The Mystery Girl

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER X WHO IS MISS MYSTERY?

  Mrs. Adams fell limply into a chair, her round eyes staring in horror.

  Miss Bascom had taken upon herself the role of dictator and with anaccusing finger pointed at Miss Mystery she said:

  "What have you to say for yourself?"

  "Nothing," replied Anita Austin, coolly, "except to insist that you leavemy room."

  "Leave your room, indeed! I am only too glad to! And I know where to go,too."

  Miss Bascom's determined air as she strode out of the door gave a hint ofher desperate intention and within five minutes she was out on the roadtoward the village.

  Mrs. Adams, still almost speechless with surprise and dismay, lookedsorrowfully at Anita. Something in the girl's face stayed the kindlywords the woman meant to say, and, instead, she broke out:

  "You must leave this house! What are you anyway? A thief--and amurderer?"

  "Oh! Don't!" Anita put up her hand as if to ward off a physical blow.

  Then, as if the cruel words had stung her to a quickened sense of her owndanger, she cried, piteously:

  "Oh, Mrs. Adams, help me--protect me--won't you? I don't know what todo--I'm all alone--so alone--"

  She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands.

  Esther Adams was uncertain what course to pursue. Should she protect thisguilty girl, of whom she really knew nothing, or should she dismiss herat once from her house, in the interests of her other boarders, who mustbe considered?

  Surely, her first duty was to the others--the people she had known solong, and who looked upon her house as a home and a safeguard.

  "You must go," she said, though her voice wavered as she saw the patheticface Anita raised to look at her.

  "Oh, no! Don't send me away! Where could I go? Even the Inn peoplewouldn't take me!"

  "Of course they wouldn't! Go home! Haven't you a home? Who are you,anyway? But I don't care who you are--you must get out of this housetoday--this morning. Do you hear?"

  Meantime Miss Bascom, on her virtuous errand had trotted quickly to theoffice of the Prosecuting District Attorney.

  There, however, she was told that Mr. Cray was over at the Waring house,and she concluded to go there. Nor did this displease her. She longed tobe in the limelight, and the tale she had to tell would surely give herthe right to be there.

  Mrs. Peyton received her coldly, for the two were not friends.

  "I came to see Mr. Cray," Miss Bascom announced, "on important business."

  "Oh, very well," the housekeeper returned, "take a seat and I'll ask himto see you."

  Miss Bascom waited in the living-room, secure in her knowledge of theimportance of her news.

  The attorney welcomed her cordially for he saw at once that she broughtnews of value.

  And, expressed in emphatic language, and interspersed with many andunfavorable personal opinions, Liza Bascom told of the incident offinding the money and the ruby in Miss Austin's bureau drawer.

  "Astonishing!" commented Cray. "Who is she?"

  "Nobody knows, that's the queer part. We call her Miss Mystery."

  "Where did she come from?"

  "Nobody knows. She just appeared."

  "Don't the Adamses know?"

  "No, they don't."

  "A young girl, you say?"

  "She appears to be very young--but you never can tell with those slythings. I daresay she makes herself look several years younger than shereally is."

  "Did she know Doctor Waring?"

  "How do I know? She came over to this house late Sunday night--for I sawher--"

  "Good heavens! Are you sure?"

  "Well, it was fairly light, with the moon, and the snow all over theground, you know, and I saw her, all wrapped up in her fur coat, sneakingaway from the house--"

  "How late?"

  "Oh--after everybody had gone upstairs and the lights were all out at theAdamses."

  "You saw her come back?"

  "No; I didn't think much about it at the time--she's a crazy pieceanyway--and--"

  "What do you mean by a crazy piece?"

  "Why, she's queer--not like other folks. She won't have anything to dowith any of us over there--"

  "That doesn't make her out crazy."

  Miss Bascom shrugged impatiently. "I don't mean insane or demented. Ionly mean sly and secretive. She never speaks to anybody at thetable--and though she makes eyes at Gordon Lockwood, she snubs Mr. Tyler,who is just as good a young man. They both admire her--anybody can seethat, but she treats them like the dust under her feet."

  "Not an adventuress, then?"

  "I don't know. But I do know she's a thief--or how did she get that moneyand the ruby?"

  "Perhaps Doctor Waring gave them to her?"

  "Then she is a wrong one! Why should he give a strange girl such things?"

  "If he was in love with her--"

  "Now, look here, Mr. Cray, do try to show ordinary common sense! DoctorWaring was about to marry Mrs. Bates, a sweet, dear woman, of suitableage. Is he going to have a little flibbertigibbet coming to see him lateat night, for any romantic reasons?"

  Cray hesitated to speak his mind, but he ruminated that he had heard ofsuch things, in the course of his life. Miss Bascom, he thought was anunsophisticated old maid, but there was certainly a new condition to beinvestigated, and the case of Miss Anita Austin must be carefullyconsidered.

  "Now, Miss Bascom," he said, diplomatically, "I'll have to ask you tokeep this whole matter quiet for a time. You must see that we can't worksuccessfully if we take the whole town into our confidence. Or even thisentire household."

  "Don't you try to bamboozle me, Stephen Cray! I know your sort. You wantto keep this matter quiet because you want to get that girl off scotfree!I know you men! Just because she has a pair of big, dark eyes and a slimlittle shape you are ready to hide her guilt and let her off easy. Iwon't have it! That girl stole those things, or else she got them frompoor John Waring in a way no decent woman would--"

  "What are you talking about, Liza Bascom?"

  Mrs. Peyton appeared in the doorway, and though she asked the question,it was fairly evident that she knew the answer, and had been listening.

  "Yes," she went on, "I've been listening at the door, and I'm glad I did.First of all, I won't have Doctor Waring's name traduced, and next, ifthere's a girl implicated in the matter, the whole truth about her hasgot to come out! I know the girl, she was here Sunday afternoon, and amore brazen-faced, bold-mannered chit, I never want to see!"

  "She was here?" asked the bewildered Cray. "You know her?"

  "I know all I want to know of her," Mrs. Peyton declared. "Yes, she washere--came over with Emily Bates and Pinky. Wouldn't condescend to bereally one of us, but just acted offish and seemed to me abouthalf-witted."

  "Don't be silly," put in Miss Bascom. "That's the last thing to say ofher! Whatever that girl may be she's got all her wits about her! I cansee that for myself."

  "Was Doctor Waring present when Miss Austin was here?" asked Cray,thinking hard.

  "Yes," replied Mrs. Peyton, "and that's a strange thing. When he firstsaw her--unexpectedly, you know--he dropped his teacup."

  "Because of the meeting?" asked Cray.

  "I don't know," Mrs. Peyton said. "He declared afterward he had neverseen the girl before--but--oh--I can't believe she came back here thatnight!"

  "Of course she didn't," Cray said. "How could she get in, unless someoneadmitted her."

  "There's the French window in the study," Mrs. Peyton suggested,uncertainly. "Doctor Waring could have let her in that way--"

  "Well, he didn't!" Miss Bascom declared. "Land! I've known John Waringall my life, and he's not the kind of man that had anything to do withflirtatious young women."

  Of a truth, Liza Bascom had known Waring for many years and had spent anumber of them in desperate efforts to persuade him to renouncebachelorhood in her favor.

  Yet her words carri
ed little weight with Attorney Cray, who fancied thathe knew men better than the insistent spinster possibly could.

  "Miss Bascom," he said, after further thought, "and Mrs. Peyton, too, I'mgoing to ask you--I'm going to instruct you to keep this matter quietuntil after the funeral of Doctor Waring. That occurs tomorrow, and Iwant a day or so to look into this thing quietly. We would gain nothingby rushing matters. I will see Miss Austin, of course, and rest assured,if she is guilty of any wrong doing, she shall not escape. But it is aserious matter to accuse a suspect without giving any chance forexplanation--"

  "There's no explanation of that ruby pin and all that money, that is notincriminating to that girl!" Miss Bascom exclaimed.

  "Nevertheless, I am in authority, and I forbid you to discuss theconnection of Miss Austin with the case at all."

  Cray knew how to impress belligerent women, and he even added a hint oftheir making trouble for themselves unless they obeyed his explicitcommand.

  He returned to the study, where Gordon Lockwood was going over themorning's mail.

  The secretary was a busy man, for his late employer had had a number ofdiversified interests and every mail brought letters, catalogues,circulars and newspapers that required careful attention. John Waring hadbeen a collector of rare books, and other curios, and was interested inseveral literary enterprises.

  To many of these correspondents Lockwood could merely send a statement ofthe Doctor's death. But others involved careful and wise judgment, andLockwood conscientiously discharged his duties.

  The study had been put in order, and all traces of the tragedy had beenremoved. The books that had been on the desk, including the blood-stainedcopy of Martial, Lockwood had, after consideration, restored to theirplaces on the shelves.

  Although it gave him a thrill of horror, Lockwood had nerved himself toappropriate Waring's desk, for it meant far greater convenience in hiswork.

  He sat there as Cray entered, and raised his impassive face to note theattorney's excitement.

  "By Jove, Lockwood," Cray, exclaimed, as he closed the door behind him,"there's a new way to look, which seems to promise to straighten out alot of things. Do you know that little piece over at your boarding house,named Austin?"

  "I know her slightly. What about her?"

  From Lockwood's voice no one would suspect that his heart was poundingdesperately.

  "Well, she was here late Sunday night! What do you know about that?"

  "I don't know anything about it," returned Lockwood, coldly, "and I don'tbelieve it. For if she had been here I should have known about it. I washere myself, just outside the study door, until eleven. You don't meanlater than that, do you?"

  "Dunno. The Bascom spinster tells the story--"

  "Then don't bank on it. With all due deference to Miss Bascom, I know sheis not always a reliable source of information."

  "But she says she saw the girl coming over here late that night--"

  "She didn't! It's not true! What under the heavens would she have comefor?"

  "What does any girl visit a man for?" Cray gave an unpleasant wink, andLockwood with difficulty controlled an insane desire to spring at histhroat. "And, beside, she is even now in possession of the missing fivehundred dollars and the ruby pin."

  "I don't believe it!"

  "See here, Mr. Lockwood, it doesn't matter to anybody whether you believethese things or not. Miss Austin has the valuables, and I'm going overthere now to inquire how she got them. Also, it just occurs to me thatthose small footprints leading across the field, are directed toward theAdams house, and may have been made by a woman as likely as by ourhypothetical small-footed man."

  "Those are Nogi's footprints."

  "How do you know?"

  "Common sense. Even if Miss Austin did come over here for any reason shewould have come by the street, not across the snowy field."

  "Apparently she chose the field. So I'm going to ask her why."

  "All right, Cray, but you must admit you're illogical, inconsequent andinconsistent. You think I killed Doctor Waring, because I have a sharp,round penholder, and owe some large bills. Then, because a gossiping oldmaid comes over here and babbles, you fly off at a tangent and accuse anunprotected girl of absurd and unbelievable crime."

  "Oho! Interested in the siren yourself, eh?"

  "No; I'm not--if you mean Miss Austin. That is, not personally."

  Few men could have told this lie with such a convincing manner butLockwood's phlegmatic calm stood him now in good stead, and his air ofobvious indifference carried conviction.

  "But," he went on, "I am sorry for her. It's nobody's business who orwhat she is, yet those women over at the Adams house are one and allpossessed to find out something against her. I only want to advise you,Cray, if you talk to anybody over there, get Old Salt himself. He's morefair minded than his wife or the other women."

  "Men are apt to be--where a pretty girl is concerned," said Cray, drily,and Lockwood ground his teeth in rage, as the Attorney went away.

  His demand to see Miss Austin was listened to by Old Salt Adams, who hadseen him coming and opened the door for him.

  "Well, Cray," said the old man, as he ushered him into the sitting roomand shut the door. "I know what you're after--and I just want to say, goslow. That's all--go slow."

  "All right, Salt. Will you send Miss Austin down here--also, I mustinterview her alone."

  "Yes--I understand. But don't be led away now, by circumstantialevidence. You know yourself, it isn't always dependable."

  "Go along, Salt, don't try to teach me my business. Have you talked tothe girl?"

  "Not a word. My wife has, but she didn't learn much."

  Adams went away, and in a few moments Anita Austin came into the room.

  A first glance showed Cray's experienced eye that the girl was what hecalled a siren.

  Her oval, olive face was sad and sweet. The pale cheeks were not touchedup with artificial color, and the scarlet lips were, even to his closescrutiny, also devoid of applied art. She wore a smart little gown ofblack taffeta, with crisp, chic frills of finely plaited white organdie.

  Whether this was meant as mourning wear or not, Cray could not determine.

  The frock was fashionably short, showing thin silk stockings and blacksuede ties.

  But Miss Mystery seemed wholly unconscious of her clothes, and her greatdark eyes were full of wondering inquiry as she looked at the attorney,and then a little diffidently offered a greeting hand.

  The little brown paw touched Cray's with a pathetic, hopeful clasp, andhe looked up quickly to find himself looking into a pair of hopeful eyes,that, without a word, expressed confidence and trust.

  He shrugged his shoulders a trifle and secretly admonished himself tokeep a tight rein on his sympathy.

  Then relinquishing the lingering hand, he sat down opposite the chair shehad chosen to occupy.

  "Miss Austin," he began, and paused, for the first time in his lifeuncertain what tack to take.

  "Yes," she said, as the pause grew longer, and her soft, cultured voicehelped him not at all.

  How could he say to this lovely small person that he suspected her ofwrong doing?

  "Go on, Mr. Cray," she directed him, meantime looking at him with eyesfull of a haunting fear, "what is it?"

  Cray had a sudden, insane feeling that he would give all he was worth forthe pleasure of removing that look of fear, then commanding himself tobehave, he said,

  "I am sorry, Miss Austin, but I must ask you some unpleasant questions."

  "That's what I'm here for," she said, with the ghost of a smile on hercurved red lips, and, smoothing down her taffeta lap, she demurelyclasped her sensitive little hands and waited.

  Those hands bothered Cray. Though they lay quietly, he felt that at hisspeech they would flutter in anxiety--even in fear, and he was loath todisturb them.

  Because of this hesitancy, he plunged in more abruptly than he meant todo.

  "Where do you come from, Miss Austin?"r />
  "New York City," she said, a brighter look coming to her face, as if shethought the ordeal would not be so terrible after all.

  "What address there?"

  "One West Sixty-seventh Street."

  "You told some one else the Hotel Plaza."

  "Yes; I have lived at both addresses. Why?"

  The "why" was disconcerting. After all, Cray thought, he was not a censustaker.

  He gave up getting past history, and said, briefly,

  "Were you at Doctor Waring's house Sunday evening?"

  "Not evening," she returned, looking thoughtful. "I was there Sundayafternoon."

  "And went back again, late in the evening--to see Doctor Waring, in hisstudy."

  "Why do you say that?" she asked quietly, but a small red spot showed oneither olive cheek.

  "Because I must. How well do you--did you know the Doctor?"

  "Know Doctor Waring? Not at all. I never saw him in my life until I camehere to Corinth."

  "You are sure of that?"

  "Almost sure--oh, why, yes--that is, I am quite sure."

  "Yet you went over there Sunday evening, and came back to this house inpossession of Doctor Waring's valuable pin, and a large sum of money."

  "Oh, no, Mr. Cray, I didn't do any such thing!"

  "Then can you explain your possession of those articles?"

  "You mean, I suppose the roll of bills that Miss Bascom put into my topbureau drawer?"

  "Miss Bascom put in the drawer!"

  "Yes--that is, she must have done so, or--how else could they have beenfound there? You know yourself, now, don't you, Mr. Cray, that I'm not aburglar--or a bandit or a sneak thief? You know I never went in to DoctorWaring's study and took those things! So, as I say, isn't it the onlyplausible theory, that Miss Bascom, who found the valuables so readily,first put them there herself?"