The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  “Herman Crocker is a queer old duck,” the detective replied. “I don’t doubt he abuses the boy.”

  “We ought to do something about it, Dad,” Penny said earnestly.

  “Now don’t get worked up over the affair. We haven’t any proof that the boy is mistreated. If the local authorities aren’t interested in the case, we have no call to interfere. We’d only stir up a tempest in a teapot.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Penny admitted reluctantly. “You usually are.”

  “I’d forget the Crocker family if I were you. Try to enjoy your vacation.”

  Penny did not wish to forget about Perry. She felt that he deserved a better fate than life with a queer old man like Herman Crocker.

  Later in the evening as she sat with a book, she kept thinking of the boy. She could not keep her mind on anything she read.

  At nine o’clock it began to rain. The wind, steadily growing stronger, rattled the windowpanes.

  “I’m afraid this will be a noisy place tonight,” commented Mr. Nichols. “But I’m drowsy enough to sleep through anything.”

  Mrs. Masterbrook had retired soon after the dishes were washed. After getting himself a drink in the kitchen, Mr. Nichols announced that he too was going to bed.

  “I’ll be coming along in a few minutes,” Penny said. “How about the doors? Shall I lock them?”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t do any harm,” replied the detective carelessly. “But on a night like this there’s no chance anyone will visit us—”

  Mr. Nichols’ voice trailed slowly away. As if in contradiction to his words, there came a sharp rap on the door.

  CHAPTER VI

  The Attic Door

  “It seems that you are wrong, Dad,” commented Penny dryly. “Already we have a visitor.”

  Mr. Nichols went to the door and flung it open. The light revealed a bedraggled young man who might have been in his early twenties. He was not very well dressed and his clothes were rain soaked. Penny and her father regarded the stranger a trifle suspiciously until he spoke.

  “I beg your pardon,” the young man said apologetically, “but I am looking for the Herman Crocker place. Would you be kind enough to direct me?”

  “Why, certainly,” replied the detective. “Come in out of the rain, won’t you?”

  “Thanks, but my shoes are covered with mud.”

  “You can’t harm anything in this cottage,” said Penny. “Come right in.”

  The young man stepped over the threshold, removing his limp felt hat. He had sandy hair, Penny observed, and penetrating blue eyes which roved swiftly about the room.

  “It’s a nasty night,” said Mr. Nichols. “Have you walked far?”

  “All the way from Kendon.”

  “Then you went right past Herman Crocker’s place. It’s a large house to the left of the road.”

  “The rain is coming down so fast I couldn’t see very far ahead of me,” the young man replied. “This was the first light I saw along the way.”

  “It may be that Mr. Crocker has gone to bed,” Penny remarked. “I imagine he retires early.”

  “Will he be expecting you?” inquired the detective.

  “Why, no, he won’t,” the young man replied after a slight hesitation. “I suspect he’ll be very much surprised to see me.”

  “We have a telephone,” Penny said. “If you like, I’ll call Mr. Crocker for you. He might be willing to drive up and get you.”

  “Oh, please don’t go to any bother,” returned the young man quickly, edging toward the door again.

  “It won’t be any trouble at all.”

  “Please, I’d rather you wouldn’t. I’ll not mind the walk.”

  Penny glanced sharply at the young man. It was plain to see that he had some special motive for not wishing to give Herman Crocker advance notice of his arrival in the community.

  Without having any real reason for such a belief, it suddenly struck Penny that the young man’s visit might have some connection with the mysterious call which Walter Crocker had made upon his uncle.

  “I take it you’re a stranger in these parts,” remarked Mr. Nichols. He too was studying the young man curiously.

  “Well, yes, I am. I’m here to see Mr. Crocker on rather important business.”

  “You’ll be his second out-of-town visitor this week,” Penny commented in a casual tone. “Mr. Crocker’s nephew was here, but I understand he has gone back to the city.”

  “Mr. Crocker’s nephew?” asked the young man quickly.

  “Yes,” said Penny, watching him closely. “Walter Crocker.”

  A strange look came into the young man’s eyes. An expression of astonishment gave way to one of wariness.

  “You are acquainted with Walter Crocker perhaps?” asked Penny, ignoring her father’s warning glance.

  “I have heard of him,” replied the young man after a brief hesitation. He turned once more toward the door.

  As he opened it a strong gust of wind blew a sheet of rain into the room.

  “See here, you can’t go out in that,” said Mr. Nichols firmly. “Let me telephone Crocker and tell him you’re here.”

  The young man shook his head.

  “Then I’ll put on chains and take you down there in my car.”

  “No, I’d rather not have you go to any bother on my account. I don’t mind a little rain.”

  “It’s blowing a gale and the storm is getting worse every minute,” the detective insisted. “Herman Crocker keeps a vicious dog too. If you walk in there without being expected, you may receive an unpleasant reception.”

  “I wasn’t looking for a very cordial one anyway,” the young man said slowly. “But thanks for the tip about the dog. Maybe it would be just as well to go back to town for the night.”

  “There’s no need to do that,” said Mr. Nichols. “You’re welcome to stay here if you like. Our quarters aren’t very luxurious, but at least it will be better than walking back to the village.”

  “I’ll get Mrs. Masterbrook to help me fix up one of the bedrooms right away,” Penny added quickly.

  “It’s very kind of you,” said the young man, looking troubled. “You know nothing about me—”

  “We’re not worried upon that score,” replied Mr. Nichols with a smile. “But you might tell us your name.”

  “Oh, yes, to be sure—” stammered the young man. “Just call me Michael—Michael Haymond.”

  “I am very glad to know you, Mr. Haymond,” returned the detective. “May I take your coat and hat? I’ll build up the fire so that your things will dry out.”

  Penny crossed the room intending to call Mrs. Masterbrook. As she opened the door leading into the hallway she saw the housekeeper hastily retreating into her own bedroom. Obviously she had been listening to the conversation.

  “Mrs. Masterbrook!” called Penny.

  “Well, what is it?” asked the housekeeper, re-opening her door.

  “A guest is spending the night. Will you please help me prepare the east bedroom?”

  “This is a nice time to start making up beds,” the housekeeper complained. “I was just ready to undress.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Masterbrook. I’ll do it myself.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t willing to help,” the housekeeper said quickly. “Only if you ask me, you’re making a big mistake to take a perfect stranger into the house.”

  “What makes you think he’s a stranger?” asked Penny quickly.

  “I couldn’t help hearing what he told you,” Mrs. Masterbrook returned with a toss of her head. “I don’t believe for a single minute that his name is Michael Haymond. Anyone could tell that he was lying.”

  “Who do you think he is?” asked Penny. “A ‘G’ man in disguise?”

  “He looks more like a young criminal to me,” Mrs. Masterbrook replied soberly. “His face is very familiar.”

  “Dear me, how did you manage to see him? Not through the keyhole?”

  Th
e housekeeper had not meant to betray herself. She flushed and made no answer.

  “If you care to meet Mr. Haymond, come into the living room,” Penny invited. “I think you’ll find him to be a very nice young man.”

  “No, thank you, I don’t wish to meet him,” said the housekeeper coldly. “And if the cottage is robbed during the night, kindly don’t blame me.”

  “All right, I won’t,” laughed Penny.

  The bedroom which the guest was to occupy adjoined Mr. Nichols’ sleeping quarters. Long after the house had settled down for the night, Penny could hear sounds from that part of the cottage. Either her father or Mr. Haymond was very restless.

  “It may have been unwise to take a stranger into the house,” the girl reflected, “but he seemed honest enough. I don’t see why Mrs. Masterbrook had to act so hateful about it.”

  For some time Penny remained awake thinking over the information which Michael Haymond had given about himself. He had not told where he lived nor had he mentioned the nature of his business with Herman Crocker. She had fancied that the young man had seemed somewhat shaken by her reference to Walter Crocker.

  “I may have imagined that part,” she told herself. “Dad didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.”

  Shortly Penny fell asleep. Several hours later she found herself wide awake again. She did not know what had aroused her.

  Although Penny had left the curtains up, the room was dark. She could still hear the rain pattering against the tin roof.

  Then the girl became aware of another sound. She heard a floor board creak. Someone was moving softly down the hallway.

  “I wonder who is up at this hour?” she thought.

  For a minute Penny lay perfectly still, listening. Then she crept noiselessly from bed. Drawing on her dressing gown, she tiptoed to the door.

  The hall was dark. At first she could distinguish nothing; then she made out a shadowy figure at the far end. Someone was trying to open the door which led up to the attic.

  CHAPTER VII

  Penny’s Discovery

  “Is that you, father?” Penny asked.

  When there was no answer, she reached up and pressed the electric switch. The hallway became flooded with light. Penny and Michael Haymond stood blinking at each other, both deeply embarrassed.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” stammered the young man. “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone. I was just after a drink of water.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t find it in the attic,” replied Penny. “Not unless the roof is leaking.”

  “The attic?” Michael Haymond repeated. “I must be turned around then. I thought this door led to the living room.”

  Penny could not be certain whether or not the young man was telling the truth. It was entirely possible that he had become confused in the dark hallway. She could not imagine any reason why he would have wished to investigate the attic.

  Before Penny could frame a reply Mr. Nichols’ door opened and the detective peered out.

  “Anything wrong?” he asked.

  “I am afraid I have disturbed the entire household,” the young man apologized. “I was only looking for a drink of water.”

  “There’s no harm in that, I’m sure,” replied Mr. Nichols pleasantly. “I’ll get you one.”

  “It really doesn’t matter,” the young man murmured.

  Just then Mrs. Masterbrook’s door swung open. The housekeeper, garbed in an old-fashioned nightgown and with her hair done up in curlers, looked out into the hall.

  “Dear me, what is going on here?” she asked crossly. “After working hard all day I’d like to get a little sleep.”

  “It was all my fault,” Michael Haymond apologized again.

  The housekeeper turned to gaze at him. As their eyes met, Mrs. Masterbrook made a strange rasping sound in her throat. Her hand moved instinctively toward her face as if to ward off a blow.

  “Mrs. Masterbrook, I don’t believe you have met our guest,” Mr. Nichols began.

  The housekeeper gave him no opportunity to finish. She moved back into her bedroom and closed the door.

  “Did I offend your housekeeper?” asked Michael Haymond anxiously.

  “Don’t give it a thought,” replied Mr. Nichols, lowering his voice. “Mrs. Masterbrook is a very odd character. She may have felt embarrassed because she wasn’t dressed up for the occasion. Come along now and we’ll get that drink of water.”

  Penny went back into her room and sat down on the bed. Apparently her father had not distrusted Michael Haymond’s motives nor had he considered Mrs. Masterbrook’s rude action as anything out of the way.

  “Dad takes everything casually,” Penny thought.

  She could hear her father and Michael Haymond in the kitchen laughing and talking together. The icebox door slammed shut. Evidently they were indulging in a snack of food.

  “Mrs. Masterbrook will be furious in the morning,” Penny chuckled. “She seems to detest Michael Haymond anyway. For a moment I thought she appeared to recognize him, but I suppose she was merely trying to be dramatic. That’s the trouble with Mrs. Masterbrook—she’s usually acting a part.”

  Penny allowed her thoughts to ramble at will until she heard her father and Michael Haymond enter their rooms. The hall light was switched out. Once more the house quieted down.

  Penny crept back into bed, but she could not sleep. She felt strangely excited.

  Throughout the night there was no further disturbance. After a few hours the rain ceased and stars began to straggle through the clouds. The wind died down.

  Penny tossed restlessly upon her pillow. Now and then she could hear Mrs. Masterbrook’s bed creak in the next room as if the housekeeper also were spending a sleepless night.

  At dawn Penny arose and, quietly dressing, let herself out of the cottage. The grounds were muddy, but everything seemed fresh and green. Birds chirped and the earth gave off a pleasant odor.

  At breakfast time Penny returned to the house, feeling none the worse for her sleepless night. As she approached the porch she saw her father and the guest talking earnestly. They turned to greet her.

  “Aren’t you an early bird this morning, Penny?” inquired her father.

  “Oh, I just went for a little walk before breakfast, Dad.”

  Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.

  “You’re lucky to get anything to eat this morning,” she said stiffly. “There’s something the matter with the stove. It doesn’t draw properly and we’re practically out of wood.”

  “Anything else wrong about the place?” Mr. Nichols asked with a sigh.

  “There are enough odd jobs around here to keep a man busy for a week,” replied the housekeeper. “The water pump isn’t working well and someone ought to put on the screens.”

  “I’ll be glad to do that for you,” offered Michael Haymond. “And I’m good at cutting wood too. Is there an ax around here anywhere?”

  “I think I saw one in the basement,” Mr. Nichols told him. “But see here—you’re our guest.”

  “I’ll be glad to do a little to earn my breakfast. I like to work.”

  “I can see you do,” Mr. Nichols smiled. He studied the young man for a moment. Then he asked abruptly, “How would you like a steady job for a few days?”

  “Doing what?”

  “All the odd jobs I’m supposed to do. Can you drive a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you could drive to town for our groceries, see that we have a daily wood supply, and repair all the things around here that are falling to pieces.”

  “Our landlord is expected to see that the place is in livable condition,” Penny said quickly. She felt a little troubled because her father wished to engage the strange young man.

  “If we wait for him to take care of things, we’ll never be comfortable here,” returned Mr. Nichols. He turned again to Michael Haymond. “Perhaps I have spoken out of turn. Probably you aren’t in need of a job.”

  “But I am,” replied th
e young man quickly. “I’ll be glad to work for my board and room.”

  “I think we can do better than that for you,” smiled Mr. Nichols. “Your salary won’t be large, but we’ll keep you in spending money at least.”

  “What shall I do first? Chop the wood?”

  “You might look at the stove and see if you can discover what is wrong with it.”

  “Okay,” laughed the young man. “I know a little about cook stoves. We had one at the—”

  He stopped abruptly and then finished in confusion: “We had a cook stove at the place where I lived.”

  “And where was that, young man?” asked Mrs. Masterbrook tartly.

  “It doesn’t matter in the least,” interposed Mr. Nichols smoothly. “Mr. Haymond’s affairs are his own.”

  “There’s no great mystery about my past,” said the young man. “I came from the West. My parents are dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Mr. Nichols sympathetically.

  Michael Haymond stood gazing thoughtfully toward the ravine for a moment. Then, recovering himself, he followed Mrs. Masterbrook into the house to look at the cook stove.

  “Now Penny—don’t say it,” declared Mr. Nichols when he was alone with his daughter.

  “Don’t say what, Dad?”

  “That I’m making a big mistake to hire young Haymond. I can see you feel that way.”

  “Well, yes, I do,” Penny admitted. “I like Michael a lot, but I don’t exactly trust him. He hasn’t told us much about himself—”

  “That’s his own business. I haven’t any patience with folks who go prying into other persons’ private affairs.”

  “I thought that was the work of a detective,” Penny said teasingly.

  “When a man commits a crime, then his actions become a matter of public concern,” Mr. Nichols replied. “I had a long talk with Michael last night and if I’m any judge of character, he’s a decent sort. I don’t intend to pry into his personal affairs just for the pleasure of it.”

  “Well, if the tin spoons disappear don’t blame me,” Penny laughed, imitating the housekeeper’s shrill voice.

  “Young Michael will save me a great deal of petty annoyance,” Mr. Nichols went on. “I mean for him to serve as a buffer between me and Mrs. Masterbrook.”