The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls

by Mildred A. Wirt

  Madge was inclined to hurry back to the mansion to tell Miss Swenster the startling news. A minute’s thought convinced her that such a course would be unwise.

  “There’s just one chance in a hundred that I’m mistaken,” she reasoned. “And if I should tell Miss Swenster her son is here when it’s some other person, she might never get over the shock. No, I must be absolutely sure before I say a word to her.”

  She looked after the retreating figure. He was far up the street, walking swiftly, but she thought she could overtake him.

  “I’ll follow and see where he goes,” she decided.

  She soon saw that he was heading toward the business section of Claymore. Rapidly cutting down the distance between them, she then kept just far enough behind to avoid suspicion.

  As they reached the downtown section, the stranger walked faster, moving in and out to pass pedestrians hurrying home from work. Madge found it increasingly difficult to keep him in sight.

  Then she lost him entirely.

  “I don’t see where he went unless he dodged in somewhere,” she thought.

  She gazed in through the window of a drug store but could not locate him. The only other possibility was the Grand Hotel. She went in.

  The lobby was crowded. Madge looked carefully about, observing no one who resembled the man she sought.

  “I’ll see if his name is on the register,” she decided.

  Before she could transfer the thought to action, an elevator discharged passengers. Several of the men walked toward the main desk. And one of them was the stranger Madge had followed. He did not glance in her direction but moved directly to where the clerk was standing.

  Madge slipped behind a pillar and waited.

  “I’m checking out early this evening,” she heard him say tersely. “I left my baggage upstairs but I’ll not be using the room after six. Please charge me accordingly.”

  He passed within a few feet of where Madge was standing, and walked out the front entrance.

  “At least he’ll not be snooping around the mansion any more,” she told herself with satisfaction. “And judging from the crabby way he acts, he hasn’t been very successful in his mission—whatever it is.”

  After the man’s back had vanished through the revolving doors, she moved over to the desk, asking to see the register. She glanced over the first page of names and turned back. At last she came to it: “John Swenster, Chicago.”

  “Well, that proves I was right,” Madge commented inwardly. “And now the problem is whether or not to tell Miss Swenster.”

  Emerging from the hotel she was astonished to see how dark it had grown. Consulting her watch, she realized it was too late to find Silas Davies at the Ruggles’. Regretfully, she decided that she must let the work on the sundial go for that night.

  “It’s supper time now and Miss Swenster and Cara will be wondering what became of me,” she thought uncomfortably. “Aunt Maude will be in my wool too if I don’t scamper home.”

  A few minutes later, breathless from hurrying so fast, she let herself in the front gate of the mansion and rushed up the walk. Cara, who had been watching at a window for the past half hour, flung open the door.

  “Where have you been all this time?” she demanded. “Didn’t you bring the workman after all?”

  “Sorry,” Madge apologized, flashing her a significant look which Cara did not understand. “Other matters came up. Anyway, Mr. Davies was working at the Ruggles’. I imagine we can get him tomorrow.”

  Cara was disappointed and disclosed it. She brightened when Miss Swenster suggested that both girls remain for supper. It was not difficult to persuade Madge, for she felt that she should tell Miss Swenster what she had discovered, and she preferred time to lead up to the matter gradually.

  The girls telephoned to their homes, receiving permission to remain. They helped Miss Swenster with the supper, setting the table, and taking great pains with the salad which was their own concoction.

  It was nearly seven-thirty when they sat down to dine. For some reason, conversation lagged. Miss Swenster appeared unusually constrained though she made a studied attempt at cheerfulness. No one ate very much. It was in the minds of all that this likely would be their last supper together. In a few days the mansion would be sold.

  “I wish you weren’t going away, Miss Swenster,” Cara said presently. “It won’t seem right for any other person to live in this lovely house.”

  Miss Swenster smiled, but tears shone in her eyes. She brushed them impatiently away.

  “What a sentimental old fool I am! Here I’ve not lived in this house for eight years but now that I know I’m to lose it, I feel so desolate. It’s almost as though I’m losing my last friend.”

  “You have a great many friends here in Claymore,” Madge assured her, “only they’re timid about coming to see you. I’ve heard folks say so.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Miss Swenster agreed slowly. “There was a time when I didn’t care to see people. I couldn’t bear their sympathy. I drove them away.”

  She relapsed into a moody silence which neither of the girls ventured to break. Presently, she looked up and smiled apologetically.

  “I shouldn’t impose my troubles on you. I’m sure that at times my actions must have seemed very queer. I feel I owe you an explanation for certain things which likely are not clear.”

  “Your past is your own,” Madge said kindly.

  “Don’t tell us anything that you dislike to bring up.”

  “I feel I must speak of my—my son. It was his picture you saw in the study. I turned it to the wall on the day I closed up the mansion.”

  Madge and Cara nodded, not wishing to interrupt. They already had guessed this much.

  “I found John in an orphan’s home. He was nine when I adopted him, and the sweetest boy in the world! Oh, I adored him! But even as a boy he was inclined to get into trouble. He’d take things that didn’t belong to him. I couldn’t seem to teach him the difference between right and wrong. Oh, I dislike to admit it, but he was willful and he repaid my kindness with indifference.

  “I sent him away to school, thinking he might benefit by a change in environment. Once away from my watchful eye, he went from bad to worse. He fell in with the wrong sort of companions. He spent far more money than I could afford to give him. Several times he forged my name to checks.

  “Finally, I told him that if he did not straighten up I should disown him. For a time he seemed to do better. I was encouraged. Then he forged another check—this time using the name of a prominent Claymore man. I’ll not bore you with the details. It was the end. I sent him away and I’ve never seen him to this day.”

  “But you’ve forgiven him?” Madge asked softly.

  Miss Swenster did not reply at once. Then she said:

  “I loved John more than any other person in the world, but it was a wasted love. I realize that should I take him back he would only make me unhappy. If he were to step into this house this very night, I’d tell him to go!”

  Madge gazed at her queerly.

  “You really mean that?”

  “Yes, it may sound hard, but I gave twenty years of my life to John. For the first time I am commencing to see him in his true colors, ungilded by my ideals. I can never hope to forget him entirely, but at least his memory becomes more bearable.”

  Madge was sorely troubled. She had fully intended to tell Miss Swenster that her son was in Claymore. Now it seemed a cruel thing to do. By her own admission, the old lady was gradually casting off unhappy memories which had held her enslaved for so many years. She felt herself sufficiently strong to confront her son, yet Madge wondered. Might not it be better to say nothing? By tomorrow John Swenster would be far away with no one the wiser, providing she kept her own counsel.

  She was still turning the matter over in her mind when they left the supper table. The girls cleared the table and wiped dishes. Madge dropped a plate which fortunately did not break.

 
“What ails you tonight?” Cara asked. “Are you worrying about that French quiz we had today?”

  Madge laughed.

  “No, but it might be better if I would worry a little. I flunked it flat I know.”

  “You always say that, but at the end of the month I notice you manage to squeeze through pretty well at the head of the list!”

  They finished drying the dishes and stacked them in the cupboard. Madge was putting away the last plate when she suddenly straightened.

  “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Cara returned.

  “I thought I heard something fall to the ground. It sounded like it came from the garden.”

  “You’re imagining things,” Cara laughed. “Did you hear anything, Miss Swenster?”

  “No, I didn’t. It might have been a ladder that fell. The man who was working on the house yesterday, left one standing against the eaves.”

  Madge did not look completely convinced.

  “I might just run out and see.”

  “Don’t be a goose!” Cara remonstrated. “I think it was your imagination. We’re too far away from the garden to hear any noise from there. It was probably the ladder.”

  Madge allowed her chum to drag her into the living room. She went to the window and looked out. It was a black night but had there been a moon she could not have seen the garden for a wing of the house obstructed the view. The wind howled plaintively outside. Miss Swenster thought the room was cold and went to the kitchen for fire-wood.

  They built a cheerful little blaze in the fireplace. Madge and Cara sat on the floor, watching the embers. Presently, Miss Swenster brought in marshmallows which they toasted above the coals.

  “Look out!” Cara warned. “Yours is burning, Madge.”

  Madge flung the charred marshmallow into the fire and abruptly arose. She slipped on her coat.

  “Where are you going?” Cara demanded.

  “Oh, just out to the garden. I want to satisfy my curiosity. I’ve had an uneasy feeling all evening.”

  Cara laughed scoffingly but when she saw her friend was not to be dissuaded, she too arose. Miss Swenster reached for her shawl.

  “We may as well all go,” she said. “I feel that fresh air would do me good too.”

  They filed out the front way, Madge leading. She was the first to reach the garden. Uttering a cry of surprise and alarm, she ran to the sundial.

  It lay upon its side and the pedestal had been split from the dial!

  CHAPTER XV

  The Secret in Stone

  “I knew it! I knew it!” Madge exclaimed, gazing in dismay at the wreckage. “All evening I felt something like this was about to happen.”

  “Perhaps the wind blew it over,” Miss Swenster said, though her voice disclosed that she had no faith in her own words.

  “It would have taken a cyclone to move that heavy sundial,” Madge declared. “Someone deliberately cracked it open. See, here’s the sledge-hammer he used. I knew I heard some such sound.”

  “And like as not the pearls are gone!” Cara wailed.

  “That’s a foregone conclusion,” Madge responded. “But we may as well get a light and make a thorough search.”

  Miss Swenster already had started for the house. She returned a minute later with a flashlight. They turned it upon the dark interior of the broken pedestal and Madge felt around with her hand.

  “If the pearls were ever here they’re gone now,” she announced.

  The significance of the discovery was gradually dawning upon her. She knew that it was John Swenster who had been prowling about the garden and now she was convinced that he had broken open the sundial in an attempt to locate the pearls. At the risk of shocking Miss Swenster, she determined to withhold her information no longer.

  “Miss Swenster, I should have told you this before,” she said quietly. “Your son is in Claymore—has been for days. I learned this afternoon that he had registered at the Grand Hotel.”

  Miss Swenster’s face was hidden by the darkness but the girls saw her figure straighten. She spoke no word and Madge rushed recklessly on:

  “Perhaps I ought not to say this, but I discovered that it was he who came here at night.”

  “The prowler you saw digging here in the garden?” Miss Swenster asked in a tense, unnatural voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I think we know what became of the pearls. You should have told me before, Madge.”

  “I did intend to—but—”

  “I understand,” Miss Swenster interrupted, “you hoped to spare my feelings. We must try to reach my son at once!”

  “He’s registered at the hotel, but I’m afraid he may be gone by this time. I heard him say he was checking out early.”

  “We can’t let him get away with the pearls! Come, we’ll call a taxi.”

  They rushed to the house. While Madge and Cara struggled into their wraps, Miss Swenster telephoned the nearest cab agency. In five minutes the taxi was at the door.

  “To the Grand Hotel,” Miss Swenster directed, “and hurry!”

  In the dim light of the cab she looked very pale but determined. She listened quietly as Madge related in detail her experience of the afternoon.

  The cab halted in front of the hotel and the doorman assisted them to alight. Telling the driver to wait, the three hurried inside, going directly to the desk.

  “We should like to see Mr. Swenster,” Madge said. “Is he here?”

  The clerk shook his head regretfully.

  “Sorry. He checked out some time ago. He went at least a half hour ago, I’d say.”

  “You don’t know where he was going?” Madge demanded eagerly. “It’s very important.”

  “You might inquire of the starter,” the clerk suggested. “I believe Mr. Swenster called a taxi.”

  The three hurried outside again, asking the same question of the doorman. He did not know Mr. Swenster by name but recalled him from Madge’s accurate description.

  “If I remember rightly, he went to the Union depot,” he informed.

  They sprang into the waiting cab, directing the driver to take them to the station.

  “Step on it!” Madge ordered.

  She glanced at her wrist watch. It was exactly nine-thirty and she knew that an express train left for New York at nine-forty.

  “Oh, we’ll never make it!” she breathed.

  Miss Swenster’s lips drew down into a tighter line. Her fingers nervously tapped the car window.

  They had three minutes to spare as the cab pulled up to the station. Tumbling out, they started off at a run, unaware of the curious stares directed at them.

  Entering the waiting room, they swiftly surveyed it. John Swenster was no where to be seen.

  “He’s probably on the train by this time!” Cara cried. “And it pulls out in two minutes.”

  Miss Swenster and Madge dragged her toward the gate. “Tickets!” the gateman said sternly. “You can’t go in without—”

  The three brushed past him so quickly that he was taken completely by surprise, and could only stare after their retreating backs.

  They ran down the platform.

  “Look!” Madge cried, pointing to a man ahead. “Isn’t that he?”

  “Yes, it’s John,” Miss Swenster murmured.

  They touched him on the shoulder just as he was boarding the train. He wheeled and the color drained from his face as he beheld Miss Swenster.

  “John—” her voice quavered, then took on a sterner tone. “You must come with me.”

  He laughed unpleasantly.

  “Sorry, but I’m taking this train.” He tried to board it but Cara deliberately blocked his way.

  “You can’t go until you explain a number of things,” Miss Swenster said quietly. “And you must give me the pearls!”

  “Well, of all the idiotic things! Say, are you trying to create a scene?”

  With increasing uneasiness, he surveyed a little group of persons who
had gathered on the platform to see what the argument was about. Passengers had thrust their heads curiously from the train windows.

  “All aboard!” the conductor called.

  “Get out of my way!” John Swenster said harshly, thrusting Cara aside.

  Madge darted forward, snatching his suitcase from his hand.

  “All right, if you go, you go without your suitcase! And what’s more, we’ll have you arrested at the first stop!”

  The man faced Madge with smoldering eyes. He saw that he could not retrieve his suitcase without a struggle and the conductor was not in sufficient sympathy to hold the train a minute. Even now it was slowly pulling from the station.

  Frantically, he watched the cars moving by. He seemed undecided what to do. Then with a gesture of angry submission, he abandoned all intention of boarding the train.

  “Well, now that you’ve made me miss my train, just what do you want?” he asked unpleasantly, moving toward Madge as if to recover his suitcase.

  She backed away.

  “Now, John,” Miss Swenster said firmly, “unless you wish me to call the police, you must come without making any fuss.”

  “Where do you expect me to go?” he demanded sullenly.

  “To my home. We’ll talk matters over there.”

  “All right,” he said suddenly. “I’ll check my suitcase and go with you.”

  “We’ll take the suitcase along,” Miss Swenster told him.

  He looked as though he intended to refuse, but the sight of a policeman moving through the train gate, caused him to change his mind. Madge and Cara carried the suitcase to a taxi cab, not trusting it in his hands.

  “This is an outrage!” John Swenster protested as they drove toward the mansion.

  His foster-mother paid scant attention. Not until they were all in the living room of the mansion did she speak her mind.

  “John,” she said calmly, “I’ve stood entirely too much at your hands. I’ve protected you for the last time. Now either give up the pearls or I’ll turn you over to the authorities.”

  “Pearls!” he scoffed. “I don’t know anything about your pearls.”

  “Madge, will you search the suitcase?”

  The girls had been waiting for this opportunity. Quickly, while John Swenster looked on furiously, they unstrapped the case and opened it. They lifted out several layers of clothing. In the very bottom, lay an old candy box. Madge shook it. Something rattled. She opened the box.