The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  “It’s really mine, Mr. Turner,” Perry insisted. “I can tell because I made a new wick for it out of an old piece of white cloth. Someone has smashed the isinglass.”

  Mr. Turner again glanced inquiringly toward Penny. She nodded her head as a signal that he was to give the lantern to the boy.

  “Very well, Perry, here you are,” the storekeeper said, handing him the toy. “Now what kind of candy do you want?”

  He filled the order and Perry left the store without observing Penny and Susan. Through the plate glass window the girls saw him show the toy lantern to his grandfather. Then he climbed into the car and they drove away.

  “I hope I did right to let him take the toy,” said the storekeeper anxiously.

  “Yes, you did,” said Penny quietly. “The lantern has served its purpose now.”

  “I was very much surprised that it belonged to Perry,” went on Mr. Turner.

  “It was somewhat of a shock to me too,” Penny acknowledged.

  “Your father told me a little about the case,” the storekeeper continued. “I fear that this clue has no significance for Perry’s grandfather is an upstanding man in the community.”

  “I quite understand,” replied Penny gravely. “Thank you for going to so much trouble to help my father. I’m sure that he’ll not wish you to speak of this matter to anyone.”

  “I’ll keep it to myself,” Mr. Turner promised. “If there is anything more I can do, let me know.”

  The instant that the girls were outside the store they lost their serene attitude.

  “Now what’s our move?” asked Susan tensely.

  “We must get home as fast as we can and tell Dad,” Penny replied. “This clue has a lot more significance than Mr. Turner believes. It probably means that Herman Crocker is the man who took the Kirmenbach jewels!”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Inside the Gabled House

  Penny and Susan ran nearly all of the way back up Knob Hill. They were quite out of breath by the time they reached the cottage.

  “Is there a fire somewhere?” inquired Mr. Nichols, who was reading the evening paper on the porch. “Or are you girls running a race?”

  Penny cast a quick glance about to be certain that neither Michael nor Mrs. Masterbrook were near.

  “Dad,” she announced impressively. “The toy lantern has been claimed.”

  The detective dropped his paper and quickly arose.

  “By whom?” he asked.

  “It was Perry Crocker who took the lantern away, Dad. Susan and I were in the store when he came in for candy.”

  “He made a positive identification?”

  “Oh, yes, Dad,” Penny declared. “Perry told Mr. Turner that he had constructed the wick from an old piece of cloth in the house.”

  “Then it looks as if Herman Crocker may be mixed up in the robbery.”

  “Don’t you remember that from the very first I said he was a suspicious character,” Penny reminded her father.

  “Yes, I remember,” Mr. Nichols replied dryly.

  “What will you do now, Dad? Have Mr. Crocker arrested?”

  “Not without more evidence against him,” returned the detective. “Our clue is an important one but it may not lead where we expect. It’s a serious matter to arrest a man on a false charge.”

  “But it must be Herman Crocker,” Penny argued. “We know Perry couldn’t have committed the robbery.”

  “You say that you saw Herman in town?” Mr. Nichols inquired.

  “Yes, he waited for Perry in the car and then drove away.”

  “Toward home?”

  “Why, I didn’t notice,” Penny admitted.

  “I did,” Susan declared, eager to make a contribution. “He was driving the opposite way.”

  “Then there is a chance he may not have returned home yet,” Mr. Nichols said. “I’m going down there and look around.”

  “May I go along, Dad?” Penny asked eagerly.

  “You both may come,” Mr. Nichols said after a slight hesitation, “but you must do exactly as I say.”

  At that moment Mrs. Masterbrook appeared in the doorway.

  “Supper is ready,” she announced.

  “You’ll have to keep it waiting,” the detective told her. “I’ve just remembered an important engagement.”

  “I always serve at exactly six o’clock,” Mrs. Masterbrook said primly. “The food won’t be good if it stands.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me,” Mr. Nichols returned impatiently. “We’ll hash up our own supper when we get back.”

  As he and the girls walked away, the housekeeper stood watching them with keen displeasure. Penny wondered if the woman guessed that they were going to the Herman Crocker place.

  During the hike down Knob Hill, the girls told Mr. Nichols everything they had learned about Herman Crocker and his nephew, Walter. This time the detective did not term Penny’s ideas wild. He listened in a manner which was most flattering.

  “It’s all a mix-up,” Penny finished. “I feel sure that Mrs. Masterbrook is acquainted with Walter Crocker because she warned him to keep away from our cottage.”

  “Mrs. Masterbrook seems to have her finger in every pie,” commented Mr. Nichols. “But I’m not much concerned with her affairs, or whether or not Old Herman has cheated his nephew. I’m only interested in learning if he is the one who stole the diamond necklace.”

  “If he’d rob his nephew it follows that he’d be the type to take jewels too.”

  “Not necessarily,” answered the detective. “House breaking is a different sort of crime entirely. The fact is, Herman Crocker doesn’t impress me as being the kind of person who would commit such an act.”

  “The evidence is all against him,” Penny argued.

  “It is,” Mr. Nichols agreed. “But one can’t put too much faith in circumstantial proof. We must investigate first and draw our conclusions later.”

  The three were close to the Crocker premises by this time. There was no sign of the old man’s car, and Mr. Nichols felt hopeful that he had not yet returned from town.

  At the entrance of the lane, Mr. Nichols paused.

  “Susan,” he said, “I’d like to have you remain here. If you see Crocker’s car coming up the road, run to the house as fast as you can and call out a warning.”

  “I’ll keep a careful watch,” Susan promised.

  Mr. Nichols and Penny hurried on up the lane. They were quite certain that Mr. Crocker and his grandson had not returned from Kendon, but taking no chance, they pounded several times on the door.

  “The place is empty all right,” Mr. Nichols declared.

  He tried the door and found it locked. Nor could they enter by either the side or rear entrance.

  “How are we going to get in?” Penny asked in disappointment.

  “One of the windows should be unlocked,” Mr. Nichols said, looking up speculatively. “Here, I’ll give you a boost.”

  He lifted Penny on his shoulders so that she could reach one of the high windows.

  “Locked,” she reported.

  “All right, we’ll try another,” said the detective.

  The second window likewise proved to be fastened, but when Penny tried the third one it opened.

  “Good!” exclaimed Mr. Nichols. “Jump down inside and open the door!”

  Penny found herself gazing into an untidy living room. The rug was moth eaten and there was dust everywhere on the old fashioned Victorian furniture. The walls were heavy with family pictures in wooden frames, and Penny’s attention was drawn to a curious feather wreath.

  “Hurry!” warned Mr. Nichols from below.

  “I’ll be there in a jiffy,” Penny called back.

  She jumped lightly down and ran to unfasten the door. Mr. Nichols entered and closed it behind him, turning the night lock.

  “We’ll have to work fast,” he said crisply. “Old Herman may come back any minute.”

  “What do you expect to find?” asked Penny.r />
  “Perhaps the necklace or at least some evidence which will attach Herman to the crime. I’ll start searching in the upstairs bedrooms. You might go through that desk.”

  With a nod of his head, the detective indicated an old fashioned secretary which stood in one corner of the living room.

  The desk was filled to overflowing with papers of all sorts. A quick inspection satisfied Penny that the diamond necklace was not there, but if she had time she meant to examine the papers carefully.

  “When you finish with the desk, start looking through the kitchen cupboards,” Mr. Nichols called down from upstairs.

  Penny was working swiftly at her task when the detective came down to assist her.

  “There’s nothing in the bedrooms,” he reported. “I thought Old Herman might have hidden the jewels in one of the mattresses. Having any luck here?”

  “None yet, but there are a lot of papers in the desk.”

  “We’ll get to those later,” Mr. Nichols nodded.

  The detective made a swift but thorough inspection of the kitchen. He examined the floor boards to see if any had been pried loose and even poked into the rag bag.

  “Here’s something!” he said triumphantly, pulling out a piece of white cloth.

  “Why, that is the same material I saw in Turner’s store!” Penny exclaimed.

  “Yes, it was used to make the wick of the lantern. We’ll keep it for evidence.”

  Mr. Nichols stuffed the cloth into his coat pocket.

  “I’ve looked all through the cupboards,” Penny reported. “I’m going back and examine some of those papers now.”

  “All right,” her father agreed.

  Penny had never seen such a disordered desk. Apparently, Herman Crocker had kept every letter, receipt, and paper which ever came into his possession, tossing all together in one untidy heap.

  Penny thumbed rapidly through the letters, discarding all which were of a strictly business nature. Suddenly she came upon a photograph which had turned yellow with age. A glance assured Penny that it was a likeness of Herman Crocker when he had been some years younger.

  “Just what I need!” she thought triumphantly. “This will be a great deal better than a snapshot!”

  Slipping the photograph into her pocket she went on with her search. In one drawer of the desk she found nothing but old tax receipts showing payments paid by Herman Crocker for both the cottage property and his farm.

  Penny knew she would not have time to examine each receipt in turn so she opened a second drawer. It was crammed with old checks and bank statements. In the very bottom was a thick green book.

  Penny opened it up and saw that it was a detailed expense account running back many years. She was about to toss the book carelessly aside, when a notation on one of the pages caught her eye. The item read:

  “Paid to the Glenhaven Orphan’s Home—$100.00 for keep of Michael Gladwin.”

  Penny stared at the notation for an instant, and then turned toward her father.

  “Dad, I’ve found something important!” she exclaimed. “This account book—”

  Before she could finish, there was a loud pounding on the door.

  “Herman Crocker is coming up the road!” Susan Altman called excitedly. “Hurry or he’ll be here!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  Michael’s Admission

  “Bring the book and come on, Penny,” Mr. Nichols ordered tersely. “We don’t want Crocker to catch us here.”

  Penny snatched up the account book, slammed shut the desk and followed her father to the door. Susan was waiting there, nervously watching the entrance to the narrow lane. A car was just coming into view.

  “Duck into the pine grove,” commanded the detective.

  The three disappeared behind the trees just as Herman Crocker’s battered old car wheezed up the lane. Mr. Nichols and the girls remained motionless until the old man and his grandson had gone into the house. Then they moved noiselessly away, keeping to the evergreen grove until they reached the main road.

  “Penny, what were you starting to tell me about an account book?” questioned Mr. Nichols as they paused.

  “I’ll show you,” offered Penny.

  She opened the account book to the item which had drawn her attention, but in the dim light it was difficult for Mr. Nichols to make out the fine writing.

  “Michael Gladwin,” he read slowly aloud. “I seem to be thick headed—”

  “Oh, Susan and I didn’t tell you that part!” Penny cried. “We think Gladwin is Michael Haymond’s real name! He dropped a handkerchief bearing the initials ‘M. G.’, and when we were over at Glenhaven we learned from the former matron of the institution that a strange person who might have been Herman Crocker, brought a boy who was named Michael Gladwin to the Home.”

  “There seems to be quite a bit going on that I know nothing about,” Mr. Nichols remarked dryly. “Suppose you start at the beginning, Penny, and tell me everything.”

  “Are you sure you’ll not think my ideas wild?” Penny asked teasingly.

  “I am quite willing to retract my words,” Mr. Nichols said. “Your ideas and theories are proving remarkably sound.”

  Penny and Susan were only too glad to relate everything they had learned about Michael Gladwin.

  “I’ll question the young man just as soon as we reach the cottage,” promised Mr. Nichols. “We’ll get at the bottom of this matter and see if it can be straightened out.”

  “Michael may deny everything,” Penny said thoughtfully. “He has some particular reason for wishing to keep his past a secret. Dad, I have an idea!”

  “What is it, Penny?”

  “Why couldn’t we drive over to Ferndale tonight and take Michael with us? He’d have no suspicion that we were calling upon Mrs. Havers until he met her face to face!”

  “Confronted with the former matron you believe that he would break down and confess the truth?”

  “Yes, I think he might, Dad. At any rate, Mrs. Havers could establish definitely whether or not he is Michael Gladwin.”

  “Your plan is a good one,” Mr. Nichols said after a moment’s reflection. “We’ll start right away if we can locate Michael.”

  “He usually walks down to the village after supper,” Penny declared anxiously. “I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

  Michael was just starting away from the cottage when Mr. Nichols and the girls arrived. The detective stopped him, explaining that they would like to have his company on a motor trip to a distant town.

  “I don’t enjoy changing a tire at night,” Mr. Nichols said. “While I’m not looking for trouble, I’d like to have a handy man along just in case something happens.”

  “I’ll be very glad to go, sir,” replied Michael.

  “You might be getting the car from the garage,” Mr. Nichols directed. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

  He started for the cottage after his light overcoat. Mrs. Masterbrook sat rocking back and forth on the porch.

  “I hope you’re ready for your supper now,” she said tartly.

  “I’ve not time to eat it, Mrs. Masterbrook. I am sorry to have annoyed you this way.”

  “I’ve kept it warming for over an hour,” the housekeeper said crossly. “I declare, I can’t understand your comings and goings.”

  Paying no heed to Mrs. Masterbrook’s grumblings, the detective found his coat and hastened back to the car.

  “What shall I say if anyone telephones?” the housekeeper called after him. “Where shall I say you are?”

  “Tell them you don’t know,” shouted the detective.

  It was evident to Penny and Susan that Michael had no suspicion where he was being taken. Even when the automobile drew near Ferndale he did not appear to grow uneasy. He was so calm and undisturbed that they began to wonder if they had made another mistake.

  “Of course the Orphan’s Home isn’t at Ferndale,” Penny told herself. “He probably doesn’t know that Mrs. Havers has left the Glenhaven Home.”


  It was after nine o’clock when the car finally drew up in front of the former matron’s home. The girls were afraid that Mrs. Havers might have retired early and so were greatly relieved to see a light burning on the lower floor.

  “Michael, why don’t you come in with us?” Penny asked as she alighted from the car.

  “Oh, I’ll wait out here,” he replied.

  “No, come along,” Mr. Nichols invited.

  He took Michael by the arm and steered him up the walk. Penny and Susan went on ahead to ring the doorbell. They were a little worried for fear that Mrs. Havers would not wish to receive them so late in the evening.

  After a long wait, the door slowly opened. Mrs. Havers, her face hidden by the shadows, did not readily recognize the girls. However, after they had spoken, she urged them to come inside.

  Penny and Susan entered the cottage and waited for Mr. Nichols and Michael. Mrs. Havers turned to face the newcomers. For an instant she stared blankly at Michael and then she gave a cry of delight.

  “Michael Gladwin! How glad I am to see you again!”

  “Mrs. Havers!” exclaimed the young man. Then he became confused and glanced quickly toward Mr. Nichols.

  “We’ve known for some time that you were Michael Gladwin,” said Mr. Nichols.

  “Of course he is Michael Gladwin,” declared Mrs. Havers. “Who else could he be?”

  “I have a great deal to explain,” said the young man, looking again at the detective. “I know you surely must be thinking that I have deceived you—”

  “I am sure you had a very good reason,” replied Mr. Nichols kindly.

  Mrs. Havers was deeply troubled by the conversation which she could not understand. She urged her visitors to seat themselves. Mr. Nichols, always restless in moments of stress, found it impossible to remain in a chair. He annoyed his hostess exceedingly by moving about the room, appearing to examine books, bric-a-brac and objects of furniture.

  “Before we ask Michael to tell his story, I should like to have you look at this picture, Mrs. Havers,” said Penny. She offered the photograph of Herman Crocker. “Have you seen the man before?”

  “Let me turn up the light. My eyes aren’t as strong as they were.”

  Mrs. Havers studied the picture intently for a minute.