Groups of students on the steps were discussing the dean’s talk, the coming tea dance, and the ever intruding lessons, which, dance or not, must be endured.
Suddenly Sim saw Mary Todd.
“Have you heard anything, Mary?” she asked.
“No, it’s too soon. Give them a few more days,” called back Mary.
“Don’t be so anxious, Sim,” advised Arden. “You’d think we just couldn’t wait to find out about those boys.”
“Well, I am anxious. If they don’t take us, I don’t know how we’ll get there.” Sim sighed, certainly a little downcast.
“Don’t worry. We’ll go all right, and probably make a big hit, too!” Terry was climbing the steps now. “I’ll think it out in Latin class. I do some of my best thinking there.”
“See you later!” Arden waved a hand, laughing. “I’m due at math, worse luck!” and she hurried into the building.
Terry and Sim followed. They were already lost in daydreams of music, laughter, lights, and gayety: the prospective coming dance.
“Say, listen, Sim,” exclaimed Terry suddenly, taking hold of Sim’s arm to assure attention.
“What is it, darling?” joked Sim. “Got a better idea for our dance boy supply?”
“No, nothing about that. But you know our Tom who got that mysterious blow the other night?”
“Do I?”
“Well, I heard him telling one of the gardeners about it, and he was laughing it off.”
“Well, what’s wrong about that?” demanded Sim.
“Sounded flooey to me. He said he merely tripped over a tree stump and another stump cut his head.”
“Maybe he did,” Sim casually answered.
“And maybe he didn’t,” retorted Terry significantly.
CHAPTER IX
The Disappearance of Sim
Class matters went all too slowly between the time of the tea dance announcement and the affair itself. Lessons were slighted with bold abandon as the girls made their preparations, their universal excuse being:
“We can make it up later.”
At last it was the day. Soon after noon the college buildings began emptying rapidly, and excited students, carrying overnight bags, hurried to the little station for the New York trains.
It was great fun going in to the city. The seniors and juniors were, of course, literally “on their own,” but the lower-class girls were chaperoned by the ever-watchful Mrs. Malvern.
The train was crowded, but Arden and her friends, after some tactful pushing, managed to get seats together.
“It was fine of Mary Todd to help us get the boys to go to the dance with. And it wasn’t so hard in her own case, for she lives so near New York. None of the boys we know could travel so far for a tea dance.” Terry was chattering excitedly.
“Yes, it was nice,” Sim agreed. “I was certainly relieved when I heard they could come. If Mother lets me have a house party at Christmas, we could invite them.”
“Do you mean the boys or the girls?” asked Arden.
“I mean the boys,” supplied Sim.
“How perfectly grand!” exclaimed Terry.
“Of course, we haven’t seen the boys yet,” continued Arden. “So perhaps we had better wait until we do.”
“And of course, I haven’t asked Mother about the party yet, either. It was just an idea,” Sim concluded.
“Oh—Sim!” was all Arden and Terry could say to that admission, and presently they lapsed into silence while the train clicked on.
The ride to New York from Cedar Ridge was hardly long enough, and it seemed no time at all before the various groups of girls were alighting from the variously colored taxis in front of the Chancellor Hotel.
Then up to their rooms in the gorgeous bird-cage elevators, to unpack their dresses and give last-minute touches to hair, hands, and complexions.
“Sim looks simply darling!” observed Arden in an aside to Terry. “As long as she is small and child-like, I think she’s wise in making the most of it.”
“Yes, she does look sweet,” agreed Terry. “And you look nice, too, Arden. I like that color on you. Your hair has a dandy wave. I think that was a good beauty shop, don’t you?”
“Very good,” assented Arden. “And to complete the circle, Terry, you look—wonderful!”
“Thanks!”
Sim was so busy preening herself before a large glass set in the closet door that she took no part in the conversation until, all at once, she seemed satisfied with her appearance and, turning to her chums, remarked:
“Your dress is just perfect, Arden—blue is surely your color. And green is yours, Terry: you look sweet. And I think we all three are credits to Cedar Ridge. But let’s go down. It’s late, and we have to find Mary and meet the boys. They must have been waiting a long time.”
So they left their room after many last-minute touches, and with some temerity descended to the ballroom. Already lights were casting soft glows over the tapestry-hung walls. The orchestra was playing a lively tune, and several couples were dancing in the stately Louis XIV room. Smartly dressed girls and good-looking boys were laughing and talking together in little knots, their eager anticipation being distinctly felt if not actually heard.
“Have you seen Mary Todd anywhere?” Sim had a chance to ask Helen Burns, a classmate, who was apparently waiting for someone at the door of the ballroom.
“Oh, hello, Sim!” Helen greeted. “You look lovely! Yes, I saw Mary and Jane and Ethel and a whole lot of boys over there in that small room.” She pointed toward a sort of alcove off the dancing space.
“Oh, gosh, Arden!” Sim’s poise was leaving her. “What shall we do now? Wait! There’s Mary. I see her!”
“Why, let’s go over and speak to her, of course,” suggested Arden. “Your nerve seems to be deserting you, Sim. You got us into this very nicely, but you don’t seem so brave about it just now.”
“You lead the way, Arden, and we’ll follow,” Terry said, smoothing her bright hair. “I’ve never been in a situation just like this before. I feel almost as frightened as though I were in the orchard!”
“Hey there! No orchards tonight, girlie,” cautioned Arden. “Come on, children! We’ll get the introductions over with, and the rest will be easy.” Arden started toward Mary who was chatting with several young men.
Then Mary looked up, saw Arden coming toward her, followed by Sim and Terry, and went halfway to meet the trio. So it wasn’t so difficult, after all, to cross to the small room where the boys were waiting.
“Arden,” said Mary formally, “may I present my brother Jim? This is Arden Blake, Jim. I’ve told you about her.”
“How do you do?” greeted Jim. “Mary wrote me all about your adventure.”
Arden was wondering just what Mary had referred to, but there was no time to ask, for the others were now being presented, Sim and Terry taking their turns. Sim was now her vivacious self, and Terry had lost all her nervousness. Could one boy have brought them such reassurance?
Then Ethel Anderson’s brother Ed, a tall, good-looking boy, asked Sim to dance, and soon she was humming “Tea for Two” as though they were old friends. Yes, boys did inspire confidence just like that.
Terry was dancing with Dick Randall, talking and laughing as they whirled about the big, beautiful room. It truly was exciting.
Next Arden and Mary Todd’s brother Jim joined the dancers. Arden unconsciously made a pretty picture as she looked up smiling at the handsome boy. She was thinking how easily the introductions had gone off after all and how glad she was to be there. Then, as the music stopped, she glanced about her inquiringly.
“There are not as many here as I thought there would be,” she remarked. “I wonder if the sophomores will clear expenses and make something for repairing the swimming pool?”
“You sound almost as if you wished they wouldn’t,” observed Jim, somewhat curiously.
“It isn’t that, exactly,” went on Arden. “But, you see, I had sort of
planned on raising the money for the pool myself—with the help of Sim and Terry. I suppose it doesn’t matter, though, if they have more than they need, just as long as they don’t have less.”
“You talk like Alice in Wonderland and you remind me of her, too,” laughed Jim. “But that’s rather a tall order, isn’t it? Trying to raise such a large sum by yourselves—just you girls?”
“About a thousand dollars,” admitted Arden. “I know it sounds awfully conceited, but back at school, in the post office—”
Arden was interrupted by Ed Anderson coming to claim her for a dance. “I’ll tell you some other time,” she explained gayly to Jim, and to her waiting partner she smiled a little coquettishly as she put up her arms in the correct position as he danced away with her. No thought of ugly orchards now; even college could be forgotten with that rapturous music. Arden was a pretty dancer.
The rest of the afternoon dissolved into a lovely kaleidoscope of color, music, and lights. The three sophomore hazers of the trio from 513, headed by Toots Everett, managed the affair extremely well as far as the social end of it was concerned. Arden and her chums had occasional glimpses of “the apple trio,” as they were sometimes thought of, surreptitiously regarding them and the good-looking boys with whom the freshmen danced so often.
Was there envy in the glances?
Now and then an ominous “good-bye” intruded upon the pleasant dream Arden was living in, until, as though she were slowly awakening, she realized that the party was over.
The boys and girls of Arden’s little group were gathered in a corner near the ballroom door. Like overlapping broadcasts of sound, the farewells and thank-yous crossed and crisscrossed among them.
“I want to say good-bye to Sim.”
Ed Anderson’s smiling request caused them all suddenly to stop talking and look at one another.
“Where is she?” Dick Randall asked. “I haven’t seen her for a long time.”
“I don’t know. She should be somewhere around here. We must find her quickly. We have scarcely time to dress and catch the eight-thirty train back to Cedar Ridge!” Arden exclaimed.
“She knew we were to meet her here when the dance was over,” Terry said petulantly. “Come, Arden, let’s go look for her! We have to hurry.”
CHAPTER X
What to Do
Like the reflection of a cloud in a pool of water, a shadow passed over the face of Arden Blake as Terry spoke to her. But she acted quickly.
“I’m sorry we must go so soon,” Arden said to the somewhat puzzled boys. “But if we miss that train we’ll probably be campused. I’m sure Sim has some good excuse for her absence, but we’d better find her and learn what it is. I’ll have to say good-bye for her. I really don’t know what to think.”
“It’s all right,” Dick Randall remarked. “You and Terry go along. Perhaps Sim is upstairs waiting for you.”
“She doesn’t usually do things like this. But I suppose we really should go up,” Arden agreed. “We haven’t much time.”
Saying good-bye again, Terry and Arden left the group of boys and walked toward the elevator. But when they reached the room, high up in the large hotel, Sim’s bag was closed and packed, as Terry discovered, on the middle of the bed. And she exclaimed:
“She isn’t here, Arden! We must phone Mary Todd’s room.”
“I’ll do it,” Arden promptly offered. “She may be down there talking things over.” She hurried to the instrument.
But Mary Todd hadn’t seen Sim since early afternoon!
“Don’t say anything to anyone, will you, Mary?” Arden pleaded. “I don’t want Mrs. Malvern to know yet.”
“Of course not!” Mary answered. “But Sim will turn up. Don’t worry! ’Bye!” and she hung up.
“She isn’t there, either,” said Arden, turning to Terry. “What’s the next move?”
Terry considered. “Well, this is a pretty big place. Sim may be—”
The telephone jingled shrilly. Both girls sprang to answer, but Terry got there first.
“Yes, Mrs. Malvern,” she said sweetly. “We’re all ready, and we’ll be in the lobby in a few minutes. Yes. Good-bye!”
Quickly she turned from the telephone.
“Oh, what shall we do? Mrs. Malvern will see that Sim isn’t with us! Think of something, Arden! Quick!”
“We’ll have to go down, anyhow,” said Arden, pulling her dress over her head. “Maybe, in the crowd, she won’t notice that Sim is missing. Hurry, Terry, and change your dress.”
“I am hurrying. I’m as nearly ready as you are. We mustn’t show we are excited. She really could be—lots of places.”
“Whatever possessed Sim to do a thing like this?” Arden was struggling with her garments.
“She’s probably got some idea into her head. Unless she’s been kidnapped and is being held for a ransom!”
Both girls stopped their dressing, suddenly frightened, Terry no less, though she had spoken the words. They had been spoken jokingly, but the possibility of such a terrible happening was not pleasant to consider.
“Oh, Terry! Do you think we better tell Mrs. Malvern after all? The police—”
“No! No! I was only joking. I have a lot of confidence in Sim. She can take care of herself. She knows people in New York. If she isn’t in the lobby when we get there, we’ll have to decide what to do then.” Terry was putting on her hat.
“I’m ready. I’ll take her bag and mine. You shut the door.”
Arden swept a last glance around the room. She stepped into the corridor, followed by Terry, who pulled the door shut. They both quickly looked down the long hall. It was empty.
“Hurry, Arden, into the elevator, before someone sees there are only two of us when there should be three!”
By the greatest of good luck the elevator came quickly in answer to their ring. It was almost filled with chattering girls, and when it reached the ground floor it was impossible to see who got off.
The girls for Cedar Ridge were assembled in the magnificent lobby; a happy, chattering, laughing group. Terry and Arden, in unspoken agreement, worked themselves gradually as near to the center of the throng as they could, hoping Mrs. Malvern’s gimlet eyes would not note the absence of Sim.
“Come, girls, get together!” The chaperon was herding them toward the door leading to the waiting cabs. “Tell the driver to take you to Thirty-third Street tube station and there take a train for Hoboken. When you get there, ask at the information desk which is the next train for Cedar Ridge, and don’t forget to sign in as soon as you get back. That is important. We shall have to separate from now on.”
So far so good. Terry and Arden guiltily got into a gaudy taxi with three other girls. The two were thinking so much about Sim; wondering if, should they go on thinking, some subconscious influence would not cause someone to ask about her. The only thing to do was to talk to the other girls about the dance to keep their thoughts occupied with that subject.
“Did they make any money, do you know?” Arden asked a strange girl, one of the three riding with her and Terry.
“They cleared expenses, but I heard they only have a few dollars over.”
“It was a nice party, anyhow,” Terry put in, looking anxiously out of the window. “The music was grand!”
And that ended the half-hearted attempt at conversation. Both Arden and Terry had too much on their minds to do much talking. The other girls were intimately whispering among themselves. They seemed to give no thought to the missing Sim, nor to the fact that Arden and Terry had been two of a trio, inseparable, but were now only a duet.
Their problem was a difficult one.
Where was Sim?
If she was not waiting at the tube station or in Hoboken, what should they do? How could they get back to Cedar Ridge without Mrs. Malvern or someone with inquisitive authority finding out about the missing girl?
Arden privately decided, if they did not find Sim at either station, to tell Mrs. Malvern at the first opp
ortunity.
Terry, whose thoughts were following the same line as were Arden’s, decided, if they reached Cedar Ridge and found no trace of Sim, that it would be best at once to telephone from college to the parents of the missing girl and ask for advice.
There was a milling throng on the platform of the Thirty-third Street tube station on one side of which trains left for Jersey City and Newark, and on the other side for Hoboken and thence to Cedar Ridge. As well as they could, Terry and Arden peered through the crowd for Sim. But she was not to be seen, and the hope thermometer in their hearts went nearer the zero mark.
The train was crowded, and it was almost impossible for Arden and Terry to converse above the noise. It didn’t matter. They had nothing of interest to talk about, now. They looked anxiously at each other. Were they deserting Sim? Or rather, were they not showing real confidence in her? She must be safe! The excitement of the travel was helping to cheer her chums.
When Hoboken terminus was reached and the crowds poured out as they had flowed in, once more the two sought anxiously among the many faces. But though there were scores of their fellow students hurrying to catch the next Cedar Ridge train, Sim was not among them.
“She may be on the platform waiting for us,” suggested Terry with a hope she did not feel.
“Maybe,” Arden murmured prayerfully.
They almost stumbled up the concrete steps in their haste. The ramp, from the iron gates of which departed many trains for many places, was another place of milling crowds outside the station. A man in a portable information booth was answering questions in a very patient manner.
By listening, without asking, Terry and Arden learned from which track their train departed and the time. They had a few precious minutes left.
“Let’s look around out here and then go inside,” proposed Terry, who was lugging along Sim’s bag with her own.
“She isn’t here,” Arden sighed, after a search. “Let’s go inside the station.”
There they looked about the big vaulted room: ticket offices on one side, a rank of telephone booths on another, a buffet restaurant, a magazine stand, a large candy booth. All of these spots were eagerly scanned without result.
The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 152
