The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Julia K. Duncan

  How Doris exposed the faker and saved for the old ladies a fortune which they had long held but never suspected is told in the first book, but those adventures were but the beginning of a chain of events.

  Doris, with a valuable ruby ring as a souvenir of her days at Locked Gates, set out to learn the identity and true fate of her newly-acquired uncle. There was excitement enough and plenty of fun, as readers will recall, experienced in “Doris Forge at Cloudy Cove,” which is the title of the volume telling how this girl did find her uncle and reclaim him from years of life as a hermit.

  Both John Trent and the father of the Gates twins had invested in property in the Southwest a generation ago when land was cheap. Mr. Force had persuaded Trent and the sisters to establish their claims to the land, realizing that the passing years had increased its value manifold.

  The task of establishing the titles and the more responsible work of trying to dispossess such squatters as might have taken up their abode on the land was to be undertaken by Doris, with the help of her loyal friends.

  Kitty, her chum and roommate at Barry Manor boarding school, was to go along. Her share of the reward for exposing the criminal who had posed as Doris’s cousin was ready to be spent, and a trip to the West with her chum appealed to Kitty as the best investment for some of the thousand dollars.

  Now the documents which were the only proofs of the Misses Gates’s ownership of the land had been stolen!

  “Does that mean our trip West is useless?” Doris asked.

  “On the contrary, the quicker some authoritative person gets on the scene the better,” Mr. Force declared. “Unless the robbers are caught with the deeds on their person they will be in possession of the land.”

  “Something must have suddenly turned up to make the property very valuable,” Doris observed.

  “You are right, Doris,” Mr. Force agreed. “For some reason it is highly important to some unscrupulous man to get that land. Just why, we do not know.”

  “I’ll bet a gold mine was discovered on it!” Marshmallow exclaimed.

  “If a pie mine or some chocolate sundae wells were tapped, you’d probably take the deeds yourself,” Dave accused his friend jokingly.

  “No, all I’d ask for would be a spoon,” the stout youth said dreamily. “It’s too bad there aren’t such things. You have made me strangely unhappy, Dave. I always thought this was a perfect world, but now I see it could be improved.”

  “Oh, hush, you two!” Kitty cried, half in earnest. “Marshmallow doesn’t eat all the time. Please, Mr. Force, tell us what must be done.”

  Mr. Force, who had lapsed into deep thought, looked up at the young people.

  “If I could possibly get away myself I would go to Raven Rock at once,” he said. “But there is no way. The annual Community Chest drive is just about to begin and upon its success depends the well-being of the hospitals and charitable institutions of the city. I am director and treasurer. It would take four or five days before I could turn over the details to some other man.

  “Mrs. Mallow, you have run your own affairs so competently I have every faith that you can help us by going with Doris and the others as planned, but sooner. Tomorrow, if you can.”

  “Dave, tell Uncle Wardell—” Doris began.

  The young man was bursting to give the information he had already imparted to the others.

  “Mr. Force, a friend of mine, one of the country’s most competent pilots, is flying a tri-motor cabin to Raven Rock this week. I am going as his mechanic. He has invited us to go with him, all of us.”

  Mr. Force’s face presented a study of mixed feelings.

  “It sounds like Providence,” he said. “But also very dangerous. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes, Uncle,” Doris begged. “There is no danger—no more than by train. Think of the time we shall save!”

  “The thieves may have had ready a stamped envelope in which to mail the stolen papers as soon as they reached a letter box,” Mr. Force mused. “Or they may have given them to confederates. Capturing them may not frustrate their plot. Tell me more about this pilot and the airplane.”

  “Hooray!” shouted Marshmallow.

  In a straightforward manner and without exaggeration Dave told Mr. Force of Pete Speary’s history, and the details of the new airplane.

  “If Mrs. Mallow is willing, I will consent,” said Doris’s uncle.

  “Oh, thank you!” Doris cried.

  Then the young people turned eager and sparkling eyes upon Mrs. Mallow.

  “I—really—flying!” she stammered. “But— well, I agree!”

  “Then will you find out from your friend how soon he will start?” Mr. Force addressed Dave.

  “Oh, Kitty!” exclaimed Doris. “Isn’t it wonderful? Come upstairs. I’ll pack at once!”

  CHAPTER III

  Locked Gates Again

  “We shall have to travel light,” Doris spoke, throwing open bureau drawers and delving into their contents.

  “I’m all packed,” laughed Kitty. “Or rather, I’m not unpacked, which is the same thing.”

  “I wonder how long we shall stay,” Doris said, lifting an armful of dainty undergarments from drawer to suitcase.

  “Not very long, if we are to be at Barry Manor on registration day,” Kitty reminded her.

  “Won’t the girls be jealous!” exclaimed Doris. “Miriam Collins and Shirley Dawson won’t have half of the thrilling tales to tell about their vacations abroad, compared with ours right here.”

  “Let alone flying out West,” Kitty added. “There,” commented Doris, “that’s that, I guess. That tweed suit, six wash dresses and the taffeta ought to do, with the sweaters and blouses. Oh, I forgot. We’ll probably have to do lots of riding!” She darted to a cedar chest and brought out a riding habit which was still swagger despite evidence of hard wear.

  “Now, where can I put my boots? I know, I can roll up these undies and stuff them inside, and put my comb and brush and things in them, too,” and suiting actions to words Doris soon had her packing completed.

  “X have no such problem,” Kitty commented. “My habit has long trousers and jodhpur halfboots. Dad gave me the outfit last Christmas.”

  “I remember,” Doris said. “You look stunning in them, too, Kit. I need new things, but we have not had very much money to count on. But there, now I’m packed and ready. What shall we do until it is time to leave?”

  As chimes sounded downstairs to announce dinner, Kitty laughed. “There’s the answer for a part of our spare time.” ‘

  “I hope Dave comes back soon with the information about the plane,” Doris said, as the two girls left the room.

  “Or even without it, I dare say,” Kitty commented wickedly.

  “Well, of course I’d like to see Dave any time, even if he didn’t bring such exciting invitations.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Kitty added pointedly.

  “I’m surprised you’ve noticed Dave at all with Marshmallow around,” laughed Doris. “Oh, don’t misunderstand me! I only mean that Marsh is so fat you can’t see Dave.”

  “Marshall is not fat at all,” defended Kitty. With such good-natured teasing the girls entered the dining room, where Marshmallow was waiting behind Kitty’s chair.

  “Mr. Force is not feeling well enough to eat,” Mrs. Mallow said, entering the room and seating herself. “No, don’t bother, Doris. I have sent Chloe up with a tray for him, to coax his appetite.” Even Marshmallow had not yet dipped his spoon into his soup when there was a ring at the doorbell and, without further ceremony, Dave admitted himself.

  “Come right in and sit down for some dinner,” Mrs. Mallow greeted him.

  “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize—” the youth began in embarrassment. “I hurried back to tell Mr. Force that Pete will take off early day after tomorrow.”

  “Come join us just the same,” Mrs, Mallow urged. “Take Mr. Force’s place. He will not be with us tonight.”

  The
tempting odor of a savory soup was wafted to Dave’s nostrils and completed the invitation.

  “I really feel foolish, popping in right at dinner time like this,” he said, as he sat down. “But your meals are nothing to refuse with any sincerity, Mrs. Mallow.”

  Between mouthfuls Doris and Kitty plied Dave with questions, and between mouthfuls he answered them. To Marshmallow there was no such thing as “between mouthfuls,” but not needing his ears in the serious business of eating he missed nothing.

  “Can we get to Raven Rock in a day?” Doris asked.

  “N-no,” Dave admitted. “This ship has a cruising radius of eight hundred miles and a cruising speed of a hundred miles an hour. Let’s get out sohie maps again after dinner and figure out the route.”

  “Shall we have to sit absolutely still all the time we are in the air?” Kitty wanted to know.

  “No, you may dance if you want to,” Dave grinned. “Probably Marshmallow will have to sit still in the middle of the floor, or he’ll rock the boat.”

  “Shucks, I wouldn’t ride in such a flimsy thing,” Marshmallow retorted. “I’ll drive over to Raven Rock in my little old car and get there first!”

  The howls that greeted this boast made the chandeliers ring.

  “Sh-sh,” cautioned Mrs. Mallow. “Not so loud. Remember Mr. Force’s headache!”

  “Mr. Force! Say, I must give him the message from Pete!” Dave exclaimed. “May I go up?”

  “Certainly, but make sure he is not asleep,” said Mrs. Mallow. “His room is the first on the right, Dave.”

  The others arose from the table, and in the living room brought out again the maps and atlases they had consulted earlier in the day. At that time the flight had been no more than a lark with scant probability of achievement.

  Presently Dave rejoined them, reporting:

  “Mr. Force is more certain than ever that we should fly to Raven Rock. He is afraid that if the party goes by rail the thieves will learn of it and try to do you harm.”

  “Then we start day after tomorrow!” Doris exclaimed.

  “At dawn,” Dave added.

  “Dawn!” echoed Marshmallow with dismay. “Not before breakfast!”

  “I’ll have your breakfast before you are up,” put in Mrs. Mallow. “I know I shan’t sleep a wink the night before—or tonight, for that matter, thinking about flying,”

  “Why, Mrs. Mallow, there is less danger than if you were driving in a powerful sedan driven by the best chauffeur in the country,” the young aviator said.

  “Here, Dave, show us the route we will take,” Kitty chimed in. “Perhaps she will feel differently.”

  “Well, I rather think Pete will follow the regular air mail route,” Dave said, leaning over a map of the United States. “That means he will head for Cleveland or Pittsburgh, then dip down toward Cincinnati and head in at Indianapolis.”

  “Cleveland or Pittsburgh the first night, and Cincinnati the second,” Kitty counted off. “Then Indianapolis the third day—”

  “No, no!” Dave was laughing. “Indianapolis the first night, at least.”

  “From here to Indianapolis in one day?” Mrs. Mallow asked, astounded.

  “That is easy and conservative flying,” Dave assured her. “We shall get to Indianapolis by mid-afternoon without hurrying.”

  “I—oh, dear, I’m afraid I’ll never catch up with the times,” Mrs. Mallow sighed.

  “There’s a whole day to wait,” Doris commented. “And nothing to do. Kitty and I are all packed and ready. What shall we do tomorrow?”

  “Let’s go for a picnic,” Marshmallow suggested. “Good id—no.” Doris pondered a moment. “Instead, will you drive Kitty and me to Rumson?”

  “Sure,” Marshmallow agreed. “Why?”

  “I think we ought to see the Gates twins and tell them all about what has happened—and what is going to happen.”

  “Good idea, maybe,” Marshmallow grunted. “We’ll picnic on the way, just the same.”

  So, with the annoying detail of a day’s tedious waiting taken care of, Doris and Kitty went to bed intending to discuss until after midnight plans for their trip, but to their own surprise went almost immediately to sleep.

  Soon after breakfast the next morning they were rolling along the state highway bound for Rumson, Marshmallow at the wheel of his ancient but gaudy automobile. With them went Wags, Doris’s pet dog, who in the excitement of the past day or two had been rather neglected.

  “Where shall we eat?” Marshmallow asked, before they had traveled twenty miles.

  “Let’s have lunch at the same place we did the first time we made this trip,” Doris suggested.

  “That’s where you found Wags,” Kitty said.

  “And where we saw that horrid man who said he was my cousin,” Doris added. “Ugh! I can’t forget him.”

  “Nor could I forget a man like that,” Marshmallow chuckled. “No, sir, not if his claiming to be my cousin paid me $1,000 reward for proving he wasn’t.”

  Lunch was eaten at the spot crowded with thrilling memories, and Locked Gates, the home of the elderly twin spinsters whose lives Doris had so radically changed, was reached in short time thereafter. Contrary to many people, Marshmallow was always most active after a good meal.

  “I have to work up an appetite for the next,” he explained.

  Locked Gates was still Locked Gates, in so far as the wrought iron entrance gave its name to the old mansion. The Misses Gates had locked the portal thirty years before, after their father and their suitor had passed through it for the last time.

  In other respects the house was transformed. The bushes had been trimmed and the ancient fences were newly painted. No weeds grew in the pathways now.

  Marshmallow drove to the other entrance which was now the main gate, and accompanied the girls to the door.

  In contrast to the surly Henry Sully, who had grudgingly admitted them upon their first visit, a trim maid opened the door for the callers and ushered them into the living room. To Doris’s pleasure this had not been changed a particle. It was still the dignified but livable room of soft light, polished century-old mahogany and deep-piled antique rugs.

  “Welcome! Welcome!” a charming voice spoke from the hall doorway. Two voices, as a matter of fact, but they sounded as if uttered from the same throat.

  Azalea and Iris Gates looked as much alike as their voices sounded. They entered the room side by side, identically clad in dove-gray chiffon, their white hair framing surprisingly youthful faces.

  “When are you off to the West?” was their first query, after greetings were exchanged.

  “Tomorrow, by airplane,” Doris said happily. “How very modern and exciting!” Azalea exclaimed. “I suppose the young gentleman who was often flying overhead while you were here is to be the engineer, or whatever he is called?”

  Doris felt her cheeks grow pinker.

  “He isn’t experienced enough to fly a huge cabin plane,” she said. “He could do it, of course, but he has to do a certain amount of flying before he can be licensed to pilot one. Dave is coming as assistant to the pilot.”

  “That reminds me,” Iris said, “a couple of men came here yesterday—no, the day before—and asked if we would sell the Raven Rock property.”

  “It must be valuable, as your uncle claims,” her sister added.

  “What were the men like?” demanded Doris. “Please describe them. I have a special reason.” In as few words as possible she told of the attack on Mr. Force and the theft of the deeds. The Misses Gates were visibly shaken by the recital.

  “One man was tall and thick-set, burly, I should say,” Azalea began. “He wore rather eccentric clothing, I thought. Good enough, but rather— noticeable. He was quite tanned and had very bright, dark-blue eyes.”

  “His hair was just brownish,” Iris added. “He didn’t have any outstanding characteristics, except his voice, which was sort of drawly and yet nasal.”

  “The other one looked like an Ind
ian,” Azalea said. “He said nothing all the time he was here. He was about medium height, and spare, with very black eyes and hair and bronzed skin. He had a scar across the bridge of his nose, I remember.”

  “They said they were planning to build a—what was the funny expression, Azalea?”

  “A—let me see, now. Oh, a dude ranch!”

  “We told them that Mr. Force had our deeds and other papers and was consulting a lawyer in Plainfield about them,” Iris concluded.

  “Then they left in a hurry,” Azalea added. “And trailed Uncle Wardell and robbed him,” Doris concluded. “What’s mpre, they got away.”

  “Ah, how dreadful!” exclaimed the white-haired twins simultaneously.

  “But we’ll catch them!” exclaimed Doris. “We’ll get to Raven Rock first and stop their crooked work!”

  CHAPTER IV

  The Scar-Nosed Man

  “Good luck, Miss Force. Please to take extra _ good care of that so lovely voice of yours.”

  “Of course I will, Professor Von Hettinger,” Doris assured her singing teacher.

  “What effects on the voice such high altitude have got, I do not know,” the professor said dubiously. “You are on the threshold of a great career, or else Wolfgang Von Heflinger never heard a note. Be careful, please.”

  “Indeed, I assure you,” Doris laughed, pleased with her instructor’s confidence. “It was very, very good of you to come to my home to say ‘auf wiedersehen.’”

  With a courtly, old-world bow the professor took his leave and Doris went back to the breakfast table, where Kitty, Mrs. Mallow, her son, and Mr. Force were completing their meal.

  It was eight o’clock on the day of the proposed flight to Raven Rock. Within an hour they would be in the air, speeding westward.

  “Now, Marshmallow, if you’ll warm up your tri-motor or half-motor or whatever it is, we’ll get ready to start!”

  Doris danced around the room and halted with her arms around her uncle, thereupon giving him a few last minute bits of advice on taking care of himself.