterSquare and stopped at the country hotel.
"We're going to want dinner in an hour or so," Max told the clerk. "Butfirst we want to see whether we can locate a girl who was here late lastwinter. Did a young woman named Margaret Detweiler ever register here?"
The clerk obligingly looked through his book. But the name was not there.
"She's tall and slender and very dark," said Mary Louise. "Has wavy hairand an olive complexion."
The clerk shook his head.
"No, I don't remember seein' anybody like that around. Not many strangerscome here--except automobile parties sometimes, stoppin' to eat."
"Are there any empty houses she might have rented?" was Mary Louise'snext question.
"None rented as I know of. There's some abandoned houses around, placeswhere people sometimes come just for the summer."
"Where?"
The clerk gave the directions.
"Now one more question. Where does the postmaster live? For of course thepostoffice is closed on Sunday."
"Sure it's closed. But the postmaster lives right over top of it. Acrossthe street a way from here."
Mary Louise and Max went there next and were fortunate enough to find theman at home. When Mary Louise told him about the registered letter anddescribed the girl, he said he believed he did remember. So few peoplecame to the little country town; still fewer registered letters. ButMargaret hadn't stopped in a car, he thought--she had walked fromsomewhere. No, he was positive she hadn't been boarding with any of thefolks around, or he'd have heard of it.
Well, that was something definite! Maybe she was hiding in one of thoseempty houses the clerk had spoken of, to escape from the police.
Max turned his car off the main highway into a little dirt road, almostimpassable with its slush and snow. He stopped in front of the firstempty house which the clerk had described. It was dark and forlorn.
"There would be some sort of light if anybody were living there,"observed Max
.
"You can't tell," replied Mary Louise. "If Margaret were hiding, she'd becareful about lights. Let's get out and look."
"But why should she hide? Didn't you tell me the employment managerpromised not to send her to jail?"
"Yes, but you don't know what crimes she's committed since. If she werebehaving herself, wouldn't she have written to her grandparents? Eithershe's dead or she's doing something wrong."
They waded through slush over their shoe-tops but could see no signs ofany life. Mary Louise decided to try another house.
"It's a wild theory, Mary Lou, but you're the doctor," agreed Max. "Solong as my bus'll run, I'm game."
"You are a sport, Max! I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Men are helpful sometimes, aren't they?"
"I guess they're absolutely necessary," replied Mary Louise modestly. "Inever seem to be able to get along without them."
"That's the proper attitude for a girl," he answered gayly.
Farther along the road they stopped in front of another empty house. Itwas situated at the top of a steep incline and almost completelysurrounded by trees.
"Can you climb that hill, Max?" she asked.
"I can try--if you think there's any use," he replied.
It was a difficult task, for the driveway was so covered with slush thatit was hard to tell which was road and which was field. But Max made itin low gear, and they came to a stop in front of a barn, under a bigtree.
The house was shabby and unpainted; its windows were covered with boards,and its heavy doors without glass. Mary Louise shuddered: it reminded herof Dark Cedars.
Max turned off the motor and jumped out of the car.
"Nobody home, I guess," he announced.
From her seat in the car Mary Louise stared at the house, peering intothe strip of glass above the boards on the windows. She thought she saw aflicker of light, as if a candle were burning. Yes, she was sure ofit--and--a face appeared at the window! Two frightened eyes looked rightinto hers. A second later another face appeared, more plainly than thefirst, for this person evidently had hold of the candle. The first facehad vanished, and Mary Louise saw only that of an exceedingly uglywoman--someone who looked somehow familiar.
That very instant the tiny light went out, and at the same moment MaryLouise sank unconscious in her seat. A stone, hurled from the tree aboveher, had hit her right on the head!