“Well, why don’t you?”
“I wish I could—but there’s the problem of money.”
“Your uncle will give it to you. He thinks you’re just right and he couldn’t deny you anything.”
“Uncle Ward is a dear and he’s always given me everything I want, but I don’t like to ask for too much.”
“It’s your own money, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Uncle Ward has looked after my property ever since Mother and Father died, but the other day he told me he wanted to have a long talk with me about money. I guess I’ve been using it up dreadfully fast. Boarding school costs such a lot.”
“Well, it shouldn’t cost so much to go camping.”
“No, that’s so,” Doris agreed, more cheerfully. “I think I’ll ask him if I can’t go. Oh, dear, I don’t see why one has to worry about money all the time! I’d just be sick, if I found out I couldn’t go on with my music lessons. It would seem so funny to be poor!”
“I wouldn’t see anything funny about it,” Marshmallow said as he thoughtfully munched a candy bar.
“I didn’t really mean it would be funny,” Doris corrected. “I’ve always had the things I’ve needed and until Uncle Ward spoke to me the other day, it never occurred to me that I didn’t have a substantial income.”
Remembering that she had not read her second letter, she tore open the envelope and glanced curiously at the message. It was written in a fine but cramped hand, and Doris turned over at once to the signature.
“Azalea and Iris Gates,” she read aloud. “How very odd!”
“What’s odd?” Marshmallow demanded.
“Why, just listen to this letter:
“‘My dear Miss Force: We understand you are the only daughter of the late Louise Trent Force. We knew her a great many years ago, and now after many years of heartache over her older brother, John, we find a most unusual circumstance has arisen. Could you come to Rumson and visit our home in order to acquaint yourself with the present affairs pertaining to John Trent, your uncle? Very truly yours, Azalea and Iris Gates.’”
“You never told me you had an uncle by that name, Doris.”
“I didn’t know it myself, Marshmallow! This is all news to me!”
“Sort of queer they invite you down to their place at Rumson, isn’t it? A fellow would think they could write anything they wanted to tell you.”
“Perhaps this is only an excuse for something else,” Doris said, thoughtfully scanning the letter a second time. “What do you suppose they mean by saying they want to acquaint me with the present affairs pertaining to my uncle? I hope I’m going to inherit some money! I need it.”
“Fat chance,” Marshmallow grunted. “More ’n likely they’ll ask you for some.”
Doris did not reply, for just then a smart red roadster swung around the corner. It did not appear to be running smoothly and the driver, a man of perhaps thirty, dressed immaculately but in rather sporty attire, brought the car to a standstill not a half dozen yards from where Doris and Marshmallow were standing.
“Now what?” they heard him mutter angrily.
Doris and Marshmallow moved over toward the car, curious to learn what was wrong.
“Having trouble?” Marshmallow inquired pleasantly.
“What does it look like?” the stranger snapped crossly. “This car hasn’t run decently for the last fifteen miles!”
“Perhaps your gas line is plugged,” Marshmallow suggested, lifting the hood. “Yep, that’s just what it is. Give me a wire or something and I can fix it in a jiffy.”
“Gas line plugged?” the driver grumbled as he searched in the tool case. “That’s what I get for buying cheap gas at Rumson.”
Doris glanced up quickly.
“What do you know of Rumson?” she asked.
“Plenty.”
“Ever hear of people there named Gates?” Marshmallow questioned.
The driver gave him a sharp glance and muttered something which neither Doris nor Marshmallow could make out. To their surprise, he brushed past them and slammed down the hood. Then he sprang into the roadster and without a word of explanation started the motor and drove rapidly away.
CHAPTER II
A Friendly Note
“Well, what do you know about that?” Marshmallow ejaculated, as he watched the red roadster vanish down the street. “I would have fixed his old gas line if he hadn’t been in such a rush. The big grouch! I hope it plugs up so badly he can’t keep going!”
“I don’t see what made him drive off in such a hurry,” Doris returned. “We just asked him if he knew any one by the name of Gates and he looked at us so suspiciously—or rather, I should say guardedly. I wish I knew where Rumson was. I’m beginning to get interested.”
“Let’s look it up on the map,” Marshmallow suggested. “There’s one in the house.”
They hurried up the walk toward the Mallow residence. It was a modern brick English type structure, located on a shady side street of Chilton in the suburbs of Plainfield, and was one of the most attractive houses in the city. The grounds were beautifully landscaped with silver-tipped evergreens, an abundance of rhododendrons and scarlet azaleas. The interior of the house was equally inviting, for Mrs. Mallow was noted as an excellent housekeeper.
Marshmallow found the road map in the desk and brought it out upon the porch. Doris spread it out between them and they pored over it.
“Here it is,” Marshmallow declared after a little search. “It can’t be more than fifty miles away. You take the Center Ridge road. It’s just a small town. You’d have a heck of a summer there.”
“It’s out in the direction Dave lives,” Doris remarked absently.
“Oh, sure, I forgot that!” Marshmallow drawled teasingly. “You’ll have a peach of a time.”
“And there’s an aviation field near Rumson,” Doris went on, scarcely noticing what her companion had said.
“That means Dave can fly down to see you every day or so. No wonder girls fall for fellows that are aviators!”
“Dave isn’t a full-fledged one yet,” Doris returned proudly, “but he’ll soon finish his flying course and then he expects to get a license.”
“Transport or marriage?” Marshmallow grinned.
“Oh, go chase yourself!” Doris retorted slangily.
Marshmallow got up from the porch and lazily stretched himself.
“I think I will,” he returned. “I can smell cookies baking in the kitchen, and I’ll just ankle around and coerce Mother into parting with a few dozen.”
After Marshmallow had gone inside, Doris continued to study the map for several minutes and then tossed it aside as she caught sight of her uncle coming up the walk. Eagerly, she ran to meet him.
“What have you in those packages?” she demanded.
“Oh, something nice for you.”
As he smiled indulgently down upon her, Doris could not but think how very fortunate she was to have such a generous and handsome uncle. Though Wardell Force was of middle age, with hair fast turning gray, he walked with the step of a boy and his energy was equal to that of any dozen average men. His voice was low pitched, but of singular quality which made one instinctively turn to listen when he spoke.
For many years he had conducted a successful drug store, but had retired from active business to follow his hobby of rescue mission work, welfare and charities. He was naturally a leader of men and in great demand to head committees and speak at important gatherings. Doris was proud of his ability to move large crowds with his magnetic voice. However, she sometimes felt that he was so engrossed in helping others that he neglected himself. Frequently, she had known him to go without a new suit of clothes that he might give the money to some deserving poor family.
“Uncle Ward, you’re always buying things for me,” she told him as she accepted the packages. “I don’t know why you’re so good to me.”
They sat down in the porch swing and Doris eagerly began to unwrap the parcels.
“Candy!” she exclaimed in delight. “And novelty jewelry, too. I can’t thank you enough!”
“Like the beads?” Uncle Ward asked. “I’m not much of a hand at picking out trinkets for the ladies. Thought they might be a little too conservative for a giddy red-head like you.”
“Pooh!” Doris scoffed. “I’m not giddy and you’re not conservative.”
Her uncle laughed and rumpled her curls. “Dory,” he began, the smile fading, “I’m afraid I shall have to leave you alone for a few days each week.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been named chairman of a committee to raise funds for fresh air camps and the campaign will be carried on all summer. That means I must go out of town frequently. We shall have to plan something nice for you to do during my absence.”
“Kitty Norris wants me to go camping with her. May I?”
A shadow passed over Wardell Force’s face.
“I have been intending to talk to you about the state of your finances for some time,” he said slowly, without answering her question.
Thoughtfully he stroked his hair, avoiding his niece’s eyes. How he hated to inform her that her funds were running low and that a camping trip was therefore inadvisable! Somehow, girls seemed to need a great deal of money.
“Don’t look so worried, Uncle Ward,” Doris said lightly, observing his preoccupation, and shrewdly guessing the thoughts which were passing through his mind. “I have news for you.”
Before she could tell him of the letter she had received from the Misses Gates, there was an unexpected interruption. Jake, the hired man whom Wardell Force had rescued from the slums many years before, came rushing up to the porch.
“There’s a plane going over,” he told Doris with a grin. “I’ll bet two cents it’s that boy friend of yours!”
For the first time, Doris became aware of the low hum of an airplane motor, and with her uncle following at a more dignified pace, rushed out into the yard.
“It is Dave!” she cried in delight, as she observed a bright red star on either wing of a monoplane which was heading directly toward the Mallow residence.
The plane rapidly approached, swinging so low that the observers on the ground could plainly see the intrepid young flier in the cockpit.
“You don’t suppose he can be having engine trouble?” Doris murmured anxiously. “I never saw him fly at such a low altitude before! Oh, I wish he wouldn’t take such risks!”
Her alarm was greater than that of either Jake or her uncle, but then, their interest in David Chamberlin was more impersonal. Doris had known the young aviator for several years and was well aware that his liking for her had steadily grown. However, since she was but sixteen and Dave only a few years older, her uncle refused to consider the affair as a serious one.
Wardell Force had looked after Doris with the interest and kindness of a father, and, as Mrs. Mallow frequently remarked, he had done very well for a bachelor. He had sent her to Barry Manor, a good boarding school, and had given her training by the best vocal teachers in the city. In some ways, Mr. Force had been overindulgent and he found it increasingly difficult to acquaint his niece with the stern fact that the few thousand dollars she had inherited were fast dwindling away.
Doris and her uncle made their home with Mrs. Thomas Mallow, renting a lovely upstairs suite, consisting of two bedrooms, bath and den. Mrs. Mallow, a plump and jolly widow noted for her ability as a cook, gave them their meals and was nearly as fond of Doris as she was of her own son. Doris was likewise a favorite of Jake, the hired man, though his devotion was expressed only by the way his eyes followed her whenever she was near. Wardell Force had told her little of what he knew concerning the man’s past, and since he had come to work at the Mallow residence he had been addressed only by the name of “Jake.” Though Doris was much too tactful to question him outright, she often had provided opportunity for him to tell the story of his life, but he had always seemed unwilling to offer any information.
“Oh, I do wish Dave wouldn’t try any stunts!” Doris exclaimed as she watched the monoplane slowly circle above the Mallow residence. “Why, he’s dropped something!”
As she spoke, she saw a piece of weighted paper fall from the plane. It struck the sidewalk a short distance away and before she could recover from her surprise, Jake had rushed to pick it up.
“Here you are, Miss Doris,” he said, handing it to her. “I ’spects it’s a love note.”
“If it is, it’s certainly a new way to get one!” Doris laughed.
Trying not to show her excitement, she quickly scanned the message. It read:
“Will stop in Saturday morning and take you to the big aviation meet in my roadster. Dave.”
The monoplane continued to circle at a low altitude and Doris, upon reading the note, promptly waved her handkerchief in token of assent. She watched until the plane had vanished toward the eastern horizon.
“Well, what was the meaning of all that pantomime?” Uncle Ward asked with an amused twinkle.
“Dave’s going to stop for me Saturday and take me to the aviation meet in his roadster. I’m thrilled to death! I was hoping he’d ask me, but I was afraid he wouldn’t!”
“So? Well, I’m glad he said roadster and not airplane,” Wardell Force grunted. “I don’t want you to go flying around with any student aviator.”
“Dave is nearly through his course now, Uncle Ward, and he’s considered the best of all those who are studying at the field.”
“That’s fine. And now that the excitement is over, we can get back to that discussion we were having. Perhaps we had better step into the den.”
Soberly, Doris followed her uncle into the house. She realized that the discussion was to center about money, and hoped that nothing would interfere with her plan to spend the summer with Kitty. Once they were settled in the comfortable den, she showed him the letter she had received from her chum.
“It shouldn’t cost very much just to spend a few weeks at a camp,” she declared. “I’m sure it isn’t a very expensive one.”
Wardell Force did not reply immediately, but sat looking at the rug. At last he said:
“I don’t like to deny you anything, Doris, but I’m afraid you don’t understand just how matters stand. Your carfare to this camp would cost considerable and of course you would need clothes.”
“Just knickers and sport things.”
“But they all cost money, Doris—a great deal more than you realize.”
“I thought my inheritance would cover everything.”
“Your money has been going very fast, my dear,” her uncle told her gently. “Your schooling has cost a great deal, and only today I received a letter saying that the tuition was to be doubled. Your music, too, has made deep inroads into your little fortune.”
“I had no idea it was as bad as that,” Doris said soberly. “I suppose I could give up boarding school and my music lessons—though I’d rather go to work than stop my singing.”
“I can’t let you give up your school or your music either, Dory. And I frankly admit, I hate to see you go into an office. You are much too young. You should have your good times now.”
“But if I haven’t any money—”
“You still have some, Dory. I am only telling you this, that you will understand the situation and be as careful of expenses as you can.”
“I will,” Doris promised, “and I’ll start by giving up that camping trip. I suppose, though, I won’t get to see Kitty this summer—unless—”
She broke off and her face lighted up.
“I forgot the letter I received from the Misses Gates!” she finished. “Perhaps they offer the solution to all my troubles!”
CHAPTER III
A Prospective Visit
Doris brought out the crumpled letter written by the Misses Gates which she had thrust carelessly into her pocket, and handed it to her uncle. Adjusting his glasses, he read it through and then sat thoughtfully stroking his hair.
&
nbsp; “What do you think of it?” Doris demanded.
“Very strange indeed. But just how do you think this letter will help to solve your financial problems?”
“Why, I thought perhaps I am to inherit some money.”
Wardell Force folded the letter and returned it to his niece.
“I hope for your sake that you are right, but I would advise you not to build up your hopes.”
“Don’t you think I should go?”
“I scarcely know what to say, Doris. I recall that years ago your mother had an older brother who for some reason or other left home to travel. He was a young man at that time. To the best of my knowledge he was never heard of again.”
“How queer!”
“Yes, as I remember, the members of the family were unwilling to talk of the matter.”
“He didn’t leave because of some disgrace?”
“Not as far as anyone knew. His leave-taking was shrouded in mystery.”
“I never knew I had such an interesting relative!” Doris declared. “The Misses Gates must know more than that about him and I’m curious to learn what they may have to tell me. I wish I could go to Rumson and visit them this summer. May I?”
“You really think you would enjoy it?”
“Perhaps not, but it would be something to do. And then, of course there is a possibility that I am to inherit money. If only Kitty were going along, I know I’d have fun.”
“But I don’t know anything about these women you are invited to visit, Doris.”
“Oh, they must be nice,” Doris urged. “You can almost tell by their handwriting—it’s so refined.”
Uncle Ward smiled. When his niece’s mind was made up, he seldom could hold out against her.
“Very well,” he gave in reluctantly. “I suppose I must say you may go. Mind, I don’t feel entirely easy about it.”
“Rumson isn’t very far away, Uncle Ward, and nothing could happen to me. Besides, Dave lives out that way, and he can sort of keep an eye on me.”
“I don’t doubt but that he will do that, all right,” Mr. Force grunted. “I suspect he is your real reason for this trip.”
“Honestly, I never thought of that at first.”
“All right, run along.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Won’t you be late for your music lesson?”
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 2