Jane giggled.
“You think we’re as wicked as that, Mary Lou?” she asked.
“You know I don’t believe that, Jane.”
“Then what do you believe? Why do you think that there will be another fire?”
“I think that either this crazy woman sets the cottages on fire herself, believing that she is appointed by the Lord, or else that somebody she knows is doing it, and she has inside information somehow.”
“More likely she’s just prattling,” remarked Jane.
“I hope so. But, anyhow, I want to be prepared to jump up at the first sign of smoke. I’m going to rig up a hose with the river, so that I can put it out if it does happen around our cottage.”
“You sound almost as crazy as the old lady, Mary Lou! Next thing you’ll be taking your pitcher out for river water!”
“Now, Jane, be yourself! You’ll sleep out with me, won’t you?”
“I suppose so. But let’s keep Silky with us, in case one of those gypsies comes along and grabs you, the way she did at Dark Cedars.”
“There aren’t any gypsies anywhere around here,” Mary Louise assured her.
“No, but there’s a tramp. Freckles saw him. And a crazy woman. And from the way Mr. Flick was carrying on this morning, he’ll soon be crazy.”
“He’s gone to Albany. And the crazy woman is harmless. But you’re wise about Silky: he will protect us from any tramps that might show up.”
To Mary Louise’s delight, Mrs. Gay raised no objection to the plan. After all, her daughter had often slept outdoors before. So, after a pleasant evening of games and dancing at the Reeds’ cottage, the two girls went out to the tent.
“You forgot your pajamas, Mary Louise!” called Mrs. Gay as she fixed up the girls’ room for Freckles.
“Oh, of course,” replied her daughter. No need to alarm her mother by telling her that they intended to sleep in their clothing.
They took off their shoes, changed into sweaters and skirts, and climbed into the cot. Silky lay down on the rug beside it.
“It is close quarters,” whispered Jane. “But nothing like that could keep me awake.”
“Me either,” returned Mary Louise, with a yawn.
Five minutes later they were both sound asleep, entirely forgetful of fires or danger. But their rest was short. About one o’clock Mary Louise was awakened by a soft growl from Silky. Instantly she sat up and peered out into the darkness. It was utterly black at the opening of the tent, for the night was starless, and the trees closed out all view of the sky. Yet she perceived something light—something white—coming towards her. For one wild moment a terrible thought took possession of her imagination: Was this indeed the angel of wrath, coming to destroy their house—as that queer woman had predicted?
But, no: common sense came to her rescue and assured Mary Louise things like that didn’t happen nowadays. There must be some other explanation. It must be—
A horrible inane laugh burst upon the silence of the night, wakening Jane with a cry of terror on her lips. A long arm reached through the opening of the tent, touching the girls’ cot, snatching at their feet. Then another laugh, followed by hysterical sobbing.
Mary Louise reached for the flashlight underneath her pillow. But she was calm now; she was sure of the identity of the intruder. It must be the crazy woman.
She flashed the light into the creature’s face, and the woman gasped in fear.
“Don’t harm me! Please!” she begged. “I’m the Lord’s messenger. To tell you that the Smith’s house is on fire. There are little children to be rescued. Go! Run! I’ll follow as soon as I can fill my pitcher.”
Jane and Mary Louise looked at each other in wonder. Was what she said the truth, or only a figment of her crazy brain?
But they did not dare take a chance. As the poor woman said, there were children at Smiths’ big house on the hill: three children, two boys and a little girl, with only servants to look after them. And servants, unlike parents, too often think of their own safety first.
“We’ll go right away, Rebecca,” Mary Louise assured her as she stepped into her pumps. “We’re all ready.”
Taking only their flashlight for protection, she and Jane ran off as fast as they could go, with Silky faithfully following them.
As soon as they had passed the ruins of Flicks’ Inn, they could see the smoke rising from the hill beyond. There could be no doubt about it. Rebecca was right: the Smiths’ house was on fire.
The girls redoubled their pace and tore up the hill. As they came nearer they saw the flames and heard wild shouts of excitement. Then they met the Smith boys and several of the servants racing madly about.
“How did it start?” demanded Mary Louise breathlessly as she almost bumped into Robby Smith.
“Don’t know. In the back, somehow. That’s all wood, you know.”
“Can they save it?”
“Doin’ our best. All us men are working!” He stuck out his chest proudly, evidently enjoying the adventure immensely. Money was never a thing to the Smith boys.
“Where’s your sister?” demanded Mary Louise.
“Around somewhere. Everybody got out safe.”
“With her nurse?” inquired Jane.
“No. Nurse took the canoe across to the Royal—to phone to Four Corners for the fire engine.”
“Then we better hunt up little Ethel and take care of her,” asserted Mary Louise. The child was only four—anything might happen to her.
Flames were rising upward from behind the house, lighting up the scene vividly, showing the chauffeur, the gardener, and two maids desperately pouring water from buckets and pails. But Mary Louise did not see little Ethel.
“Ethel! Ethel!” she cried wildly, raising her voice above the shouts of the men. “Where are you?”
“Here me is!” came a plaintive reply, and a tiny head leaned out of a second-story window. “I comed up for my dolly!”
A cold chill of horror crept over Mary Louise as she realized the dreadful peril of the child. But without a thought for her own danger she dashed through the front door and up the wide, smoke-filled staircase.
“Come to the steps, Ethel!” she shrieked, her throat choking with smoke. “Come here—I’ll get you.”
“Tan’t. Too smoky,” replied the little girl, beginning to sob.
Mary Louise took one desperate leap and dashed through the upstairs hall to the nursery. Grabbing the child in her arms she groped her way back to the head of the stairs.
She never knew how she reached the bottom of those steps. With her hand on the railing and her eyes tightly closed, she somehow made her slow progress. All she could remember was Jane’s voice at the door as she lifted the child from her arms. Then darkness—choking for breath—silence, and blessed unconsciousness!
When Mary Louise finally came to, Rebecca was giving her water out of her huge pitcher and patting her shoulder gently.
“Speak, Mary Lou!” cried Jane frantically. “Oh, say you’re still alive!”
“I’m all right,” replied her chum, managing a smile. “And little Ethel?”
“She’s fine. With her nurse. She’s back from across the river now.”
Mary Louise turned her head and saw the woman at her side, clutching the child in her arms and sobbing hysterically.
Other people had arrived by this time. Mr. Frazier had come over from the Royal Hotel, accompanied by Cliff Hunter, David McCall, and several other young people who were staying there, and Mr. Reed and all the Robinsons had gathered from Shady Nook. In another minute the fire engine from Four Corners came, and the volunteers got the flames under control. The front of the house was saved; only the wooden structure at the back was completely destroyed.
“How did it happen?” Frazier was asking the Smiths’ chauffeur, half an hour later, when the crowd had finally gathered about Mary Louise.
“Nobody knows,” replied the man. “Everybody here was in bed and asleep. No signs of any prowler, eithe
r. The fire just started with the back shed—and spread. I was the first to wake up.”
David McCall looked knowingly at Mary Louise.
“No signs of anybody?” he asked the chauffeur. “No clues at all?”
“Maybe this is a clue,” interrupted one of the volunteer firemen, coming forward with a small box in his hand. “I found this pack of cards right where the fire must have started. But it had dropped into a pail of water—that’s why it wasn’t burned.”
“Maybe the boys were playing cards and smoking corn silk,” suggested Cliff Hunter lightly.
The chauffeur took the box from the fireman.
“No, they ain’t our cards,” he said as he examined them. “I know ours, because I’ve bought them for the kids.”
David McCall stepped nearer and uttered a sudden exclamation of surprise.
“Gosh!” he said solemnly.
“Recognize them, McCall?” inquired Frazier.
“I sure do. They’re Cliff Hunter’s. Nobody else around here can afford to pay a dollar a pack. Look—they’re monogrammed!”
Mary Louise glanced apprehensively at Cliff. He was holding the cards in his hand, nodding his assent.
“Sure they’re mine. The kids must have swiped them—or maybe I lost them and they found ’em. I myself haven’t been up here to Smiths’ once this summer before tonight.”
“Sez—you!” muttered David McCall under his breath. But not too low for Mary Louise to hear him and be genuinely frightened!
CHAPTER IX
The Arrest
When the girls came home from the fire that night they found Mrs. Gay and Freckles both awake and dressed. The boy was pleading with his mother to be allowed to go to the Smiths’.
“The fire’s out,” announced Jane, sinking wearily into the swing on the porch. “Mary Lou passed out for a few minutes, too.”
Mrs. Gay uttered an exclamation of alarm.
“Oh, but I’m all right now, Mother,” her daughter hastened to assure her. “Only I would like something hot to drink. And my own bed to sleep in, if Freckles doesn’t mind changing again.”
“A hot drink?” repeated her brother, in amazement. “Why hot?”
Briefly Jane told the story of Mary Louise’s daring act of heroism, and Mrs. Gay hurried off to make her daughter comfortable for the night.
In their own soft bed again, the girls slept soundly until nearly noon the following day. Mary Louise was vexed with herself for wasting so much time when she saw the lateness of the hour. For if she was to do anything about solving the mystery of the fires she hadn’t a single minute to lose.
“Have you heard any news this morning?” she demanded of her brother as the family all ate their breakfast-lunch together.
“Not much,” replied the boy. “We went over to see the place, of course, as soon as we were up this morning. It must have been some fire! What’s left of the house isn’t fit to live in.… Gee, Sis, you and Jane were lucky to be in on it!”
“Lucky for the Smiths!” amended Mrs. Gay. “I shudder every time I think of what might have happened to little Ethel.”
“Where are the Smiths now?” inquired Jane.
“Moved over to the hotel. The chauffeur telegraphed Mr. Smith, and he and Mrs. Smith are coming this afternoon, with clothes and stuff.”
“Did you see the boys this morning?” questioned Mary Louise.
“Yeah,” replied the boy. “I took the canoe across the river, where they were in swimming early, with the chauffeur.”
“And couldn’t they tell you anything more about the fire?”
“Nope. Robby said he never wakened up till he heard the chauffeur yelling at them. Then they all grabbed their clothes and ran. The nurse was sleeping in the same room with little Ethel, and she saw to it that the kid got out safely.”
“And she went back for her dolly!” whispered Mrs. Gay, with a catch in her voice.
“Mother, please stop thinking about that!” begged Mary Louise. “Everything came out all right—so do try to forget it.”
“I will, dear. But I think I’ve had enough of Shady Nook for one summer. I’ve about decided to pack up and go home tomorrow.”
“Oh, no!” protested Mary Louise, aghast. “We can’t—run away!”
“If only your father were here, he’d find out what’s the cause of all these disasters. But I feel so unsafe—so helpless without him!”
“I’m going to find out!” announced Mary Louise, with determination in her voice. “Just stay a little while, till we have a chance to see what develops!”
“I won’t promise. By the way, I’ve decided that we’ll all go over to the Royal Hotel for dinner tonight. It will be a nice change—and you girls can dance afterwards, because practically everybody from Shady Nook eats there now.”
“Everybody except the Ditmars,” said Mary Louise, with a significant look at Jane.
She said nothing further about the young couple now, but an hour later, when the two girls were getting into their bathing suits, she mentioned the Ditmars again.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that the criminal, the person responsible for the fires, is one of two people,” she said, “with the possible chance of a third.”
“You suspect Horace Ditmar, of course?” asked Jane.
“Yes. I think everything points to him. First, he has the motive. To get work for himself—to plan new houses to take the place of those that have been destroyed. If you’ve noticed, Jane, the three places that have been burned have all been big, expensive ones. The finest at Shady Nook! The Smiths and the Hunters are rich people, well able to afford to rebuild. And Flicks’ was such a flourishing business that anybody would naturally expect them to want to start it up again.
“Next, Horace Ditmar had the opportunity. He was absent from the two parties which were going on when the Hunters’ and Flicks’ places burned, and he could easily have slipped out last night and set Smiths’ on fire.
“And last—and most important of all, Dad often says—Ditmar’s the kind of man who could do it. Quiet, almost sullen, I think, and deceitful. I’ve never spoken two words with him, but that’s my opinion.”
Jane nodded solemnly: her chum’s logic appeared sound.
“But still,” she remarked, “Horace Ditmar isn’t profiting any by these fires. Nobody seems a bit inclined to rebuild.”
“No. Not yet. But wait till the Smiths come, and see whether Horace Ditmar tries to chum up with them. You know Adelaide Ditmar admitted that they went over to call on Mrs. Hunter after their fire and the woman almost snubbed her.”
“True.… Who’s your other suspect, Mary Lou? Is it—Cliff?”
“No. Positively not Cliff! In spite of that pack of cards they found over there last night. Imagine Cliff Hunter setting fire to a house that had three children asleep in it! It’s unthinkable.”
Jane breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” she said.
“The other person I suspect strongly is Rebecca Adams,” continued the young detective. “I hate to, for she seems harmless, but you just never can tell about a half-witted person like that. She wanders around at such queer times, and then her coming here last night, after predicting a fire in the afternoon, looks bad. She’s got to be watched.”
“Right again,” agreed the other girl admiringly. “But go on, ‘Spencer Dean’! Who’s your third suspect—the one you called a possible chance?”
“The hotelkeeper, Frazier. It’s meant a lot to his business. He has the motive all right, but I just can’t see how he could have actually accomplished setting the places on fire. He was with us all evening the night Flicks’ burned down, and Cliff says he was at the hotel when the Hunters’ cottage burned. Still, Frazier’s sly. He might have managed it.”
“I’ll have to take a good look at him tonight when we go over to dinner,” observed Jane, “and try to size up his character.”
Mary Louise reached for her beach robe and stepped into her slippers.
“Come on, Jane,” she said. “We’ve got to hurry, or the crowd will go home before we get there.”
They ran out to the canoe and jumped in, paddling down the river half a mile to the spot which was generally accepted as the best swimming place near Shady Nook. Here they found about twenty-five people gathered on the shore, all talking in the wildest excitement. And not a single person was in the water!
“What’s happened?” demanded Jane. “Anybody drowned?”
“Another fire?” asked Mary Louise.
“Neither,” explained Sue Reed, turning to the newcomers. “But something almost as bad. A detective arrived from Albany and arrested Cliff Hunter! As an incendiary, I believe he said. A person who sets things on fire.”
“No!” gasped Jane in horror.
“But how could he?” cried Mary Louise incredulously. “I mean, how could a detective from Albany know about the fires here at Shady Nook—let alone suspect Cliff?”
“Somebody wired,” said Sue.
“Who?” demanded both girls in the same breath.
Nobody seemed to be able to answer that question. All anyone knew was that Cliff had gone off in the detective’s car and that his mother had insisted upon going with him. Mrs. Hunter was positive that it was all a put-up job, a plot of some kind to kidnap her son.
The talking died down at last, and the crowd dispersed into the water. But nobody seemed to enjoy the swim that day. Discouraged and worried, Mary Louise and Jane decided to paddle back home in their canoe.
“All your detective work gone for nothing!” lamented Jane miserably. “I’d just like to know, who’s responsible for that arrest! It was such a dirty trick. I wonder if it was one of the Smiths’ servants.”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out tonight,” returned Mary Louise. “Thank goodness we’re going to the Royal to dinner, where we’ll see everybody! Keep your eyes and ears open, Jane.”
As soon as the girls reached their cottage they told Mrs. Gay the startling news about Cliff Hunter. She was as much distressed as they were over the announcement, for she had known the young man so long that he seemed almost like a son. And, like the girls, she was positive of his innocence.
The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 22