The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls
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Then through the trees they glimpsed Clyde Wendell. He was staggering under the burden of his canoe, and with head bent low could not see the two who awaited him in the clearing.
“Hello,” Jack said challengingly. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
With an exclamation of startled dismay, the chemist straightened and allowed the canoe to slide to the ground. He faced the two defiantly.
“Well, what do you want? I’m on my way to Bryson.”
“So I observe,” Jack commented dryly. “What are you doing with the canoe?”
“I only borrowed it. I’d have sent it back when I got to Bryson.”
“It isn’t considered wise to borrow government canoes. But we’ll let that pass for the time being. Hand over the book!”
“What book?” Wendell countered.
“The one I see sticking out of your hip pocket.”
The chemist’s hand went involuntarily to his pocket but he faced Jack with blazing eyes.
“I’ll not hand over what belongs to me.”
“It’s Anne’s book!” Madge cried for she had seen the cover. “Clyde Wendell, you did steal it!”
The chemist half turned as though to make a dash back over the trail he had just come, but the ranger caught him firmly by the shoulder and wheeled him about.
“Oh, no you don’t! Hand it over or I’ll take it by force.”
Wendell looked searchingly at the ranger. “See here,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I’ll pay for the book and the canoe too. I meant no harm. I only want to catch my train at Bryson. You see, I picked up the book by accident—”
“You’ll catch no train today,” Jack interrupted bluntly. “You’re going back to Loon Lake. Incidentally, there’s a matter of a board bill to settle. Now hand over the book!”
Reluctantly, the chemist relinquished it. Jack passed it on to Madge who hastily examined it to see that no pages were missing.
“You knew it contained the formula,” she accused.
“That’s the wildest accusation yet!” the chemist laughed derisively. “You and that Faraday girl have built up a pretty story which you’ve kidded yourselves into believing is true. Faraday never owned a formula. It was an obsession.”
“Move along!” Jack ordered. “Walk ahead of me and don’t try any tricks.”
Madge followed close behind. She was highly elated at having regained possession of Kim. Yet what if Anne should fail to bring out the secret writing? Clyde seemed so confident they would not succeed.
“We’ll find some way to reveal the writing!” she resolved. “At any rate, I’ll not worry until after we’ve made another laboratory test.”
CHAPTER XV
What The Book Revealed
Midnight lights burned brightly in the Faraday laboratory. A group of tense watchers, Madge and Mr. Brownell, Jack, and Mr. and Mrs. Brady, stood watching Anne who was busy at the work table. Clyde Wendell, guarded by a forest ranger, sat propped carelessly back in his chair, a look of amused contempt on his face.
“Well, I’m afraid it’s a failure,” Anne said in a subdued tone. She smiled bravely but her face was wan. “We’ve tested each page except the back cover.”
Jack looked accusingly at Wendell.
“You could tell us how to bring out that formula if you would!”
“Perhaps, if there were a formula,” the chemist retorted. “Now that this nonsense is over, am I free to go?”
“You are not.”
All eyes focused upon Anne as she gave the final sheet the chemical test which had been applied to the other pages. As she removed it from the iodine bath a few minutes later, Madge, who was close at her friend’s side, bent closer. Scattered lines, at first indistinct and unconnected, gradually as if by magic, lengthened and conformed into written characters.
“It’s the formula!” she cried exultingly.
Mr. Brownell moved nearer. His face, passive until now, became animated. He studied the page which Anne held up for his inspection and then said quietly: “It’s the genuine thing. Miss Faraday, I congratulate you.”
For a few minutes Clyde Wendell was forgotten. When Madge looked at him she saw that he had lost his arrogant assurance. He arose and with a gesture of submission faced Jack.
“You win. I didn’t think Miss Faraday could bring out the writing. I suppose this means prison for me. I’m ready to leave whenever you say.”
“Why did you do it?” Madge asked. “Can’t you explain?”
For the first time, the chemist appeared slightly ashamed.
“It’s a long story,” he said slowly. “Mr. Faraday and I never clicked very well. He didn’t trust me and I resented it. At first I helped him with his rust prevention experiments, then he began to work in secret. I guessed that he had made an important discovery. I watched him and learned that he had written the formula in that book.”
He indicated the dismantled Kim, smiling wryly.
“Before I had a chance to read the formula, Mr. Faraday discharged me. I found another job. Then three months ago I lost it. I thought I’d develop a rust prevention formula of my own because I was hard up for money. I found I couldn’t do it. Then I read of Mr. Faraday’s death and knowing that he had never done anything with his formula in a commercial way, I decided to come here and see if I could get it. You know the rest.”
“Then you were the one who entered the house that night?” Anne demanded. “You were searching for the book.”
“Yes, I wasn’t after the silver. I took that merely to throw you off the track. I’m not a common thief. I don’t know what made me try to steal the formula. When a fellow’s down and out—broke—well, I guess things look different.”
Anne, Madge and Jack held a private conference. Presently, Anne turned again to Clyde.
“I’ve decided not to testify against you,” she said. “I’m sure Father wouldn’t want me to. I have the formula and that’s all that really matters. I believe you’re sorry for what you did.”
“I am sorry,” the chemist mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “You’re more decent than I deserve.”
“As far as the canoe is concerned, the boys will be willing to drop the charge,” Jack added.
“And Aunt Madge just said she wouldn’t press the board and room bill,” Madge interposed. “You can pay it later.”
“You’re free to go,” Jack told him. “Clear out and be glad you got off so easily.”
After the chemist had left, the atmosphere became more friendly. Anne refused to talk business that night but the following day she conferred with Mr. Brownell and to the delight of her friends sold the formula for a sum which guaranteed her a modest income for life. Her first act was to pay off the mortgage on her house and island, and then, to Jake Curtis’ bitter anger, she refused to even discuss a sale with him. Mr. Brownell had taken a great liking to Loon Lake and upon learning that Anne intended to live with an aunt in the city, he offered her a price for her property which left her quite dazed. Madge urged her to sell, and after brief negotiations, she arranged all details of the transaction to her satisfaction.
With business matters cleared away, Anne spent a few weeks at the lodge before leaving for the east. The days were crammed with good times and it was difficult for the girls to say goodbye.
“I owe everything to you,” Anne said for perhaps the hundredth time, as they stood at the railway station awaiting the train. “I’ll never forget this summer and all you’ve done for me, Madge. I’ll come back and see you often too.”
The train that carried Anne to New York brought Madge a letter—an invitation to spend two weeks at Cheltham Bay, cruising aboard the luxurious Burnett yacht. As she dispatched an enthusiastic acceptance, she little dreamed of the exciting adventure that awaited her. The story of Madge’s queer reception at Cheltham Bay is recounted in the second volume of this series, entitled: “The Deserted Yacht.”
Jack French did not accept the news of Madge’s intended departure very cheerfully.
“You know you’ll be too busy to even miss me,” Madge teased.
She was surprised at the look which came into Jack’s eyes.
“I’ll miss you like everything, and you know it too, imp! Since the day you came to Loon Lake, just an undersized, freckled kid, you’ve been the only girl for me. You’re the sweetest—” he broke off.
“Go on!” Madge urged, laughing.
Jack shook his head and smiled.
“No, until you grow a few years you must take it for granted. But while you’re at Cheltham Bay you might think of me once in a while. And don’t be too surprised if you see me!”
He took her hand and together they went down to the lake to watch the moon rise over the spruce ridges.
THE DESERTED YACHT, by Mildred A. Wirt
Chapter I
A Strange Reception
A young girl in a neat traveling suit of dark blue, alighted from the last car of the long train which had pulled into the Cheltham Bay station and with eager eyes surveyed the crowded platform.
“Expectin’ someone to meet you, Miss?” the colored porter inquired politely.
“Why, yes, I was,” Madge Sterling returned, a perplexed frown puckering her eyebrows. “Just set the suitcase down anywhere here. My friends will surely come in a few minutes.”
With profuse thanks, the porter pocketed the coin she gave him and swung back into his car. Madge looked anxiously about. On all sides persons were hurrying up to greet friends who had arrived on the train, but no one appeared to be searching for her.
“Strange Enid didn’t meet me or at least send word,” she thought. “I do hope I’ve made no mistake about the time.”
To make sure, she opened her purse and looked again at the letter which she very nearly knew by heart. She had made no error. Enid Burnett had stated very clearly that she would be on hand when the ten-fifteen train arrived.
“It will be more convenient to meet you at Cheltham Bay than any other place,” she had written in a bold scrawl. “From the station we’ll go directly to our yacht, The Flora which will be anchored in the harbor. Father will have everything in readiness for the trip, so the instant you set foot on deck, we’ll sail. Here’s to two glorious weeks on the water!”
Madge folded the letter and laid it away. There was nothing to do but wait. Undoubtedly, Enid had only been delayed.
She watched the heavy train move slowly from the station. The crowd on the platform rapidly thinned and soon she alone remained. After a little, she picked up her suitcase and carried it to the waiting room, stationing herself near a window where she could see all automobiles driving in and out of the railway yard.
“I can’t imagine what is keeping Enid,” she thought anxiously. “It looks as though I may be stranded here.”
It occurred to her that her friend might have dispatched the invitation upon the impulse of the moment, and then, in the rush of social affairs which always engulfed her, forgotten about it. Enid was generous to a fault but she was apt to be careless too. In school she had been known to make rash promises which she promptly forgot.
“If I’ve traveled all the way from Loon Lake, Canada, to participate in a mythical yacht cruise, I’ll never forgive her,” Madge assured herself.
Time dragged slowly. She made innumerable trips to the water fountain, she experimented with the gum machine and even tried to interest herself in a magazine. At length, after more than an hour had passed, she arose impatiently.
“I don’t believe she’s coming,” she decided. “There’s no sense in waiting here forever.”
After a brief debate, she walked over to an information window.
“I know this isn’t in your line,” she said apologetically to the young man in charge, “but I’m trying to locate a party by the name of Burnett. You’re not acquainted with anyone by that name?”
“You don’t mean Frank Burnett, the yachtsman?”
Madge nodded eagerly.
“I can’t say I know him,” the other informed, “but I did see by the paper that his yacht had dropped anchor in the bay. It came in yesterday, I believe.”
This information left Madge more puzzled than before. If The Flora had arrived at Cheltham Bay, she could think of no reason for Enid’s failure to meet her.
“If you want to get out to the yacht, you likely can find some boatman at the dock who will row you over,” the clerk advised.
Madge thanked him and turned away. She scarcely knew what to do. It would prove embarrassing to go alone to the Burnett yacht, and yet, surely they were expecting her. After traveling so many miles it would be foolish to return home without making an attempt to see her friend. It was barely possible that an accident had delayed Enid.
“I may as well try to locate the yacht,” she decided.
She carried her suitcase outside and a taxi driver immediately came to her assistance. Directing him to take her to the wharf, she sank wearily against the cushions, scarcely troubling herself to gaze at the tall office buildings which whizzed by on either side as the cab rattled over the rough pavement. A short drive carried her within sight of the bay and only then did she lean forward in her seat to obtain a better view.
The taxi halted near the wharf and the driver swung open the car door. Madge alighted and paid her fare.
“Can you tell me which yacht is The Flora?” she inquired.
“She lies yonder.” The driver indicated a vessel anchored out some distance in the bay.
At sight of the trim little yacht with its gay flags fluttering in the off shore breeze, Madge’s spirits arose. It was good to be near the water again. And a two weeks’ sailing trip would be such glorious fun!
She looked about for someone to row her out to the yacht. The wharf appeared deserted, for the hour approached noon. After walking a short distance along the water front, her attention was attracted to a man who sat hunched over in a boat that was tied to the dock. His lunch was spread out on the seat before him, but his real interest seemed to center upon something out in the bay. Following his gaze, Madge saw that he was intently watching The Flora.
“He must have a boat to rent,” she reasoned. “I’ll see if I can bargain with him.”
She approached closer and addressed him. Startled, the man turned sharply and stared.
Instantly, Madge regretted that she had spoken for the boatman was not at all to her liking. He was dressed in dirty white duck trousers and a grimy shirt, but it was his face rather than his clothing that repulsed her. She saw at once that he was of foreign extraction, though she could not have guessed his nationality. His complexion was extremely dark and his straight black hair had not been cut in many weeks. His eyes bore into her with disconcerting intensity.
“I beg your pardon, do you have a boat to rent?” she questioned.
He continued to stare until she thought he would never reply. Then touching his cap, he muttered something, speaking with such an accent that she could scarcely make it out.
“Three dolla’ an hour,” he added indifferently.
“I didn’t want to buy the boat,” Madge smiled. “Perhaps I failed to understand correctly. You said—”
“Three dolla’ an hour,” he repeated, scowling darkly.
“Why, that’s unreasonable. At my Uncle George’s fishing lodge in Canada we rent out boats for all day at less than that.”
The boatman shrugged indifferently and Madge thought for an instant that an expression of relief actually crossed his face.
“That my price,” he insisted. “Maybe you find another boat.”
Madge looked up and down shore but there was no other boat to be had. She realized full well that she was being outrageously over-charged, but she was eager to reach the Burnett yacht without delay.
“I’ll rent your boat,” she decided. “It won�
��t take more than half an hour to get where I’m going.”
“Three dolla’ minimum charge,” the boatman announced impressively.
“Are you trying to discourage me?” Madge demanded suspiciously. “I don’t believe you’re very anxious to rent your boat.” Without giving him an opportunity to reply, she took a small roll of bills from her pocketbook and handed him three. “Here’s your pay in advance.”
He accepted the money with obvious unwillingness and lifted her suitcase into the boat. She seated herself and he cast off the painter.
“Take me to The Flora,” she directed. “See, it’s that yacht this side of the buoy.”
Madge was unprepared for the effect her words produced upon the man. He turned quickly, his eyes smoldering. An expression she could not fathom, flashed over his face.
“I not take you there!” he uttered vehemently, thrusting the three bills rudely toward her. “Here, take your money! You mus’ get another boat!”
CHAPTER II
An Unwilling Boatman
Madge was taken aback at the boatman’s unexpected announcement but she had no intention of being diverted from her original plan. His very reluctance only whetted her determination to hold him to his bargain.
“Keep the money,” she insisted. “You made the agreement and you must stand by it. Why do you object to taking me to the Burnett yacht?”
The man muttered something about “a bad omen” which she failed to understand.
“Come, don’t try to tell me there’s any silly superstition about that boat,” she declared impatiently. “Will you take me there or must I call the authorities?”
At mention of the police, the man grew even more agitated. He looked first toward The Flora and then at Madge. After a moment’s indecision, he picked up the oars and without a word, rowed away from the dock.
It struck Madge that she might be doing a foolish thing to trust herself to a strange boatman, particularly one who acted so queerly. However, she felt there was no real danger as long as they were within sight of other boats anchored in the bay.