  Sunday morning dawned clear and peaceful. As Mary Louise wakened to hear the birds singing in the trees outside the window of Hannah’s old room at Dark Cedars, she could hardly believe in the terrifying experience of the previous night. It was just like a horrible dream, incredible in the morning sunshine. “I believe I’d like to go to Sunday school,” she said to Jane at the breakfast table. “It’s a lovely day, and we’d see all our friends. Don’t you want to come along too, Elsie?” The young girl, still pale and nervous from the night before, shook her head. “No, thank you, Mary Louise,” she replied. “I’ll stay home and help Hannah.” Mary Louise glanced up apprehensively. As yet the servant had not been informed of the mysterious intruder. “Will you tell her what happened last night?” she asked, in a low tone. “Or shall we?” “No, I will,” agreed Elsie. “She’ll be sure it was Mrs. Grant’s ghost again.... And I’ll help her fix up the bedroom.” Mary Louise nodded. “You’ll come, Jane?” she inquired. “I’m leaving—for good!” announced her chum. “I wouldn’t spend another night at Dark Cedars for all the necklaces in the world!” Mary Louise said nothing: there was no use arguing with Jane. As she went out of the door with Silky at her heels she called to Hannah that she alone would be back to dinner. “About two o’clock,” returned the woman. “And ain’t Miss Jane comin’?” “No, Hannah,” answered the girl for herself. “I shan’t see you again. Good-bye.” The girls were some distance beyond the hedge of Dark Cedars when Mary Louise asked her companion her reason for leaving. “Because,” she added, “now that everything valuable has been stolen, I don’t see what you have to fear.” Jane hesitated a moment. “I hate to say it, Mary Lou, but I feel I must tell you—for your own protection. It’s Elsie I’m afraid of. I really believe she is guilty. I think she has those gold pieces hidden somewhere at Dark Cedars—and now the necklace. I think she’s a sneak, and I believe she’s planning a getaway. But if one of us should discover her theft, I’m afraid she’d do something desperate to us.” An expression of pain passed over Mary Louise’s face. “Go on, and tell me why you suspect her,” she said. “On account of last night. Figure it out for yourself. If that had been a burglar, why wouldn’t Silky have barked when he was getting into the house? Why wouldn’t Elsie have heard him, if she was down in the kitchen, as she said? And how could he have gotten away so quickly? You think maybe he went out that window at the side of the house, but that’s only a guess. Elsie could have pretended to make an escape from the window while you were locked in the closet and then have slipped out the door and down to the kitchen.” Mary Louise gasped in horror. “It doesn’t sound possible,” she admitted. “And the way she protested her innocence immediately,” added Jane. “Remember that?” “Yes, I do. But there is a possible explanation, Jane. The burglar might have broken into the house while we were away and been hiding in the closet while I got ready for bed. I didn’t open the door.” “But why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he finish the job and leave before we came back?” “He might have just gotten in about the time we arrived at Dark Cedars.” She paused, thinking of Corinne Pearson. “Suppose it was Corinne—on her way to that dance——” Jane shook her head. “Possible, but not probable,” she said. “No, I believe it was Elsie. Do you remember how pleased she was that I wasn’t going to sleep with you in Miss Mattie’s room? And how she sneaked in there night before last, scaring us so? Oh, Mary Lou, I think all the evidence points that way. And she’s beginning to notice our suspicion. That’s why she was so quiet at breakfast—and so glad to get rid of us.” Mary Louise was silent; she did not tell Jane that she felt convinced that the burglar was of the feminine gender. “Well, don’t say anything about our experience to anybody,” cautioned Mary Louise as the girls entered the Sunday school building. “I may talk it over with Daddy, if he’s home. But nobody else.” Jane promised, and they both dismissed their troubles for the time being in the presence of their friends. It was eleven o’clock when the two girls came out of the building, to find Silky patiently waiting for them. “You take him home, Jane,” said Mary Louise, “and I’ll stop at the hospital. If I can do so tactfully, I want to find out whether it really was a ruby necklace that was hidden in the bed.” But Mary Louise’s visit proved a disappointment; she was told at the desk that it would be impossible for her or anyone else to see Miss Mattie Grant at the present time. “The operation was successful,” the attendant stated, in that matter-of-fact tone officials so often assume, “but Miss Grant is under the influence of a narcotic. She wouldn’t know anybody.... Come back tomorrow.” Mary Louise nodded and walked slowly out of the door, uncertain as to what her next move should be. Still thinking deeply, she strolled down the street until she came within a block of Mrs. Grace Grant’s home. Here a sudden impulse decided her to visit these relations of Miss Mattie. If anyone in the world knew about the necklace, that person would be the trusted nephew, John Grant. Mary Louise paused a moment in front of the gate, a little nervous about going in. Suppose Harry Grant were home alone and he started to tease her in that familiar way of his! John she had never seen, except that night on his porch, in the dark; and of course Mrs. Grant would be at church. But the sight of a nice-looking sedan parked in front of the house reassured her. In all probability that was John’s car, she decided, for it certainly was not Harry’s. Bravely she opened the gate and walked up to the porch. She had to wait several minutes before there was any answer to her ring. Then a middle-aged man, stout and rather bald, as Elsie had described John, opened the door. “Is this Mr. John Grant?” she asked, trying to make her tone sound business-like. “Yes,” replied the man. “I am Mary Louise Gay,” she stated. “The girl who found Miss Mattie Grant’s money for her, you know.” John Grant did not know; he shook his head. Evidently the story had been suppressed by his mother out of consideration for Harry. “You didn’t hear about the robbery?” she inquired. “No. I only know that Aunt Mattie is in the hospital. My sister—Mrs. Pearson—phoned yesterday. But when was she robbed?” “Can you come out on the porch and talk to me for a few minutes, Mr. Grant?” asked Mary Louise. “Certainly,” he answered, glancing at his watch. “I have to drive to church for Mother at half-past twelve. But that’s over an hour from now.” “Thank you, Mr. Grant,” said Mary Louise, as she seated herself in one of the chairs. “I won’t tell you the whole story—it’s too long. But before your aunt went to the hospital, all her money was stolen out of her safe. My chum and I succeeded in getting most of it back—all but a box of gold pieces—and your aunt put the money and her bonds into the bank. “Then, when she had to go to the hospital so suddenly, she became panic-stricken and made me promise to sleep in her room while she was away. She had something hidden in her room, something valuable, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. I’d like to find out just what it was.” “Why?” demanded the man fearfully. “Has that been taken too?” Mary Louise nodded and briefly told her story of the mysterious intruder the preceding night. “It was a ruby necklace,” said John. “A necklace someone gave to my grandfather, I believe. Aunt Mattie didn’t know much about how he got it, but he told her it was very valuable and that she must guard it above everything else in the world. So she had it hidden in her straw mattress, and told me where it was, because it is willed to me. Nobody else knew anything about it, to my knowledge.” “A ruby necklace!” repeated Mary Louise. “That’s what the gypsy said it was. I asked a fortune teller whom our crowd visited yesterday, and she told me. Claimed it was ‘second sight’ on her part.” John Grant laughed. “More likely a rumor she had heard. The family knew there was something—I mean Aunt Mattie’s family—my father and my uncle. But even they never knew where Grandfather got it or from whom. There must have been something queer about it, though, for I understood from my father that Grandmother wanted him to give it back. And then, when Aunt Mattie got hold of it, she kept it hidden.” “Yes, that’s what Hannah says,” agreed Mary Louise. “She says all this disturbance is old Mrs. Grant’s spirit trying to get it back again. But I can’t be expected to believe that.” “Naturally.” John smiled, and Mary Louise thought what a nice, pleasant face he had. No wonder his aunt Mattie trusted him! “Miss Grant is going to blame Elsie, of course,” continued Mary Louise. “She accused her of stealing the gold pieces.” “Hm!” observed John, as if he too thought the idea possible. “Did she take the rest of the money?” “No, she didn’t. We proved that.” “Then who did?” inquired John. “I think I had better not say,” answered Mary Louise. “That’s over and done with. Your mother knows—if you want, you can ask her.” John smiled. Mary Louise believed he had guessed the solution himself. “You don’t really think Elsie would take the gold or the necklace, do you, Mr. Grant?” she asked anxiously. “Of course, you know her a lot better than I do.” “I don’t know. She might argue that she had a right to some of that money. It wasn’t quite fair that Aunt Mattie got all of Grandfather’s fortune, and Elsie’s father didn’t get a penny.... Yes, she might take it, while I don’t believe she would ever steal anything else.” Mary Louise shuddered: it seemed as if she were the only person in the world who still considered Elsie innocent. “There’s a colored family who live down the hill in back of Dark Cedars. Could they know about the necklace, Mr. Grant, do you suppose?” “Abraham Lincoln Jones? Yes, they could have heard rumors about it—just as those gypsies did. But I happen to know that man, and I am sure he is thoroughly honest.” “Would he steal chickens?” “Not even chickens.... Of course, his children might. Colored people love chicken, you know.” “I’m going to get Elsie to take me to see them this afternoon.” Mary Louise rose from her chair. “I won’t take any more of your time, Mr. Grant—unless you can tell me what to do. I don’t like to go to the police without Miss Grant’s consent.” “No, I wouldn’t do that. If there is something queer about her possession of the necklace, it would be better for her to lose it than to have an old disgrace exposed. At Aunt Mattie’s age, I mean. We better wait until she gets well.” Mary Louise nodded: that was exactly her idea too. Unless, of course, one of the family had taken it—Corinne Pearson or Harry Grant. “But I guess it would be all right to speak to Daddy in confidence about it,” she said, “and get his advice.” “Your father?” “Yes. He is Detective Gay, of the police force. You’ve heard of him?” “Oh, yes, certainly. But tell him not to bring in the police—yet.” Mary Louise held out her hand. “Thank you so much, Mr. Grant, for giving me your time,” she said. “I’ll get in touch with you later.” Well satisfied with her interview, she left the Grants’ porch and determined to do a little more investigating for herself before she consulted her father. A little farther down the street was the home of Bernice Tracey, an attractive young woman of about twenty-five, who had once been a lieutenant in Mary Louise’s Girl Scout troop. To this girl she decided to go for some information concerning Corinne Pearson, for she knew that Miss Tracey was a member of the Country Club set. Miss Tracey herself answered Mary Louise’s ring at the door. “Why, Mary Lou!” she exclaimed in surprise. “You are a stranger! And you almost caught me in bed, too! I just finished my breakfast. Come in—or shall I come out on the porch?” “Oh, I can only stay a minute, Miss Tracey,” replied Mary Louise. “I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.... And please don’t think I’m crazy.” “I know there never was a girl with a more level head on her shoulders!” answered the other admiringly. “Go ahead and ask me the questions, Mary Lou.” “Well—er—you went to that dance last night, didn’t you, with the Country Club people? Was Corinne Pearson there?” “Yes, she and Ned Mason ate supper with us. Why?” “Please don’t ask me why! What time did the dance begin?” “About eleven o’clock.” Mary Louise frowned; it was possible, then, that Corinne could have been at Dark Cedars a little after ten. “And—and—can you remember what Miss Pearson wore?” “Yes. A white organdie. It was very simple, but awfully nice for a summer dance. I wish I had been as sensible.” Now for the final question! Mary Louise had to summon all her courage to put forth this one. “Do you remember what kind of jewelry she had on? What color?” Miss Tracey’s face lighted up with a smile. “I know why you’re asking me these questions, Mary Lou!” she exclaimed. “You’re a society reporter on the Star—aren’t you? But I don’t see why you don’t ask me what I wore. Aren’t I as pretty and as important as Corinne Pearson?” “You’re twice as important and five times as pretty, Miss Tracey!” replied Mary Louise instantly. “But I’m not a reporter-or even trying to become one.... I’ll explain some time later.... Just tell me about the jewelry, if you can remember.” “All right, my dear. Corinne wore red with her white dress. Imitation rubies, I suppose. Earrings and necklace and two bracelets.” “Oh!” gasped Mary Louise. “That’s what I want to know. Thank you, Miss Tracey, thank you just heaps!” |
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