One of Emily Grimshaw’s old clients came in and offered Judy another book manuscript. This was better than the others. She promised to read it.
“But where is Miss Grimshaw?” the author asked.
“Away,” Judy said briefly. “She left me in charge.”
Cautioning her to take care of the manuscript, the caller left. Judy’s despondent mood returned. It all seemed such a futile undertaking, helping struggling young authors who were trying to write about life when life itself was so much more important—Irene’s life.
At last the telephone rang and Judy recognized Arthur’s voice.
“We just missed Peter. Did he call you?”
“Not yet,” Judy answered.
“Then he couldn’t have heard the latest police report! The man who lets garage space to Jasper Crosby saw him driving out of the garage yesterday, and a girl was with him. It might have been Irene? That was in the morning, an hour or so after you called at the house. We haven’t learned anything else.”
“Nothing about the funeral?”
“We haven’t learned anything else,” Arthur repeated. “Jasper Crosby’s car is still out of the garage but the police have the license number. They’ll be watching for him.”
“Do you think he took Irene—away?” Judy’s voice broke. She knew what might have happened and so did he. It was impossible to talk.
Dale Meredith called up a little later and seemed very hopeful when he learned that Irene had been seen only the day before.
“She’s alive then!” he cried.
“You mean she was alive,” Judy amended gravely. “She must have been in the tower, and I was too frightened to do anything then. Now it may be too late. Jasper Crosby took her away in the car, and there was a funeral since then.”
“I don’t think it was Irene’s funeral. Honestly, I don’t. So keep on hoping and call me as soon as anything new develops.”
Judy promised him that she would and turned to see the door slowly opening.
There stood Jasper Crosby himself!
“Where’s Emily Grimshaw?” he demanded.
It took courage of the highest order for Judy to answer him calmly, in a businesslike voice. But she knew that she must. He must not know that she had ever seen or heard of Irene. She must not reveal that she had ever been near the house with the crumbling tower.
Assuming the manner of a disinterested clerk, she replied, “Miss Grimshaw is away. She left me in charge. What can I do for you?”
“Plenty,” he cried. An angry flush spread over his face. “You can tell me for one thing what happened to my sister’s poetry. The publishers say that they have never seen it.”
Judy pretended surprise. She rose and stood beside the man, her back against the door.
“There must have been some mistake,” she went on. “You can search Miss Grimshaw’s desk yourself and see if the poems are there.”
“Thanks! I will.”
He made a dive for the desk and began turning over papers recklessly, his hawk eyes searching every one.
Judy, with her back still against the door, turned the key in the lock, slowly, cautiously, so that he would not hear. Now she had him imprisoned in the room. He could not escape. But neither could she! For a moment she felt completely at his mercy.
“The poems aren’t here,” he announced in a voice that boded no good for Judy.
Quickly, then, she planned her course of action. She breathed a silent prayer that she might not fail. Aloud she said, “I’ll call Emily Grimshaw and ask her what happened to the manuscripts.”
He muttered something about making it snappy and Judy walked over to the telephone. She began dialing a number. But it was not Emily Grimshaw’s number. It was the number Peter Dobbs had given her!
“Hello!” his voice sounded over the wire.
Judy glanced at Jasper Crosby who stood near the desk. He was watching her like a cat.
“Hello! Miss Grimshaw? This is Judy. Jasper Crosby is here.”
“Who? What?” Peter sputtered.
“Jasper Crosby. He’s here in the office. He wants to know what happened to the poetry. Will you come right over?”
There followed a moment of silence. Jasper’s eyes seemed to be taking an X-ray picture of Judy’s mind. She felt that he must know she had not been talking to her employer. Then Peter’s voice, lowered and tense, “You bet your life I’ll come right over. And I’ll have the whole police force with me. Brave little Judy!”
She replaced the receiver and turned to Jasper Crosby.
“She’ll be right over. Will you wait?”
“Wait nothing,” he muttered. “Why should I wait? Say, who was that you were talking to then?”
“Emily Grimshaw,” Judy lied gallantly.
“Mighty queer. She’s home sick and then you call her up and she promises to get right up and come. Funny sickness, I call it.”
“Who said she’s sick?”
“Well, she took a fainting spell at the funeral yesterday.”
“Whose funeral?”
He detected the anxious note in her voice and became suspicious.
“Nobody’s business whose funeral it was. Emily Grimshaw can tell you. She was there. I’ll be back later to see about the poetry.”
“You’re not going!” Judy cried in alarm as he turned toward the door.
“Why not? There’s nothing to keep me.”
Judy’s thoughts answered him in a whirl. “Oh, but there is, Mr. Crosby. There’s a locked door to keep you, and if you find out that I locked it you will know that I set a trap for you, that I must have known about Irene’s disappearance. You’ll be furious! You may kill me before Peter and the police get here.”
In reality she said, “Please, Mr. Crosby. Miss Grimshaw will be only a minute and I would like to see this misunderstanding about the poetry cleared up.”
“You would, eh? Interested, aren’t you? So damned interested that you go prowling around our house like a thief.”
This startled Judy so much that she could only gasp.
“What’d you want of my sister?” he demanded.
“I wanted to tell her about the poetry,” Judy answered quickly. “You see, it’s—it’s lost.”
“The deuce it is! Then how’s Emily Grimshaw going to help matters by coming over?”
“She may know where it is. She was, well—intoxicated when it disappeared.”
Jasper Crosby gave a dry chuckle. “Eh! heh! She can’t even stay sober at a funeral. I’ll be going now. Got to see a lawyer and sue the old lady for the loss of my sister’s manuscripts.”
“Oh, no! Wait a minute! Miss Grimshaw may have them. In fact, I’m almost sure she has,” Judy cried in a panic. Anything to stall him, keep him talking until help came.
“Then tell her to send ’em to the publishers and make it snappy! I’m going.”
Judy laid her hand firmly on his arm. “You’re not going, Mr. Crosby. You’re going to wait for Emily Grimshaw.”
“Who’s giving orders around here?” he snapped. “I tell you I’m going!”
Wrenching away from her, he bolted for the door.
Judy realized that she had held him off as long as she could. Now if Peter would only come—and come quickly!
Jasper Crosby tried the door. Then he turned to Judy with an oath. “So that’s your game, is it? Well, it won’t work. See? Better give me that key right now, sister.”
“I will not give you the key.”
“Then I’ll take it from you!”
“You can’t!” Judy cried as he lurched toward her. “You don’t know where it is.”
“Then you’ll tell me!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until she felt dizzy and faint. “You’ll tell me, do you hear?”
“I will—not,” she gasped. �
�Let me go!”
His grip on her shoulders tightened. It hurt. It hurt terribly and Judy wanted to cry out for help. But if she screamed the hotel clerk would force open the door and Jasper Crosby would be free.
“I’ll tell you wh-where the key is,” she managed to say. “It’s—it’s in the small drawer of my desk under that pile of typewriter ribbon.”
He looked at Judy shrewdly. He knew better than that. Judy was not used to deceiving people and her timidity betrayed her.
“You lie!” he shouted. “That key’s on you and I know it. But I don’t need a key. I’ll break down the door!”
“And rouse the whole hotel?” Judy asked quietly.
His hands clutched her throat now. “Then give me the key!”
She could feel it, the cold little key that she had thrust down her neck. It felt colder still when her breath was short. She tried to scream but found she could make no sound. It was then that she thought of his hands on Irene. His relentless hands.…
CHAPTER XXIII
TO THE RESCUE
“This way, officer. Here’s the suite. Judy!” Peter Dobbs shouted.
One of the policemen rattled the door.
“It’s locked,” he announced, “and nobody answers. Give me your night stick, partner.”
The sound of splintering wood announced that the door was open. The center panel, with Emily Grimshaw’s unique knocker, fell to the floor and revealed the face of Jasper Crosby, white as a ghost. Judy lay limp at his feet.
“He’s choked her!” Peter said between set teeth.
Before Jasper had time to turn his head he had him by the collar. One of the policemen clapped handcuffs over his wrists. The other two jerked him to a corner while Peter lifted Judy gently in his arms and placed her on the sofa.
“Brave little girl,” he whispered and kissed her closed eyes.
She opened them, hardly believing that this was the same boy who had shared so many adventures with her. She had imagined Arthur kissing her—sometime when they grew older—but not Peter.
“I’m always needing someone to rescue me,” she said, trying to laugh.
“And doesn’t it make any difference who it is?” he asked.
“Yes, a little,” she returned lightly. “I called you, didn’t I?”
He studied her face, looking sorry about something, and after a few minutes he rose and said gruffly, “Come, we must hear what Jasper Crosby has to say for himself.”
She followed him to the corner where the prisoner sat sullenly on a chair. At first he would say nothing, but later when Judy questioned him about the funeral his attitude changed.
“There’s no secret about that,” he declared. “My sister is the one who died. I’ll give you the names of the doctor and undertaker to verify what I say.”
“Then the funeral was Sarah Glenn’s?”
Jasper nodded.
“But what became of Irene? We know she went to your sister’s house and we know she never returned. Where is she?”
Jasper Crosby grinned. “I’ll tell you if you’re so anxious to know. I thought she was a mite young to be traveling about New York. Yes, Miss, a mite young and irresponsible. So I sent her back to her father. Even paid her train fare and saw her off. Pretty decent of me, don’t you think, seeing she’s a perfect stranger?”
“When did this happen?” Judy demanded.
Jasper Crosby let his eyes rove thoughtfully about the room before he answered. He seemed content that the girl, not the policemen, was questioning him. As Judy’s questions were pertinent they, too, seemed content.
“I sent Irene to her father some time ago,” he said finally.
“You were seen with her yesterday morning,” said Judy.
“Ah, yes. Yesterday morning. That was it. I sent her home yesterday morning.”
“Your two stories don’t jibe,” one of the policemen snapped.
“Yesterday morning is some time ago to me,” Jasper Crosby replied suavely. “Much has happened since then. There has been a funeral,” he chuckled, “quite a funeral, too. Miss Grimshaw had a gay time of it all right, all right.”
“Did Irene attend the funeral?” Judy asked, ignoring his last statement.
He looked surprised. “Oh, no indeed. She did not attend.”
“You were pretty careful to keep her out of sight, weren’t you?”
“She was with my sister constantly,” he replied. “She had no desire to leave the house as long as my sister needed her.”
Judy turned to Peter. “It doesn’t sound true, does it?”
“It’s the blackest lie I ever heard,” he declared vehemently. “He can’t tell us that Irene stayed with a crazy woman of her own free will and made no attempt to get in touch with her friends. There’s been crooked work somewhere. If he sent Irene home, where is she now?” Peter questioned.
“Perhaps she’s visiting someone else,” Judy suggested hopefully.
Peter shook his head. “I don’t believe it. In any case she would have been in touch with you.”
The policemen agreed that Jasper’s story was not a very convincing one. Dale Meredith came in while they were still questioning him. Horace and Arthur were with him.
“I’ll get something out of this bird,” Horace declared. “Officer, have I your permission to question him?”
“Fire away,” the policeman replied, “and more power to you!”
Horace turned to Jasper with flashing eyes.
“What did Irene say the day she came, and if, as you say, she is not your niece how did she happen to enter your sister’s house?”
Jasper shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture indicating wheels going around.
“They cast spells, you know. Crazy people do. My sister’s eyes took possession of Irene. Hypnotized her completely. I never saw two people so attached to each other. Crazy as loons, both of them.”
“Irene Lang’s mind was perfectly sound,” Horace denied.
“I tell you my sister hypnotized her,” Jasper maintained.
As Judy listened to the explanation that her brother drew from Jasper Crosby, she found herself almost believing it. Sarah Glenn’s reaction to Irene’s sudden appearance had been similar to Emily Grimshaw’s, only more pronounced.
Jasper had been the one to open the door. Irene had inquired for her grandmother, but before he could speak the poet herself had rushed forward, almost smothering Irene in a tearful embrace.
“My Joy! My Joy! I knew you would come back.”
Then she had turned to Jasper with accusing eyes. “I told you the child wasn’t dead. Angels don’t die. My darling! Darling!”
Again Irene had submitted to her embrace.
No amount of reasoning could dissuade the old lady from her queer conviction. She had seen her daughter’s dead body, Jasper declared, but in spite of that she claimed this living girl as hers. Irene had answered to the name of Joy, pretended to remember touching little things out of the past, even fondled old playthings to please the poet. Like Golden Girl in the song she, too, had been a princess enthroned in her circular tower. There she had stayed. Jasper brought food, clothing, all the little things that a girl might need. He even moved a bed into the tower room so that she could sleep there. He called her Joy, too, to please his sister and pretended to think that she was the dead Joy Holiday returned.
“But the last few nights,” he continued his narrative, “she caused some trouble. My sister died, very peacefully, with Irene at her bedside. But after that the girl refused to go to her room. She had an obsession that the tower wasn’t safe and refused to sleep there.”
“Well, is it safe?” Peter charged.
“It’s been propped up ever since my sister tried to kill herself and set fire to the house. Sure, it’s safe!”
“As long as the props hold.”
<
br /> Jasper Crosby gave a dry chuckle with no mirth in it. There was something maniacal about it—something that frightened Judy. She spoke to Peter in a low tone.
“He’s trying to prove that Irene is insane just as he tried to prove, years ago, that her mother was dead. This time we won’t let him get away with it.”
“You bet we won’t!” Peter, Arthur and Dale joined in agreement.
The policemen promised to make a check-up of train passengers to determine if any part of Jasper Crosby’s story might be true.
“He’s a mighty slippery prisoner,” one of them said. “If he hadn’t assaulted the girl there I doubt if we would be able to bring charges against him.”
“Then I’m glad he did it,” Judy said unexpectedly.
CHAPTER XXIV
PREMONITION
Judy had a threefold reason for being glad.
She had accomplished Jasper Crosby’s arrest, and except for a few bruises had suffered no ill effects from his frenzied choking.
In spite of doubts and suspicions as to the veracity of the prisoner’s story, part of it must be true. Judy even dared hope that they were near the end of their search for Irene.
Also she was glad that Peter Dobbs had wanted to kiss her. It would be a new confidence to tell Irene when she came home.
All of them were saying “when” now—Arthur and Horace were busy mapping out plans for the day. They telephoned back to Farringdon to find out if anyone had seen Irene. The telephone calls were expensive and brought nothing but disappointment.
Even Pauline Faulkner seemed impressed when she heard of the terrifying things that had happened.
“And here I was in school, not helping at all, but today,” she declared, “I’ll make up for it. There isn’t any more school until graduation and I’m free to help you. Emily Grimshaw’s work has waited so long that there must be a deluge of unread manuscripts.”
“It has waited so long that it can easily wait a little longer,” Judy said.
The Third Girl Detective Page 36