Читать книгу The Mystery of the Secret Band - Lavell Edith - Страница 1

Mary Louise stamped the snow from her feet and removed her goloshes on the porch. Whistling the Christmas carol her class had just sung at school, she opened the door of her house and stepped inside.

Her mother was sitting in an armchair in the living room, sewing. She looked up with a smile at her daughter.

“How did your entertainment go?” she inquired.

“Swell!” replied Mary Louise enthusiastically. “The seniors were great. You should have seen Max!”

“I’d like to have seen Mary Louise Gay,” mused her mother. “But this snow – and your father had the car – ”

“Oh, I wasn’t so hot,” laughed Mary Louise modestly. “I’ll tell you who was the star of the afternoon – little Rosemary Dotts. She was so funny. She forgot all of her piece except the second line – ‘I’m going to have plum pudding!’ Well, she said that once, and then she stared around at the audience and repeated it. And still she couldn’t think of any more, so she said it again, and rubbed her fat little tummy as she repeated it. Well, she kept that up until I thought we’d just pass out laughing at her. Honestly, the tears were rolling down my cheeks. Her teacher had to come up to the platform and take her away.”

“That must have been funny,” agreed Mrs. Gay. “Well, I guess you’re thankful that it’s all over. How do you like this weather for your vacation?”

Mary Louise’s brown eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“It’s keen!” she exclaimed. She executed a little dance step in her joy. “Two whole weeks with nothing to do but coast and skate and dance!”

“And eat and sleep once in a while.”

“Oh yes, of course. Especially eat. What would Christmas be without eating?”

“What are you going to do now?” inquired her mother.

“Go coasting. Max and Norman are bringing the bobsled over in ten minutes, and Jane and I are supposed to be ready.”

“You better hurry, then. Get something to eat first. And – I forgot to tell you – your father wants to see you at half-past five this afternoon. Be sure to be home in time. He said he wanted to ‘consult’ you.”

“About somebody’s Christmas present? I thought all our Christmas shopping was finished last week.”

“It was. This hasn’t anything to do with presents, but it concerns your Christmas vacation, I believe,” replied Mrs. Gay.

“Oh, that sounds exciting!” exclaimed Mary Louise. Mr. Gay was a detective on the police force, and, knowing his daughter’s keen interest in the solution of crimes, he sometimes discussed his cases with her. Already she had shown marked ability in the same line herself by unraveling two baffling mysteries the preceding summer.

She ran out into the kitchen and poured out a glass of milk for herself and cut a piece of chocolate cake. This brisk weather certainly made her feel hungry, and the refreshments tasted good. Then she dashed upstairs to change into her “snow suit,” a long-trousered costume that happened to be popular with the older girls at the moment. When she was all ready she opened her side window and whistled to her chum, Jane Patterson, who lived across the snow-covered lawn in the house next door.

“Yo, Jane!” she called.

Immediately a corresponding window flew up, and a youthful face appeared at the enclosure.

“Ready!” was the reply. “The boys there yet?”

“I think I hear them,” returned Mary Louise. “Come on over.”

The windows were slammed down simultaneously, and the two girls dashed downstairs to their porches. Before they had finished putting on their goloshes, the boys were at the Gays’ house.

“Left the sled at the gate,” announced Max Miller, Mary Louise’s especial boy-friend in Riverside.

“Do you think the snow’s packed hard enough?” demanded Jane.

“Hope so,” returned Max, with a grin. “The kids were sledding last night over near Cooper’s woods, so they ought to have made a track. Anyhow, we can have some fun. You’ve just got to be outdoors, weather like this.”

They made their way across the yard, chatting about the school entertainment, their dates for the next two weeks, and the fun which Christmas always brought them. When they reached the hill where the coasting was the best, near Riverside, they found many of their other high-school friends, and for two hours they alternately rode down the steep incline at a breathtaking speed and then trudged slowly back to the top. The sun was setting, and the afternoon was gone before they knew it.

“Oh, I must go home!” exclaimed Mary Louise, glancing at her wrist-watch in amazement.

“It’s only five o’clock,” returned Max complacently. “You don’t eat at your house before six-thirty, do you?”

“Come on, Mary Lou!” called Jane. “All aboard!”

Her chum shook her head.

“I can’t, Jane. I’ve got to be home by five-thirty.”

“Why the rush?” demanded Max.

“I have to see my father. He left word with Mother for me to be there.”

“Oh, you can see him at supper,” observed Jane lightly. “You don’t want to break up the party, do you?”

“No, of course not. No need for that at all. I’ll just run along by myself. You people take some more rides.”

“Nix,” answered Max loyally. “You’re not going home alone past these woods. If you have to go, Mary Lou, I’ll go too.”

“Oh, we might as well all go,” said Jane. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be on time for a meal once in a while. Still, I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Max looked straight into Mary Louise’s eyes, a serious expression on his face.

“Mary Lou,” he asked, “you’re not doing any more detective stuff, are you? Surely last summer was enough!”

The girl laughed.

“Yes, it was plenty. Haven’t I been pretty good all fall? Never tried to listen in on any of Dad’s cases or hunt for clues!”

“I should think you’d be cured,” remarked Jane. “The whole town could burn down before I’d go through an experience like yours last summer, to discover a criminal. And if it hadn’t been for Max and Norman – ”

“I owe them my life!” said Mary Louise, half seriously and half smilingly. But in her heart she felt a deep sense of gratitude to her two youthful rescuers.

“Max could use it,” remarked Norman slyly.

“I’ll say I could,” muttered the other young man fervently. “But you really don’t think you’ll do dangerous things again, do you, Mary Lou?” he asked eagerly. “You’ll leave the solving of mysteries and crimes to your father hereafter, won’t you?”

Mary Louise’s eyes twinkled.

“I’m not making any rash promises. It sort of gets into the blood, Max. There’s no other thrill like it. I’d rather solve a mystery than eat… But I really don’t think there is anything for me to solve now. So you can put your mind at rest.”

“I’ll feel safer after this talk with your father is over,” returned the young man.

They came to a hill, and the subject was forgotten as they all piled on the sled and rode down together.

It was only a little past five-thirty when Mary Louise opened the door of her house. Her father was already there, beside the roaring logs in the fireplace, comfortably smoking.

Mr. Gay was a tall, impressive-looking man, with a determined jaw which announced to the world that he usually accomplished whatever he set out to do. He was proud of his daughter’s detective work that summer, and delighted to have her follow in his footsteps, though he wished he might keep her always from the more gruesome features in the pursuit of crimes and criminals.

“Hello, Mary Lou!” he called, gazing admiringly at her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. “Did you have a good time?”

“Wonderful!” she replied, hanging up her snowflaked coat. “I’m sorry to be late, Dad, but I had a hard time getting the others home.”

“That’s all right, Daughter. It won’t take long for me to tell you what I have in mind. It may take longer for you to decide upon your answer.”

Mary Louise sat down opposite him and waited expectantly, not saying another word.

“There is a small hotel for women in Philadelphia,” he began. “It is a pretty up-to-date place, though they try to keep their rates down, because it is endowed, and supposedly was started for girls in moderate circumstances. They have been having some trouble lately, valuables have been stolen – and they are practically sure that none of the servants is guilty. So they want a detective.”

“A detective?” repeated Mary Louise breathlessly. “You mean – ”

“Yes, I mean you, Mary Lou. The proposition was put up to me, and naturally I can’t handle it myself. I was to find them a woman detective for a week or so, and I suggested you. The woman in charge is delighted. She said a young girl like you could work better than anyone else because no one would suspect you of being a detective. And you could have a room near hers, under her protection, you see.

“Now the great question is: would you want to give up your holiday for this purpose? All those engagements you have – all the fun you have planned with your young friends? Christmas Day alone in a strange city? Would it be worth it to you?”

It did not take Mary Louise a moment to make her decision.

“I’d love it, Dad!” she cried ecstatically. “But I shouldn’t know how to go about it,” she added hesitatingly. “What to do – how to begin.”

“Mrs. Hilliard – she is the hotel manager – would give you all the facts,” explained her father. “I’d go with you and get you started. But you must consider carefully, Mary Lou. Think of your friends and your mother and your own pleasures. You can let me know tomorrow.”

Mary Louise nodded solemnly.

“I know, Daddy. But this seems like the chance of a lifetime. Because you see I mean to be a detective when I graduate from high school. This is something definite to go on – a real experience, which I can make use of when I apply for a job.”

“Yes, of course. And, by the way, there is a salary attached. You are to get twenty-five dollars a week, and an extra bonus if you get any of the lost valuables back.”

“Oh, Daddy!” The exclamation was almost a whisper, so awed was Mary Louise at the thought of actually earning money in the work that she loved best in all the world.

“When would I start?” she asked.

“I could take you with me to Philadelphia tomorrow morning. But that wouldn’t give you much time to write notes to your friends and pack your things. I suppose you’d have a lot of engagements to break.”

“Yes, but they don’t matter.”

“Don’t you want to think it over another day? I could come back and take you after the weekend.”

“No, Daddy, there’s not a question of doubt in my mind. I want to try it and start as soon as possible. Some of the crowd will be at Jane’s tonight, and I can tell them and phone to the others. I’ll pack my clothes before I go. Have you told Mother yet?”

“No, I haven’t. I thought there was no use stirring her up if you didn’t care to undertake it. But now we’ll have to break the news to her, if you’re sure.”

“You tell her, Daddy!” urged Mary Louise. “It will be easier.”

“All right, I will,” he promised.

A voice sounded from the kitchen. “Mary Louise, could you do an errand for me? You’ll just have time before supper.”

“Yes, Mother,” replied the girl, jumping to her feet. Then in a whisper to her father she added, “Tell her while I’m gone.”

Picking up her coat again, she ran out into the kitchen.

“I want you to take this basket of jellies and fruit cake over to old Mrs. Detweiler,” said Mrs. Gay. “I think it would be nice for them to have the things earlier this year, because they have so little at Christmas time.”

“Yes it would, Mother,” agreed the girl absently.

“Ask them whether they’ve heard anything from Margaret,” added Mrs. Gay. “Maybe she’s coming home for Christmas.”

“She wasn’t home all summer, was she, Mother?”

“No. And they didn’t hear from her, either. They’re terribly worried. I can’t see why Margaret Detweiler would do a thing like that, when her grandparents have been so good to her all her life. Why, Mrs. Detweiler wore the same dress for five years just so she could put Margaret through high school. And the girl always seemed so grateful and affectionate, too.”

“Maybe something happened to her,” suggested Mary Louise.

“Surely they would have heard if it had… Well, run along, dear. And come right back, because dinner is practically ready.”

Mary Louise pulled on her beret and her goloshes and went out into the snow again. It was entirely dark now, but the stars were shining, and the air was just cold enough to be invigorating. How good it was to be young and lively and happy! How sorry she felt for this poor old couple whom she was visiting, missing their granddaughter so dreadfully. But perhaps everything was all right. Maybe Margaret Detweiler was coming home for Christmas.

The small brick house where the old couple lived was only a few blocks from Mary Louise’s home. Half walking, half running, the girl covered the distance in less than ten minutes. She saw a low light in the living room and knocked at the door.

Both of the Detweilers were well over seventy, and they lived modestly but comfortably on a small pension which Mr. Detweiler received. It had been sufficient for their needs until the death of Margaret’s parents obliged them to take care of their only grandchild. But they had gladly sacrificed everything to give Margaret an education and a happy girlhood. She was older than Mary Louise by three or four years, so that the latter had never known her well. But she had always seemed like a sweet girl.

Mr. Detweiler opened the door and insisted that Mary Louise come inside. Both the old people loved Mrs. Gay and enjoyed the wonderful presents of her own making she sent every Christmas. They were profuse in their thanks.

“You must take off your things and get warm before you start out again,” urged Mrs. Detweiler.

“I’m really not a bit cold,” replied Mary Louise. “And Mother told me to come right back, as supper will be waiting. But she wanted me to ask you whether you had heard anything from Margaret.”

Tears came to the old lady’s eyes, and she shook her head.

“Not a thing since last Christmas,” she answered sadly. “You know she didn’t come home then, but she wrote to us and sent us a box of lovely presents. Expensive things, so I knew she must be doing well. She had a position in a Harrisburg store at first, you know, and then she told us she had gotten a fine job in a Philadelphia store. That was where the last letter came from – the last we ever received from her!”

“Didn’t you write to her?” asked Mary Louise.

“Yes, of course we did. But the letter was returned to us.”

“What store was she working in? I am going to Philadelphia for the Christmas holidays, and I might be able to find her.”

“I’m not sure. But the package was marked ‘Strawbridge and Clothier’ on the box. Did you ever hear of that store?”

“Yes, I did. And I’ll go there and make inquiries for you, Mrs. Detweiler.”

The old lady seized Mary Louise’s hand gratefully.

“Oh, if you could only find her, Mary Louise,” she exclaimed, “we’d be the happiest couple alive!”

“I’ll do the best I can,” promised the girl as she turned to the door.

She ran all the way home, eager to find out what her mother was going to say in reply to her father’s startling proposition about her Christmas vacation.