He was silent, wholly unresponsive to her suggestion.
“I — I’d like to buy them for her myself,” went on the girl, in a wistful tone, “only Ingua is so proud that she won’t accept gifts from me.”
Still he remained silent.
“I wonder,” she said, with obvious hesitation, “if you would allow me to give you the things, sir, and then you give them to Ingua, as if they came from yourself.”
“No!” It was a veritable explosion, so fierce that she started back in terror. Then he rose from his chair, abruptly quitted the porch and walked down the path toward the bridge in his accustomed deliberate, dignified manner.
Ingua, overhearing his ejaculation, came to the open window to see what had caused it.
“Oh, it’s you, Mary Louise, is it?” she exclaimed. “Thank goodness, you’ve drove Gran’dad off to the office. I thought he’d planted himself in that chair for the whole day.”
“Are you ready to go to Miss Huckins’?” asked Mary Louise.
“I will be, in a few minutes. Gran’dad was late gett’n’ up this mornin’ and that put things back. He had the ‘wakes’ ag’in last night.”
“Oh; did he walk out, then?”
“Got back at about daylight and went to bed. That’s why he slep’ so late.”
Mary Louise reflected that in such a case Josie ought to have some news to tell her. She answered Ingua’s inquiries after Josie by saying she was engaged this morning and would not go to town with them, so presently the two girls set off together. Mary Louise was much better qualified to direct the making of the new dress than was Josie, and she gave Miss Huckins some hints on modern attire that somewhat astonished the country dressmaker but were gratefully received. There was no question but that Mary Louise was stylishly, if simply, dressed on all occasions, and so Miss Huckins was glad to follow the young girl’s advice.
They were in the dressmaker’s shop a long time, fitting and planning, and when at length they came down the stairs they saw Sol Jerrems standing in his door and closely scrutinizing through his big horn spectacles something he held in his hand. As Mary Louise wished to make a slight purchase at the store she approached the proprietor, who said in a puzzled tone of voice:
“I dunno what t’ say to you folks, ‘cause I’m up in the air. This money may be genooine, but it looks to me like a counterfeit,” and he held up a new ten-dollar bill.
“I want a roll of tape, please,” said Mary Louise. “I hope your money is good, Mr. Jerrems, but its value cannot interest us.”
“I dunno ‘bout that,” he replied, looking hard at Ingua, “Ol’ Swallertail gimme this bill, not ten minutes ago, an’ said as his gran’darter was to buy whatever she liked, as fur as the money would go. That order was so queer that it made me suspicious. See here: a few days ago ol’ Cragg bought Ingua a dress — an’ paid for it, by gum! — an’ now he wants her t’ git ten dollars’ wuth o’ shoes an’ things! Don’t that look mighty strange?”
“Why?” asked Mary Louise.
“‘Cause it’s the first money he’s spent on the kid since I kin remember, an’ he’s allus talkin’ poverty an’ says how he’ll die in the poorhouse if prices keep goin’ up, as they hev durin’ the furrin war that’s now hummin’ acrost the water. If he’s that poor, an’ on a sudden springs a ten-dollar bill on me for fixin’s fer his kid, there’s sure somethin’ wrong somewhere. I got stuck on a bill jus’ like this a year ago, an’ I ain’t goin’ to let any goods go till I find out for sure whether it’s real money or not.”
“When can you find out?” inquired Mary Louise.
“To-morrer there’s a drummer due here f’m the city — a feller keen as a razor — who’ll know in a minute if the bill is a counterfeit. If he says it’s good, then Ingua kin trade it out, but I ain’t goin’ to take no chances.”
Ingua came close to the storekeeper, her face dark with passion.
“Come,” said Mary Louise, taking the child’s arm, “let us go home. I am sure Mr. Jerrems is over particular and that the money is all right. But we can wait until to-morrow, easily. Come, Ingua.”
The child went reluctantly, much preferring to vent her indignation on old Sol. Mary Louise tried to get her mind off the insult.
“We’ll have the things, all right, Ingua,” she said. “Wasn’t it splendid in your grandfather to be so generous, when he has so little money to spend? And the ten dollars will fit you up famously. I wish, though,” she added, “there was another or a better store at the Crossing at which to trade.”
“Well, there ain’t,” observed Ingua, “so we hev to put up with that Sol Jerrems. When I tell Gran’dad about this business I bet he’ll punch Sol Jerrems’ nose.”
“Don’t tell him,” advised Mary Louise.
“Why not?”
“I think he gave this money to Mr. Jerrems on a sudden impulse. Perhaps, if there is any question about its being genuine, he will take it back, and you will lose the value of it. Better wait until to-morrow, when of course the drummer will pronounce it all right. My opinion is that Mr. Jerrems is so unused to new ten dollar bills that having one makes him unjustly suspicious.”
“I guess yer right,” said Ingua more cheerfully. “It’s amazin’ that Gran’dad loosened up at all. An’ he might repent, like you say, an’ take the money back. So I’ll be like ol’ Sol — I’ll take no chances.”
CHAPTER XIX
GOOD MONEY FOR BAD
At luncheon Josie appeared at the table, fresh as ever, and Mary Louise began to relate to her and to her grandfather the occurrences of the morning. When she came to tell how Sol Jerrems had declared the money counterfeit, Josie suddenly sprang up and swung her napkin around her head, shouting gleefully:
“Glory hallelujah! I’ve got him. I’ve trapped Old Swallowtail at last.”
They looked at her in amazement.
“What do you mean?” asked Mary Louise.
Josie sobered instantly.
“Forgive me,” she said; “I’m ashamed of myself. Go on with the story. What became of that counterfeit bill?”
“Mr. Jerrems has it yet. He is keeping it to show to a commercial traveler, who is to visit his store to-morrow. If the man declares the money is good, then Ingua may buy her things.”
“We won’t bother the commercial traveler,” said Josie, in a tone of relief. “I’m going straight down to the store to redeem that bill. I want it in my possession.”
Colonel Hathaway regarded her gravely.
“I think our female detective, having said so much and having exhibited such remarkable elation, must now explain her discoveries to us more fully,” said he.
“I’d rather not, just yet,” protested Josie. “But what have I said in my madness, and what did my words imply?”
“From the little I know of this case,” replied the Colonel, “I must judge that you believe Mr. Cragg to be a counterfeiter, and that his mysterious business is — to counterfeit. In this out-of-the-way place,” he continued, thoughtfully, “such a venture might be carried on for a long time without detection. Yet there is one thing that to me forbids this theory.”
“What is that, sir?”
“A counterfeiter must of necessity have confederates, and Mr. Cragg seems quite alone in the conduct of his mysterious business.”
Josie smiled quite contentedly. Confederates? Last night’s discoveries had proved that Old Swallowtail had two of these, at least.
“Please don’t lisp a word of this suspicion at present,” she warned her friends. “If I am right — and I have no doubt of that — we are about to uncover a far-reaching conspiracy to defraud the Government. But the slightest hint of danger would enable them to escape and I want the credit of putting this gang of desperadoes behind the bars. Really, I’d no idea, when I began the investigation, that it would lead to anything so important. I thought, at first, it might be a simple murder case; simple, because the commonest people commit murder, and to the detective the deed is more revolting
than exciting. But we may dismiss the murder suspicion entirely.”
“Oh, indeed! What about Ned Joselyn’s mysterious disappearance?” asked Mary Louise.
“Joselyn? He disappeared for a purpose,” answered Josie. “I saw him last night — monocle and all — acting as old Cragg’s confederate. Ned Joselyn is one of those I hope to land in prison.”
Her hearers seemed quite bewildered by this positive statement.
“Where were you last night?” inquired Mary Louise.
“At that five acres of stones we once visited, which is Mr. Cragg’s private property. Hidden somewhere in the hillside is a cavern, and in that cavern the counterfeit money is made. I have heard the printing-press turning it out in quantity; I saw Ned Joselyn come away with a package of the manufactured bills and heard Old Swallowtail implore him to ‘play square’ with the proceeds. There was another of the gang present, also; a man whom I had considered quite an innocent citizen of Cragg’s Crossing until I discovered him with the others. I think it was he who operated the press. It has been a very pretty plot, a cleverly conducted plot; and it has been in successful operation for years. But the gang is in the toils, just now, and little redheaded Josie O’Gorman is going to score a victory that will please her detective daddy mightily.” Josie was surely elated when she ventured to boast in this manner. The others were duly impressed.
“You don’t mean to arrest those men alone, do you, Josie?” asked the Colonel somewhat anxiously.
“No, indeed. I’m not yet quite ready to spring my trap,” she replied. “When the time comes, I must have assistance, but I want to get all my evidence shipshape before I call on the Secret Service to make the capture. I can’t afford to bungle so important a thing, you know, and this ten dollar bill, so carelessly given the storekeeper, is going to put one powerful bit of evidence in my hands. That was a bad slip on old Cragg’s part, for he has been very cautious in covering his tracks, until now. But I surmise that Mary Louise’s pleading for Ingua, this morning, touched his pride, and having no real money at hand he ventured to give the storekeeper a counterfeit. And old Sol, having been caught by a counterfeit once before — I wonder if Old Swallowtail gave him that one, too? — became suspicious of the newness of the bill and so played directly into our hands. So now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll run to town without further delay. I won’t rest easy until that bill is in my possession.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Mary Louise eagerly.
Half an hour later the two girls entered the store and found the proprietor alone. Mary Louise made a slight purchase, as an excuse, and then Josie laid ten silver dollars on the counter and said carelessly:
“Will you give me a ten dollar bill for this silver, Mr. Jerrems? I want to send it away in a letter.”
“Sure; I’d ruther hev the change than the bill,” he answered, taking out his wallet. “But I wouldn’t send so much money in a letter, if I was you. Better buy a post-office order.”
“I know my business,” she pertly replied, watching him unroll the leather wallet. “No; don’t give me that old bill. I’d rather have the new one on top.”
“That new one,” said he, “I don’t b’lieve is good. Looks like a counterfeit, to me.”
“Let’s see it,” proposed Josie, taking the bill in her hand and scrutinizing it. “I can tell a counterfeit a mile away. No; this is all right; I’ll take it,” she decided.
“Yer like to git stung, if ye do,” he warned her.
“I’ll take my chances,” said Josie, folding the bill and putting it in her purse. “You’ve got good money for it, anyhow, so you’ve no kick coming, that I can see.”
“Why, that must be the bill Mr. Cragg gave you,” Mary Louise said to the storekeeper, as if she had just recognized it.
“It is,” admitted Sol.
“Then Ingua can now buy her outfit?”
“Any time she likes,” he said. “But I want it reg’lar understood that the sewin’-girl can’t bring the money back to me, if she finds it bad. I ain’t sure it’s bad, ye know, but I’ve warned her, an’ now it’s her look-out.”
“Of course it is,” agreed Josie. “But don’t worry. The bill is good as gold. I wish I had a hundred like it.”
On their way home Josie stopped to call on Ingua, while Mary Louise, at her friend’s request, went on.
“I’ve two important things to tell you,” Josie announced to the child. “One is that you needn’t worry any more about Ned Joselyn’s being dead. A girl whom I know well has lately seen him alive and in good health, so whatever your grandfather’s crimes may have been he is not a murderer.”
Ingua was astounded. After a moment she gasped out:
“How d’ye know? Who was the girl? Are ye sure it were Ned Joselyn?”
“Quite sure. He has probably been in hiding, for some reason. But you mustn’t tell a soul about this, Ingua; especially your grandfather. It is part of the secret between us, and that’s the reason I have told you.”
Ingua still stared as if bewildered.
“Who was the girl?” she whispered.
“I can’t tell you her name, but you may depend upon the truth of her statement, just the same.”
“And she’s sure it were Ned Joselyn she saw?”
“Isn’t he tall and thin, with a light moustache and curly hair, and doesn’t he wear a glass in one eye?”
“With a string to it; yes! That’s him, sure enough. Where’d she see him?”
“Don’t ask me questions. It’s a part of the girl’s secret, you know. She let me tell you this much, so that you wouldn’t worry any longer over the horror of that winter night when your grandfather went to the Kenton house and Joselyn disappeared. I think, Ingua, that the man is crooked, and mixed up with a lot of scoundrels who ought to be in jail.”
Ingua nodded her head.
“Gran’dad told him he was crooked,” she affirmed. “I don’t say as Gran’dad is a saint, Josie, but he ain’t crooked, like Ned — ye kin bank on that — ’cause he’s a Cragg, an’ the Craggs is square-toes even when they’re chill’ins.”
Josie smiled at this quaint speech. She was sorry for poor Ingua, whose stalwart belief in the Cragg honesty was doomed to utter annihilation when her grandsire was proved to have defrauded the Government by making counterfeit money. But this was no time to undeceive the child, so she said:
“The other bit of news is that Sol Jerrems has traded the bill which he thought was bad for good money, so you can buy your things any time you please.”
“Then it wasn’t counterfeit?”
“I saw it myself. I’ve lived in the city so long that no one can fool me with counterfeit money. I can tell it in two looks, Ingua. So I’d rather have a nice new bill than ten clumsy silver dollars and I made the trade myself.”
“Where’d ye get so much money, Josie?”
“My wages. I don’t do much work, but I get paid regularly once a week.”
She didn’t explain that her father made her a weekly allowance, but Ingua was satisfied.
“What do you think I orter buy with that money, Josie? I need so many things that it’s hard to tell where to begin and where to leave off.”
“Let’s make a list, then, and figure it out.”
This occupied them some time and proved a very fascinating occupation to the poor girl, who had never before had so much money to spend at one time.
“I owe it all to Mary Louise,” she said gratefully, as Josie rose to depart. “It seems like no one can refuse Mary Louise anything. When she asked me to be more careful in my speech didn’t I do better? I slips, now an’ then, but I’ms always tryin’. And she tackled Gran’dad. If you or me — or I — had asked Gran’dad for that money, Josie, we’d never ‘a’ got it in a thousan’ years. Why do you s’pose Mary Louise gits into people the way she does?”
“It’s personality, I suppose,” answered Josie, thoughtfully. And then, realizing that Ingua might not understand that remark, she added: “There
’s no sham about Mary Louise; she’s so simple and sweet that she wins hearts without any effort. You and I have natures so positive, on the contrary, that we seem always on the aggressive, and that makes folks hold aloof from us, or even oppose us.”
“I wish I was like Mary Louise,” said Ingua with a sigh.
“I don’t,” declared Josie. “We can’t all be alike, you know, and I’d rather push ahead, and get a few knocks on the way, then have a clear path and no opposition.”
CHAPTER XX
AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE
For a week it was very quiet at Cragg’s Crossing. The only ripple of excitement was caused by the purchase of Ingua’s new outfit. In this the child was ably assisted by Mary Louise and Josie; indeed, finding the younger girl so ignorant of prices, and even of her own needs, the two elder ones entered into a conspiracy with old Sol and slyly added another ten dollars to Ingua’s credit. The result was that she carried home not only shoes and a new hat — trimmed by Miss Huckins without cost, the material being furnished from the fund — but a liberal supply of underwear, ribbons, collars and hosiery, and even a pair of silk gloves, which delighted the child’s heart more than anything else.
Miss Huckins’ new dress proved very pretty and becoming, and with all her wealth of apparel Ingua was persuaded to dine with Mary Louise at the Kenton house on Saturday evening. The hour was set for seven o’clock, in order to allow the girl to prepare her grandfather’s supper before going out, and the first intimation Old Swallowtail had of the arrangement was when he entered the house Saturday evening and found Ingua arrayed in all her finery.
He made no remark at first, but looked at her more than once — whether approvingly or not his stolid expression did not betray. When the girl did not sit down to the table and he observed she had set no place for herself, he suddenly said:
“Well?”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 592
