Guiltily, Doris snatched up a roll of music she had dropped on the table and dashed into the bedroom for her hat. With a hasty kiss dropped on the top of her uncle’s head, she dashed for the door and clattered down the stairs two at a time.
Reaching the street, she ran all the way to the corner and there swung upon the rear end of a street car just as it was starting. Breathlessly, she dropped into the nearest seat and looked at her wrist watch.
“Ten minutes to four,” she told herself. “If this old car isn’t too poky, I’ll make it on time yet.”
Doris seldom was late for her vocal lessons, for her interest in music was genuine, and she realized that it was a privilege to be a student of the famed Herr Von Heflinger who accepted only the most promising pupils. On more than one occasion, Doris had become a trifle discouraged, for Von Heflinger was strict and offered criticism more freely than praise.
On this afternoon she reached the studio just as the clock was striking four and so avoided the displeasure of the master. Always blunt, he offered only a few words of greeting and seated himself at the piano, quickly arranging the music. Striking a few chords, he selected a difficult piece and bade Doris sing.
Somewhat disturbed by Von Heflinger’s austere manner, she began a trifle shakily, but before she had sung a dozen notes, she found herself. Soon she had forgotten her accompanist, had forgotten everything save the song. She sang brilliantly and with more feeling than ever before. Von Heflinger caught the spirit and his hands moved quickly over the keyboard, now running arpeggios, now crashing in loud chords or falling so softly that the tones were scarcely audible.
The last note of the song died away, and the master turned to Doris with an expression she had never seen on his face before.
“Ah, Miss Force,” he said, “you have the divine spark! You will go far! This summer you must study hard your French and German—and perhaps, who knows, you shall yet be presented in Grand Opera!”
Doris scarcely could believe her own ears, for she knew her teacher was not given to idle praise. Grand Opera! How she longed to become famous! She could almost see herself on the stage, taking her curtain calls, making her bows, accepting the flowers.
She was brought back to reality by hearing her teacher repeat, more sternly:
“This summer you must work—study hard your languages.”
The lesson went on, and at five o’clock Doris left the studio, still somewhat dazed at the thought of what might be ahead of her.
“I will work,” she told herself as she walked slowly toward the street car. “I’ll work night and day!”
Doris had always been one to make the most of her opportunities, and from childhood she had determined upon a career. Her sweet bell-like soprano voice had been inherited from her mother, but only training and diligent practice had developed its full power and volume. Doris’s ability and her willingness to help others had made her much in demand as a singer at teas, parties and entertainments.
Many girls would have been satisfied with such popularity, but not Doris Force. From the very start she had set her heart upon reaching the highest rung in the ladder.
“I must study my German and my French this summer,” she told herself, “and I really can’t do much by myself. I should have a teacher.”
This brought a cloud to her face, for she remembered the discussion she had just had with her uncle.
“Money!” she thought impatiently. “I need it so badly, and I don’t see where it is coming from unless it turns out that I am to inherit it from my Uncle John Trent.”
CHAPTER IV
An Aviation Meet
By Saturday, when David Chamberlin called to take Doris to the aviation meet, her financial troubles were temporarily forgotten. She was not given to worrying unnecessarily, and on this day nothing could have interfered with her fun.
As Doris stepped into the trim little roadster, Dave cast her an admiring glance, noting that she was dressed in a white sports costume which set off her red hair to startling advantage. They made an excellent pair. Dave was dark, tall, straight as a cadet, and considered handsome by all of Doris’s friends.
“You gave me a dreadful fright when you flew so low over our house,” Doris told him as they drove swiftly toward the aviation field, which was located some distance from Chilton.
“Did I? Sorry, but I just had to drop that note.” Dave smiled down upon her. “Anyway, you forget that I’m getting to be an expert at handling the joy-stick. I want to take you up one of these days.”
“Oh, I’m crazy to fly with you! Perhaps Uncle Ward won’t let me, though.”
“We can talk him around to it.”
As they approached the aviation field, they were forced to proceed at a slow rate, for the highway was jammed with cars.
Entering the gateway, they parked the roadster and then wandered about the field, inspecting the various planes. Dave explained a great deal about the distinguishing characteristics of the various models and introduced her to a number of aviators with whom he was acquainted. As the time approached for the meet to begin, they sought their seats in the improvised grandstand.
Presently the master of ceremonies announced through the loud speakers that the opening event would be an inside loop contest. A hush of expectancy fell over the crowd as two planes zoomed up from the field and immediately began to cut vertical circles in the sky.
“It looks so easy, doesn’t it?” Doris murmured.
“Yes, but believe me, it isn’t!” Dave assured her, without taking his eyes from the two planes. “If I could only do that!”
“I’m just as glad you can’t, Dave. I’d be afraid to have you.”
Following the inside loop contest, a squadron of army planes took to the air and thrilled the spectators with a spectacular exhibition of formation flying. Then came parachute jumping, dead-stick landings, and exciting races. Doris found it impossible to restrain her excitement as the planes rounded the pylons, frequently banking to such an angle that it seemed disaster could not be avoided.
As a climax to the meet the master of ceremonies announced that an intrepid young flier would entertain the crowd with daring stunts. Doris and Dave saw a brilliant red monoplane take off from the field and climb to an altitude of several thousand feet. Then, in quick succession, the red plane went through barrel-rolls, loops, dives, falling leaves, and wing-overs.
“That boy’s good!” Dave exclaimed in admiration.
The words were scarcely spoken when Doris gave a startled little cry. It had seemed to her that, as the monoplane came out of a loop, something was wrong. The plane seemed to waver, and then, to Doris’s terror, shot down in a tailspin.
“It’s all in the stunt,” Dave assured her. “The pilot’s just—” he broke off and a look of horror came into his own eyes as he saw that the man at the stick was fighting desperately for control.
The spectators, suddenly made aware of the impending disaster, sprang as one man to their feet and cried out in fright. Women and children covered their faces.
The plucky aviator had not given up. Struggling frantically at the controls he refused to take to his parachute and, only a short distance above the field, brought the plane out of the spin. However, he had scant time to alter the course, and to those on the ground it was apparent that in landing he would overshoot the designated area, which was roped off.
Those who were not in the grandstand scattered in all directions, and timid women screamed in terror. Doris and Dave had instinctively arisen, but no sound escaped them. It appeared almost certain that the plane would hit a group of parked cars near the fence.
Just at the critical moment, however, the pilot managed to turn the monoplane enough to miss the row of cars. As a wild cheer of admiration and relief arose from the spectators, he brought the craft to rest without mishap.
Instantly, a crowd of people swarmed about the plane. The pilot tried to keep them back, but it appeared almost certain that before policemen could reach the scene
, someone would be pushed into the whirling propeller.
Doris and Dave were seated not far from where the mishap had occurred, and now, with the intention of trying to help, they rushed toward the plane. Before they could reach the spot, the pilot had switched off the engine. The crowd continued to press about the plane, careless of the damage they might do to wings or struts.
“Get back!” Dave shouted, helping the policemen and some mechanics to control the throng.
Nearly everyone goodnaturedly backed away from the monoplane, but one man refused to budge.
“That plane nearly struck my car!” he shouted angrily. “Let me get at that pilot! I’ll show him a thing or two!”
Startled, Doris turned to look at the man and was astonished to see that it was the driver who had been stalled in front of the Mallow residence only a few days before.
“Say, who does that fellow think he is, anyway?” Dave murmured impatiently. “His old car wasn’t touched! If that pilot hadn’t done some quick thinking, someone would have been killed sure!”
They watched as a policeman remonstrated with him, and were disgusted at his sullen remarks. After he had vented his spite sufficiently, he sprang into his roadster and backed out of the parking place so rapidly that women and children were forced to scurry to escape the wheels.
“He didn’t care much whether he struck anyone or not!” Doris declared. “That man is positively vicious.”
After the excitement had died down, she and Dave went to their own roadster. There was a bad traffic jam and it was some time before they reached the gate.
“It certainly was a thrilling day,” Doris told her friend when they were on the highway. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Glad you liked it,” Dave returned. “Next year I hope to take part myself.”
“The best part of it was that no one was injured,” Doris continued. “It would have ruined the entire meet if there had been a serious accident there at the last.”
They drove along in silence for some time, but as they approached the Mallow residence, she broached the subject which had been troubling her.
“Dave, you’ve frequently been to Rumson, haven’t you?” she began indirectly.
“Sure, why?”
“I’ve been invited to visit there this summer. Do you think I’d like it?”
“Well, it’s a pretty decent town for its size. Whom are you visiting?”
“Two sisters by the name of Gates. Azalea and Iris Gates. Did you ever hear of them?”
“Gates? Let me think. Oh, sure, I remember their place. It’s right at the edge of town.”
“What kind of a house have they?”
“Oh, it’s as big as a barn. Old and rambling. It seems to be a sort of mysterious place.”
“Mysterious?”
“I don’t know anything about it myself, except that I’ve heard folks say there is something queer about it. The neighbors call it ‘Locked Gates.’”
“Why that name?”
“I suppose it’s because the double front gates are always kept locked. A fence surrounds the garden, and vines grow so thick on it you can’t get a glimpse inside. Take my advice, Doris, and don’t go there for a visit. It would give you the creeps!”
CHAPTER V
Kitty Arrives
What Dave had told her about the old Gates place in Rumson did not discourage Doris. If anything, it made her more eager to spend a few weeks at Locked Gates, for the thought of mystery was indeed very intriguing.
Unfortunately for her plans, she chanced to repeat to her uncle what Dave had said, and that worthy at once began to regard the proposed visit with misgiving.
“I’m not sure I should let you go,” he told her doubtfully. “There’s something funny about this whole affair. Don’t you think you had better give up the trip?”
“Uncle Ward, you said I could go,” Doris moaned. “Don’t change your mind now. There probably isn’t anything mysterious about the place anyway—Dave was just talking.”
“I think I shall do a little investigating of my own,” her uncle returned gravely.
He had already learned through a former business associate that the Misses Gates were well thought of in Rumson, but that of late years they had kept close to their own premises. Recalling that Jake had at one time worked in Rumson, Wardell Force sauntered out into the garden where he was weeding the flowers.
“Well, Jake,” he began, “how are your posies doing?”
The hired man straightened and regarded Mr. Force with a delighted smile.
“First rate, sir,” he answered. “First rate! Miss Doris’s roses goin’ to be in bloom inside of another week.”
Jake’s hobby was gardening, and he was never more satisfied than when at work with the flowers. The sun and wind had tanned his wrinkled face but it had brought a glow of health which had not been there when Wardell Force had first brought him to Chilton. At that time Jake had been broken in body and in spirit, but fresh air, good food and kindness had made a new man of him. His hair, which was streaked with gray, seldom was combed, and his garments usually bore the stamp of his work. He walked with a noticeable stoop.
Jake was a rather silent man and seldom spoke unless addressed. He kept to himself and when not working about the grounds usually stayed alone in his room. Seemingly, he lived only for the present, as he never mentioned the past and took the future for granted. Of his devotion to Wardell Force and Doris, there was not the slightest question.
“Jake, you used to work in Rumson before you came here, didn’t you?” Mr. Force questioned.
“Yes, sir.” Jake avoided the other’s eyes. Any reference to his past usually caused him to withdraw into his shell, but with Wardell Force he was more free.
“Do you remember a Gates house there, Jake?”
“Yes, sir, I remember the place well. A gloomy house it was, sir. Many a night I had to pass it after dark, and it sort of gave me the creeps.”
“I didn’t think anything could give you the creeps,” Mr. Force said with an understanding smile.
“Neither did I, sir, but that house—you never saw a soul enter or leave. Folks said the gates had rusted shut. But why are you askin’, Mr. Force?”
“Doris was thinking of going there for a short visit.”
Jake shook his head as he picked up the rake.
“I’m not aimin’ to advise you, sir, but if ’twere me, I’d not let her go there alone.”
“I think perhaps you are right, Jake,” Wardell Force returned thoughtfully as he turned away. “I’ll have another talk with Doris and see if I can’t get her out of the notion of going.”
Returning to the house, he found his niece in the den studying German. She put aside her book at once as he came over to her, but her face clouded at mention of the visit.
“I’ll give it up if you’re so worried, but I don’t see any reason for not going. The Misses Gates are probably just two dear old ladies who like privacy, and the neighbors are inclined to gossip.”
“I see you have set your heart upon going,” Mr. Force sighed.
“Then you will let me go?”
“Upon one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“That you get some one to go with you.”
“I know just the person, Uncle Ward. Kitty Norris will be crazy to go!”
“You’re both crazy to go,” Mr. Force returned with a different inflection.
Doris, highly pleased at her latest idea, sprang up and rushed to the desk. It took her only a few minutes to compose a letter to her chum, and having finished it, she rushed off to the corner mail box, fearful lest her uncle change his mind again.
The next three days she waited in a tremor of excitement for a response. On the fourth day the postman brought the letter from Kitty. It was brief but very much to the point.
“Dear Dory:” it read. “Will I come? I’ll jump at the chance! Here’s to a high old time at Locked Gates, and may we disco
ver when they were locked and why! Meet me Wednesday on the 4:40 train. Yours, Kitty.”
It was already Monday and that left only two days before Kitty’s arrival. Doris flew about putting the suite in order and spent a great deal of time getting her clothes ready to pack. The problem was made somewhat difficult due to the fact that she did not know what sort of reception awaited her.
“I don’t know whether they’ll give any parties or not,” she told herself, “but my guess is they won’t. I’ll take a chance on it and leave my evening gown at home.”
Late Wednesday afternoon, Doris and her uncle drove to the station to meet Kitty. She was nearly the last one off the train and Doris was beginning to think she had not come, when she caught sight of her in the crowd.
The girls exchanged enthusiastic hugs and fell to jabbering as excitedly as two magpies, or at least so it seemed to Uncle Ward, who was quite ignored until Doris recalled that she had failed to introduce him.
“I feel as though I know you already,” he told Kitty with his genial smile. “Doris has talked about you almost continually.”
He placed her suitcase in the back of the coupé, and the girls squeezed in beside him on the front seat. As they drove toward home, Doris told her chum more about Locked Gates and the reason why she had planned the trip.
Though not as pretty as Doris, Kitty had a charming personality and was one of the most popular girls at Barry Manor. She was very talkative and always ready for a good time. If she excelled in basketball and tennis rather than in French and English, it was not because of lack of ability, but rather because she could never find the time to study. At Barry Manor her room had always been the gathering place for friends and the scene of many tea parties.
“I’m so excited about this place we’re going to,” she told Doris. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow, if that isn’t rushing you off too soon. Uncle Ward is going out of town to raise money for some charity—”
“A little hot air for a fresh air fund,” Mr. Force interposed. “A speech at the Rotary Club, one at the church, and one at the Chamber of Commerce. That’s the opening day’s program and it will be about the same for the next month.”
The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 3
