CHAPTER XXV
THE HAPPY ENDING
Pauline stood transfixed while Judy gathered Irene in her arms. Ifpeople fainted for joy she would have done it then. At first there wereno explanations. Neither Judy nor Pauline expected any. The supremerealization that Irene was there—alive, safe—sufficed. Kisses weremingled with tears as Pauline, too, pressed closer to the golden-hairedgirl. If they had ever doubted Irene’s sincerity, suspected her ofanything, it was all forgotten at the moment.
“It’s so good to see you again,” Irene said at last. “There was nobodybut Blackberry here to welcome me when I came in. It was almost asquiet as the house in Parkville after my grandmother died.”
“Poor you!” Judy cried. “We found out all about that wicked uncle ofyours and he’s in jail now. Believe me, Irene, he wanted to get yourgrandmother’s property and would have done anything to be rid of you.Oh, I’m so—glad—you’re safe——”
But Judy was sobbing again, clinging to Irene as if she might vanish ifshe released her hand. Together she and Pauline led her to the sofawhere each of them found a seat close beside her.
It was growing dark and Judy lit the bridge lamp. It shone down onIrene’s hair. Something brighter than lamplight glowed, suddenly, inher eyes.
“Where’s Dale?” she asked. “Has he missed me?”
“He thinks of nothing but you,” Judy answered. “Horace and Peter andArthur are here, too. All of them were hunting for you.”
“How thrilling! Did they like Dale, too?”
“Everybody likes him,” Pauline put in. “Lucky girl! They say absencemakes the heart grow fonder, and I shouldn’t wonder if he fell in lovewith you.”
“Really?”
“I’m almost sure of it,” Pauline replied. She spoke softly and onlyIrene heard her. Judy ran to the window.
“They’re coming! I heard their voices. Dale!” she called down to thestreet. “Arthur! Peter! Dale! Hurry!”
That was all she said. That was all she needed to say. The tremblingjoy in her voice told them the rest. In less time than seemed possibleDale burst through the half-open door.
“Irene!” he cried. “Am I dreaming or is this my lost princess, myGolden Girl?”
“What’s he talking about?” Horace said gruffly to Judy. “Are theyengaged?”
Judy smiled, watching their embrace. “Not yet, but we can guess theywill be before long.”
Dale and Irene faced the others. Radiance was in their faces.
“It’s been quite a detective story,” Dale said, “and this is the happyending. Now, Irene, dear, suppose we go out on the roof garden—all ofus—and you explain everything. I’m perfectly sure you can.”
The others followed, eager to hear the story they had nearly given uphope of hearing from Irene’s own lips. It proved to be almost identicalwith Jasper Crosby’s story. Irene had not been forced to stay in hergrandmother’s house. She had stayed of her own free will because theold lady was sick and needed her.
“At first it was fun, almost like playing princess,” Irene said. “I lether call me Joy and I called her Mother. I pretended to remember thingsmy own mother must have done. I read aloud from her books and wore herdresses. This is one.” She touched the simple white silk dress she waswearing and explained that she had intended to wear it to hergrandmother’s funeral. “But then Uncle Jasper decided that I must notgo. He said that being with her when she died had affected my mind. Ibelieved him then but now that I’m home again I feel sure that itwasn’t true. Still, there’s something like a magnet that just draws meback to that dear old house.”
“Your grandmother’s house?”
“My house now, isn’t it, Peter?”
The young law student looked up with a start. He had forgotten allabout the will in the excitement of having Irene safe again. But shehad changed so! He couldn’t quite understand this new, beautifulIrene—this Irene who was an heiress.
“Why, er—yes,” he said. “I believe everything is legally yours, eventhe royalties from that new book Emily Grimshaw is publishing.”
Dale and Judy looked first at each other and then at Irene. Both ofthem were wondering the same thing. How could Emily Grimshaw have thebook published if the manuscripts were missing? Dale was the first toput the thought into words.
“They aren’t missing any more,” Irene replied and darted back insidethe door. When the others had joined her in Pauline’s sitting room sheopened a small suitcase that stood on the floor and gave the papers atoss onto the table.
“There they are—every blessed one of them. I packed them with mythings so Uncle Jasper wouldn’t see me take them. Why don’t you givethem all back to Emily Grimshaw in the morning?”
“But what will I tell her?” gasped Judy. “I can’t tell her you stolethem. What will I say? Oh, why did you do it? Can’t you see all thetrouble it has caused? Really, Irene, you’re dreadfully hard-hearted.”
“Am I?” The golden-haired girl smiled wanly. “And all the time Ithought you were, not to come and see me.”
“How could we have come?”
“I told you in my letter. It explained everything but now, oh, now it’sgoing to be harder to explain.”
“What letter? Did you get a letter?” Dale turned and demanded of Judy.
“Of course I didn’t.”
“Then how did you find out where I was?”
Peter explained this question to Irene. He told her about the radiobroadcast, the police activities and how earnestly all of them hadsearched. It seemed that the tables had turned and they, not Irene,were doing the explaining. But what could have happened to Irene’sletter? She said she had written three.
“I gave them to Uncle Jasper to mail——”
Judy interrupted with a little cry. “There’s your explanation. He musthave destroyed them. The miserable old cheat! Was he mean to you,Irene?”
She sighed. “This is the part I hardly dare tell. He made me think itwas an—an hallucination. You know, like crazy people get. But I was inthe tower lying on my bed. I’d been up all night and he told me torest. It was right after Grandma died. Well, he moved the bed acrossthe room—way across and I felt a little queer as if it weren’t quitesafe. I knew the tower was only propped up. Then he got ugly. He toldme I was going insane. He said if I didn’t lie in the bed he’d tie methere. So I lay down. In a little while I heard some one rapping on thedoor and I ran to the window. I saw you, Judy, but you didn’t hear mecall. You were almost out of sight. Then I looked down, and, as sure asI’m alive, there was Uncle Jasper taking the props out from under thetower. One of them fell and struck him across the chest. I think,” sheadded, turning to Peter, “that there must be marks on his chest toprove that what I say is true.”
“It’s a serious charge, Irene. He could do twenty years for that. Buthe deserves it if what you say is true.”
“It’s true. And, oh, I was so frightened. I ran downstairs and I guessI was screaming—or crying—or both. Anyway, he quit hammering at theprops. He had a sledge hammer and a long beam to work with. That was sothe tower wouldn’t fall on him.”
“You remember that long beam we used to break down the door?” Daleinterrupted her to ask.
Both Judy and Peter nodded. Their faces were grave. Blackberry, whopossessed a cat’s inborn capacity for sympathy, came forth from hiscorner and looked up at Irene. She patted him as she went on talking.
“Uncle Jasper got scared then. He said he’d have to get me back to myfather in a hurry. He explained how he was really putting more propsunder the tower and said it was because my mind wasn’t right that I hadbeen afraid he would kill me. He told me that if I didn’t want to go tothe insane asylum I’d keep still about the whole thing. I said I wouldbut it wasn’t true and I’m sure he didn’t believe me. Then he took meriding in the car but he didn’t take the road for Farringdon. I don’tknow where he intended to take me but wherever it was, I didn’t want togo. So, when he
had to slow down for a railroad crossing, I jumped outof the car. He was busy driving and didn’t miss me until afterwards. Bythat time I had started hiking. So here I am and I guess that explainseverything.”
Irene sank back in her chair and looked, suddenly, tired. Judy realizedthat she must be hungry too. She remembered the packages that the boyshad brought in, and all of them set about preparing food and somethingfor Irene to drink. She wanted coffee with plenty of cream. The sameIrene, dear child! Judy didn’t care if she never explained about thepoetry.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Yellow Phantom Page 26
