The Second Girl Detective Megapack: 23 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Julia K. Duncan

  The train came to a full stop, and the party alighted. McDermott walked directly away, merely tipping his hat to Mrs. Mallow and the girls, but Mr. Baker remained to offer his services.

  “Are you expecting someone to meet you?” he inquired.

  Mrs. Mallow explained that they had engaged rooms at The Mayfair and, would take a taxi. Mr. Baker helped them with their luggage and assisted them into the cab.

  “I hope you have an enjoyable stay in our city,” he said pleasantly. “If for any reason you should tire of the hotel, come out to my summer camp. Anyone can tell you where it is. We have a very choice list of guests.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t know about your place before we engaged our rooms,” Mrs. Mallow said regretfully. “It would have been so much nicer there near the water.”

  “Excuse me,” Mr. Baker interrupted hastily. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten my umbrella. Left it on the train.”

  He bolted away, coat-tail flying in the breeze. Mrs. Mallow and the girls watched anxiously as he boarded the train, which fortunately had not yet left the station. A moment later they saw him reappear, clutching the umbrella, and then gave the order to drive on to the hotel.

  “That man would lose his head if it weren’t attached,” Doris laughed. “You can’t help liking him, though. He’s so genuine.”

  In a few minutes the cab arrived at The Mayfair, a small but pleasant summer hotel. Mrs. Mallow went to the desk.

  “I am Mrs. Mallow,” she said to the clerk on duty. “I have a reservation—”

  “Oh, yes, Mrs. Mallow,” the young man replied, consulting a list tacked up on the side of a partition. “On the second floor. I am not sure that the rooms are ready, though.”

  “Do you mean,” Mrs. Mallow asked, “that someone else is occupying them?”

  The clerk smiled. “They have been, but the guests are leaving this morning.”

  At that moment wdVd came that the rooms were ready, and the clerk handed Mrs. Mallow a pen, which he had dipped into a bottle of ink on the desk.

  “Will you please register, Mrs. Mallow? I believe there’s a telegram for you,” the clerk said after she had signed her name. “Yes, here it is.”

  He took a yellow envelope from one of the mail boxes and handed it to her. Mrs. Mallow stood staring down at it but made no move to open it. Doris and Kitty hurried over toward her, alarmed by the frightened expression on her face.

  “What is it?” they asked.

  “A telegram,” she murmured. “I’m afraid it’s about Marshmallow and Dave! They shouldn’t have started off in that old car! Oh, I’m afraid something dreadful has happened!”

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Miser of Cloudy Cove

  Nervously Mrs. Mallow ripped open the envelope and unfolded the slip of yellow paper. As she scanned the message, the tense lines of her face gradually relaxed.

  “Has anything happened?” Kitty questioned anxiously.

  Mrs. Mallow handed over the telegram and the girls eagerly noted the contents. It read:

  “Trouble with car. Will reach Cloudy Cove Friday. Marshall.”

  “The old bus probably fell to pieces on the road,” Doris laughed. “It’s a relief to know they weren’t in an accident”

  “I’m glad Marshall thought of telegraphing,” Mrs. Mallow commented. “I should have worried myself sick, if he hadn’t arrived at the appointed time. I imagine it will be best to arrange ahead for the boys’ room. I’ll speak to the manager about it now.”

  She turned toward a ruddy-faced man of middle age whom the clerk had pointed out as Edgar Morehouse, the owner of The Mayfair. In response to her request that he reserve a room for Dave and Marshmallow, he shook his head regretfully.

  “We’re filled up just now and it’s doubtful that we’ll have anything before the first of next week. You see, this is the height of our season here at Cloudy Cove. Nearly all of our guests engage rooms weeks in advance. At the present moment we have a long waiting list.”

  “But surely you can find something by Friday!” Mrs. Mallow protested.

  “I am afraid not,” the owner returned. “I shall be glad to place your name on the list and if there is a vacancy—”

  “Can you recommend another hotel?”

  “There are several here, but I fear you will be unable to secure accomm’odations on such short notice. Everything is crowded.”

  Mrs. Mallow came back to where the girls were waiting and told them how matters stood.

  “It was foolish of me not to reserve their rooms when I did ours,” she said in disappointment. “Of course, I couldn’t be sure until the last minute that they would come with us.”

  “What will they do for a room?” Kitty asked. “I’m sure I don’t know. We must look around between now and Friday. It is certainly annoying.”

  The three followed the porter who took them to a pleasant, airy suite on the second floor. Although The Mayfair hotel was an old building, it had been newly decorated and was considered to be one of the nicest in Cloudy Cove.

  Mrs. Mallow sank wearily into the first chair available and removed her hat and gloves.

  “The trip seemed to tire me,” she declared. “I think it was listening to that magician that wore me out.”

  “Why don’t you take a nap?” Doris suggested. “Kitty and I thought we might go for a walk, so we won’t be here to disturb you.”

  “I believe I shall,” Mrs. Mallow said. “After luncheon I must try to engage a room for Marshall.”

  After the girls had changed frocks and freshened up a bit, they set forth to view the city. Cloudy Cove was not large in population, but its location near the Bay of Thor brought great crowds of vacationers each summer. However, it was not toward the beach that the girls strolled, for Doris’s interest lay in the business section of the city. As they passed a massive building of white stone, she observed that it was the National Bank.

  “Let’s go in!” she said impulsively to her chum. “I want to see the President just as soon as I can, about my Uncle John Trent’s affairs.”

  The two girls entered the bank. Kitty hung back rather timidly, but Doris walked boldly to the window and asked for the President.

  “Mr. Cooke does not see anyone without an appointment,” she was informed. “If you will state your business—”

  “It is of a confidential nature,” Doris returned. “I must see Mr. Cooke!”

  “He expects to be out of the city for the remainder of the week,” the cashier told her, “but I can make an appointment for you to see him at ten o’clock Monday morning.”

  Doris thanked him and with Kitty left the building.

  “It’s a long time to wait,” she fretted, “but I suppose it’s the best I can do. Oh, dear, I’m so impatient to learn about the Estate!”

  “I just feel it in my bones that you’re going to get some money,” Kitty declared confidently.

  “I wish I could feel it in mine!”

  The girls walked aimlessly about the streets, gazing at the shop windows and taking an interest in the vacation crowd. Unexpectedly they became aware that someone was calling them by name. Turning abruptly about, Doris saw Silas Baker, who was on the verge of stepping into a sedan parked at the curbing.

  “Well, well, so we meet again!” he hailed them. “I’m glad you rescued your umbrella after you left us,” Kitty said.

  “My umbrella?” The old gentleman’s brow wrinkled, then he laughed. “To be sure! Just as the train was pulling out. How do you girls like Cloudy Cove by this time?”

  “We haven’t seen much of it yet,” Doris confessed.

  “How would you like to visit my camp on the cove? I’m on my way there now.”

  “Oh, we’d love to!” Doris cried enthusiastically. “That is, if we can get back in time for luncheon. Mrs. Mallow will be expecting us.”

  “It won’t take long. I’ll drive you right back.” He opened the car door and the girls crowded into the front seat beside him. As they motored along the
boulevard, Mr. Baker pointed out interesting landmarks. In all truth, Doris and Kitty paid more attention to the road than they did to the scenery, for their companion’s driving was eccentric, to say the least. Twice, as a loud honking of horns sounded impatiently from the rear, they were called upon to remind him that a traffic light had changed from red to green.

  Presently Mr. Baker turned the car into a private driveway, which led through a forest of dense timber to the edge of the cove. The girls gave a gasp of sheer delight as they caught their first glimpse of the deep, blue water and the glistening, white beach.

  “It’s real quiet out here,” Mr. Baker said, as he turned off the motor, “but that’s why some folks like it. I own fifty acres along the waterfront.

  Haven’t done much with it yet. Just put up a bathhouse and a few cabins. Next year I may fix the place up more.”

  “I think it’s lovely as it is,” Doris declared.

  The very quiet of it appealed to her, and she thought she had never before seen a more beautiful place. The beach was deserted, but far out across the water she could see a tiny fishing boat. A half dozen log cabins were scattered about the clearing and from three of them she noticed smoke curling upward.

  “Are all of your cottages rented?” she inquired. “No, I haven’t advertised them,” Mr. Baker explained. “Don’t want just anyone, you know. Can’t have folks throwing tin cans on the beach and littering the place up. I rent only to a certain class of people.”

  “Don’t you wish we had come here instead of taking rooms at The Mayfair?” Kitty asked wistfully.

  “Yes, I do,” Doris agreed, “but I suppose it’s too late to change now. But say! Wouldn’t Dave and Marshmallow be crazy about this place!”

  “Are there any fish in the water, Mr. Baker?” Kitty inquired.

  “Any fish?” the old gentleman snorted. “It’s the best place in three counties!”

  “This spot would be paradise for Marshall and Dave, then,” Kitty declared.

  Doris had been doing some quick thinking. She knew that a room must be engaged for the boys before Friday and if what the hotel-keeper had said was true, it would be impossible to secure satisfactory accommodations at the town of Cloudy Cove. Dave and Marshmallow enjoyed “roughing it,” and camp life would suit them admirably. Since Mr. Baker already had mentioned that his charge for cabins was reasonable, the plan of establishing the two at the camp appealed to her.

  “Would you care to rent one of your cabins to Dave and Marshall?” she inquired. “We’re expecting them Friday.”

  “Well,” Mr. Baker hesitated, “if they’re friends of yours, I’ll take them, but I don’t want any noisy young scamps about. This is a quiet camp and—”

  “Oh, you’ll like Dave and Marshmallow,” Doris laughed. “Just show them the cove and tell them about the fish and that’s the last you’ll hear of them.”

  “Maybe you’d better pick but the cabin you want now. There’s a nice one fronting the beach that they might like.”

  He led the way across the clearing, pausing on a knoll to point to a large maple tree.

  “This marks the eastern boundary of my premises. That cottage you see through the trees doesn’t belong to me. You can have your pick of any of the others that aren’t occupied.”

  It was on the tip of Doris’s tongue to ask who owned the cabin to the east of the camp, but already Mr. Baker had moved on down the path. The girls followed him to a quaint cottage overlooking the water. It was a four-room structure built entirely of unpainted logs. Chintz curtains hung at the windows and, as they stepped inside, they were delighted to see that the furniture was rustic. A large stone fireplace covered one side of the living room.

  “Oh, it’s adorable!” Doris cried. “I’m sure Dave and Marshmallow would like it.”

  Kitty had stepped to the door of one of the bedrooms and her quick eye had noted a suitcase under a bed.

  “Why, someone appears to be living here!” she exclaimed. “This room is occupied.”

  A sheepish expression passed over Mr. Baker’s face.

  “I guess you can’t have this one after all,” he murmured. “I forgot that I rented it to a gentleman from New York.”

  Hastily the girls retreated, for they had no desire to appear to be invading a stranger’s quarters.

  “You can have the one next door,” Mr. Baker assured them. “It’s exactly the same.”

  Doris and Kitty inspected the other cabin and found it entirely satisfactory. They were so delighted with it that they keenly regretted they were not to occupy it themselves.

  “Perhaps I had better make a cash deposit now,” Doris said as they turned to leave. “We want you to be sure not to forget that you have rented the cabin.”

  Mr. Baker accepted the deposit, although he assured them there was no need to make one. As they left the cabin, Doris saw by her wrist watch that it was getting late, and remarked that she must return to the hotel.

  “I’ll take you in right away,” the old gentleman promised, “but first I want to show you where you can get good spring water.”

  The girls followed him along a path which led deeper into the forest. Passing the cottage which Doris had noticed some time before, they saw a queer-looking man sitting on the front porch smoking a pipe. His clothing was ragged and old, his hair unkempt, his shoes well worn, his face unshaven. A fierce looking hound lay drowsing at the side of his chair.

  As the three approached, the man quickly arose, bowed to Mr. Baker, and vanished inside the cabin.

  Doris had not obtained a distinct view of the stranger’s face, but his general appearance had not impressed her. She knew that if disreputable persons lived near the camp, Mrs. Mallow would not wish Marshall to stay there.

  Moreover, why should such a questionable-looking man be living here?

  “Who is that man?” she asked Mr. Baker.

  The old gentleman smiled broadly.

  “Don’t be alarmed by his appearance, Miss Force. He is quite harmless. Looks much worse than he is.”

  “But who is he?” Doris persisted.

  “He calls himself Mr. Jay, but no one knows his real name. Folks just speak of him as the Miser of Cloudy Cove.”

  CHAPTER IX

  An Opportunity

  “A miser!” Kitty exclaimed with interest. “Where does this Mr. Jay hoard his gold?”

  Mr. Baker shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “It’s my honest opinion he hasn’t any. Don’t know why folks call him a miser. Guess it’s because he lives out here summer and winter and doesn’t take up with the townfolks. Decent sort of fellow, though.”

  “He seemed to run away when he saw us coming,” Doris commented thoughtfully.

  “Yes, he’s shy when womenfolks come around.”

  “What does he do here by himself?” Kitty inquired curiously. “I should think it would be a very lonely sort of life.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Baker agreed, “but it’s the kind of existence he enjoys. He roams the woods with his dog, fishes a great deal, and during the winter hunts and traps. He never goes to town. Sometimes has me bring him a box of groceries or a bundle of books.”

  “What sort of things does he read?” Doris questioned.

  “Nothing light. Tolstoy, and French writers that I never heard of. Strange fellow all right, but perfectly harmless.”

  “Why does he live here by himself?” Doris demanded. “What brought him to Cloudy Cove in the first place?”

  “You have me there. Mr. Jay never offered any information concerning himself, and, well, he’s the sort of person you don’t like to question.” After pausing at the spring for a drink of cold water, the girls returned to the car. As they drove back toward Cloudy Cove, Doris’s thoughts continued to dwell upon Mr. Jay. What she had learned concerning his strange life aroused her curiosity.

  “I’ll tell Marshmallow and Dave they must try to become acquainted with him,” she thought.

  Mr. Baker dropped the girls at their hotel, after aga
in assuring them that the cabin would be ready for the boys when they arrived Friday. Mrs. Mallow, upon learning what arrangements had been made, declared that she was highly pleased.

  “They may fare better than we,” she said. “I’m not so sure that I’ll like this hotel. The service appears far from the best.”

  Doris and Kitty were not inclined to be critical, but after they had partaken of luncheon they, too, admitted their disappointment. Mrs. Mallow, who was an excellent cook, declared that the food was flat and unappetizing.

  During the afternoon both the girls wrote letters and then went to their rooms to rest. Shortly after five o’clock Doris returned to the lobby to see if the mail had arrived. As she walked toward the desk, she was startled to see a familiar face. Ollie Weiser!

  Doris stopped short, for she did not wish the magician to observe her. Her first thought was that he had followed her to the hotel, but she recalled that she had been very careful not to mention The Mayfair. Undoubtedly the choice of the same hotel was mere coincidence.

  “Oh, dear, why did he have to come here?” she thought impatiently.

  She moved quickly away, but just at that instant the magician turned and saw her. His face lighted up and he rushed over to her.

  “Ah, I have found you again!” he cried.

  “Did you recover all of your snakes?” Doris inquired with a feeble attempt at a smile.

  The magician regarded her accusingly.

  “Yes, I found them, Miss Force, but I cannot understand why you tried to punish me. I know that you and your friend opened the suitcase. My snakes are clever, but they are not smart enough to get out of a box without the aid of a human hand.”

  Doris looked confused and could think of nothing to say.

  “However,” Ollie Weiser went on brightly, “I’ll forgive you both on one condition.”

  “And what is that?” Doris asked impatiently.

  “That you dance with me after the entertainment tonight.”

  “What entertainment?”

  “You have not heard! I am to appear in an act with my snakes and Madame Curly, the noted singer, will complete the bill.”