The Third Girl Detective

by Margaret Sutton

  “I won’t tell a soul,” Judy promised. “But why all the secrecy?”

  “Well,” Marjorie explained, “we keep all the guests’ valuables and all the money in that little old wall safe in there.” She stopped suddenly. “Oh, gosh, I guess that was Ann Mary who just went by the alcove. She must have heard us talking in here and now she’ll guess that I showed you the secret room.”

  “Will she tell Phil and Penny?” Judy asked worriedly. “And will they bawl you out? Oh, I hope not. It was all my fault! Curiosity killed the cat,” she finished lamely.

  “You mean,” Marjorie said as she closed the door, “let the cat out of the bag!” She grinned. “No, Ann Mary won’t tell. If she thinks I did let the cat out of the bag, she’ll bawl me out herself. But she’s no tattle-tale, and neither is Pat. They’re both grand people. And so are the Donahues.”

  “Everyone at the Lodge is swell,” Judy agreed, and added cautiously: “Since we’re probably already in Dutch, don’t you think maybe we’d better ask Penny’s permission before we go through those old trunks in the storeroom? I know Ann Mary said we could, but after all, Penny is the housekeeper, isn’t she?”

  Marjorie nodded. “We’ll get her permission right now.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “She’s probably out on the porch having tea with your parents and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis. And I guess Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, too.”

  “I tell you what let’s do,” Judy said. “Let’s put on a fashion show. Didn’t you say that the trunk you’ve already opened is full of old-fashioned dresses and costume jewelry?”

  “What a wonderful idea!” Marjorie raced ahead of Judy down the spacious hall to the porch.

  Penny, looking very lovely in a pale yellow afternoon frock, looked up from the tea table with a smile. “Having fun, girls?” she asked. “I don’t have to ask you if you’re hungry. Help yourselves to sandwiches and cookies.”

  “We’re not hungry for once, Penny,” Marjorie told her with a laugh. “We came out to ask you if it’s all right if we put on a fashion show for you while you’re having tea. The boys have deserted us, and Judy and I want to dress up and parade around in some of the old costumes in the storage room.”

  “Go right ahead,” Penny said. “That’s the best idea you’ve had all summer, Marjorie.” She turned to Mary Curtis who was sitting on the other side of the table. “Don’t you think so, too, Mary?”

  Mary nodded. “Anything to keep those two out of mischief.”

  Marjorie and Judy hurried away to the storage room. “My, why haven’t we poked around in here before?” Judy asked Marjorie. “What’s in all those boxes and trunks anyway?”

  “I only know what’s in the trunk we already opened,” Marjorie told her. “These are the old, old trunks.” She pointed to two little trunks standing side by side. “After the fashion show we’ll go through them carefully for clues. The other boxes all contain things of ours that we’ve put away so we wouldn’t clutter up the house with things we didn’t need.”

  Half an hour later the girls appeared on the porch and marched sedately up and down, hoping they were behaving like professional models.

  It was all Penny could do to keep from laughing. To her they looked as stiff as wooden puppets in a Punch and Judy show.

  “What period are you representing?” Brook’s mother asked, suppressing a smile. “Jane Austen?”

  Marjorie relaxed enough to shrug. “We haven’t the faintest idea, Mrs. Sanders. Let’s pretend that the audience has to guess.”

  “All right,” Mrs. Sanders agreed. “I’ll stick to Pride and Prejudice.”

  “I’d say that the black velvet was of the nineties, after the big sleeves and hideous bustles had gone out,” Mrs. Powell said.

  Mrs. Curtis thought it was of a later period. She laughed and said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if those bustles came back in again. I’m afraid they wouldn’t look quite as cute on us as they do on those two young ladies!”

  Mary told them she thought the blue satin dress was meant to be worn with hoops and was probably from a period dating near the Civil War.

  “Let’s go see if we can find the hoop,” Marjorie said, taking Judy by the hand and heading back to the storeroom.

  They had had enough of dressing up by this time, and they got back into their blue jeans and proceeded to turn the contents of the trunks inside out. They felt every part of the inside of the trunks for hidden places, they shook all the clothes carefully and examined them minutely, but all to no avail.

  “Maybe all of the costume jewelry in that box isn’t set with imitation stones,” Judy said without much hope.

  “But it is,” Marjorie said. “Do you want to look at it?” She impatiently yanked off the lid and the old velvet lining fell away. Then they both saw it—an old map, pasted inside the cover!

  Marjorie was so surprised she sat right down on the storage room floor. “Oh, my goodness,” she finally got out, “to think, if it hadn’t been for you, we might not have even opened the jewelry box. I never would have thought of looking here because I examined it so carefully when Phil and Penny first opened this trunk.”

  But Judy wasn’t listening. She had hurried to a window with the lid and was examining the map carefully. “Marjorie,” she groaned, “this is positively the worst thing that ever happened to us!”

  Marjorie scrambled to her feet and hurried to peer over Judy’s shoulder. In another minute she, too, was groaning. “There’s no doubt about it,” she mumbled sadly. “This map tells exactly where the treasure is buried. And where it is buried is right under the potato hills in Pat’s garden!”

  “That’s the way it looks to me,” Judy said mournfully. “He won’t dig up those potatoes until the fall. The vines have hardly begun to blossom.” Very near to tears she added, “And—and you’ll find the treasure after I’ve gone back to school!”

  Just then Penny appeared at the door. “What on earth is the matter with you two?” she asked. “I could hear your moans and groans from the balcony.”

  “We’ve found the map that shows exactly where the treasure is buried,” Marjorie wailed. “B-but Pat won’t let us dig it up.”

  Penny’s blue eyes were dark with surprise. “Don’t be silly, Marjorie,” she said. “Of course, Pat will let you dig it up.”

  Marjorie hurried across the room to show Penny the map. “See,” she said pointing. “The big X is behind the Donahues’ cabin on the west side. Judy and I know what’s planted there. We got blisters on our hands the day we helped Pat and Mal hoe up those potato hills!”

  Penny glanced at the map and then she laughed. “You silly girls! Don’t you know that this is a joke the boys played on you?” She went back into the hall and called up the stairs:

  “Jimmy, come down here right away, please.”

  Jimmy took the stairs two at a time. “What’s up?” he demanded. “The house on fire?”

  For answer Penny handed him the jewelry box lid. “Didn’t you paste that map there to play a joke on the girls?”

  Jimmy stared at the map in amazement. “Honestly, Penny,” he said soberly. “I never saw the darn thing before.”

  “How about Alf and Brook?” Penny asked sternly. “A joke’s a joke, but this one might have caused serious trouble. If someone not as thoughtful as Marjorie had found it and followed directions he would have ruined Pat’s potatoes.”

  “I know,” Jimmy said, still staring at the map. “But neither Alf nor Brook did it, Penny. They’ve never been inside the storage room, so they couldn’t possibly have planted this map in the cover of the costume jewelry box.”

  “Well then,” Penny said firmly. “The person who did, did it purposely to annoy us.”

  “I don’t know how you can be so sure of that,” Marjorie objected. “I think someone put it in the lid long before Pat and Mal planted the garden.”

  Penny gave her a fond
pat. “I hate to disillusion you, honey, but the map was pasted in the lid quite recently. Last week when I opened the box to show Mary the costume jewelry the old velvet lining fell out. And there wasn’t any map there then.”

  Marjorie sighed with disappointment. “Oh, dear,” she began, “then I suppose the same mean person put that scrap of paper in the bot—”

  But she never finished what she had planned to say. For just then Phil called out excitedly from the porch:

  “Penny, Penny! Peter’s here!”

  CHAPTER 8

  PETER IS WORRIED

  Peter had arrived several days earlier than he had planned! For a moment Penny stood stock still on the threshold of the old storage room.

  She was too thrilled to move, but she was very glad that she was wearing her most becoming afternoon frock. Peter said that pale yellow brought out the golden lights in her hair and turned her eyes to violets. Or was it forget-me-nots?

  Marjorie’s giggle set her in motion. “Wake up, Penny,” Marjorie said with a laugh. “This is no time to dream.”

  Her cheeks burning, Penny hurried down the hall. Peter Wyland was just getting out of his car when she appeared on the porch.

  Penny’s heart beat a little faster as she greeted him cordially and tried to look as casual as possible. Peter squeezed her hand lingeringly and looked as though he were going to kiss her right in front of all the people.

  “You’re looking wonderful,” Penny said.

  “So are you!” Peter’s eyes admired her smooth skin which the summer sun had turned to a golden tan. Neither of them could think of another word to say, and yet they had so much to say to each other!

  Philip came to the rescue with a cheery grin. “Hi, fella,” he greeted Peter, shaking his hand as though it were a pump handle. “Good to see you again.”

  Charles came running down the front steps to greet Peter enthusiastically, too. Penny thought:

  “Good old Charles. He can be nice when he wants to. If it weren’t for Peter, I think I could like Charles a lot.” She glanced shyly at Peter. “Oh, he does love me. I can tell!” Penny was in a whirl.

  The first thing Philip wanted to know was when Adra Prentice was coming.

  “You’re in luck, boy,” Peter said, clapping him on the shoulder. “She’s arriving in a couple of hours by plane. Her dad—my boss—is planning to spend a week here toward the end of the month.”

  Phil’s gray-blue eyes lighted up with anticipation. This would be the most exciting day of the whole summer for Penny and Phil.

  “I’ll carry your bags up to your room,” he said to Peter. “No, I don’t need any help. I know Penny is dying to show you all over the Lodge and the grounds.”

  Marjorie watched them stroll off together arm in arm. She was glad Peter was here and that Adra was coming soon, but she did so want to be alone with Penny for a few minutes sometime that day. “We’ve got to show her the clue we found in the bottle down on the beach,” she said to Judy. “Maybe the map is a phony, but I’m sure the scrap of paper in my pocket means something.”

  “I am, too,” Judy agreed. “And I’m not so sure that the map is a phony. It looked so old and weather-beaten. Somebody might have found it just the other day and put it in the jewelry box lid for safekeeping.”

  Marjorie stared at her thoughtfully. “Who do you suppose this somebody is who is lurking around here, and writing anonymous letters? It must be the same person, but how did he get into the storage room without being seen?”

  Judy shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Let’s talk it all over with Penny the first chance we get. Then she can discuss it with Peter. He’s sort of an amateur detective, isn’t he?”

  Marjorie nodded. “Heaven knows when we’ll be able to say more than two words to Penny.”

  Adra arrived just before dinner, and once again there was excitement and tumult. Jimmy and Marjorie greeted the lovely, fragile-looking girl with shouts of welcome. Penny hugged her affectionately, but Philip could only hold her hand in his and stare down at her wordlessly.

  But the expression on his handsome face told Adra more than anything he could have said.

  Penny’s duties as hostess and housekeeper kept her busy until late in the evening. At last, when she was alone in the office planning the next day’s program, Marjorie and Judy could stand it no longer. They burst into the room, and Marjorie blurted:

  “We’ve been trying to see you alone all evening, Sis. But, golly, you’re busy as triplets.” She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out the worn scrap of paper. “Judy and I found this in a bottle buried under a big rock down on the beach.”

  Penny frowned tiredly. “Oh, Marjorie, not another one of your clues!”

  Marjorie bit her lip. “I know you think we’re silly to keep looking for buried treasure, Penny. But this is part of a message and it has something to do with the Log Cabin and a well.”

  Penny laid the scrap on her desk and tried to read it. The girls showed her what they had been able to decipher.

  “Oh, dear,” Penny said. “I’m too tired now to think about clues. I’m sorry, girls. Go on to bed now. It’s late. Leave this with me, and the first chance I get in the morning, I’ll show it to Peter. He’s the detective of our group, and if anyone can figure what this is all about, it’s he.”

  After the girls had gone up to their rooms, Penny added to herself: “I’m glad Peter arrived today for more reasons than one. Something mysterious is going on. Who was our prowler? Who wrote those anonymous letters? Who put the map in the lid of the old jewelry box? And what sense does this scrap of paper make?”

  The next morning, right after breakfast, she was asking Peter the same questions. He listened attentively as she filled in all the details.

  When she had finished, he said very seriously: “I don’t like any part of this, Penny, especially the letter that threatened you. Frankly, I wish you had turned it over to the police. Even if there were only latent fingerprints on it, they could have sent it to the FBI in Washington. Those experts don’t miss a thing, and if the man is a criminal, his fingerprints will be in their files.”

  “But,” Penny objected, “if he is a criminal, he would have been smart enough to wear gloves.”

  “That’s true,” Peter admitted. “But there are other ways of discovering who wrote those letters. For one thing, although he undoubtedly did his best to disguise his handwriting, he couldn’t completely. No one can. We all develop certain characteristics when we first learn to write, and those characteristics stay with us forever.”

  “My,” Penny said admiringly. “You are a detective, Peter.”

  Peter grinned, and then sobered. “Not really, Penny. And I wish you’d let me notify the police now. Someone is obviously very interested in making you Allens clear out of here. I don’t know why, but I can guess.”

  “So can I,” Penny said, twirling a strand of her light brown hair around her finger. “Maybe Jimmy and Marjorie are right after all. Maybe there is buried treasure around here.”

  Peter stared down at the note on the desk. They had managed to make out the following words:

  t the Log cabin

  t week in August

  asure again

  near the

  r a well that

  dry.

  “The first word in the third line,” Penny said, “could be the last part of the word ‘treasure.’ And the well could be the one we dug up. But our mysterious Mr. X isn’t as smart as he should be. We went clear to the bottom of that old well, Peter, and there just isn’t any buried treasure there.”

  Peter nodded. “The man first tried to frighten you, and now he’s being as annoying as he dares.”

  “Do you know what I think?” Penny asked. “I think there is something valuable hidden around here which we don’t know anything about. But Mr. X does. He wants us to keep on thin
king it’s buried somewhere on the grounds so we’ll keep on digging instead of searching elsewhere for it.”

  “You’re not only very pretty, Penny,” Peter said, smiling. “But you’re very intelligent. I think you’ve reasoned it out correctly. The map and this fragment of paper are red herrings; not clues. Will you let me turn them over to the police? Just the paper our Mr. X used may be a clue which would lead to the discovery of his identity in a very short time.”

  “Oh, no, Peter,” Penny cried impulsively. “Let’s not turn the mystery over to the police now. Let’s first try to solve it ourselves. Besides,” she added shrewdly, “when they hear about the night prowler who attacked Mal, they may want to put guards around the Lodge. And that, Peter Wyland, would make some of the guests nervous. It might ruin our whole business venture.”

  “I can refuse you nothing, Penny Allen,” he said, grinning. “But I think we ought to consult with Phil and Adra before we make a final decision. Let’s call them in, and hash the whole thing out all over again.”

  But an hour later, after a serious discussion, Penny won. They would not notify the police unless they received another threatening letter.

  “I still don’t like it,” Peter grumbled. “The idea of that coward threatening Penny.”

  Penny blushed. Peter was being very protective about her and she couldn’t help liking it. “But he didn’t really threaten me,” she pointed out. “He couldn’t possibly have known I was going to touch the rotten supports in the shed wall. If you ask me, he heard about the accident and simply took advantage of it. A few hours after I tumbled down the well, everyone in the village knew about it.”

  “That’s another thing,” Peter said stubbornly. “If we notify the police they’ll know who is a stranger in town and keep an eye on him.”

  Penny laughed. “Then they’d have to have a thousand eyes, Peter. The place is swarming with summer people.”

  Peter threw up his hands in mock despair. “Oh, all right,” he said. “I give in. Let’s forget about it for awhile. How about a swim, Penny? Or are you too busy?”

  “Well,” Penny began, “I—”