“No, I don’t believe I’ll ever be a writer, Mabel. I’d rather do things than write about them.” She wished she might tell the other girl what she had accomplished earlier in the summer at Dark Cedars with the help of her notebook and pencil, but that would seem too much like bragging. Besides, the only way to succeed in life is to forget about the past and keep looking forward.
“Write down seven Reeds and four Gays,” said Mabel. “And two Ditmars. That makes thirteen already.”
“But four of those won’t eat till the others are served, so we’ll need only nine chairs so far.… Now, let’s see. Where shall we go first?”
“Let’s go right up the line of the cottages. Hunters’ is gone, of course, so we’ll try the Partridges. They have four in their family.”
“Mrs. Partridge is a great friend of mother’s,” observed Mary Louise. “I think they will sign up.”
The two girls walked a quarter of a mile up the private road that wound along beside the river, past the Hunters’ grounds, on to the pleasant five-room cottage that belonged to the Partridges. As there were no young people in this family, Mary Louise did not know them so well, but she felt sure that they would like the idea of having their meals on this side of the river.
Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, and the two sisters who spent the summer with them, were just coming across the river in Mr. Frazier’s launch when the girls reached the scene. The hotelkeeper himself was running the motorboat.
Mary Louise smiled at them and waited until the launch had puffed off before she explained her plan.
Mrs. Partridge was delighted.
“Of course we’ll come—for our dinners,” she agreed immediately. “My husband is going back to the city, except for week-ends, and we three women would just as soon have a bite of lunch at home. But I hate this bothering with a boat every night for dinner, although Mr. Frazier has been most kind.”
“Then we can count on you three?” asked Mary Louise in delight.
“Yes—and Mr. Partridge too on Saturdays and Sundays,” added the woman.
Mary Louise marked down the names, and the two girls continued on their way, pleased with their success.
“That’s three more paying guests,” she said, “totaling twelve!”
“It’s thrilling!” exclaimed Mabel.
It was even more thrilling to find the Robinsons just as enthusiastic about the plan, adding four more names to their list.
“That’s all!” sighed Mabel. “Unless we go over to the Royal and try to get the Smiths.”
“They wouldn’t come,” returned Mary Louise, “because they’d have nowhere to sleep. And besides, they don’t care about economy. They have piles of money.”
“True. But I’ll tell you whom we can get, Mary Lou: those four Harrisburg boys. They can put up tents in the woods and eat at Ditmars’. They’ll love it, and besides, it will make it possible for them to stay at Shady Nook a lot longer. Their money will go so much farther than it would at the Royal.”
“That is an idea, Mabel!” cried Mary Louise. “And maybe they’d be willing to eat at a second table, so we shouldn’t have to get extra chairs.”
“The very thing. Sixteen chairs isn’t so bad. I guess the Ditmars have four, and we each have a card-table set. I suppose the Robinson boys can knock together a bench and some chairs for a porch table.”
“Adelaide Ditmar suggested getting Tom Adams to do it.”
“Then we’d have to pay him! No, I think we better ask the Robinson boys or Horace Ditmar.”
The girls reached the bungalow and found the young couple waiting for them on the porch. Horace Ditmar was a good-looking man of perhaps twenty-five—not much older than David McCall, Mary Louise thought—and Adelaide was scarcely twenty. They were a handsome pair: it was too bad if they weren’t happy.
Adelaide’s eager blue eyes were gazing into Mary Louise’s as if she could not wait for her answer.
“Mabel and I have decided to help you, Adelaide,” announced Mary Louise immediately. “We just stopped at all the bungalows to find out how many people we can get to promise to come to the meals. We have sixteen for dinners and thirteen for lunches—besides all of us who will be working.”
“Sixteen!” repeated the young woman in delight. “Oh, Mary Lou, I knew everybody adored you! If I’d asked them myself they would all have refused.”
“Now, dear!” remonstrated her husband, with such an affectionate look at his wife that Mary Louise was surprised. Maybe Horace Ditmar was all right after all!
The girls sat down on the porch and plunged right into the discussion of all the details of carrying out the plan. The young man was surprisingly helpful and resourceful. As Adelaide had said, he was keenly interested. He not only promised to provide the needed tables and chairs, but he drew plans for placing them and for arranging the kitchen to utilize every bit of its space. He knew how to make home-made ice cream, he said, and he would drive over for all the supplies twice a week. In fact, he took so much of the work upon his own shoulders that the girls felt as if there was little for them to do in advance. They were to open for business the day after tomorrow.
“And all we have to do is borrow some silverware and dishes,” remarked Mabel as the girls rose to go.
“And engage Hattie Adams to wash them,” added Adelaide. “But I wish you wouldn’t go home yet, girls. I was hoping we might play a little bridge.” Her tone was wistful. Mary Louise knew how eager she was to make friends.
“We’ll be over tomorrow,” replied Mabel, “but I think we ought to go now, because those Harrisburg boys are over at our bungalow, and I want to see whether I can’t get them to camp over here in the woods and take their meals with us. There are four of them.”
“Good girl!” approved Horace. “Go right after the business!”
So the girls said good-night and hurried off, full of excitement over their new adventure. All the young people who had gathered at the Reeds’ were enthusiastic too: they were tired of dressing up and going to the Royal Hotel, and enjoyed the informal intimacy of a small boarding house like Flicks’. The four young men from Harrisburg were only too glad to adopt Mabel’s suggestion, and planned to borrow the tents and start camping out the same day that the dining room was to open.
During the entire evening the mystery of the fires was not mentioned. Indeed, nobody thought of them until Jane and Mary Louise were alone again, getting ready for bed. Then the former referred to them casually.
“I guess you won’t have time for solving any more mysteries now, Mary Lou,” she remarked, “with this dining room on your hands.”
“On the contrary,” returned her companion, “that is just one reason why I wanted to go into the thing. I was anxious to get to know Horace Ditmar better. And I’m practically convinced that he had nothing to do with the fires!”
“Then who?” inquired Jane. “Rebecca Adams?”
“No, not Rebecca. But I did get a new clue this afternoon, Jane. I learned something that made me suspicious about her brother Tom!”
“Tom Adams? Why, Mary Lou, I thought you dismissed him long ago. When we learned that the Adams family are losing jobs by these fires.”
“Yes, I know. But there’s something we don’t understand yet. Anyhow, Tom Adams does card tricks.”
“Card tricks?”
“Yes. He probably learned them from Cliff, and maybe swiped his cards to do them!”
Jane’s eyes opened wide with understanding. “That pack of cards at the Smith fire!” she cried.
Mary Louise nodded. “Exactly! That’s just what I’ve been thinking. So I wrote to Cliff this afternoon and told him about it.”
Jane threw her arms around her friend and hugged her.
“You are a wonder, Mary Lou!… But—but—can you prove anything?”
“Not yet. But I mean to watch Tom Adams and see whether I can’t learn some more.”
“If he really is guilty and finds out that you suspect him,” observed Jane, “he’
ll take out his spite by setting fire to this bungalow. You better be careful, Mary Lou!”
“I expect to be,” was the reply. “I’m looking for trouble!”
But she hardly expected it in the form in which it came the following day.
CHAPTER XIII
The Threat
“Is there anything I can do to help you people?” inquired Jane of Mary Louise the following morning at the breakfast table. “Pare potatoes—or something?”
“No, thanks, Jane,” returned her chum. “We’re getting along fine. I would like to have you pull a load of dishes over to the Ditmars’ for me, Freckles,” she added, turning to her brother, “in your wagon.”
“Okay., Sis,” was the cheerful reply.
They left soon after breakfast, promising to be back again in time for lunch. It was a beautiful day, and Mary Louise was in high spirits, anxious to get everything arranged for the opening of the dining room the following morning. Naturally, she expected Adelaide Ditmar to feel the same way; she was therefore taken aback when the young woman came to the door with a distressed expression on her face and actual tears in her eyes!
“That husband of hers has done something,” Mary Louise thought resentfully. “Oh, why can’t he behave himself?”
“Come in, Mary Lou,” invited Adelaide, repressing a sob. “You too, Freckles, if you can keep a secret.”
“Of course I can!” replied the boy proudly.
They entered the charming little house, and their hostess closed the door behind them. Then she reached into the pocket of her apron and took out a coarse piece of paper which she handed to Mary Louise.
“Read that,” she said.
Mary Louise held the paper in front of her so that her brother could see it at the same time. The message was printed in pencil, and the words were misspelled, but there could be no mistaking its meaning:
“Clos up your place rite away, or expeck FIRE!”
Mary Louise read it twice before she handed it back to Adelaide Ditmar.
“How did this come?” she demanded.
“I found it under the back door,” replied the young woman in a hoarse whisper.
“But you didn’t see anybody?”
“No.”
“When did you find it?”
“Early this morning. About half-past seven.”
“Did you show it to your husband?” asked Freckles.
“Not yet,” replied Adelaide. “He’s been so nervous, you know, and this work has just been wonderful for him. Oh, I can’t bear to give it up! It means more than money to us—it means an occupation for Horace, saving him from melancholia, perhaps. Mary Lou, what can we do? Isn’t there some policeman we can get to watch our house?”
“Shady Nook never had one,” replied the other girl. “I certainly do wish my Dad were here!”
“Your father? What could he do?”
“He’s a detective,” explained Mary Louise.
“The best detective in the world!” added Freckles.
“Oh, where is he?” sobbed Adelaide. “Can’t we send for him?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s out West somewhere, on a case. No, I don’t see what we can do except watch. Never leave the house.” She turned to her brother. “You boys scan the woods for suspects, Freckles—and keep a hidden guard around the cottage.… I’m going to look for Tom Adams—something made me suspicious of him yesterday. Don’t let him into the place, Adelaide.… And you’ll have to tell Horace, because he will need to be on guard too—especially at night.”
“It’s the work of a maniac, I’m sure,” said Adelaide. “Nobody else would want to burn down all these cottages.”
“Of course, it may be,” agreed Mary Louise. “But I don’t believe it’s Rebecca Adams who’s doing it. She’s sick in bed.… Of course, she might be up and around by this time—but I don’t think so. Anyway, I’m going over there this afternoon to engage Hattie for the job here, and I’ll make it a point to find out about Rebecca then. In the meantime, let’s get on with our work.”
Adelaide dried her eyes, and Freckles rushed off to round up his gang. Mary Louise settled down to work; when Mabel Reed came over an hour later, and Horace Ditmar returned in the car with his purchase of supplies, they were both amazed at the progress which had been made. The little house had been transformed into a tea room!
With trembling hands Adelaide showed the threatening message to her husband. She chose a time when Mabel Reed was out of the room, for Mary Louise had urged secrecy. No use frightening people away from the dining room!
Horace Ditmar did not appear to be alarmed.
“I think it’s just a practical joke on the part of those Smith kids,” he said, “or maybe those Harrisburg boys. The best thing we can do is ignore it. I don’t think we need to worry.” And he smiled so confidently that Mary Louise wondered for a moment whether Horace Ditmar could have set those other cottages on fire himself and because of this fact feel perfectly safe about his own?
But, no, that wasn’t possible, she felt sure. She had a new clue now: someone was objecting to the serving of meals to Shady Nook people. The same person who had destroyed Flicks’ Inn by fire—the only person who could possibly resent the project. It was Frazier, she thought, Frazier who was guilty. The hotelkeeper could not bear to lose his business, and he was bribing Tom Adams to start the fires.… But how could Mary Louise possibly prove this fact?
However, she said nothing of her suspicions to the Ditmars or to Freckles, but she warned the boy not to mention the threat at home, for fear of alarming her mother. So the Gay family had a pleasant lunch that day, little thinking of the danger that was lurking so terribly near. They talked happily of the opening of the dining room on the morrow and of their plans for that afternoon.
“We’re all going to play tennis on the hotel court after lunch,” announced Jane. “The boys said they wanted to use it while they have the chance, because they’re going to put up their tents over here tomorrow morning. And Frazier will probably be so mad about losing them that he’ll refuse us all the use of the court.”
“We’ve got a court of our own,” observed Mary Louise.
“Yes, but it’s not so good as the Royal’s. Still, it will do,” agreed Jane. “I don’t suppose you’d have time to play with us this afternoon, would you, Mary Lou?”
“I don’t know,” replied her chum. “I have to hunt up Hattie Adams—or we’ll have to do all the dish-washing ourselves tomorrow at the dining room. I’ll paddle across the river with you—she may be working at the Royal Hotel. If she isn’t, I’ll have to come back and go see her at the farm.”
“You certainly do like to work on a hot day,” yawned Jane.
“After all, it’s not nearly such hot work as tennis—with those strenuous boys,” returned Mary Louise.
“Well, if you do go to Adams’ farm, be sure to get back in time for a swim,” urged Jane.
About an hour later the two girls put their tennis rackets into the canoe and paddled across the river. The tennis court was around behind the hotel, away from the shore. Here they found half a dozen young people, four of whom were playing doubles.
The two extra boys on the bench moved over and made room for Jane and Mary Louise.
“They’ll be through in a minute—the score’s five-two now,” announced one of the young men. “Then we four will have a set.”
“I don’t believe I had better play now,” replied Mary Louise, “because I have to go hunt up Hattie Adams.”
“Who’s she?”
“A girl we want to get to wash dishes at our dining room. She may be working here now. Or perhaps I can find her brother. Do you happen to know Tom Adams? A fellow who does odd jobs around the hotel sometimes?”
The boy nodded.
“Yes, I know the guy you mean. Big brute with light hair? I think he’s back in the garage now, fixing up Frazier’s truck.”
Mary Louise jumped to her feet: this was just the information she wanted. She would
rather see Tom Adams than his sister, although she didn’t actually want to talk to him. Just to check up on his movements!
“Be back in a few minutes!” she called as she disappeared through the clump of bushes behind the tennis court.
In her sneakers she skipped along noiselessly, unconscious of the fact that an outsider might regard her actions as “snooping.” Yet when she stopped just outside of the garage door because she heard men’s voices inside, she realized then that she was really eavesdropping.
Immediately she identified the voices as belonging to Mr. Frazier and Tom Adams. The latter was evidently changing a tire on the truck.
“I tell you I’ve got to have that money tonight!” snarled Tom Adams. “I owe a guy a hundred bucks, and I need the rest myself.”
“I can’t pay it all now,” whined Frazier. “I just haven’t got it. I can let you have three hundred and the rest when the job is finished.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, the job ain’t a-goin’ a be finished till you cough up! All the dough.”
Frazier’s tone became more whining. “Business isn’t any too good—”
“What would it have been without me to help?” retorted the younger man. “Did I—or did I not put money in your pocket?”
“Oh, sure you did. And I’m willing to pay you for it.”
There was silence for a moment, while Mary Louise waited breathlessly. She could not see the men’s faces, but she had no difficulty in following their conversation. She heard the rattling of paper money and knew that Frazier must be paying Tom something.
“Want a receipt?” demanded Tom presently.
“Good Lord, no!” cried the other. “Nothing in writing, Tom. It might be used against us. Guess I can trust you.”
“We’ve got to trust each other,” sneered the younger man. “That’s why I say you have no right to hold out on me. I’m doin’ the dirty work.”
Mary Louise felt that she had heard enough. Everything was perfectly clear to her. The only thing required was to wire the Albany police. Forgetful of her own danger and her need for secrecy until her discovery could be announced, she ran across the front of the garage to the kitchen door of the hotel. But not lightly enough: both Frazier and Tom heard her and stepped out of the garage to see who she was.
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