The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  “Okay. I’m ready, Mary Lou. The car is at the door. Run up and get your hat and coat. Wrap up warmly. It’s a lot warmer, and most of the snow’s gone, but you know my runabout isn’t like a heated limousine.”

  In five minutes she was back again, looking very pretty in her squirrel coat, with its matching toque. Leaving word for Mrs. Hilliard that she would not be back for supper, she got into the car with Max.

  As the couple started, Mary Louise explained why she wanted to go to Center Square: that her project had nothing to do with the thefts at the hotel but was the hope of tracing Margaret Detweiler. And she told her companion the facts she had learned about the girl.

  “I’m even more anxious to find her than to solve the mystery at Stoddard House,” she said, “because of those two old people. It’s just too dreadful for them.”

  Max nodded. He knew the Detweilers and felt extremely sorry for them. Everybody in Riverside liked them and pitied them in their distress.

  “I just can’t bear to tell them that Margaret was dismissed from the department store for stealing,” she added.

  “I wouldn’t,” advised Max. “Better tell them nothing at all than that. It wouldn’t help any and would only cause them unhappiness.”

  Mary Louise asked about everything that had happened at Riverside since she had left. It had been only two days, but it seemed like an age. Max described the party the night before, but it was a poor affair without Mary Lou, according to his idea, and he had left early so he could get off at daybreak this morning.

  The day was clear and warm, and except for the slush on the roads the drive was delightful. The young people were happy to be together again and enjoyed every minute of it.

  It was already dusk of the short winter day when they arrived at Center Square and stopped at the country hotel.

  “We’re going to want dinner in an hour or so,” Max told the clerk. “But first we want to see whether we can locate a girl who was here late last winter. Did a young woman named Margaret Detweiler ever register here?”

  The clerk obligingly looked through his book. But the name was not there.

  “She’s tall and slender and very dark,” said Mary Louise. “Has wavy hair and an olive complexion.”

  The clerk shook his head.

  “No, I don’t remember seein’ anybody like that around. Not many strangers come here—except automobile parties sometimes, stoppin’ to eat.”

  “Are there any empty houses she might have rented?” was Mary Louise’s next question.

  “None rented as I know of. There’s some abandoned houses around, places where people sometimes come just for the summer.”

  “Where?”

  The clerk gave the directions.

  “Now one more question. Where does the postmaster live? For of course the post office is closed on Sunday.”

  “Sure it’s closed. But the postmaster lives right over top of it. Across the street a way from here.”

  Mary Louise and Max went there next and were fortunate enough to find the man at home. When Mary Louise told him about the registered letter and described the girl, he said he believed he did remember. So few people came to the little country town; still fewer registered letters. But Margaret hadn’t stopped in a car, he thought—she had walked from somewhere. No, he was positive she hadn’t been boarding with any of the folks around, or he’d have heard of it.

  Well, that was something definite! Maybe she was hiding in one of those empty houses the clerk had spoken of, to escape from the police.

  Max turned his car off the main highway into a little dirt road, almost impassable with its slush and snow. He stopped in front of the first empty house which the clerk had described. It was dark and forlorn.

  “There would be some sort of light if anybody were living there,” observed Max.

  “You can’t tell,” replied Mary Louise. “If Margaret were hiding, she’d be careful about lights. Let’s get out and look.”

  “But why should she hide? Didn’t you tell me the employment manager promised not to send her to jail?”

  “Yes, but you don’t know what crimes she’s committed since. If she were behaving herself, wouldn’t she have written to her grandparents? Either she’s dead or she’s doing something wrong.”

  They waded through slush over their shoe-tops but could see no signs of any life. Mary Louise decided to try another house.

  “It’s a wild theory, Mary Lou, but you’re the doctor,” agreed Max. “So long as my bus’ll run, I’m game.”

  “You are a sport, Max! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Men are helpful sometimes, aren’t they?”

  “I guess they’re absolutely necessary,” replied Mary Louise modestly. “I never seem to be able to get along without them.”

  “That’s the proper attitude for a girl,” he answered gayly.

  Farther along the road they stopped in front of another empty house. It was situated at the top of a steep incline and almost completely surrounded by trees.

  “Can you climb that hill, Max?” she asked.

  “I can try—if you think there’s any use,” he replied.

  It was a difficult task, for the driveway was so covered with slush that it was hard to tell which was road and which was field. But Max made it in low gear, and they came to a stop in front of a barn, under a big tree.

  The house was shabby and unpainted; its windows were covered with boards, and its heavy doors without glass. Mary Louise shuddered: it reminded her of Dark Cedars.

  Max turned off the motor and jumped out of the car.

  “Nobody home, I guess,” he announced.

  From her seat in the car Mary Louise stared at the house, peering into the strip of glass above the boards on the windows. She thought she saw a flicker of light, as if a candle were burning. Yes, she was sure of it—and—a face appeared at the window! Two frightened eyes looked right into hers. A second later another face appeared, more plainly than the first, for this person evidently had hold of the candle. The first face had vanished, and Mary Louise saw only that of an exceedingly ugly woman—someone who looked somehow familiar.

  That very instant the tiny light went out, and at the same moment Mary Louise sank unconscious in her seat. A stone, hurled from the tree above her, had hit her right on the head!

  CHAPTER VIII

  Knocked Out

  Max, who was standing on the ground near by, heard the heavy thud of the stone as it hit the floor of the car. Turning about sharply, he saw Mary Louise slumped in her seat, unconscious from the blow. He flung open the door and jumped in beside her.

  “Mary Lou! Mary Lou! Are you alive?” he cried desperately.

  The girl did not answer.

  “Help! Help!” he shrieked, at the top of his lungs.

  A mocking laugh sounded from the tree above. Max looked up, but in the darkness he could see no one. How he wished he had his flashlight! But it was behind in the rumble seat, and he daren’t waste a minute; he must get Mary Lou to a doctor with all possible speed.

  Starting his engine immediately—for there was no reply to his call for help—he circled around the tree and crept cautiously down the slippery hill, praying as he had never prayed before. Oh, suppose Mary Louise were dead!

  With as much speed as he dared put on, he drove back to the Center Square hotel. As he came to a stop he felt a little movement beside him, and Mary Louise raised her head and opened her eyes.

  “Where are we, Max?” she asked. “What happened?”

  “Oh, my darling!” he cried, flinging his arm around her shoulders. “You are alive!”

  The girl managed a feeble laugh.

  “Of course I am. My head hurts dreadfully, though. What happened?”

  “You were hit by a stone—see it there, on the floor?—from that tree we were parked under. It knocked you out.… Now, can you manage to walk up to the hotel, or shall I carry you?”

  “I can walk,” she replied, taking his
arm.

  In the light of the hotel doorway Max saw the blood running down her neck. He wiped it with his handkerchief.

  “Can we have a doctor immediately?” he asked the hotel clerk the moment they were inside the door.

  “Yes, there’s one in the dining room now, eating his dinner. I’ll call him. An accident?”

  Max explained the strange happening at the empty house, but the clerk said he did not know anything about the place. He had not heard of any gangsters in these parts.

  The doctor came immediately and dressed Mary Louise’s head. The cut was not serious, he assured her; it was not in a vital place. When it was washed and bandaged she was able to eat her dinner with enjoyment.

  “Maybe that first person I saw was Margaret Detweiler,” she said. “I wish I could stay here all night and go investigate tomorrow. But Mother wouldn’t approve of it.”

  “I should say not!” thundered Max. “I’m taking you back to Mrs. Hilliard tonight, and I think you had better go home to Riverside tomorrow.”

  “Indeed I won’t, Max. And that reminds me, I have to be at the hotel tonight at eleven o’clock. I want to spy on an elopement.”

  “Elopement! What next?”

  “Well, one of the guests, a Miss Stoddard, who happens to be a niece of the founder of Stoddard House, thinks another guest is eloping tonight. She thinks this couple are responsible for all the robberies at the hotel. You know it was a man who entered my room and stole my watch, so I hoped maybe I could identify this fellow as the burglar. If I could, the mystery would be solved.”

  “And you could go home?”

  “Yes, unless I could find out something more about Margaret Detweiler. But I wouldn’t stay here just on purpose for that. I’d go home and see what I could do from there, with Dad’s help.”

  “What time is it now, I wonder?” asked Max. “We must get back without fail!”

  “I don’t know,” replied Mary Louise regretfully. “I haven’t any watch.”

  “I’m going to buy you one for Christmas, if I get a check from Dad,” announced Max. “Of course, it will be late, but I’ll give you your other present first, so you wouldn’t mind that, would you, Mary Lou?”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” protested the girl. “I couldn’t accept it. If you get a check from your father it’s to buy something for yourself. I’ll get an Ingersoll tomorrow when I’m in town.… Now, what time is it?”

  “It’s half-past eight. If you feel able, I think we better go along, because I don’t dare drive too fast on these slippery roads at night.”

  “I’m all right—I only have a headache now. So let’s get going.”

  Max paid the bill, and they were off.

  “Now, what will your plans be for tomorrow?” he inquired, as they rode along.

  “I’d like to come out here and visit that empty house with a policeman,” she replied. “If it’s possible, I will. But of course I have to see what turns up at the hotel. That is my real job: I’m being paid for it, and my father and Mrs. Hilliard are counting on me to do my best.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you never saw Center Square again,” muttered Max resentfully. “Still, it would be great to catch the guy who threw that rock at you.”

  “And find out whether the girl really was Margaret Detweiler. Yes, and I’d like to see that ugly woman again. I’ve seen her face before somewhere, but I can’t place her. You don’t forget a face like that.”

  “There’s something crooked about their hiding in that house,” remarked Max.

  “Yes, of course.… Well, to continue with my plans: I’ll see what develops tonight. If there really is an elopement, I’ll try to identify that man. If he isn’t anything like my burglar, I’ll believe that Miss Stoddard is guilty herself and that she just made the whole story up to throw suspicion away from herself.”

  Max regarded her admiringly.

  “You are a pretty clever girl, Mary Lou,” he said. “I do think you’ll make a swell detective.”

  “Thanks, Max. But I’m afraid there’s nothing clever about that. It’s just using common sense.”

  “Well, the good detectives say that’s the most important thing: not to let anything escape their notice and to use common sense all the time.”

  They talked of other things for a while, of school and dances and basketball. Finally they reached Stoddard House, a little after ten o’clock.

  “Oh, I do hope we’re in time!” exclaimed Mary Louise.

  They found the hotel almost deserted. Mrs. Hilliard was sitting in a chair, knitting. Nobody else was around.

  “Did you have a good time, dear?” she asked, after Max had been introduced to her.

  “An exciting time,” replied the young man. “Mary Lou was hit on the head with a stone and knocked out. But detectives have to expect that sort of thing, I suppose.”

  “Sh!” warned the girl. “Nobody except Mrs. Hilliard is supposed to know I’m acting as detective.”

  “I didn’t k-n-o-w that!” apologized Max, in the tone of Joe Penner.

  Mrs. Hilliard looked troubled. “Tell me what happened,” she urged.

  Briefly Mary Louise related the story, and the good woman was relieved to hear that the blow was not serious. She was thankful, too, that the job at Stoddard House had not been responsible for it.

  “Are the Weinbergers still here?” was Mary Louise’s next question.

  “Mrs. Weinberger is. But her daughter went out early this afternoon, and I don’t think she came back. Her mother was in a great stew at supper time. You would think from the way she carries on that her daughter was a girl in her teens instead of a woman of twenty-eight or so.”

  A look of disappointment crossed Mary Louise’s face.

  “I must see Miss Stoddard,” she announced. “Max, you wait here with Mrs. Hilliard till I come back, because I may need you. I shan’t be gone long.”

  She ran off and took the elevator to the third floor and knocked at Miss Stoddard’s door.

  “Who is it?” was the query.

  “Mary Louise Gay. May I come in, Miss Stoddard?”

  The woman turned the key in the lock and opened the door. She was dressed in a kimono and slippers.

  “You’re too late, Miss Gay,” she said. “Miss Weinberger has already eloped. I’m sure of it. I saw her get into a taxi this afternoon, and one of the maids came out and brought her her suitcase. She probably had hidden it somewhere from her mother. She’s probably married by now—and run off with all the money and jewelry from Stoddard House!”

  “Oh!” gasped Mary Louise in dismay. “Why wasn’t I here! Did you see the man, Miss Stoddard?”

  “No—unless he was the taxi driver. But I didn’t even get a good look at him.”

  “Probably she was to join him somewhere. He wouldn’t risk coming near the house in broad daylight if he was the burglar who entered my room.”

  “No, that’s true.”

  “If Hortense Weinberger really is married,” said Mary Louise, “don’t you suppose her mother will hear about it tomorrow? And if I keep in touch with her mother, I ought to see the man when he comes back from the honeymoon.”

  “Mrs. Weinberger was planning to leave Stoddard House tomorrow,” returned Miss Stoddard.

  “Yes, I know. But this may alter her plans. And besides, she will surely give her forwarding address to Mrs. Hilliard. She has no reason to hide; she doesn’t have any idea that her daughter or her husband is suspected of stealing.”

  “I hope you’re right, Miss Gay.… Now, tell me what happened to your head.”

  “I was riding in an open car, and a stone fell out of a tree and hit me,” she answered simply.

  The older woman pulled down the corners of her mouth and looked doubtful.

  “Of course, she’s thinking I’m just a wild young girl,” Mary Louise concluded. But it really didn’t matter in the least to her what Miss Stoddard chose to believe about her. “Well, I must get to bed, Miss Stoddard,” she
said aloud. “So good-night.”

  “Good-night,” returned the other, carefully locking the door after Mary Louise went out.

  A moment later the girl joined Mrs. Hilliard and Max on the first floor.

  “Miss Stoddard thinks Miss Weinberger eloped this afternoon,” she announced.

  Mrs. Hilliard laughed incredulously.

  “Old maids love to imagine romances,” she said. “Well, we’ll see.… Now, don’t you think you had better go to bed?” she asked Mary Louise in a motherly way.

  “Yes, I do,” agreed the girl, “Max, if you’re still here, I’d be glad to have you come to lunch with me tomorrow. We’re allowed to have men to meals, aren’t we, Mrs. Hilliard?”

  “Certainly, dear.”

  “Nix on that!” protested the young man immediately. “Can you imagine me—one lone fellow—in that dining room full of dames? Looking me over and snickering at the way I wear my hair or tie my shoes? Nothing doing! I’ll call for you at one, Mary Lou, and we’ll go out somewhere to lunch.”

  “Okay.,” agreed the girl, smiling. “See you then!”

  CHAPTER IX

  Lunch at the Bellevue

  Mary Louise slept late the following morning. The dining-room doors had been closed for an hour when Mrs. Hilliard finally came into her room.

  “What time is it, Mrs. Hilliard?” she inquired, opening her eyes and staring at the bright sunlight pouring through the windows.

  “It’s almost eleven o’clock. I thought you had better sleep this morning, Mary Louise, on account of your head. How do you feel?”

  “Oh, I’m all right, Mrs. Hilliard, thank you. But this is no time for anybody with a job to get up! I’ll get fired.”

  The woman laughed.

  “My dear, you are doing all that anybody could do, I believe. I am afraid the situation is hopeless. Mrs. Weinberger moved out this morning.”

  “Did she hear from her daughter?”

  “Yes, she had a telegram. She is married and has gone to New York for a honeymoon over Christmas.”

  “How did her mother take it?”

  “Very badly. She seemed all cut up about it. The man has a job as a taxi driver, and though Mrs. Weinberger has never met him, she is sure he is a rough, uneducated fellow.”