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

by Julia K. Duncan

  Bruce sat down beside her. “I’m sorry I said what I did,” he murmured.

  “I am too,” she admitted.

  “You will use my boat any time you want, too,” he urged.

  “I don’t know whose I would use if I didn’t,” she laughed.

  Harmony was completely restored. After that they talked together easily and long.

  The next afternoon after school Gale and Phyllis went down to the beach and climbed into Bruce’s boat. Soon they were at the island.

  The pilot was glad to see them. Already he was getting bored with his self-imposed exile. He had been sitting at the table poring over the package of papers for the possession of which he had made that slow and painful journey to his plane last night. When he heard them he jumped up and immediately sat down again. His ankle was too painful for sudden movement.

  The girls had brought some more supplies for the pantry and the pilot received them thankfully. The three talked together for a long while. When the girls decided it was time to leave, the pilot whispered to Gale while Phyllis was already on her way to the boat.

  “I must see you tonight for a few minutes—alone!”

  Gale looked at him in surprise. His voice and tone had been most mysterious.

  “Alone?” she asked uncertainly; she was suddenly afraid of him.

  “Alone unless you can get that young fellow Bruce to come with you.”

  “We’ll come,” Gale promised him.

  Her mind was full of the pilot and his words as she steered the boat with herself and Phyllis back to the mainland. What could he want of them?

  “He is nice, isn’t he?” Phyllis said. “Brent Stockton,” she murmured the pilot’s name over. “I’ve heard that name some place before.”

  “Wasn’t it in the newspapers some time ago in connection with the invention of a new parachute or something?” Gale asked slowly.

  “That is it!” Phyllis said eagerly. “He is an inventor. Do you suppose he is working on something now and that is why he wants to be alone on the island?”

  “There is nothing there for him to work with,” Gale said. “He would need a laboratory or workshop or something.”

  “That’s true,” Phyllis agreed as she and Gale turned into the driveway of the big house on the hill where Phyllis lived.

  “Do you think I should come any farther?” Gale asked, halting at a small summerhouse where the girls invariably took their leave. Very seldom did they go on up to the house.

  “My Aunt was supposed to be out this afternoon,” Phyllis said. “I think you might come up. I’d like some help with my Algebra.”

  “Have you said any more to her about going to Briarhurst?” Gale asked as they walked slowly up the gravel path and with light steps mounted to the porch.

  Phyllis led the way into the dark, formal hallway and up the stairs to her own room. There, though the furnishings were stiff and old fashioned, the sun shone in, dispelling the sense of gloom that seemed to hang over the rest of the house.

  “She insists that I go to Stonecliff,” Phyllis sighed. “I suppose I must, but I shall hate it,” she said with sudden vehemence. “I don’t want to be separated from all the Adventure Girls. You mean more to me than you know,” she said, a sudden mist in her eyes. “You are the only friends I have. The only fun I have I have to steal with you. I never thought a person could be as cruel as Aunt Melba. She has taken every nice thing I ever had away from me. Now she proposes to take you girls away too.”

  Gale slipped a loving arm through her friend’s. “She can’t take us away. We love you too, Phyl,” she declared earnestly. “Don’t let it worry you. We shall think of something. We’ll take the situation into our own hands and you won’t have to go to Stonecliff.”

  Gale had been purposely gay and confident when she was talking to Phyllis but afterward she wondered what they could possibly do about it. Miss Fields was a thin, middle-aged woman who ruled her household with a rod of iron. No one had ever been known to oppose her successfully or for long. Phyllis, especially, was a victim of her Aunt’s every whim. Raised in terror of the stern old woman that terror still held Phyllis in its grip.

  Gale turned into her own yard and then she suddenly remembered Brent Stockton’s words. She looked across the street. Bruce was just coming home from football practice.

  “Hi, Bruce!” she called.

  He grinned and waved in response. When he came up to her she laughed at his appearance. Bedraggled and mud splashed, he looked every inch a returning warrior from unknown wars.

  “Think we will win from Northwood on Friday?” she asked eagerly.

  “Of course we will,” he returned. “We’ve got a swell team.”

  “Bruce,” she lowered her voice to a confidential pitch, “Phyllis and I were out to the island to see the pilot this afternoon. He said he wanted to see you and me tonight for a little while—alone.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know,” she frowned. “What do you suppose he could want? He sounded awf’ly mysterious.”

  “Did he say what time?”

  “No. Any time I suppose.”

  “We’ll go right after dinner, eh?”

  She sighed. “I was afraid you wouldn’t go at all.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”

  She laughed. “Never mind.” She turned to the house. “See you tonight,” she called and disappeared within.

  How could she tell him she had thought he would not go because she doubted if he had an adventurous spirit? Sometimes Bruce irritated her. He was so cold and sane. Never enthusiasm for anything. No ambition, at least he never said anything to her about it if he had, no urge to go anywhere or see anything. He took things so calmly she sometimes wondered if he were altogether human. She was positive he had never done an impulsive thing in his life.

  She sighed as she sat down at the piano and let her fingers roam over the keys. Perhaps that was the way she should be, thoughtful, serious, never doing anything rash. But she couldn’t. Sometimes she would be all prepared to go to a study or a game or book seriously, when someone’s word or sentence would strike a discordant note and her temper would flare forth or a spring of laughter would burst within her and gone immediately were all her good intentions. Somehow she just couldn’t take herself as seriously as did Bruce with himself. To him life was a problem and it was meant to be coped with as such. She preferred to snatch pleasure from life as she went along. Didn’t her friendship with the other Adventure Girls prove that? Certainly there could be no more nonsensical, yet sweet, girls than Carol and Janet. Madge, too, had a sense of humor. And Val, good old Valerie! She, like the rest, was always ready for anything.

  The low tones of the piano crashed like thunder as she brought her hand down heavily and swung about on the stool. She had better get in some study on her English Literature if she hoped to pass that exam.

  After dinner Gale and Bruce went down to his motor boat and crossed to the island. As it had been the night before, the island was in darkness save for the gleam of lantern light from the cabin. The boy and girl stood for a moment in the doorway watching the pilot in silence.

  Brent Stockton had papers and blue prints spread out before him and he was compiling figures on another sheet of paper.

  “Hello,” Gale said uncertainly.

  The pilot swung around, his hand instinctively seeking to cover the paper before him. He smiled in mingled pleasure and relief when he recognized them.

  “Didn’t hear you coming,” he apologized. “Sit down, won’t you?” he indicated two chairs drawn up to the other side of the table.

  The girl and boy sat on the edge of the chairs and stared interestedly at the blue prints before them.

  “A new motor?” Bruce asked; his technical eye had already recognized the sketches.

  The pilot nodded. He leaned toward them confidentially. “Are you sure there is no one but me on this island?”

  “I don’t think there is anyone el
se,” Gale said. “No one ever comes here but us.”

  “Queer,” Brent Stockton murmured. “All day I’ve had the feeling that someone was watching me.”

  “Must be your nerves,” Bruce smiled. “What did you want to see us about?”

  The pilot threw down his pencil and folded his arms while he regarded them with a half frown. “Have you ever heard of me?” he asked surprisingly.

  “You’re an inventor,” Gale said immediately. “You invented a new type of parachute or something a few months ago.”

  He nodded. His voice was low when he spoke and the two young people bent forward so as not to miss a single word.

  “Now I am working on something new. A motor that will have less gas consumption and be more or less foolproof. It will be most economical, automatically reducing the upkeep of a plane. It especially is designed for the new pursuit type ship the Army is planning. I hope to have one installed in my racing plane before the air races three weeks from Saturday, that is if I have it perfected in time.”

  “Did you have one in the plane in which you crashed?” Bruce asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been working on these plans ever since and I’m convinced that I’ve located the only weak spot in the whole unit.”

  “But—” Gale frowned. “Where do we come into it?”

  He tapped the plans significantly. “I needn’t tell you how important these plans are. If they should fall into the wrong hands, well, I don’t think our army would be using my motor in their pursuit ships. I have to get them to the airport above Marchton so my mechanic and his helper can assemble the motor in time for the races. There I hope to prove definitely that my motor is the most practical and economical as well as fastest.”

  “Well?” Bruce encouraged.

  “Other men are planning motors and assembling units for the same demonstration,” Brent Stockton said. “One in particular is willing to do anything to sell his motor to the government. He will stop at nothing and, since he suspects that I have a good unit, is trying his best to keep mine from appearing in the race at all. Twice he has attempted to steal my plans. Both times I have been fortunate in having them just beyond his reach. Once there was even a bold attempt on my life.”

  Bruce whistled expressively. “Why don’t you go to the police?”

  “I would if I could name the man who has done these things,” Brent Stockton laughed. “I’ve never seen him so I can’t very well turn him over to the authorities. He uses other less important individuals than himself for his work. The three times I spoke of I managed to get a glimpse of the thief—each time it was a different man.” He shrugged. “It is fighting more or less in the dark.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Gale asked breathlessly. She was terribly interested in all this. Brent Stockton was like a hero in a modern story of adventure and romance.

  The pilot smiled. “Here is my plan. If you don’t want to come along with me it is all right. I won’t think any the less of you for it. There is liable to be danger—that is the part I don’t like when it comes to you,” he said frowning at the youngsters.

  “What do you want us to do?” Bruce asked, brushing aside the thought of danger.

  “Take these plans to my mechanic,” Brent said immediately. “I will tell you where to meet him. You must be absolutely sure that they never leave your sight for a moment. There is too much at stake to risk losing them.”

  “Is that all?” Gale asked disappointed. “That doesn’t sound very dangerous.”

  He smiled. “Ah, but it might prove to be. If you were held up and robbed, which is possible, it would not be exactly safe, you know.”

  “But nothing like that ever happens in Marchton,” Gale said.

  “I’ll take the plans to your mechanic,” Bruce agreed. “But I don’t think Gale should go.”

  “Bruce Latimer!” Gale was furious again. “Are you going to tell me what to do? I am going! Mr. Stockton asked me just as much as he did you. Don’t dare say—”

  Bruce started to laugh. “All right, all right, hold on a minute. I only didn’t want you to be in any danger.”

  “There isn’t a bit of danger and you know it,” Gale said, slightly mollified. “Nothing is dangerous in Marchton.”

  The pilot was regarding them with a wide grin. “At least I gather that you accept my proposition?”

  “Of course,” Bruce said. “Where do we meet your mechanic?”

  “There is a thick wood this side of the airport, do you know it?”

  Gale nodded. “We picnic there sometimes.”

  “There is an old deserted spring house there. Stubby should be there about nine o’clock,” the pilot said consulting his wrist watch. “It is now eight. Can you make it in an hour?”

  “We’ll take our bicycles,” Gale said eagerly.

  “What does he look like, your mechanic?” Bruce asked. “How will we know him?”

  “When you meet a man,” Brent Stockton said, “ask him the time. If he says seven o’clock by the stars, ask him how long he has been there. He will say three days come Friday. He will probably ask you if you have anything for him.”

  “Are you sure he will be there?” Gale asked.

  “Stubby will be there,” the pilot answered confidently. “Tell him he must not, under any circumstances, try to communicate with me. He is to go to the hangar at the airport and start work on the Silver Arrow, that is my racing plane,” he explained. While he had been speaking he was rolling the plans up into a tight packet. This he now handed to Bruce. “You are guardian of the treasure now,” he said smiling.

  “It is a wonder that you trust me with them,” Bruce said.

  “I can’t go myself,” the pilot said, “and I like you,” he added frankly. “I know you won’t let me down.”

  “We’ll see that—what was his name?—Stubby gets them,” Gale assured him.

  When the boy and girl went down to the motor boat they could see the pilot standing in the doorway watching them. He raised his hand in silent salute as the boat shot away from Cloudy Island.

  CHAPTER IV

  Stubby

  The road was dark and lonely. From far away came the dismal hoot of an owl. Gale shivered as she leaned her bicycle against a tree and turned to Bruce.

  “He might have picked a better spot for us to meet his mechanic,” she whispered.

  “It isn’t very cheerful, is it?” Bruce managed a laugh. “But there is no one here but us.”

  “How do you know?” she countered.

  “Because anyone else would have enough sense to stay out of the woods at this hour,” he declared.

  Bruce took her hand in his warm grasp and they started across a small open place. In the distance between the trees ahead they could see the tumbling ruins of the deserted spring house.

  “Don’t be frightened,” Bruce said kindly.

  “I’m not frightened,” Gale said indignantly. “But—do you suppose those plans are as important as he says?”

  “Of course they are,” Bruce said. “He knows what he is talking about. He invented the motor, didn’t he?”

  “You don’t suppose anyone might try to take them away from us?” Gale murmured in awe, watching the dark shadows around her.

  “Certainly not,” Bruce declared. “Don’t you see, that is why he wanted us to take them. No one would suspect us of having them.”

  Gale considered this logic for a moment and was forced to admit it was the obvious conclusion. Who might know they were carrying the important plans? Her thoughts promptly said no one, but she looked about at the ominous shadows and was uncertain. The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds. The trees were sighing and whistling in the night wind.

  “Well, here we are,” Bruce announced. “I don’t see anyone,” he added.

  As if in answer to his words a figure appeared from the dark ruins of the spring house behind them.

  “H-Hello,” Bruce said in surprise.

  The man came toward them, his hat pul
led forward so as to shield his face from view. He held out his hand.

  “I’ll take that package,” he said in a low, gruff voice.

  Bruce held it out and then pulled it back. “What time is it?” he asked, according to the instructions he had received from Brent Stockton.

  “After nine,” the man said pleasantly. “Gettin’ late for you youngsters to be out. Give me that package and you can go home.”

  “Sorry,” Bruce shook his head. “I don’t think it is for you.”

  “Give it to me!” The man advanced slowly and ominously upon Bruce.

  “B-Be c-careful, Bruce,” Gale whispered with difficulty.

  Under cover of the darkness Bruce passed the package behind his back to Gale. She took it and moved a few paces away.

  The man’s arm shot out and Bruce was sent sprawling in the dust. The man turned to Gale who backed slowly away. Bruce had played football too much to stay down from such a gentle push and now he launched himself forward in the tackle that had helped Marchton High School win so many football games.

  The man fell to the ground with Bruce on top of him. Bruce tried to cling to his perilous position on top of his adversary but he was in sad danger of losing his advantage when help arrived in the form of another silent figure which came also from the ruins of the spring house. The newcomer hauled the two apart and in the moment that Bruce was getting to his feet the other man broke away and ran among the trees, disappearing into the darkness.

  “You let him get away!” Bruce said angrily. “You shouldn’t have!” He looked around. “All right, Gale?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “But he almost had them, didn’t he?”

  “You came here to meet someone?” the new arrival asked. He was a short, stocky, blurred figure in the darkness.

  Gale thought instinctively that he must be Stubby. The name fitted him to perfection.

  “Yes,” Bruce murmured. He wondered if this were another foe or really the man they had come to meet. “What time is it?” he asked without further preliminary.

  “’Bout seven o’clock by the stars,” the man answered.

  The right answer! Gale breathed easier. Now they could be rid of the plans.