She had accomplished Jasper Crosby’s arrest, and except for a fewbruises had suffered no ill effects from his frenzied choking.
In spite of doubts and suspicions as to the veracity of the prisoner’sstory, part of it must be true. Judy even dared hope that they werenear the end of their search for Irene.
Also she was glad that Peter Dobbs had wanted to kiss her. It would bea new confidence to tell Irene when she came home.
All of them were saying “when” now—Arthur and Horace were busy mappingout plans for the day. They telephoned back to Farringdon to find outif anyone had seen Irene. The telephone calls were expensive andbrought nothing but disappointment.
Even Pauline Faulkner seemed impressed when she heard of the terrifyingthings that had happened.
“And here I was in school, not helping at all, but today,” shedeclared, “I’ll make up for it. There isn’t any more school untilgraduation and I’m free to help you. Emily Grimshaw’s work has waitedso long that there must be a deluge of unread manuscripts.”
“It has waited so long that it can easily wait a little longer,” Judysaid.
“But isn’t it important?”
“Not as important as finding Irene.”
“I know, but haven’t you done everything you can do? The boys can keepin touch with the police while I stay here and help you.”
It really was best that way. And how kind of Pauline to offer to help!Dale suggested that she and Judy both go home and rest as soon as thework was done. But, unfortunately, it was Mary’s day off.
“We’ll bring in the dinner,” Horace promised. “Any of you fellows knowhow to cook?”
Peter Dobbs volunteered.
“And just to make things even,” Arthur put in, “I’ll pay for it.”
Judy laughed and felt better. She tackled the work with some of her oldenthusiasm and succeeded in interesting Pauline in an unread manuscript.
After about an hour the telephone rang. It was Dale.
“Sorry,” he said, “but it’s beginning to look as if Jasper Crosby madeup his story. No tickets to Farringdon have been purchased for a month.”
“Are you at the police station?”
“Yes, and they’ve made a thorough check-up. The only answer is thatJasper Crosby lied. And he probably lied about Irene, too. I’d like towring his neck!”
“So would I. But that’s probably better left to the state. I only hopethey make a good job of it. If they can prove that he lied it will makesome difference in their treatment of him.”
Undoubtedly it did make a difference as a detective called back later,and Judy found herself telling him even more than she had toldLieutenant Collins. The one thing she omitted was the fact that shebelieved Irene had stolen her grandmother’s poetry. It was JasperCrosby she was trying to have convicted, not Irene.
The case was being expertly handled. The knowledge that Jasper Crosbywas in jail, charged with assaulting Judy and kidnaping Irene, was somesatisfaction. They would keep him right there, too, until Irene’swhereabouts were known.
The day dragged on. Emily Grimshaw’s work seemed to take longer nowthat Judy had lost heart again. It was good to have Pauline therehelping. She read. She typed and when everything else was done sheasked Judy if she might see her carbon copies of Sarah Glenn’s poetry.“I wanted to read them myself,” she said in explanation. “It’s a slimchance, I know, but it might help us in our search.”
“I’ve studied and studied this one myself,” Judy said as she handed hera copy of that first poem Emily Grimshaw had given her as a test. Nowonder she had said there was too much truth in it! The tower of flame,the ghosts—all, all of it might be true. Even the “human tomcat” thatthe poet had mentioned they believed to mean Irene’s father, Tom Lang.
Now, through these very poems, Irene had found her mother’s people. Itwould be such a thrilling, romantic thing to happen if only they couldtalk it over with her. If only they knew where she was. If only shehadn’t taken the manuscripts....
Judy showed Pauline the poem that Jasper Crosby had brought in afterIrene’s disappearance. Now that they knew where Irene must have been,they both saw new significance in the lines:
Death cannot touch the halo of your hair. Though, like a ghost, you disappear at will. I knew you’d come in answer to my prayer ... You, gentle sprite, whom love alone can kill ...
“Jasper Crosby never killed her with love,” Pauline said bitterly. “Ionly hope——”
“Don’t say it, Pauline!”
She looked sorry. “I won’t say anything more. We’ll just keep onhoping.”
Five o’clock came and Judy closed her desk with a sigh.
“We’ve worked hard,” she said to Pauline, “but I just feel as ifanother day has been wasted. While we sit here who knows what may behappening to Irene?”
“At least we know that beastly uncle of hers can’t be hurting her anymore.”
Judy thought of Pauline’s statement in connection with death—not to behurt any more. Old people wanted that kind of peace, that freedom frompain and fear. Death could be kind to old people who were through withromance and adventure. But Irene had so much to live for.
“The boys must be there ahead of us,” Judy remarked as she and Paulinecame in sight of the house. “See, someone has raised the window.”
“They probably burnt something,” Pauline said shortly.
Apparently she had misgivings concerning Peter’s ability as a cook. Itwas early for them to be home. Why, it couldn’t have been an hour sincethey left the police station in Parkville and there would be shoppingfor them to do besides.
As they turned down the corridor that led to Pauline’s room Judy hearda familiar yowl. Could it be Blackberry asking to be let out?
“But he wasn’t in,” Pauline said. “Don’t you remember? We left him onthe roof garden.”
“Maybe the boys let him in. But it’s queer they’re not making anynoise. You open the door, Pauline,” Judy whispered. “I have thestrangest feeling that something is about to happen.”
Pauline hesitated, glanced at Judy and caught her hand as the doorswung open. Neither of the girls had touched it!