  “Let’s sit down again while you tell me every single thing that happened here yesterday,” suggested Mary Louise. Elsie took off the white coat and folded it carefully. Then she removed her hat. “But I can’t sit down in this silk dress,” she objected. “I might get it dirty, and I don’t want to take it off till I see myself in a mirror. I might not have another chance to put it on all day long!” “You can sit on the paper,” advised Jane. “That will protect it. Besides, the ground is dry, and these needles are a covering.” Very cautiously Elsie seated herself, and turned to Mary Louise, who had dropped down beside her on the ground. “Begin when you got up in the morning,” she said. “That was about seven o’clock,” replied Elsie. “But really, that doesn’t matter, because I’m sure Aunt Mattie counted her money after you girls brought the kitten back. I heard her. And she stayed in her room until after lunch.” “Does this safe have a combination lock?” inquired Mary Louise. “No, it doesn’t. Just a key. John Grant suggested to Aunt Mattie that she have one put on, and she refused. She said people can guess at combinations of figures by twisting the handle around, but if she kept the key with her day and night, nobody could open the safe.... But she got fooled!” “The lock was broken?” “Yes. But the door of the safe was closed, so she hadn’t noticed it until she went to count her money this morning.” “Do you know how much was taken?” “No, I don’t. Plenty, I guess. Only, there was one queer thing about it: the thief didn’t take the bonds she kept in a special drawer.” “Overlooked them, probably,” remarked Mary Louise. “Maybe. I don’t know. Well, as I said, Aunt Mattie was in her room until lunch time, and then she went out on the front porch. About two o’clock in the afternoon Aunt Grace and her son John drove over.” “John—Grant,” repeated Mary Louise, consulting the list in her notebook. “He’s your aunt Grace’s oldest son?” “Yes. He’s about forty, as I said. Fat and a little bit bald. An old bachelor. Probably you’d recognize him if you saw him, because he’s on the School Board. Aunt Mattie likes him because he does little repair jobs for her around the house that save her spending money for a carpenter. “Yesterday he went upstairs and fixed a window sash in her bedroom.” Elsie paused thoughtfully. “So you see John had a good chance to open the safe and steal the money.” “Why, he’s the guilty one, of course!” cried Jane instantly. “It’s just too plain. I should think your aunt would see that.” Elsie shook her head. “No, it would never occur to Aunt Mattie to accuse John. He’s the one person in the family she trusts. She always says she is leaving him all her money in her will—so why would he bother to steal it?” “He might need it now, for some particular purpose,” replied Jane. “He is handy with tools, you say—and had such a good opportunity.” “We better get on with the story,” urged Mary Louise. “Any minute Elsie may be called in.” The girl shuddered, as if she dreaded the ordeal of meeting her aunt again. “Was your aunt Grace in the bedroom at all during the afternoon?” questioned Mary Louise. “By herself, I mean?” “I don’t know. She and Aunt Mattie went up together to look at the window after John finished fixing it, but whether or not Aunt Grace was there alone, I couldn’t say. Anyhow, there’s no use worrying about that. Aunt Grace just couldn’t steal anything.” “According to the detective stories,” put in Jane, “it’s the person who just couldn’t commit the crime who always is the guilty one. The one you suspect least.” “But this isn’t a story,” said Elsie. “I wish it were. If you knew how dreadful it is for me, living here and having everybody think I’m a thief!” “Why don’t you run away, now that you have some decent clothes?” suggested Jane. “I just wouldn’t stand for anything like that!” “But I have nowhere to go. Besides, running away would make me look guiltier than ever.” “Elsie’s right,” approved Mary Louise. “She can’t run away now. But we’ll prove she’s innocent!” she added, with determination. “There’s something else that happened during that visit,” continued Elsie. “I mean, while Aunt Grace and John were here. Part of a conversation I overhead that may give you a clue. Aunt Grace said her youngest son—Harry, you remember—had gotten into debt and needed some money very badly. She didn’t actually ask Aunt Mattie to help him out: she only hinted. But she didn’t get any encouragement from Aunt Mattie. She told Aunt Grace just to shut Harry out of the house till he learned to behave himself!” “So this Harry Grant is in debt!” muttered Mary Louise, making a note of this fact in her little book. “Could he have stolen the money?” “Yes, it’s possible. After Aunt Grace and John went home, Harry came over to Dark Cedars.” “What time was that?” “Around four o’clock, I think. I was out in the kitchen, helping Hannah shell some peas for supper. We heard his car—it’s a terribly noisy old thing—and then his voice.” “What’s he like?” asked Mary Louise. “I told you he was the youngest of Aunt Grace’s children, you know, and he’s rather handsome. He treats me much better than any of the other relations, except Aunt Grace, but still I don’t like him. He always insists on kissing me and teasing me about imaginary boy-friends. I usually run out into the kitchen when I hear him coming.” “Is he here often?” “Only when he wants something. He tries to flatter Aunt Mattie and tease her money away from her. But, as far as I know, he never gets any.” “What did he want yesterday?” “He said he wanted a loan. He didn’t bother to talk quietly: I could hear every word he said from the kitchen.” “And your aunt refused?” “Yes. She told him to sell his car if he needed money. As if he could sell that old bus!” Elsie laughed. “You’d have to pay somebody to take that away,” she explained. Mary Louise tapped her pencil again. She hated to get away from the all-important subject. “But how do you think Harry could have stolen the money if your aunt Mattie was with him all the time?” she asked. “Aunt Mattie wasn’t. He had a fine chance. Something had gone wrong with his car, and he had to fix it on the way over. So his hands were all dirty, and he went upstairs to wash them.” “Oh!” exclaimed Jane significantly. “Looks bad for Harry Grant,” commented Mary Louise, “because he had a motive. Daddy always looks for two things when he’s solving a crime: the motive, and the chance to get away with it. And it seems that this young man had both.” Elsie nodded. “Yes, he had. And he was upstairs a good while, too. But then, he’s an awful dandy about everything. You never see grease in Harry Grant’s finger nails!” “Did he go right out when he came downstairs?” inquired Mary Louise. “No. He laughed and joked a lot. I heard him ask Aunt Mattie to lend him her finger-nail rouge because he had forgotten his. Then he said he’d like some cookies, and I had to make lemonade.” “So, if he took the money, he must have had it in his pocket all this time? He didn’t go upstairs again?” “No, he didn’t. And I know Aunt Mattie had a good deal of it in gold, so it must have been terribly heavy. Still, men have a lot of pockets.” Mary Louise nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But you’d think if he really had taken it he’d have been anxious to get away. That story about asking for cookies and lemonade almost proves an alibi for him.” She sighed; it was all getting rather complicated. “Did anything else happen yesterday?” she asked wearily. “I mean, after Harry went home?” “Not till after supper. Then Mrs. Pearson and her daughter walked over to see Aunt Mattie. They used to be rich, but Mr. Pearson lost his job, and they had to sell their car. So now they have to walk wherever they go.” Jane let out a groan. “So every one of those five relations of Miss Grant was here yesterday and had a chance to steal that money!” she exclaimed. “Yes,” agreed Elsie. “Every one of them!” “What are the Pearsons like?” asked Mary Louise. “Well, Mrs. Pearson looks like Aunt Grace—she’s her daughter, you remember—but she isn’t a bit like her. She isn’t religious; in fact, she doesn’t seem to care for anything in the world but that nasty daughter of hers. Corinne, you know. Have you ever seen Corinne Pearson?” “I think I have,” replied Mary Louise. “Though she never went to our school. I believe she attended that little private school, and now she goes around with the Country Club set, doesn’t she?” “Yes. Her one ambition, and her mother’s ambition for her, is to marry a rich man. I hate both of them. They’re so rude to me—never speak to me at all unless they give me a command as if I were a servant. Last night Corinne told me to bring her a certain chair from the parlor, because she thought our porch rockers were dirty. And the tone she used! As if I ought to keep them clean just for her!” “I always imagined she was like that,” said Jane. “I was introduced to her once, and when I passed her on the street the next day she cut me dead.” “Once she told me to untie her shoe and see if there was a stone in it,” continued Elsie. “In the haughtiest tone!” “I’d have slapped her foot!” exclaimed Jane. “You didn’t obey her, did you?” “I had to. Aunt Mattie would have punished me if I hadn’t. She dislikes Corinne Pearson and her mother, but she hates me worst of all.... So you can easily see why I run off when I see the Pearsons coming. I went back into the kitchen with Hannah, but Aunt Mattie soon called me to bring some ice water. And the conversation I heard may be another clue for you, Mary Louise.” “Oh, dear!” sighed Jane. “We’ve got too many clues already.” A voice sounded from the house, making the girls pause for a moment in silence. “Elsie! Oh, Elsie!” “It’s Hannah. I’ll have to go in a minute,” said the girl, carefully getting to her feet, not forgetting her new dress. “But first I must tell you about this conversation, because it’s important. It seems Corinne was invited to a very swell dance by one of those rich Mason boys, and she came over to ask Aunt Mattie for a new dress. Aunt Mattie laughed at her—that nasty cackle that she has. And then she said, ‘Certainly I’ll give you a dress, Corinne. Go up to my closet and pick out anything you want. You’ll find some old party dresses there!’ “Well, I could see that Corinne was furious, but she got up and went upstairs. And she did pick out an old lace gown—I thought maybe she was going to make it over. Perhaps she was just using it to hide the money, if she did steal it.... Anyhow, she and her mother went home in a few minutes, carrying the dress with them.” Mary Louise closed her notebook in confusion. “You better run along now, Elsie, or you’ll get punished,” she advised. “All right, I will,” agreed the younger girl as she gathered up her things. “You know all the suspects now.” “All but the servants,” replied Mary Louise. “And if I can, I’m going to interview Hannah immediately.” |
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