CHAPTER VII
“Hands Up!”
The two girls sat rigid with terror, Mary Louise holding tightly to Silky. In the darkness they could see nothing, for the denseness of the trees blotted even the sky from view. The silence of the woods was broken only by a faint rustle in the undergrowth, as something – they didn’t know what – came nearer.
Silky’s ears were alert, his body as tense with watching, and Jane was actually trembling.
“Got your flashlight, Mary Lou?” she whispered.
“Yes, but I’m afraid to put it on till Harry Grant gets away. He might see it from the road.”
The sudden roar of the motor almost drowned out her words. The noise startled whatever it was that was near them, and the girls felt a little animal pass so close that it nearly touched them. They almost laughed out loud at their fear: the cause of their terror was only an innocent little white rabbit!
Mary Louise took a tighter grip upon her dog.
“You mustn’t leave us, Silky! You don’t want that bunny! We need you with us.”
The engine continued to roar; the girls heard the car start, and drive away. Jane uttered a sigh of relief.
“I wonder whether he missed his satchel,” she remarked.
“Probably he didn’t care if he did,” returned her chum. “I don’t believe it has anything in it but a toothbrush and a change of linen.”
“Let’s open it and see.”
Mary Louise turned on her flashlight and looked at the small brown bag beside them.
“Shucks!” she exclaimed in disappointment. “It’s locked.”
“It would be. Well, so long as we have to carry it home, maybe we’ll be glad that it’s so light.”
“I’ve got my penknife. I’m going to cut the leather.”
“But, Mary Lou, it doesn’t belong to us!”
“Can’t help that. We’ll buy Harry Grant a new one if he’s innocent.”
“O.K. You’re the boss. Be careful not to cut yourself.”
“You hold the flashlight, Jane,” said Mary Louise. “While I make the slit.” The operation was not so easy, for the leather was tough, but Mary Louise always kept her knife as sharp as a boy’s, and she succeeded at last in making an opening.
Excitedly both girls peered into the bag, and Jane reached her hand into its depths. She drew it out again with an expression of disappointment.
“An old Turkish towel!” she exclaimed in dismay.
But Mary Louise’s search proved more fruitful. Her hand came upon a bulky paper wad, encircled by a rubber band. She drew her hand out quickly and flashed the light upon her find.
It was a fat roll of money!
The girls gazed at her discovery in speechless joy. It seemed more like a dream than reality: one of those strange dreams where you find money everywhere, in all sorts of queer, dark places.
“Hide it in your sweater, Mary Lou!” whispered Jane. “Now let’s make tracks for home.”
Her companion concealed it carefully and then took another look into the satchel to make sure that none of the gold was there. She even inserted the flashlight into the bag, to confirm her belief. But there was nothing more.
Both girls got to their feet, Jane with the satchel still in her hands.
“I wish we were home,” she remarked after the flashlight had been turned off, making the darkness seem blacker than before.
“We can pick up a bus along this road, I think,” returned Mary Louise reassuringly. “They ought to run along here about every half hour.”
“Shall we use some of this money for carfare?”
“No, we don’t have to. I have my purse with me.”
Choosing their way carefully through the bushes and undergrowth, the two girls proceeded slowly towards the road. But their adventures in the wood were not over. They heard another rustle of twigs in front of them, and footsteps. Human footsteps, this time!
“Hands up!” snarled a gruff voice.
The reactions of the two girls and the dog were instantaneous – and utterly different. Jane clutched her chum’s arm in terror; Mary Louise flashed her light upon the man – a rough, uncouth character, without even a mask – and Silky flew at his legs. The dog’s bite was quick and sharp: the bully cried out in pain. Mary Louise chuckled and, pulling Jane by the hand, dashed out to the road, towards the lights of the gas station in the distance. As the girls retreated, they could hear groans and swearing from their tormentor.
When they slowed down across the road from the gas station, Mary Louise looked around and whistled for Silky. Jane, noticing that she still clutched the empty bag in her hand, hurled it as far as she could in the direction from which they had come.
In another moment the brave little dog came bounding to them. Mary Louise stooped over and picked him up in her arms.
“You wonderful Silky!” she cried, as she led the way across the road. “You saved our lives!”
“Suppose we hadn’t taken him!” said Jane in horror. “We’d be dead now.”
“Let’s go ask the attendant about buses,” suggested Mary Louise, still stroking her dog’s head.
“We better not!” cautioned Jane. “He may suspect us, if Harry Grant told him about his loss of the satchel.”
“Oh no, he won’t,” replied Mary Louise. “Because we’ll tell him about the tramp, or the bandit, or whatever he is – and he’ll suspect him.”
They walked confidently up to the man inside the station.
“We’re sort of lost,” announced Mary Louise. “We want to get to Riverside. There was a tramp back there about fifty yards who tried to make trouble for us. Can we stay here until a bus comes along – they do run along here, don’t they?”
“Yes, certainly,” replied the man, answering both questions at once. “About fifty yards back, you say? Did he have a brown satchel with him?”
“I saw a brown satchel lying in the road,” replied Mary Louise innocently. “Why?”
“Because a motorist stopped there a few minutes ago with engine trouble, and while he came to me for help his grip was stolen.”
“Did it have anything valuable in it?” inquired Jane, trying to keep her tone casual.
“Yes. I believe there was about eight hundred dollars in it.”
Mary Louise gasped in delight. That meant that practically all of Miss Grant’s paper money was there – in her sweater! All but one fifty-dollar bill!
“Well, I wouldn’t go back there for eight thousand dollars!” said Jane.
“You can be sure there ain’t any money in the bag now,” returned the attendant shrewdly. “Here comes your bus. You’re lucky: they only run every half hour… I’ll go stop it for you.”
Mary Louise kept Silky in her arms, and the two girls followed their protector to the middle of the road. The bus stopped, and the driver looked doubtfully at Silky.
“Don’t allow no dogs,” he announced firmly.
“Oh, please!” begged Mary Louise in her sweetest tone. “Silky is such a good, brave dog! He just saved our lives when we were held up by a highwayman. And we have to get home – our mothers will be so worried.”
“It’s agin’ the rules – ”
“Please let us this time! I’ll hold him in my lap.” Her brown eyes looked into his; for a moment the man thought Mary Louise was going to cry. Then he turned to the half a dozen passengers in his car.
“I’ll leave it up to youse. Would any of youse people report me if I let this here lady’s dog in the bus?”
“We’d report you if you didn’t,” replied a good-natured woman with gray hair. “These girls must get home as quickly as possible. It’s not safe for them to be out on a lonely road like this at night.”
“Oh, thank you so much!” exclaimed Mary Louise, smiling radiantly at the kind woman. “It’s so good of you to help us out.”
The door closed; the girls waved good-bye to the attendant, and the bus started. Mary Louise gazed dismally at her watch.
“Even now we’ll be an hour late,” she remarked. “We promised our mothers we’d be home by half-past nine!”
“Girls your age shouldn’t go lonely places after dark,” observed the motherly woman. “Let this be a lesson to you!”
“Oh, it will be, we assure you!” Jane told her. “One experience like this is enough for us.”
The bus rumbled on for twenty minutes or so and finally deposited the girls in Riverside, half a block from their homes.
“Still have the money?” whispered Jane, as they ran the short distance to their gates.
“Yes, I can feel the wad here. I was so afraid somebody in the bus would notice it. But having Silky in my lap helped.”
“It seems we have company,” remarked Jane, recognizing a familiar roadster parked in front of their houses.
“Now what can Max want at this time of night?” demanded Mary Louise impatiently. She longed so terribly to get into her room by herself and count the money.
“Here they are, Mrs. Gay!” called a masculine voice from the porch. “They’re all right, apparently.”
The two mothers appeared on Mary Louise’s porch.
“What in the world happened?” demanded Mrs. Patterson. “Mrs. Gay and I have been worried to death.”
“Not to mention us,” added Norman Wilder from the doorstep. “We phoned all your friends, and nobody had seen a thing of you.”
“I wish we could tell you all about it,” answered Mary Louise slowly. “But we aren’t allowed to. All I can say is, it’s something in connection with Elsie Grant – the orphan, you know, Mother, whom we told you about.”
Mrs. Gay looked relieved but not entirely satisfied.
“I can’t have you two girls going up that lonely road at night, dear,” she said. “To the Grants’ place, I mean. It isn’t safe.”
“Oh, we weren’t there tonight,” Jane assured her, not going on to explain that they had gone somewhere far more dangerous.
“Well, if you do have to go there, let Max or Norman drive you,” suggested Mrs. Patterson. “The boys are willing, aren’t you?”
“Sure thing!” they both replied.
“Let’s all come inside and have some chocolate cake,” said Mrs. Gay, delighted that everything had turned out all right. “You girls must be hungry.”
They were, of course; but Mary Louise was more anxious to be alone to count her treasure than to eat. However, she could not refuse, and the party lasted until after eleven.
Her mother followed her upstairs after the company had gone home.
“You must be tired, dear,” she said tenderly. “Just step out of your clothes, and I’ll hang them up for you.”
“Oh, no, thanks, Mother. I’m not so tired. We rode home in the bus… Please don’t bother. I’m all right.”
“Just as you say, dear,” agreed Mrs. Gay, kissing her daughter good-night. “But don’t get up for breakfast. Try to get some sleep!”
Mary Louise smiled.
(“Not if I know it,” she thought to herself. “I’m going after the rest of that treasure! The gold! Maybe if I get that back for Miss Grant, she’ll consent to let Elsie go to high school in the fall.”)
Very carefully she drew off her sweater and laid the bills under the pillow on her bed. Then, while she ran the shower in the bathroom, behind a locked door, she counted the money and checked the numbers engraved on the paper.
The attendant was right! There were eight hundred dollars in all, in fifty-dollar notes. And the best part about it was the fact that the numbers proved that the money belonged to Miss Mattie Grant!
CHAPTER VIII
A Confession
It was a little after nine o’clock the following morning that Mary Louise and Jane set off for Dark Cedars. The money was safely hidden in Mary Louise’s blouse, and Silky was told to come along for protection.
“I’ll never leave him home again,” said Mary Louise. “Miss Grant will have to get used to him. But when we tell her about last night I guess she’ll think he’s a pretty wonderful dog.”
“I dreamed about bandits and robbers,” remarked Jane, with a shudder. “No more night adventures for me!”
“Well, it was worth it, wasn’t it? Think of the pleasure of clearing Elsie of suspicion!”
“It won’t, though. Her aunt will insist that she took that gold.”
“We’re going to get that back too,” asserted Mary Louise confidently.
“By the way,” observed Jane, “Norman tried to make me promise we’d drive over to the Park with them this afternoon and have our supper there, after a swim. I said I’d let him know.”
Mary Louise shook her head.
“We can’t make dates, Jane. It’s out of the question, for we don’t know what may turn up. I want to investigate the Pearsons today. That disagreeable Corinne may have had a part in the theft… I’m sorry now that we promised the boys we’d go on that picnic.”
“That picnic’s going to be fun! You know what marvelous swimming there is down by Cooper’s woods. And don’t forget the gypsies! I love to have my fortune told.”
“Yes, that’s fun, I admit. But a whole day – ”
“Oh, well, maybe we’ll solve the whole crime today! And maybe Miss Grant will let us take Elsie with us, now that she has some nice dresses.”
Mary Louise’s eyes brightened.
“That is an idea, Jane. I’ll ask Miss Grant today – as our reward for returning her money.”
The increasing heat of the day and the steepness of the climb to Dark Cedars made the girls long for that swimming pool in the amusement park, and Jane at least wished that they were going with the boys. But one glance at her chum’s determined face made her realize that such a hope was not to be fulfilled.
Both girls felt hot and sticky when they finally mounted the porch steps at Dark Cedars and pulled the old-fashioned knocker on the wooden door. It was opened almost immediately by Hannah, who evidently had been working right there in the front of the house.
The woman looked hot and disturbed, as if she had been working fast, under pressure.
“Good-morning,” said Mary Louise brightly. “May we see Miss Grant, Hannah?”
“I don’t know,” replied the servant. “She’s all of a fluster. We’re at sixes and sevens here this mornin’. The ghosts walked last night.”
“What ghosts?” asked Mary Louise, trying to repress a smile.
“You know. Elsie’s told you about ’em. The spirits that wanders through this house at night, mussin’ up things. They had a party all over the downstairs last night.”
“Hannah!” exclaimed Jane. “You know that isn’t possible. If there was a disturbance, it was caused by human beings. Burglars.”
The woman shook her head.
“You don’t know nuthin’ about it! If it was burglars, why wasn’t somethin’ stolen?”
“Wasn’t anything stolen?” demanded Mary Louise incredulously. “Not Miss Grant’s bonds?”
“Nope. They’re all there – safe. Pictures was taken down – old pictures that must-a belonged to the spirits when they was alive. That old desk in the corner of the dinin’ room – the one that belonged to Miss Mattie’s father – was rummaged through, and all the closets was upset. But nuthin’s missin’!”
“It looks as if somebody were searching for a will,” remarked Jane. “You know – ‘the lost will’ you so often read about.”
“There ain’t no will in this house,” Hannah stated. “Miss Mattie give hers to Mr. John Grant to keep, long ago. No, ma’am, it ain’t nateral what’s goin’ on here, and William and I are movin’ out – ”
“What’s this? What’s this?” interrupted the shrill, high voice of the old lady. “What are you gossiping about, Hannah? And to whom?”
“I’m just tellin’ them two young girls – the ones that come here before, you know – ”
“Well, never mind!” snapped the spinster. “We haven’t time to bother with them this morning. Tell them to run along and not to take up Elsie’s time, either. She’s got plenty to do.”
Jane laughed sarcastically.
“Somebody ought to teach that woman manners,” she whispered to Mary Louise. “Serve her right if we didn’t give her the money!”
Her chum smiled. “We couldn’t be so cruel,” she replied. “Besides, it wouldn’t be honest.” She raised her voice. “Miss Grant, we have some money for you.”
“Money? My money?” The old lady’s voice was as eager as a child’s. For the moment she forgot all about the pain in her side and came downstairs more rapidly than she had done for many a day.
Both girls watched her in surprise. She looked different today – much younger. Instead of the somber old black sateen which she usually wore, she was dressed in a gray gown of soft, summery material, and her cheeks were flushed a pale pink. Her black eyes were alight with vivacity.
“You’re not fooling me?” she demanded fearfully.
Mary Louise reached into her blouse and produced the roll of bills.
“No, Miss Grant. We have eight hundred dollars here – your money! The numbers on the bills correspond to the figures you gave me.”
“Where’s the other fifty?” asked the woman greedily. “Did you keep it yourselves?”
“No, of course not. We don’t know where it is. But if you sit down, Miss Grant, we’ll tell you our story.”
The spinster reached out her hand for the roll of money and clasped it as lovingly as a mother might fondle her lost child.
“Come into the parlor,” she said, leading the way from the hall, “and tell me all about it.”
The girls followed her into the ugly room with its old-fashioned furniture, and saw for themselves the chaos which Hannah had been describing. Instinctively Mary Louise glanced at the windows to determine how an intruder could enter, for she did not believe Hannah’s story of the ghosts. Although the shutters were half closed, she could see that the catch on the side window had been broken. But everything in this house was so dilapidated that perhaps no one had noticed it.
When they were all seated, Jane told the story of the previous evening’s adventure, stressing the part that Silky had played at the end. Miss Grant was impressed and actually asked to see the wonderful little dog. Mary Louise replied that he was waiting for them on the porch.
“So it was Harry Grant after all!” the old lady muttered. “I’m not surprised. But I still believe Elsie had some part in it – and got the gold pieces for herself. She’d rather have them than the paper money.”
“Oh no, Miss Grant!” protested Mary Louise. “We’re going to track them down too. We want to go over to Harry Grant’s now, if you’ll write us a note of introduction and explanation. He may have the gold at his house – it isn’t likely that he’d carry it around.”
“Possibly. But I don’t believe I’ll write a note – I think I’ll go along with you! I want to talk to that good-for-nothing nephew of mine myself – if he’s home. And he probably is, since you got the money… Yes, and I’m going to put this money and my bonds in the bank!” She hesitated a moment. “If you girls get me back that other fifty-dollar bill, I’ll give you a reward.”
“We don’t want a reward, Miss Grant,” objected Mary Louise. “If you’ll just let us take Elsie with us to a picnic the young people in Riverside are planning, we’ll be satisfied.”
“I’ll think about it,” replied the woman. “Hannah!” she called. “You go up and get my bonnet, and a brown paper package that’s underneath it in the box. I’m going to Riverside.”
“You ain’t a-goin’ a walk, Miss Mattie?” demanded the servant in horror.
“Of course I am. I haven’t any car. John may not be over for several days.”
“But your side – ”
“Fiddlesticks! Do as you’re told, Hannah.”
The girls hated to leave without seeing Elsie, but they knew that Hannah would tell her what had happened. Besides, they would probably return with Miss Grant; perhaps they could get Norman or Max to drive them over. Jane chuckled at the idea of putting the old lady in the rumble seat – just for spite!
Silky came darting up to them as they came out of the door, and Miss Grant reached over and patted his head. (“It’s her one redeeming trait,” thought Mary Louise – “her kindness to animals.”)
“I’m glad you brought him,” she said, “in case we meet anybody like that man you encountered last night!”
They proceeded slowly, although the road was downhill; every few minutes Miss Grant stopped and held her hand over her side. Mary Louise wondered what they would do if the old lady collapsed, and decided that Jane would have to run for a doctor while she and Silky stayed to protect her and administer first aid.
But they reached the Riverside bank without any such mishap, and Miss Grant attended to her business while the girls waited outside. Then, very slowly, they walked the three blocks to the home of Harry Grant.
“He is back!” exclaimed Mary Louise jubilantly as she recognized the battered old car in the driveway. “I didn’t expect he would be. I thought he’d stay away as long as that fifty-dollar bill lasted him.”
“Maybe he didn’t have it,” remarked Miss Grant.
Jane turned on her angrily.
“You think we kept that, don’t you, Miss Grant?” she demanded.
“No, no! Nothing of the kind!”
Before they had mounted the porch steps, Mrs. Grace Grant had rushed out of her house in amazement and stood gazing at her sister-in-law as if she were a ghost. She was a woman of about the same age, but much pleasanter looking, with soft gray hair and a sweet smile. As Elsie had said, nobody could believe anything bad about Mrs. Grace Grant.
“Why, Mattie, this is a surprise!” she exclaimed. “It’s been five years at least – ”
“It’ll be more of a surprise when I tell you why I’m here, Grace,” snapped the other, sinking into a chair on the porch with a sigh of relief. “I’ve got bad news. I’ve been robbed.”
“Robbed?”
“Yes.” In a few words the spinster told the story of her loss of thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, and of the two girls’ offer of assistance in discovering the thief. “Of course, I suspected Elsie immediately,” she said, “but it seems I made a mistake. Or partly a mistake, for there is still five hundred missing – all in gold. But these girls found out who took the bills and have got them all back for me – all but fifty dollars.”
“Who was the thief?” demanded Mrs. Grant excitedly.
“Your son Harry! I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Grace.”
“I don’t believe it!” protested the other woman. “What proof have you, Mattie?”
“Tell the story, Jane,” said Miss Grant. “I’m too tired.” She leaned against the back of her chair in exhaustion.
Briefly Jane related the incidents of the previous evening, describing their perilous ride in Harry Grant’s car. The story rang true; Jane repeated the very words the young man had uttered as he drove away, words which Mrs. Grant recalled easily. Before she had finished, the unhappy mother was crying softly.
“What are you going to do to him, Mattie?” she asked finally. “Have him arrested?”
“That depends on him,” replied her visitor. “If he gives me back the other bill, maybe I’ll let him go. I don’t want to drag the Grant name into the papers if I can help it… Is he home?”
“Yes. He’s upstairs, dressing.”
“Just getting up, eh?”
“He was out late last night.”
“Carousing with my fifty dollars, I suppose.”
“I hope not.” Mrs. Grant rose and went through the screen door. Five minutes later she returned with her son.
As Elsie had remarked, Harry Grant was a good-looking man. He was stylishly dressed, in an immaculate linen suit, and he came out smiling nonchalantly at his aunt, as if the whole thing were a joke.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” he exclaimed, staring incredulously at Mary Louise and Jane. “Are these the girls Mother says I took for a ride last night?”
“It’s a terrible car,” remarked Jane.
Miss Grant stamped her foot to put a stop to what she considered nonsensical talk.
“Tell me just how you managed to steal my money, Harry,” she commanded. “And where the other fifty-dollar bill is – and my five hundred in gold.”
The young man’s chin went up in the air.
“I didn’t steal your money, Aunt Mattie,” he said. “I was never inside your bedroom in my life – at least, not since I was grown up!”
“Don’t lie, Harry! How did you get it if you didn’t steal it out of my safe?”
“It was given to me.”
“By whom?” Miss Grant looked scornful: she couldn’t believe any such foolish statement.
The young man hesitated. “I don’t think I ought to tell that,” he replied.
“Oh yes, you ought! And you have to, or I’ll have you arrested,” threatened his aunt.
“Tell the truth, dear,” urged his mother. “Whoever stole that money deserves to suffer for it.”
“All right – I will! It was Corinne – my niece, Corinne Pearson. She took it. Eight hundred and fifty dollars in bills. She gave me eight hundred dollars – half of it to spend for her, and half for myself. I was to buy a certain evening gown and cloak in a shop in New York with which she had been corresponding. With my four hundred I was going to get a new car and drive back to Riverside and announce that I had a present for Corinne, because I was sorry for her about the party, and because I had put a good sale through. That’s all… It simply didn’t work.”
“Corinne!” repeated Miss Grant. “I’m not surprised. I always did suspect her… And has she the other fifty dollars?”
“Yes, I believe she kept that for slippers and the beauty parlor,” answered Harry.
Miss Grant got up from her chair.
“You surely haven’t any of the gold, have you, Harry?” she inquired.
“No. Corinne didn’t say anything about any gold pieces. You can’t use them now, anyhow.”
“No doubt she’s keeping them put away,” surmised the old lady. “Come, girls! We’re going to the Pearsons’ now.”
“Can I drive you over, Aunt Mattie?” offered Harry jovially.
“I wouldn’t put a foot in that rattletrap for anything in the world!” was his aunt’s ungracious retort.
So she hobbled down the steps with Mary Louise and Jane beside her and Silky close at their heels.