by Helen Wells
Cherry heard Leaping Lena’s familiar engine beat, then the brakes. A minute later Alan and his father were with the two injured men. Cherry was never so glad to see anyone in her life.
“Miss Ames, will you describe what’s happened?” Dr. Horton Wilcox demanded.
Cherry stated succinctly and clearly all the facts, and reported Mrs. Harrison’s offer of their infirmary as a temporary hospital. Dr. Horton Wilcox went to examine the supposed cardiac case. Dr. Alan gave the younger man an antitetanus shot, Cherry assisting, then removed the antiseptic dressing and injected penicillin into the open wound against possible infection.
Perry was coming from the house bringing a stretcher. Dr. Horton Wilcox requested North and Phelps to help him lift the man from the car onto the stretcher. He was a dead weight. “Keep his head a little lower than his feet. Nurse, keep him covered.”
It took Perry and three men instructors to carry the heavy man up the school driveway. Dr. Alan and Cherry accompanied him, at the elder physician’s order. Unfortunately the school had but one stretcher, so that a second trip would have to be made for the football star.
In the infirmary Cherry caught sight of Lisette, in a clean smock, scrubbing her hands at the infirmary sink. Good girl! Cherry murmured to her to boil water, which the doctor might want, and to prepare several hot water bottles. Lisette nodded and went to work. Mrs. Snyder, Mrs. Curtis, and Mademoiselle were waiting here to help, while downstairs Mrs. Harrison had a full time job preserving order and quiet. Cherry sent all of her helpers out of the room, with Mrs. Snyder on call.
The men having transferred the older man to one of the beds, Cherry removed his shoes and jacket, covered him with a blanket, applied hot water bottles. Then she helped him sip some water and placed a screen around his bed, to shut out distractions. He needed to be entirely quiet. As she worked, she wished she had studied ten times harder at Spencer Nursing School, and vowed she would take some refresher courses soon. She did read her professional monthly journals, she did study new techniques and practice them. But when lives hung in the balance, depending directly on her skills—
Didn’t she hear the wailing of an ambulance siren? It came near and whined to a stop.
Two minutes later Alex North came in, alone and out of breath. He summoned Dr. Alan and the nurse to the infirmary door.
“Dr. Wilcox is taking the boy to the hospital in the ambulance, for a blood transfusion. Shock case, he said. He’s asking you, Dr. Alan, to handle the other patient.”
“Thanks, Mr. North. Then my father left the car here?”
“Yes, he did. Dr. Wilcox said to tell you and Miss Cherry that he expects the boy will come out of shock all right. He also mentioned possibly doing emergency surgery, to prevent any chance of a limp later on.”
Cherry breathed easier. It seemed to her that she had done very little for Tommy Dexter, but apparently she had done the right and adequate things. Just the same, she’d feel better if Dr. Wilcox had said so. She followed Dr. Alan back toward the occupied bed.
The young doctor proceeded to examine the exhausted man as thoroughly as he could without X rays. He murmured to Cherry that he found nothing which made it necessary to move him at once to the hospital, and that the essential thing was absolute rest for several hours.
Their patient was falling asleep. Dr. Alan moved away from the bed and said to Cherry in a low voice:
“You’ll have to stay up all night to watch this patient, Miss Cherry. With a cardiac case, particularly with arteriosclerosis—”
So she had judged right! Dr. Wilcox instructed her in the care of the cardiac patient during the night. He told her, in case of an attack of coronary thrombosis, to summon him instantly and to administer nitroglycerin. “Have you anyone to relieve you? Mrs. Snyder? Good.” Alan half smiled at her in encouragement.
“Don’t try to turn or lift this patient; he’s too heavy for you. If you need help, phone me and I’ll come. Let me do any heavy work for you.”
All that long night Cherry stayed at her post. The hour before midnight Mrs. Harrison herself relieved her for a nap, and Lisette thoughtfully brought up sandwiches. Cherry put on her thick white sweater and checked TPR, made her patient more comfortable, refilled the hot water bottles, and sat down beside a dim night light to watch and wait and serve. To keep awake, she wrote letters, rising every fifteen minutes to probe with her flashlight’s beam for any sweaty pallor or for any unforeseen development. None, thank goodness. Twice she gave him hot bouillon. By six in the morning she was very tired. But her patient, breathing normally, had come through the night without mishap or even great pain. By breakfast time he was able to smile weakly and say he was hungry.
Dr. Wilcox and Alan arrived at eight to see whether the coach could stand being moved to the hospital. On checking his condition, Dr. Wilcox said he would telephone for the ambulance to come for him at once. Tommy Dexter, they reported, was out of danger and his leg eventually should be as good as ever. This news cheered both Tommy’s coach and Cherry.
“Miss Ames, I want a word with you about your nursing service,” said Dr. Horton Wilcox. He read again the records she had kept for this night and put them in his pocket.
Cherry trembled. “Yes, Doctor?”
“I admit this was not an easy assignment. All the more reason, then, that you are to be commended. Highly commended. You have obviously had excellent hospital training, and you used it to full advantage in giving first aid, and in the overnight care.”
Cherry’s knees became weak in her relief. She scarcely heard the rest of what Dr. Wilcox was saying.
“—shall tell Mrs. Harrison so. An exceptionally good nurse! I wish more nurses had your quick wits and common sense.”
“Thank you, Dr. Wilcox.” But she was looking at Alan, and Alan was smiling at her. Cherry ventured to say: “Well, Dr. Alan, do I still get the ice cream cone for a reward?”
“A medal would be more like it. You’re the best nurse I ever met!”
That was all the reward she could possibly want.
CHAPTER IX
The Disappearing Window
“SSH! MOVE SOFTLY OR SOMEONE WILL HEAR US!” Lisette nodded as Cherry noiselessly opened the infirmary door and peered out. The corridor was empty and quiet. It was eleven at night, and everyone was in bed. Lisette and Cherry were presumed to be in bed, too, but this was their first chance, since the emergency of last week, to search for the cupboard niche. According to the journal, though the great-grandfather was maddeningly cryptic, the concealed cupboard was located somewhere in whichever had been his former room. They decided to tap the walls of the infirmary first, as long as they were in there.
“Wish we knew which room used to be Pierre’s,” Lisette fretted. “I tried in a roundabout way to ask Mrs. Harrison”—Cherry fleetingly wondered why Mrs. Harrison should be expected to know such a thing—“because she—ah—saw this house when she was a little girl,” Lisette explained. “She said that she didn’t exactly remember. It seemed to her that Great-grandfather had occupied different rooms at different times, as his family grew larger or smaller. So that was no help.”
“We’ll just have to find out on our own,” Cherry agreed.
Both girls were padding around softly in slippered feet, with only the night light burning. They wore night clothes, in case any faculty member should suddenly come in, and they also wore warm sweaters. As Cherry remarked, these mid-October nights were chilly, and one loud sneeze would be enough to betray them if the rain and wind should cease.
“Anything over there?”
Lisette was on tiptoe beside the left end of the fireplace, cautiously tapping the wall. “Nothing here. I’ll try the whole area, though.”
“I’ll try the right end of the fireplace,” Cherry whispered. She knew medicine cupboards generally used to be built at the left end, but you never could tell.
Both girls tapped, listening with ears against the papered wall and tapped again. They did not hear the hollow soun
d or faint echo for which they were alert. The whole fireplace wall was solid.
“The cupboard just isn’t near the fireplace,” Lisette sighed.
“Don’t be discouraged. The room is big but not so enormous that we can’t cover every inch.”
“Where shall we try next?”
“Hmm. With everyone asleep, it’s a good chance to try the corridor. The remodeling may have cut off a corner of this room.”
With their hearts in their mouths, Cherry and Lisette slipped soundlessly into the hall. Here was a small area of wall between infirmary and faculty sitting room which intrigued Cherry. They tapped it, at eye level, then higher—no point trying lower—when a footstep made them whirl around.
“Hide!” Cherry hissed, and shoved Lisette through the nearest door. It led into the darkened, empty faculty room.
Here came, of all people, Sibyl leaning on the cane which she had used since her fall. She swished along in a negligee, looking sleepy and cross.
“Aren’t you feeling well, Sibyl? Can I do something for you?”
“You’ve already done plenty for me, scaring Freddie away. Oh, I didn’t mean that! No, I’m all right, Miss Cherry. What’s that funny noise I heard?”
“What noise?”
“Like someone knocking. Moving around, inside the walls, maybe. They say these old houses are full of ghosts.”
Sibyl shivered, but Cherry grinned.
“Old houses are full of loose floor boards and crumbly plaster. It’s windy tonight and the house creaks, that’s all. Go back to bed, Sibyl, there’s a dear.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” Sibyl said suspiciously. She pushed her red-gold hair out of her eyes and yawned. “Oh, well, the ghosts can have this wretched old place. I don’t care.”
She limped back to her room and shut her door noisily enough to waken the entire second floor. Cherry held her breath. Two, three minutes went by, but nothing happened. She poked her head inside the faculty room and made out Lisette’s dark tumbled hair and pale face.
“Sibyl thinks we’re ghosts.”
“Well, we’re looking for a ghostly kind of thing, aren’t we?”
After another half hour of quietly sounding the infirmary walls, Cherry declared under her breath: “I think a ghost would be easier to find than this cupboard. Shall we try another room next?”
Lisette was discouraged, too. She said, “Let’s sit down and rest for a few minutes, and try to think.” They had been listening for a telltale sound, searching for the cupboard whose keyhole the doll’s key might be presumed to fit. So far they had found nothing.
“Wouldn’t Mrs. Harrison be astonished if she happened to walk in right now,” Cherry mused.
“Don’t say such things!” Lisette frowned. “She’d be angry. If she ever learns what we’re up to, she’ll forbid it.”
The girl’s vehemence surprised Cherry. “You’re awfully positive about what Mrs. Harrison’s attitude would be,” she said, mildly inquiring. But Lisette shrugged. If she knew something further, she was not telling.
Cherry bypassed the matter, for the time being, and concentrated on where the cupboard might be concealed. Suddenly an idea occurred to her.
“Listen! I just remembered something. Don’t know why I forgot about it all this time. Right after I came here, I think the very first evening after supper, when we were in the garden, I happened to look up and noticed a special kind of window.”
She described to Lisette the diamond shaped window of stained glass, with panes of various colors. Since the house had several windows of stained glass here and there, Lisette could not place that particular window.
“As best I can remember,” Cherry said, “it should be in the infirmary, on the side wall somewhere between the fireplace and the supply closet.”
They glanced at that side of the room. On either side of the fireplace were ordinary plate glass windows, with blinds. The long, narrow supply closet, placed at a right angle to the fireplace wall, ran about eight feet but had no window. Where was the missing window?
“I could swear I saw that window in about this location,” Cherry said.
“Would it be in the faculty room?”
“I’ll go see,” and Cherry rose, though she did not much like venturing into the corridor where she might be noticed. However, she took her flashlight and went next door to the faculty sitting room.
“No such window in there,” she reported back to Lisette.
“And that room is right next to the infirmary,” Lisette said. “No hallway in between the two rooms. You know what, Cherry? I think the window may be located farther down.”
“There’s only one thing to do. That’s for me to go down to the garden tomorrow and have another look. Unless—Does the journal say anything about a window?”
Lisette could not recall any reference. She leafed through its faded pages but shook her head.
“Nothing about any window. Wait, though. Here’s a passage which has always puzzled me. But it’s about—how to translate la cloison? Cubbyhole, I guess, or cubicle. Possibly Pierre meant storage space.”
“Cubbyhole where?” Cherry pricked up her ears.
“Seems to refer to the staircase.”
“The big main stairway?”
Lisette nodded.
“But the journal locates the cupboard in a master bedroom. Nowhere near the staircase.”
“I told you I didn’t understand it, Cherry. Do you suppose he’s talking about two separate things?”
“If he is, and the cupboard is one thing, what’s the second thing? Anyway, the cupboard is the main object, isn’t it?”
They talked round and round the subject, but their reasoning was inconclusive. Talking did not help; what they had to do was search. It had grown too late to hunt any further. The storm was over, and the silence in the sleeping house was profound, so that their tapping would surely reach someone’s ears, and Sibyl was already alerted.
Lisette said good night, peered to see if the coast was clear, and fled silently to her room.
Next day it seemed to Cherry forever before she had a few free minutes to visit the garden. The right time came in midafternoon. Her chores were completed, and most of the girls were either out riding or on the hockey field. Cherry figured it was as good a time as any. She slipped downstairs and went out the side door past the conservatory and into the garden.
Standing where she had stood that first day at twilight, she looked up to the remembered spot and saw the diamond-shaped window! So she had not been mistaken about its location. It must be within or almost within the boundary of the infirmary, because Cherry carefully counted and accounted for all the windows. This window seemed to be an extra one; she noted also that it seemed to be permanently closed, a window for light and decoration only.
There were the two tall plate glass windows with blinds, which flanked the infirmary fireplace. Next came the diamond shaped window. Then came the plate glass windows with chintz draperies, and that particular chintz hung in the faculty room. Therefore the diamond shaped window might be located somewhere between the infirmary and faculty room. But why hadn’t she and Lisette been able to find it?
“I think I have it!” Cherry exclaimed to herself. “I’m not going to waste time speculating, though. Lisette and I will test out my theory this very evening.”
On her way back into the house, Cherry looked in at the small conservatory. Now that she understood the flowers were to be used to compound a perfume, she was doubly interested to see what Lisette had transplanted. The young girl had given over most of the conservatory’s space to the great grandfather’s delicate, pungent spray called silver lace and to three varieties of roses—Provence, fawn, and China rose. A few other varieties of blossoms thrived here as well.
“I’m lingering too long downstairs,” Cherry realized. Yet she could not resist stopping a few more seconds to breathe in the delicious fragrance of the roses and the silver spray.
The happy memory of a re
cent afternoon returned to her, as she started on her way back upstairs. Dr. Alan had taken her and Lisette for a drive in the beautiful weather, and the two girls had steered the conversation around to local gardens. Because the silver spray was rare, Lisette discussed visiting neighbors’ gardens in search of more of this flower. Alan had no idea why the two girls were so interested in flowers and gardens, but, having lived here all his life, he drove them to the minister’s garden. There they saw a little silver lace bush. The Reverend Mr. Dixon, Alan had said, was about the only person he knew of who still fancied it and cultivated it. Lisette was all for ringing the doorbell and begging for a promise of some in season, but Alan gave her fair warning. The minister was a man of formidable attainment and, as Dr. Dixon was retired, he did not look kindly on casual visitors. So the three young people had driven past. All of this flashed through Cherry’s mind in an instant as she ran up the stairs.
“We’ll find some more silver lace somewhere, yet,” she thought blithely. “It’s only a question of patience and—”
The wide-open infirmary door gave her a jolt. Usually it stood ajar. She hurried in to find Mrs. Harrison standing in the deserted infirmary, extremely annoyed.
“Where have you been, Miss Ames? What are you thinking of, to leave the infirmary unattended and no one notified to relieve you?”
Oh, dear! Mrs. Harrison had called her Miss Ames—a bad sign. She could not very well tell the headmistress the inexcusable truth.