The Motor Girls on Crystal Bay; or, The Secret of the Red Oar

by Margaret Penrose

  CHAPTER XV

  AN ALARM

  "I will go to Lamberton this afternoon," declared Mrs. Lewis, afterhaving conferred with Cora and Jack. "I know a man there who was agreat friend of my husband. He told me to come to him any time Ineeded advice, and he is a prominent lawyer. I have never troubledhim--had no good cause to until now."

  "I think that would be a good plan," Jack agreed. "I fancy as soon aswe come down on those fellows good and hard, they will be forced toshow their hand."

  So it was arranged that Mrs. Lewis should go to the town, sometwenty-five miles away.

  "And Freda," she said, "don't worry if I am not back until the lasttrain, for if he should happen to be in New York I will wait for him."

  "Be careful of that cut in the old road," Freda warned. "Mother, youknow it is always dark through there, even in broad daylight, andafter dark it is pitchy."

  "I can't get any train until one o'clock," went on Mrs. Lewis, "so,Freda, we will hurry back to the bungalow and leave everything readyfor tea. We can prepare things while the girls are lunching."

  "Now, you needn't do anything of the kind," objected Cora, "we girlscan well enough take care of ourselves once in a while. Why, Mrs.Lewis, you have us all spoiled. We are supposed to do most of our ownhousekeeping in Summer camp, you know."

  "Indeed, you do that now," returned Mrs. Lewis, who was more thangrateful for the opportunity for work that Cora had afforded to her."I like housekeeping when there is someone to keep for."

  "You had Freda," Jack reminded her.

  "And she wouldn't let me do enough to keep in practice," replied Mrs.Lewis. "Here we are, and the young ladies are stringing beans!"

  "Now that is what I call sweet of you," Jack observed as he greetedthe four girls, all seated around a low porch table with knives andbeans plying from basket to pan. "Who told you we were coming todine?"

  "You positively are not, Brother Jack," Cora declared. "You boys thinkour place is an elastic delicatessen. Why, we never know whether weare going to have enough for another meal or not, and we can't go tothe point again to-day."

  "All right, Little Sister. If you have the heart to eat good stringbeans from old Henry's garden, and know that your brother is starvingfor a single spoonful, just go ahead. They will rest heavy on yourheart, though. I warn you."

  "You may help!" offered Lottie. "Just take that paper bag and scoop upthe ends. Bess spilled them."

  "I absolutely refuse," replied Jack, haughtily, "to be a scraper-upfor such mean people. No, sir! I have just been manicured," and hegazed lovingly at his much-neglected hands.

  "It does seem as if all we do is to get ready to eat and then eat,"said Belle with a sigh. "I would never keep house for myself if Istarved. At least, I would manage on fewer meals. We have only been tothe point since breakfast and now it is time to eat again."

  Cora had gone in with Freda and Mrs. Lewis and very soon afterwardluncheon was announced--the beans were laid over for the evening meal.Jack stayed, of course, and wondered (so he said) why the otherfellows did not come in search of him.

  An hour or two later Mrs. Lewis hurried off to the little station,after promising Freda that she would be most careful of the dark roadknown as the "Cut."

  "For, Mother dear," warned Freda, "I do believe those land sharkswould do almost anything to scare the information out of us. They havethreatened to have it at any cost, you know."

  "Oh! I am surprised at you being so nervous, dear," replied themother, kissing Freda reassuringly. "I never felt less nervous. Infact, I think now things will soon be righted. Good-bye, dear. Andhave a good time with your friends."

  Freda watched the little woman step lightly away over the white path.Then, with a sigh, she turned back to the bungalow.

  "Freda! Freda!" called Bess. "You have not eaten yet, and I'm to dothe dishes. Hurry this minute and just fill up! I must be finished intime for a nap, for I am nearly dead."

  Freda did eat, though somehow she felt unusually depressed. EvenCora's encouraging words, given into Freda's ear when no one else wasat hand, did not seem to cheer her.

  "Just come down to the bay and go out with me," urged Cora. "I want totry the boat with the new control, and I don't want to go out alone!"

  "Of course I will go with you," assented Freda. "I have only to changemy blouse."

  The motor trip was delightful. The _Chelton_ seemed to have missed theguiding hand of its fair owner, for while the new piece of mechanismwas being put in Cora had not been using the boat.

  "How different from the one we rode in this morning," Freda remarked."I always feel as if something were going to explode when I sit near anoise such as that old engine made. I wonder that a big house like theLaurel can keep such a tub."

  "Guests are always glad to get on the water," answered Cora, "and Isuppose they are not particular as long as they do not have to payextra for the sail. Most of the hotels down here hire out theirlaunches, I believe."

  They headed straight for the island, and then ran around it to comeback on the east shore. In many of the passing boats were youngfriends of Cora, and all sorts of messages were shouted back andforth.

  "I guess I had better go in early," Cora remarked, "as we really havenot decided on this evening's plans. Some want the hop and others wantthe sail."

  "And I have a lot to do, too," Freda said. "Mother and I have to takeso much time from what we would like to do for you girls."

  Cora protested against this, of course, declaring that the girls neverhad such help before, and regretting that Freda should take the matterso seriously.

  "I cannot get over the attempt to rob Denny," Cora went on, as theyneared the bungalow. "I am glad they chose a time when he was notaround, for he would certainly fight. He thinks he has the samestrength he enjoyed years ago, and I hate to think what might havehappened had he met those fellows."

  "Wasn't it awful?" commented Freda. "And to think that it must havebeen on our account, for I am convinced that those men were searchingfor papers they believe Denny has."

  "No doubt about it," said Cora. "But he has none; has he?"

  "He has never mentioned such a thing, and with us worrying as we are,I am sure that if he had any of our papers he would show them tomother. I know my grandfather trusted him more than he even trusted myfather, his own son; but that is easy to understand, for Denny hadsettled for life here, near the property, while father was likely togo to any part of the world, had he lived. He always wanted totravel."

  "This is a splendid afternoon to write letters," Cora remarked, "and Iowe a very long one to mother. That, at least, I will get off on thelast mail."

  "I have some to write, too," Freda rejoined. "I had that very task inmind. I have to write to those 'in-laws' I interviewed last week. Theywill think I am very ungrateful not to have written since my return.So long," she called out cheerily. "I hope when mother comes back wewill all have cause to rejoice. That friend of father's is a very goodlawyer."

  "But he may not be able to say much until he has had a chance to lookinto the case," said prudent Cora. "We must not expect results sosoon."

  "Oh, I do," persisted Freda. "I know when he hears all that mother hasto tell him he will be able to say something quite definite."

  So the girls parted, Cora to go to her letter writing, and Freda tohers. It seemed the entire household at the Mote was very busy thatafternoon, some resting for the evening, others arranging the fussytrifles so important to young girls.

  It was getting dark when Freda came out at the side porch and lookedanxiously down the road.

  "Mother should have come on that train," she told herself. Then shewaited to hear the train pass at the second crossing. "She would be onher way up now if she came," Freda reflected, "I'll get my things onand go to meet her."

  Coming down the stairs she called Cora, but receiving no reply she didnot wait to find her. She expected to be gone only a few minutes andit was not worth while to wait to tell Cora where she was going.

  Th
e dusk came down quickly. Even as Freda passed under the big elmtree she could not see the moss at its trunk.

  She hastened on, and was almost startled into a scream as she heard anoise. It was but the tinkle of a bell.

  "Someone on a bicycle!" exclaimed Freda, in relief.

  The bell tinkled again, and through an opening in the trees she caughta glimpse of the messenger boy from the railroad station. He saw herand called:

  "A message for you!"

  "A message for me?" she repeated in surprise. "Who can it be from?" Atonce she thought of her mother.

  "I don't know," answered the lad. "Mr. Burke, at the station, took itover the telephone, and wrote it out. Here it is," and he held up anenvelope. "It's all paid, and you don't have to sign the book; itisn't a regular telegram."

  With trembling fingers Freda tore open the envelope. There was asingle slip of paper inside and on it was written in the hand of thestation agent:

  "If you would do your mother a service come to Wickford Junction atonce."

  * * * * *

  "Wickford Junction!" gasped Freda, as the messenger boy rode away."Why, how did mother get there? That's in the opposite direction fromLamberton. Oh, there must have been some accident, and she has beentaken there! I must go to her!"

  Hastily Freda looked in her purse. She had barely money enough for theticket, but she would go. On eager and anxious feet she sped towardthe railroad depot. It was getting much darker.

  "Oh, Mr. Burke!" Freda gasped, when she saw the agent behind hislittle wicket gate, "I've got to go to Wickford Junction. Mother isthere."

  "She is, Freda? Why I sold her a ticket to Lamberton this morning."

  "I know. But there must have been some accident. I just got a messagefrom Wickford Junction."

  "I know, for I wrote it down. The person wouldn't give any name, butI'm sure it wasn't your mother."

  "No, it couldn't have been! She's hurt!"

  "Hurt?"

  "Well, of course I'm not sure, but I fear she is. She must have toldsomeone to send it. I've got to go. How much is a ticket?"

  "Eighty-five cents. The train's due now. There she comes," he added,as a distant whistle sounded.

  Freda had barely time to get her ticket and hurry aboard.

  "Don't worry," the agent called out to her. "There hasn't been anyaccident, or I'd have heard of it."

  But Freda did worry. All the way in the train she was a prey tonervous fears, and when the Junction was finally reached she washardly able to keep up.

  But there was no sign of an accident, and her mother was not therewhen she alighted--the only passenger to get off.

  Wickford Junction was hardly more than a flag station, and there wasan agent there only part of the time. He was not there now, but in thedingy waiting room, where Freda went to make inquiries, she found ashabbily dressed woman.

  "Are you Freda Lewis?" the latter asked, starting forward.

  "Yes, I am. But how did you know? Where is my mother? Did you send mea message? Oh, tell me quickly, please!"

  "Now, dearie, don't get excited," soothed the woman in accents thatonly made Freda worry more. "It will be all right. I sent for you tocome here because I wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone. Nowif you'll sit down----"

  "What do you mean?" asked Freda, quickly. "I don't know you. What doyou want?"

  "Just to have a little talk with you. I thought it better to take thismeans than to go to your house. Sit down. You and your mother aretrying to establish a claim to some property; aren't you?"

  "Yes, that is well known. But what do you----"

  "Never mind about that. I will tell you all in due time. Have you anypapers to prove your claim?"

  "Any papers?" asked Freda, suspiciously.

  "Yes--deeds, mortgages or the like. I have studied law, and I may beable to help you. I have had experience in many disputed claims."

  "We don't know where----" Freda was about to say that they did notknow where the papers were, when she thought better of it. Was itright to confide thus in a stranger?

  "Now, dearie, tell me everything," said the woman. "You can trust me.Or, better still, if you will come with me to the country hotel whereI am stopping we will not be disturbed. Better come with me," and inher eagerness she caught Freda by the arm.

  "No, no! I'll not go!" gasped the girl. "I want to find my mother. Whoare you, and why do you ask me these questions? Did you send me thatfalse message? What was your purpose in so deceiving me?"

  "I did not deceive you!" replied the woman, sharply. "It was for thegood of your mother that I asked you to meet me here. I will explainall to you later, but not here. I can do you good. Only trust me. Comewith me. I have a carriage waiting outside."

  Again she caught Freda's arm.

  Then the harassed and nervous girl burst into tears. A kindly-facedhack driver, waiting outside in the hope of having some belatedtraveler hire him, heard. Dick Bently was a benevolent sort of chap,with daughters of his own. Hearing a girl crying he went into thedepot.

  "What's the matter, Miss?" he asked, and his tone was reassuring.

  "Oh, it's my mother!" gasped Freda. "She isn't here, and this--thisperson sent me a message----"

  "It was for your good, my dear," interrupted the strange woman, withan evil smile. "I'm trying to settle that property matter for you, mydearie!"

  "Who are you, anyhow?" asked Dick belligerently. He did not like theappearance of the woman, nor her tone.

  "It is not necessary for me to tell you anything," she replied, withassumed dignity. "If I am not wanted, I will go."

  "Maybe it would be better," said the hackman. "Now, can I help you,young lady?" he asked kindly, as the woman hurried off.

  "I only want to go home to Crystal Bay, and to my mother," said Freda,and she briefly explained the circumstances.

  "Well, it's too bad, but I'm afraid you can't get back to Crystal Bayto-night," declared the hackman. "The last train has gone."

  "The last train gone!" gasped Freda. "Oh, what am I to do?"

  "Now don't you worry a mite," replied Dick. "I'll just take you hometo my wife, and she'll look after you. Don't you worry," and, aftersome persuasion he prevailed on Freda to go in his ramshackle rig tohis home, where she was kindly received by his wife.

  "I'll go back to the station to meet the express that sometimes stopsat the Junction," explained Dick, "and, Miss, if there come anyinquiries for you I'll tell where you are. But you'll have to staywith us till mornin', I reckon."

  Freda's mind was easier now, but she could not imagine what had beenthe object of the strange woman, nor why she had sent the telegram.

  Meanwhile, back in the bungalow, there was much alarm when Freda wasmissed. And when her mother came home safely, and found her daughtergone, she almost collapsed.

  "Where can she have gone?" she wailed.

  Hasty inquiries were made, and one of the boatmen told of having seenFreda start out through the woods, and meet the station messenger boy.After that it was easy to trace her.

  Mr. Burke told of the 'phone message, and of having seen Freda boardthe train for the Junction.

  And then a new difficulty arose. There was no train to the Junctionthat night; but Mrs. Lewis was in such a state that nothing short of avisit to the place would satisfy her. There was no telephone availablethen, the Junction station being closed.

  Cora solved the trouble.

  "We can go to Hartford in our boat," she said, "and from there it isonly a short trip to the Junction. We could hire an auto."

  This was done. In the _Chelton_, the motor girls and the boys went toHartford, making good time in getting there. A neighbor came over tothe bungalow to stay with Mrs. Lewis, who grew more alarmed as thenight deepened.

  The trip by auto, which was taken only by Jack, Cora and thechauffeur, was marked by the mishap of a blown-out tire, but that wasall. When the Junction was finally reached, there, true to hispromise, was the hackman, and to Cora's
excited inquiries he gavereassuring answers.

  Yes, Freda was all right, and safe at his house. He directed Jack andCora there, and soon all were reunited. Then explanations wereoffered, Freda's fears about her mother were quieted, and the tripback to Hartford made, where the motor boat party was anxiouslywaiting.

  "And now for the bungalow!" sighed Cora, as she took her place at thefamiliar wheel. A little later it was reached, and mother and daughterwere together again telling their stories, and speculating much aboutFreda's strange message and the mysterious woman. But the puzzle couldnot be solved.