  The day after Mrs. Fishberry’s visit to the Carlton bungalow, the woman stepped off the train at Chicago and took a taxicab to an apartment house in the center of that city. Ringing the bell three times, she was finally admitted by a man about her own age. “Hello, Ed,” was her greeting. “Well, Elsie,” he said, questioningly, as she drew off her gloves and seated herself in a large leather chair. The apartment was obviously that of a bachelor, furnished by the hotel, in a style that one would expect to appeal to a man. “Did you see the kid?” he asked, as he lighted a cigarette. “Yeah. But she didn’t like me. Claimed she never saw me before, and that I’m not her real aunt.” “Well, of course, you aren’t,” he observed, in a matter of fact tone. “No, but I will be soon—when you and I are married. You’re surely her uncle, aren’t you?” “Yeah. No doubt about that.” “Well, then——” “We won’t be married till we make sure we get the money!” he announced, firmly. The woman looked sulky. “You’ve got the money, haven’t you?” she demanded. “The girl’s father is dead, isn’t he?” “Listen, Elsie,” he said, irritably. “I’ve told you about this before, but you can’t seem to get it through your thick head. There were two of us boys, and the old man. My mother died young. Well, I was supposed to be a ‘bad egg,’ but my brother was everything my father admired. That’s the kid’s father, you see. He married early, but soon after the child was born he and his wife were killed in an automobile accident. So, of course, Dad—the kid’s grandfather—took her to raise.” “But I’ve heard all that!” interrupted Mrs. Fishberry. “Sure you have. But you don’t understand about the old man’s money. It seems he left a will hidden in the house, and nobody could find it. And I happen to know that he meant all his money to go to the kid, and not a cent to me.” He smiled, in a way that was always fascinating to women, and Elsie Fishberry smiled, too. How clever he was! “Lucky thing for me,” he continued, “that the will was lost! I might have had to work all these years!” “Well, you got the money!” she concluded, happily. “So it beats me why you want more, when the old man left a hundred thousand dollars!” Ed frowned impatiently. “I tell you I haven’t got it, Elsie! Why can’t you believe me?” “Then how is it that you live in luxury while that kid and her nurse almost starved in that old house?” “Because a Trust Company still keeps charge of the bonds. They won’t hand ’em over to me till the girl dies, or till the old man’s will is found. But they give me the income, and I’m supposed to let the nurse have some of it to take care of the kid.” The woman laughed harshly. “Did you ever give her a cent?” “Yes. You’d be surprised. I visited the old place two or three times and gave the woman five dollars. Once the kid almost drowned in the Fox River, when I was there.” “I guess you didn’t do anything to save her!” laughed Mrs. Fishberry. “No, I can’t say that I did. It would have been easier for me if she had died. But a couple of boys happened along and fished her out.” “Didn’t she yell for help?” “Sure. But I pretended I was deaf. And that nurse really is deaf—she’s so old. About eighty, I figured. She took care of me and my brother—the kid’s father—when we were children.” “And where is that nurse now?” The man shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe at home—maybe out looking for the kid.” “That reminds me what I specially wanted to tell you,” remarked Mrs. Fishberry. “So long as they won’t believe I’m the child’s aunt—they call her ‘Amy,’ you know—we’ve got to dig up some pictures and records to prove it.” “You mean you’ve got to dig them up—at the old house,” corrected Ed. “I’m not going near the place till Monday, and then I’m going to set it on fire.” “Set it on fire!” exclaimed the other, in horror. “Sure. If the Trust Company knows that the place is burned, they will give up all hope of finding the will, and hand out the old man’s bonds to me. After all, I’m the real heir. I’m the son, and this kid is only a granddaughter, even if Dad did like her better than me.” “You’re a wise one,” remarked Mrs. Fishberry, with admiration. “But suppose that old nurse happens to be inside—and catches you?” “I’ve thought of that. I’m going disguised as an old man, and I expect to work at night, anyway. Don’t worry, Elsie—I’m not going to bungle this— But you get those pictures before Monday—they ought to be in the family Bible and the album on the parlor table. I’ll map out the directions how to get to the house.” “Suppose the nurse is there?” “If she is, don’t say anything about the kid. Just tell her that I sent you for the stuff. After all, I’ve got a right to ’em.” “And if she isn’t there, how’ll I get in?” “I’ll give you my key.” The woman was silent for a moment, thinking rapidly. “Listen, Ed,” she said, finally, “if you’re going to get all that money in bonds from your father’s estate, let’s give up this other scheme. It’s not worth it.” The man jumped up angrily. “Not worth it!” he snarled, and his face was far from attractive now. “Not worth it for twenty-five thousand dollars!” “We may not get it,” she whimpered. “Oh, yeah? Well, if we don’t, it’ll be your fault! Because you balled up the works. Listen, Elsie, did you do what I asked when you were at the Carltons’? Suggest that you believed it was Linda Carlton hit the kid with her autogiro, and not a car?” “Yeah. I did. But I don’t believe they hardly took it in.” “Linda Carlton’ll take it in when we sue her for damages. I think maybe we better ask fifty thousand, and then we’ll be sure to get twenty-five.” “Are you sure Linda has twenty-five thousand?” “Positive. Didn’t she get that for her ocean flight?” “Sure. But maybe she blew it in on clothes,” suggested the woman. “Somehow I don’t believe she did,” replied Ed, with a knowing smile. Then, abruptly he frowned. “Elsie, you’ve got to get hold of that kid and take her away somewheres—pretend it’s her old home. It’s a lucky break for us that she lost her memory.” “I’ll say so.” Suddenly Mrs. Fishberry jumped up and darted over to her host’s chair, seating herself on the arm. “Listen, Ed,” she said, coyly taking his hand, “have you thought that we’ve got to be married before this suit comes into court, if you don’t want to appear in it? If I sue for damages, I’ve got to be the child’s real aunt.” The man laughed. “You win, Elsie! O.K. with me. You get those pictures by Sunday, and the kid too, and I’ll get the license. We’ll get married Monday morning.” Mrs. Fishberry stood up, satisfied. She had won everything she wanted. The plan was simple; she would go out in the country to that old house on the Fox River on Saturday, and get her pictures and records. On Sunday she would take them to the Carltons’, and demand that the young girl come away with her. She would return to Chicago and put the child into an insane asylum, from which there would be no hope of escape. On Monday, Mrs. Fishberry would be married to Ed Tower, and after the old house was burned to the ground, they would go on their honeymoon. When they returned, they would collect the small fortune from the Trust Company and proceed to sue Miss Linda Carlton for the sum of fifty thousand dollars! She did not see a single flaw in the plan, for if the young girl was in an asylum, there would be no one to protest. |
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