“That might depend upon their recent fortunes, don’t you think, Mr. Morgan?” Mr. Tudor asked. He was standing with his hands behind him, a little smile on his rather thin face. “European royalty has had rather a hard time of it in some countries since the war.”
“You are right. I imagine that the Russian grand duchess doesn’t find it any too pleasant at home.”
“In fact she could not stay there at all,” said Dalton, “if I know anything about it.”
“But probably Mrs. Ives’ guests are not all exiles,” Mr. Tudor added, open for information.
“Mother and Dad met some of them abroad, I think,” Peggy volunteered. “And I think that Count Herschfeld knows some of them, and the Kravetz, too.”
Beth looked rather disapproving of Peggy’s reference to her governess and Mr. Tudor wanted to ask who the Count and “the Kravetz” were; but he thought it not in good taste to ask any more questions. Peggy, however, explained. “The Count, Mr. Tudor, is a sort of secretary for my step-father. Do come over to see my things, girls. I shall have time to play around for several days. Dad wrote that they would be here at the latest somewhere around the twenty-eighth, he thought—oh, girls, that—” Peggy had just thought.
But Leslie spoke at once. “Indeed, we shall be over right away, Peggy. Would to-morrow morning be too soon? It is not very long till the twenty-eighth, is it, Dal?” Leslie looked soberly at her brother.
“Not very, Les.”
“I wish that you would come, too, Dal. You have never been over and Mother was saying that she wanted to see the rest of the Eyrie family.”
“I want to see your mother, too, Peggy, but I’m too busy with the building, you see. Bring your mother over here.”
“I will, when the company goes. But then, she always has somebody.” Peggy looked rather cross at the thought.
“We’ll ask your mother out for a little trip in the Sea Crest,” Beth suggested. “Perhaps she will feel that she can run off for a little while.”
“I believe that she might,” Peggy replied.
Evan Tudor had noted Peggy’s startled pause, and Leslie’s question concerning the date. He had a particular interest in matters here which he was not disclosing yet, but he welcomed anything which threw any light upon it. When Peggy and Jack went away after their short visit, he walked beside Peggy’s horse for some distance till it was necessary to strike off from the trail or bridle path to his own little camp. Several notes went into his small pocket notebook that night before he went to sleep. He was inclined to go abroad to do a little investigating, but he decided that first he should get some familiarity with the woods and coast by daylight. It might be just as well, too, to have one good night’s rest. He expected to have few before the twenty-eighth.
Early the next morning Evan Tudor was at the roadside, waiting, and who should come to meet him there but Tom Carey, who then rode to the town at the railroad and sent a telegram, written at length, and signed E. T. It was very innocent and related to a certain article which would be ready for the press to meet the editor’s date.
“Are you deeply engaged in the affairs of a certain man here named Bill?” Evan Tudor facetiously asked Tom, as he handed him the written message.
“No, sir. I catch fish for him,” said Tom. “I might be doing something else, perhaps, if he meant some things that he said to me, but what I do I do in the open.”
“Do you know what it is that Bill meant?”
“No; I thought that it was liquor, but I am not so sure now.” Tom dug his shoe into the turf by the side of the road with a troubled face.
“Would you consider finding out for me, if I should take you into my employ without interfering with your work for Bill? Indeed, that would be a part of it.”
Tom looked up quickly. “You are after Bill!”
“I am not sure that I am at all. Something is wrong up here. Can I count on you not to betray me?”
“Yes, sir. Something is wrong up here. I’ve got to stay here with my old grandmom that has been here all her life, and I’d like to see somebody beside Bill running things.”
“I picked you yesterday, from something you said,” Mr. Tudor continued. “I am taking quite a risk to tell anyone that I have a quest here, but I shall need someone, and I happened to find that I need you right away. I made this appointment with you not knowing that I should have to send this telegram, but I hoped to secure your services. I did expect to enjoy a little fishing, but I suppose that I shall have to keep up my writing a while, to give you the excuse of bringing fish to me every day. Tell Bill that the writing chap has ordered fish, shrimp, lobster, anything that you get particularly fine and every day. I mean to write, too—but not all the time.”
This mystery appealed to Tom, whose eyes sparkled. “You can count on me, sir. Prob’ly Bill will charge you fancy prices, though.”
“That is all right, and I’ll pay you, too. It’s going faster than I thought. Sure you can carry it off so that Bill will not suspect? It’s all right for you to show an interest in me, of course.”
“I’ve kept more than one thing from Bill already, sir.”
“Don’t forget, then.”
Tom carried the telegram into the station with an air of great indifference, as he happened to see a man who worked for Bill, in fact one of Bill’s chief henchmen, on the platform.
“H’lo, Tom. Wot’e ye doin’ here?”
“What ye doin’ yourself?” Tom was grinning. Perhaps it would do no harm to let the man see the telegram. It would be better at any rate than to make any mystery over it. He went right ahead about the business of sending off the message, making out the blank and stuffing the original paper, scribbled by Evan Tudor, into his pocket.
But the man was waiting curiously at the door. Tom hoped that it was mere curiosity that moved him. “Wot’s the matter? Any of yer folks sick?”
“No. I’m sending a message for somebody else, the new man that came in yesterday. I s’pose everybody in town knows—”
“Say, wot was it about? Bill was kinda suspicious las’ night.”
“Bill’s always suspicious,” laughed Tom. “Read it yourself.” Tom pulled the mussed paper from his pocket. “The man’s on some paper. Abner said that he wouldn’t let anybody carry his typewriter but himself yesterday.”
“That so?” The man scanned the paper. “Lemme show this to Bill?”
“I don’t know whether I ought to give it to you or not. There’s nothing private in it, I suppose, but he paid me to bring it and I was to ask whether there was any message for him. Suppose he asks me about this?”
“Was they any message fer him?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t want it anyhow. I kin remember if Bill asts me.”
But Bill was not quite satisfied with the report of his henchman. He decided to see himself what the “young chap was up to,” as he had done in the case of the Secrests. Evan Tudor was quite pleased with himself that he was running his typewriter at top speed, under the trees in his chosen retreat, when a rough man appeared before him with a “Hello.”
“Good morning sir.” Evan looked up from his improvised seat on a boulder. “Too fine a morning to waste this way, isn’t it?’”
“Might just as well stay in the city if you have to write.”
“Just what I was thinking. But I don’t know. This is a pretty good place to think; and I don’t intend to keep it up after I get this off by mail, and maybe one or two other things out of my system.”
“Hunting a quiet place, then?”
“Yes; but it is partly for a vacation, too. Aren’t you the man who runs a lot of the fishing around here?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I think I saw you in the village, and someone told me. I got hold of a boy that works for you and I told him to bring me something every day, fish, shrimp, your choicest of anything. Can that be done?”
“Yes, but you will have to pay for it.”
“All
right. Want a little pay in advance?”
“No objection.”
“Don’t cheat me, then.” Evan Tudor’s tone was not one which would give offense, rather one inclined to banter. He felt in his vest pocket and took out a folded bill, for five dollars. “That all right?”
“We’ll do the best we kin fer ye.” Bill pocketed the money. This chap was easy. “Say are ye a friend of them Secrests? You was eatin’ there last night.”
“Certainly I am a friend of theirs, though I never saw any of them before last night. And I don’t like that, Mr.—” Not recalling Bill’s name Mr. Tudor paused for a moment. “That looks a little as if I were being spied on. Are there any parties around here from whom I may need to protect myself?”
Evan’s eyes flashed. Bill’s eyes fell. He was used to taking the initiative in threats. This was something new for him.
“If ye mind yer own business, I reckon ye needn’t be afraid of nobody.”
“That is good. I’ll not be, but it is just as well in a new country to be ready, I suppose. How are the village people about talking to strangers? I want a little material in the line of characters and I may wander among those interesting shacks a little. Will they throw me out?” Mr. Tudor’s face wore a whimsical smile.
“They might. I wouldn’t advise ye to git too smart around here.”
Bill sauntered off. He had come from the direction of Steeple Rocks, Mr. Tudor noted. He smiled to himself as he started the typewriter once more. He was paying Bill, Bill the chief sinner, aside from those who paid him for doing what he was doing.
Evan Tudor spent the rest of the day in spying out the land. He searched the woods, finding it a glorious grove of beautiful trees and interesting growths of bush and fern. He had the love of a scientist for the different phases of wild life and spent some time over curious flowers, taking a list of those he knew for future use in some setting of a story. Toward dark, he entered the Ives’ land and after dark he wandered around Steeple Rocks, feeling justified in the intrusion, for his quest was a trust.
But as it grew late he hurried back to his tent, for he rather expected that some watcher would know whether he spent the night in his tent or in “snooping.” He thought that so far he had escaped observation since evening fell. And after all, an early trip about would be only natural to a newcomer. Evan tried to put himself in the place of the evildoer, suspicious, fearful, and he wished at first to allay those suspicions.
As he approached his tent, he thought he heard a rustle in the bushes. He put a tree between himself and the noise, but hummed a little. A shot in the dark would be possible, but scarcely likely. Bill would be the first one to be suspected, and Bill, whether able to prove an alibi or not, did not want any investigating authorities.
So reasoning, young Tudor boldly walked to his tent, turned his flashlight inside of it and finding it empty, except for his undisturbed possessions, entered, lit a candle and prepared for the night. He lay awake for some time, a little uncertain whether or not he might be the intended victim of some attack. He was ready but nothing happened. No suspicious noise of any human source disturbed him. Finally he had to fight to keep awake, but when the stirring of the birds denoted the dawn, he fell into a deep slumber and slept far into the morning.
CHAPTER XV
MORE DISCOVERY
There was early rising at the Eyrie on the morning after they had shared their supper with the new camper. Jack arrived from Steeple Rocks even before the men who were to help Dalton, and wore his working clothes. He reported that Peggy was up, expecting the girls at any time, but he drew Leslie aside, as he sometimes did, to tell her the developments at Steeple Rocks. Leslie was glad that Sarita was still getting ready, for Sarita was inclined to tease her over Jack’s preference. It was clear that Jack valued Leslie’s opinion on affairs at least.
“My aunt is nervous and worried, Leslie,” said Jack. “She announced this distinguished company about to arrive, but does not seem certain just when they will arrive. The Kravetz is back, but disappears for a long while and pays no attention to Peggy. I overheard her say to Mrs. Ives that it was absurd to dress up Peggy to help entertain ‘for so short a time.’ Then my aunt said that she intended to have someone of her own right at hand, and she said it almost in a tone of desperation. The Kravetz sometimes has an air of dictating to my aunt that I have wondered about.
“Aunt Kit said ‘all my own friends have been sent away on one excuse or another and I have this lot of foreigners to entertain again, half the time without my husband, I suppose!’
“‘He will be here,’ the Kravetz said, ‘and the Count and I will help you.’” Jack laughed. “The Kravetz got up and went into the house, and Aunt Kit, who knew that I was in the hammock, came right over to me. ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘if I ever needed my own people it’s now. Promise me that no matter how insulting Madame Kravetz or anyone may be, you will stay around.’ So of course I promised, though if I get scared out at ‘royalty’ I may come here and bring Peggy any time. Peg, though, is all keyed up and tickled over her new clothes. It will be all right if I escape to the Eyrie, will it?”
“You know that it will, Jack,” said Leslie heartily. “Do you know who any of them are?”
“No, not by name. I supposed that they were people of title that my aunt and uncle met abroad; but from something she said I think that they are people whom she has never met at all. Yet she spoke of entertaining them ‘again.’ How do you account for that, Leslie?”
“Perhaps she has had to entertain a different lot of them some other time,” said Leslie.
“I expected you to say that. I rather think that she has, and if they are like the Kravetz, well, good-night!”
Leslie laughed at Jack’s expression, but Jack looked around to see that no one was near and bent to say something low into Leslie’s ear. “Jack!” she exclaimed, as if startled. Then she looked into his eyes. “Jack, you’ve got it! That must be the matter over there—and your aunt suspects it, but isn’t sure, or else—”
Leslie broke off, for Sarita was coming. They both turned with smiles and Leslie said, “Jack was just telling me of all the excitement over the guests that are coming. He does not appreciate it at all and would rather help build log cabins, I guess.”
As Dalton came up to claim Jack, the girls started toward Steeple Rocks. Sarita led the way, partly by the woods, but they decided to enter the grounds near the cliffs and Sarita suggested visiting the “Retreat,” or Peggy’s little Eyrie.
They found the rocks slippery from the mist, but the more cautious Leslie followed Sarita’s lead and they reached the cave without accident. “That was a bit risky, Sairey,” she said. “We’d better come here when it is dry.” But Sarita hushed her and reminded her that they had come to see if they could notice smoke again.
Stooping, they went as far back as they could and Sarita observed that a piece of rock was loose at the hole where Peggy had been tempted to crawl in. She knelt and tugged at it, without any particular purpose except that of general investigation. To her surprise, it gave way and she nearly fell backward, losing her hold upon the rock, which rolled in the other direction, instead of out, though it seemed to stop with a bump against something.
Sarita looked up at Leslie with a comical expression as she straightened herself and leaned forward to the opening again. She was about to say something, when to the girls’ surprise they heard an exclamation, “What is that?” someone asked. Both girls instinctively drew back and put their fingers to their lips in warning to each other. But what they next heard they placed more as if the sound were conveyed through a speaking tube in this curious place.
Another voice was answering. “Rocks fall once in a while. There’s quite a crack by you. It’s more or less honeycombed, but there is no danger here.”
“I see. I noticed a little draught when I lit my cigaret.” More followed, but the persons speaking were not in the proper position now for more than a murmur to be heard.
; “How lucky that we didn’t say anything near that hole!” whispered Sarita, as both girls withdrew toward the entrance. “Do you suppose that anything we have said here has been heard?”
“I scarcely think so. Something would have been done about it, you know. It looks as if the secret of Steeple Rocks were nearly ours, Sarita, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does. Wait. I’m going back a minute.” Sarita knelt again at the opening and thrust her head within, to Leslie’s disapproval. She followed her, catching hold of her dress and looking at the rocks above her to see if any more had been loosened. She was relieved when Sarita drew back again. “Too dark to see anything, Leslie,” she reported when they were outside.
They covered the rest of the way to Peggy’s house with very little conversation. “That was a stranger,” Sarita commented.
“The other voice was like the Count’s,” said Leslie.
“Shall we tell Peggy?”
“I suppose so,” said Leslie doubtfully. She was thinking about that. What Jack suspected she would keep to herself for the present, but Peggy had a right to know the secret of her Retreat.
Peggy was delighted to see them and took them to her room for what she called the “gorgeous display,” some very pretty but suitable frocks for a young girl about to mingle with others who had them. “It is going to be quite a house party,” Peggy said, “and a few of them may stay for some time, Mother says. It’s awfully interesting, though ‘royalty’ doesn’t mean so much any more. We had a princess once while we were in Florida and she had wonderful jewels. Mother thinks that there is one girl about my age. You simply must come over, girls!”
“Clothes, my dear Peggy. Wouldn’t we look great to a grand duchess, in this rig, for instance?”
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 302