Dorothy Dixon Solves the Conway Case

by Joan Clark

  Chapter IV

  VISITORS

  "You girls stay in here--I'll go," continued George, his hand on theswinging door to the dining room.

  "No, you shan't!" Betty sprang before him, blocking his way.

  "Don't make such a fuss," said Dorothy. "Somebody's got to go. Comehere!"

  Her long arm shot out and Betty was held in a light embrace that seemedas unbending as tempered steel.

  "Stop wriggling," she commanded. "This is George's job. Did you leaveyour gun in the library, George?"

  "Yes. I'll pick it up on the way."

  "Better not do that. Maybe it's one of your neighbors."

  "Haven't any. None of the people around here come to see me."

  The bell buzzed loudly again, and continued to do so. Someone waskeeping a finger pressed on the button beside the front door.

  "I have a plan," Dorothy announced suddenly. "Betty, you stay here,and--"

  "And have them break in the back door while you two are in the fronthall? No thanks--I'm coming with you, that's all."

  Dorothy did not stop to argue. She hurried into the dining room andacross the hall to the library, followed by the others.

  "Look here," she whispered, picking up the shotgun. "Slip on yourjacket, George. That shirt will show anyone you've been in a fight.Betty and I will go into the front sitting room. It's dark in there.Turn on the hall light and open the door as though everything were allright, and you expected a friend. If it is someone you know, they won'tsee us in the sitting room. If it isn't--and they try to startsomething, jump back so you're out of line from the door to that room... and I'll fill 'em full of salt!"

  "Swell idea! A regular flank attack!" enthused the young man, strugglinginto his coat. "All set?"

  He switched on the hall light. The girls ran into the sitting room.Dorothy stood in the dark with the shotgun pointed toward the hall andsaw him turn the key and pull open the door.

  "Good evening, George," whined a high-pitched voice. "Mind if I come infor a minute or two?"

  "Walk in, Mr. Lewis. Bad night, isn't it?"

  George's face showed surprise but he swung the door wide and closed itwith a bang as a tall figure, leaning heavily on a cane, shuffled intothe lighted hallway. The man's bent back, rounded shoulders and therather long white hair that hung from beneath the wide brim of his softblack hat, all bespoke advanced age. Immensely tall, even with hisstoop, the old man towered over George, who was all of six feet himself.Although the night was not cold, he was buttoned to the chin in a longfur coat. Dorothy caught sight of piercing black eyes beneath tuftedwhite eyebrows. The long, cadaverous, clean shaven face was a network offine wrinkles.

  "What say?" He cupped a hand behind his ear.

  "I said it was a bad night to be out in," shouted George. "What can I dofor you?"

  "Yes, that's it, my lad--there's something I--Yes, it's a bad night--badstorm. Listen, George!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "What say?"

  "I'm listening, Mr. Lewis."

  "Well, listen then."

  The sharp eyes peered up and down the hall. Dorothy moved further backinto the dark room.

  "Your father had a lot of books, George--a very fine library."

  "Yes, he had."

  "What say?"

  "I said he had."

  The old man shook his head. His high voice became querulous.

  "I know he's dead," he snorted. "I'm talking about his books."

  "They are not for sale," said George.

  "Bless you--I don't want to buy 'em. But there's one I want to borrow."

  "Which one is that?"

  "What say?"

  George's reply _sotto voce_ was not polite. He was getting impatient.

  "I want to borrow a book called Aircraft Power Plants; it's by a mannamed Jones."

  Dorothy pricked up her ears.

  "All right," shouted George. "I'll try to find it."

  "What say? Listen, George! Speak distinctly, if you can. I'm notdeaf--just a little hard of hearing. Don't mumble--you talk as thoughyour mouth was full of hot potato. That's a bad eye you've got--been ina fight?"

  George ignored this last. "Listen--" he said, then stopped, controllinga desire to giggle as he realized his plagiarism. "Come into thelibrary, Mr. Lewis. I'll try to find the book for you." He took the oldman by the arm and led him down the hall.

  Betty crept over to Dorothy.

  "Do you know who he is?" she asked in a low tone.

  "Mr. Lewis, I gathered," said Dorothy, straining her ears to catch themuffled sounds coming from the library. "_He_ talked loud enough,--quitean old gentleman, isn't he?"

  "Old skinflint, you mean."

  "You've seen him before?"

  "Certainly. I've seen him at our house. Daddy knows him--says he's madea fortune, foreclosing mortgages and loaning money at high rates ofinterest. He's terribly rich, though you'd never know it by his looks."

  "That's interesting--wonder what he wants with George?"

  "Came to borrow a book--that's plain enough."

  "Almost too plain, if you want my opinion," Dorothy said thoughtfully."There's no use guessing at this stage of the game."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Oh, nothing much. Can you hear what they're saying in the next room?"

  "They seem to be having an argument--but it's not polite to listen--"

  "Polite, your grandmother! I'd listen if I could--but all I get is amumble-jumble. I vote we go back to the kitchen. I want my supper. I'llfeel better when I've eaten. This house gives me the jim-jams for somereason."

  "Me, too," Betty admitted ungrammatically. "Fancy being alarmed at thesound of a doorbell!"

  "My word--and likewise cheerio!" Dorothy turned the flash on her friend."How do you get that way, Betty? Been reading the British poets orsomething?"

  Betty blinked in the glare. "Turn it off. No, I haven't. Don't youremember the movies last night? The English Duke in that picture--" Shebroke off suddenly and caught at Dorothy's arm. "Listen--Dot, listen!"she whispered.

  From the rear of the house came a muffled pounding.

  Dorothy shook her off. "I'll dot you a couple, if you take libertieswith my name," she snapped. "And for goodness' sake, don't hold on to methat way, and stop that listen stuff! This isn't anearthquake--somebody's at the back door, and I'm going to see who itis!"

  "But suppose those men have come back?"

  "They're too well salted down," Dorothy flung back at her. "I _fancy_you'd better stay in here--if you're _alarmed_!"

  She crossed the hall to the dining room again and hurried through thekitchen with Betty close on her trail. That young person apparentlypreferred to chance it rather than be left alone.

  Dorothy went at once to the back door.

  "Who's there?" she called, as the knocking broke out again.

  "It's Bill Bolton," returned a muffled voice. "Is that you, Dorothy?"

  She drew back the bolt and flung the door open.

  "Hello, Bill!" she hailed. "You're just in time for supper."

  A tall, broadshouldered young fellow wearing golf trousers and an oldblue sweater which sported a Navy "N" came into the room. He wasbareheaded and his thick, close-cropped thatch of hair was brown. Whenhe smiled, Bill Bolton was handsome. A famous ace and traveller atseventeen, this friend of Dorothy's had not been spoiled by notoriety.His keen gray eyes twinkled goodnaturedly as he spoke to Dorothy.

  "Well, I should say you look pretty much at home," he grinned. "But thenyou have a faculty of landing on your feet. And how's Betty tonight?Thought I'd find you girls in a tight fix and here you are--getting up abanquet. Terry Walters was over at my house when you rang up, so he camewith me. He's outside, playing second line defense. All sereno here, Itake it?"

  "Quiet enough now," Dorothy admitted, "though it was a bit hectic, tosay the least, a while back. Call Terry in, will you? I'm going to dosome scrambled eggs and bacon now
."

  She reached for a bowl and began to crack eggs and break them into it.Bill stuck his head out the door and whistled.

  A moment later, a heavy set, round faced lad of sixteen made hisappearance in the doorway. Under his arm he carried a repeating rifle.

  "H'lo, everybody," he breezed, resting his rifle against the wall. "Thisis some surprise,--Bill and I were all set to play the heavy heroes andwe find you making fudge!"

  "Not fudge," corrected Betty. "Honest-to-goodness food! Dorothy and Ihaven't had a single thing to eat since lunch, except a lettuce sandwichand some cake at Helen Ritchie's tea over at Peekskill this afternoon.We're getting supper now."

  "_We?_" Dorothy's tone was richly sarcastic. "Then, old dear, supposeyou do some of the getting. I think I heard the front door shut justnow, so that means that old Mr. Lewis has shoved off. You can go intothe dining room and set the table.--Bill, you're a good cook--how aboutstarting the coffee? Terry, be a sport and cut some bread--you mighttoast it while you're about it!"

  "Whew!--some efficiency expert!" Terry winked at Bill. "Where do theykeep the bread box in this house, anyway?"

  "Barks her orders like a C.P.O. doesn't she?" laughed Bill, opening thecoffee tin. Then he drew forth a wax-paper wrapped loaf from an enameledcontainer, held it up: "Here's your bread, Terry--catch!"

  The door from the dining room swung open and George came in.

  "Well, George!" Dorothy turned to the others. "Here is our host," sheexplained and introduced him all round.

  "It's certainly white of you fellows to hustle over here," he said as heshook hands. "I appreciate it."

  "Oh, don't mention it," grinned Bill. "We seem to be rather late for theexcitement."

  "Well, if it hadn't been for Betty and Dorothy--" began George.

  "You'd have pulled yourself out all right," interrupted the latter younglady. "Look here, supper's nearly ready, and since I've set everybodyelse to work, suppose I give you a job, too? Take Betty into the diningroom and show her how to set the table, and you'll be a fine help."

  "Say, it's great, the way you've pitched in here--did you have a hardtime finding things?"

  "No, not at all. Except--" here Dorothy looked stern, "I don't approveof your housekeeping methods--I had to scour the frying pan twice, sir,do you realize that?"

  George hung his head. "Gee, I guess I'm pretty careless, but--"

  The cook giggled: "Mercy, you look downcast. I was only kidding, George.I think you're a fine housekeeper, honestly, I do. Now you get a wiggleon with the table, please. These eggs are nearly finished. They'll beruined if we have to wait."

  When the two had disappeared, Dorothy dished the scrambled eggs into awarm plate and turned to Bill and Terry.

  "He thinks Betty ran this job," she informed them. "They've got a crushon each other, I guess. So don't put him wise, will you?"

  "Mum's the word," smiled Bill, while Terry nodded. "Far be it from me tomess up love's young dream."

  "Don't be silly," retorted Dorothy. "But you know, Betty's a darling. Ihad to be terribly cross with her all the time, just to keep her buckedup. But she's my best friend and I'm crazy about her."

  "She is nervous and high-strung, I know," supplemented Terry. "I'll betyou had a sweet time with her."

  "Not so bad. Have you boys had supper?"

  "Oh, yes, some time ago," answered Bill.

  "That's good. I didn't want to use up all George's food. I'll let youhave some coffee, though--that is, if you're good and don't kid thosetwo in the other room."

  "Cross-my-heart-hope-to-die-if-I-do." Bill's face was solemn.

  "Likewise me," declaimed Terry. "I must have my coffee."

  "Table's set," announced Betty, popping in to the kitchen, closelyfollowed by George.

  "Eggs are finished and the bacon's fried," returned Dorothy. "How aboutthe coffee, Bill?"

  "Perfect--though I sez so."

  "_And_ the toast!" Terry was busy buttering the last slice. "You know,lovers used to write sonnets on their lady's eyebrows--now, if they'dseen this toast!"

  Dorothy shook her head at him. "That will be about all from you. Comealong, all of you--everything smells so good, and I'm simply ravenous."

  It was a merry party that gathered about the old mahogany dining table.Bill began by teasing Dorothy about her lack of foresight that sent herup on a flight without enough gas. She returned his banter withinterest: the others joined in and for a time everybody was wisecrackingback and forth.

  George was the first to bring the conversation back to current events.

  "I don't know Mr. Lewis very well," he replied in answer to a questionof Betty's. "He was a friend of my father's--at least father hadbusiness dealings with him. I thought I'd never get rid of the old boytonight."

  "Did you find the book he wanted?" asked Dorothy. "Jones' Aircraft PowerPlants, wasn't it?"

  "Some book, too!" affirmed Bill. "Have you read it, Conway?"

  "Didn't know I owned it. The book--in fact, the whole library, was myfather's. About all he saved from the wreck. When I couldn't find thebook for old Lewis, what do you think he said?"

  "'Listen!'" Dorothy's voice mimicked perfectly the old gentleman'squerulous tones. Everyone burst into laughter.

  "Yes, he said that," George told her, "and a whole lot more."

  "I hate riddles," cried Betty. "Do tell us--"

  "Why, he wanted to buy the entire library--and when I turned him down,he made me an offer on the house providing entire contents went withit!"

  Betty laughed. "A good low price, I'll bet. Mr. Lewis is a terrible oldskinflint."

  "I thought so, too, until he made me this offer."

  "Do you mind saying how much?" Dorothy never hesitated to come to thepoint.

  "Twenty-five thousand dollars!"

  "Seems like a lot of money to me!" was Bill's comment.

  "A lot of money! I should say so." George cried excitedly. "Why, thisplace isn't worth more than eight--possibly ten thousand dollars at theoutside."

  "I smell a rat," said Terry, "or to put it more politely, the old boy'soffer has something doggoned stinking crooked mixed up in it."

  "To add to our cultured brother's oratory," said Bill, "There certainlyseems to be something pretty darned putrid in the kingdom of Denmark!"

  "A whole lot nearer home, if you ask me," broke in Dorothy.--"That oldman--"

  "Just a moment," begged Bill. "Your deductions, Miss Dixon, are alwaysnoteworthy. In fact, at times, the press of our glorious country hasfrequently referred to you as Miss Sherlock Holmes, but--"

  "Cut the comedy, Bill!" broke in the object of this effusion. "What isit you're driving at?"

  "Simply, as I was saying when so rudely interrupted, that yourdeductions and ideas on this business may be Aland a yard wide, butexcept for what you shot at me over the telephone, both Terry and I arewading about in a thick pea soup fog, so to speak. Suppose you give usyour account of these mysterious happenings. That should put us 'hep' tothe situation, and then George can tell us his end of the story, why hegot tied up by these blokes and all that."

  George did not appear cheerful. "But I don't know--" he protested."Haven't the slightest idea."

  "So Dorothy said over the phone. But perhaps if you start far enoughback--give us the story of your life, as it were--we may be able to digout a motive."

  "At times you show positively human intelligence, Bill!" Dorothy yawned,without apology. "Well, here goes! Maybe if Bill will let me get a fewwords in edgewise, I may forget I'm so sleepy!"