by Joan Clark
CHAPTER XVI
A Lost Handkerchief
The girls ran down the path to the ravine, selecting a sunny spot by alarge rock. From where they sat they could look far down the valleyand see the swinging footbridge which Herman Crocker had designated asa meeting place with his nephew.
"Well, here are the letters," Penny said gaily, removing them from herdress. "Wouldn't Walter rave if he knew we had them!"
"They're worth fifty thousand dollars!" Susan laughed. "At leastthat's the price Walter expects to make his uncle pay for them. Penny,what would happen if we just kept these letters?"
"I suppose Old Herman would refuse to pay over the money. I know Ishould in his case."
"Then why wouldn't that be a good solution of the matter?"
"It would from Old Herman's standpoint," Penny said dryly. "But you'reforgetting that Walter isn't actually a blackmailer. The money reallybelongs to him."
"Then by keeping these letters we might be depriving him of hisrightful inheritance?"
"It seems that way. I don't like Walter any better than you do--heappears to be a rather unscrupulous fellow even if he does have the lawon his side. However, we can't let our personal feelings enter intothe matter."
"That being the case, why did we interfere at all?" Susan asked."Wouldn't it have been better not to have taken the letters? Now if wedecide to give then back, we'll have a lot of explaining to do."
"You are perfectly right, of course, Susan. My curiosity simply gotthe best of me again. I felt as if I had to read these letters."
"Then let's read them," Susan laughed.
Penny untied the cord which bound the letters into a neat package.There were eight of them all addressed to Herman Crocker. Returnnotations in the corners showed that five of the letters were from theold man's sister, Jenny. The others were from the woman named HildaFrank and were postmarked, Belgrade Lakes, Maine.
"That is a summer resort place," Penny commented as she opened thefirst letter. "If Herman's sister had plenty of money she may havebeen staying there."
Susan crowded close beside her chum so that they might read thecommunications together. The letter from Hilda Frank disclosed severalfacts of interest. The woman, evidently a housekeeper for Herman'ssister, had written to say that her mistress had passed away followinga sudden illness. She wished Herman to come at once to take charge offuneral arrangements and to look after Jenny's young son, Walter.
"Jenny thought that no one would take care of him as well as you," thehousekeeper wrote, "and the money she left will be more than enough tokeep him. It is her wish as expressed in her will that if anythingshould ever happen to the boy, you are to be the sole heir--otherwisethe money is to be kept in trust.
"This will signed by my mistress on the day before her death is now inmy possession. I await your arrival before filing it with the court."
The two additional letters from Hilda Frank had been written weekslater, and inquired after the welfare of the boy, Walter, indicatingthat Herman Crocker after going east to attend his sister's funeral hadbrought the lad home with him.
"But we're quite certain Herman never arrived here with Walter," Pennycommented thoughtfully. "The only boy who has ever been seen at theCrocker place is the old man's grandson."
"What do you think happened?" Susan asked.
"Obviously, from all we have learned, Herman must have decided that hewanted all the money for himself. He then had the boy convenientlydisappear."
"How could he hope to get away with anything as crude as that?"
"I don't know, but his plan seemed to work for many years. I supposethere weren't many persons who ever suspected that Jenny had a child."
"Mrs. Frank did."
"Yes, but Herman probably quieted her with some simple story. Anyway,she lived in Maine and that's a long way from here."
"It's inconceivable that he could get by with such high-handed robbery!Stealing from a child!"
"It is disgusting," Penny agreed. "We don't know what became ofWalter, but probably he was brought up by some strange person incomplete ignorance of his heritage."
"Then how did he learn his true name and that he had a right to thefortune? How did he know about these letters in the trunk?"
"My theory collapses right there," Penny admitted ruefully. "I can'tfigure that part out at all."
"Let's read the other letters," Susan suggested. "We may learnsomething from them."
The remaining communications were of no help at all. They were merelyfriendly letters written by Jenny to her brother telling him how muchshe and her son were enjoying their stay at the Lakes. She spoke atsome length of her declining health and in one paragraph mentioned thatif anything ever happened to her she trusted Herman would take goodcare of Walter.
"After receiving a letter like that how could the old man be meanenough to act the way he did?" Susan asked angrily. "It serves himright to lose the fortune! I'm glad that Walter finally learned thetruth."
"So am I," Penny agreed. "Only it's too bad the young man couldn'thave turned out to be a nicer type."
"He may not have had the advantage of a good home."
"I realize that, but aside from breeding, I don't like him."
"The point is--what shall we do with these letters?"
"Oh, I guess I'll have to give them back," Penny sighed. "I'll do itsometime before Thursday night."
She retied the letters and slipped them into her pocket. Before thegirls could leave the ravine, they heard someone coming through thewoods.
A moment later Michael Haymond appeared along the path. He waswhistling a tune but broke off as he noticed Penny and Susan.
"Hello," he said pleasantly. "It's another warm day, isn't it?"
Penny and Susan had been too busy to notice the weather, but theyagreed that it was unpleasantly humid. Michael paused to chat for aminute or two, and took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
"Have you been cutting more wood?" Penny asked with a smile.
"Yes, I didn't know what else to do."
"We have enough wood to last longer than we'll remain at the cottage,"Penny said. "Why don't you try resting now and then?"
"I'm not paid to do that."
"You more than earn your salary," Penny told him. "Dad doesn't carewhether you keep busy or not."
"Your father has been very good to me," Michael said soberly. "I don'tfeel right about it. I think he's keeping me on because he knows I'dhave trouble getting any other job."
"Nonsense, Michael."
"I don't feel right about drawing pay for nothing," the young manrepeated.
"You let him worry about that," Penny laughed. "Anyway, I supposewe'll be going back to the city soon."
Her words seemed to startle Michael, but after a moment of silence, henodded.
"Well, I'll be getting on up to the cottage," he said. "Mrs.Masterbrook probably has a job for me. When she can't think ofanything else she has me peel potatoes."
"That's her work, not yours," Penny told him. "You're altogether tooeasy, Michael."
"Your father said that part of my job was to keep Mrs. Masterbrookquiet," the young man grinned as he turned away. "I've discovered thatthe best way is to do exactly what she wishes with no argument!"
Michael bowed again to the girls and walked on up the path.
"I like him better every day," Susan declared in an undertone. "Ithink it's a great joke on you, Penny! When he first came here youthought he might be a questionable character."
Penny did not pay very much heed to her chum's words for she wasstaring at an object lying on the path.
"Michael dropped his handkerchief," she said.
"So he did," Susan agreed indifferently, turning to look. "We can takeit to him."
Penny picked up the handkerchief, noticing as she folded it that thelinen was not a very expensive grade. She suspected that Michael didnot have very much money to spend upon clothing.
Turning th
e handkerchief over in her hand, Penny saw that it bore amonogram.
"Why, that's odd!" she murmured aloud.
"Now what have you discovered, little Miss Detective?" Susan askedteasingly.
"Look at the markings on this handkerchief," Penny commanded. "Theinitials are 'M. G.'"
