  “What in the world are you doing?” asked Jane when she came out on the porch the following morning to find her chum studiously poring over a notebook. “You must think school has begun!” Mary Louise looked up. “It’s harder than school—but it’s more fun,” she replied. “I’m working on the mystery of the fires.” “Mystery? You really don’t think the Flicks’ Inn was just an accident?” “No, I don’t. If it were the first fire, I might believe that. But with the Hunters’ a week or so ago, the whole thing looks sinister to me. I’m frightened, Jane. Ours may be the next. We haven’t any insurance to speak of. Besides, something dreadful might happen to Mother. People are burned to death sometimes, you know.” “Yes, that’s true,” replied Jane seriously. “But what are you going to do?” “Treat it just like a case, as I did Dark Cedars. List all the possible suspects and search the neighborhood for desperate characters.” “Such as gypsies?” “No, not gypsies. They wouldn’t have any motive this time. But somebody must have a motive—unless it’s a crazy person who is responsible.” Jane’s eyes opened wide. “That’s an idea, Mary Lou! There are people like that—crazy along just one particular line. They feel they simply have to light fires. Firebugs, you know.” “Incendiary is the correct term, I believe,” said Mary Louise. “Oh, so you’ve already thought of it and looked up the word!” “Yes, I’ve thought of it. Who wouldn’t have? It’s the first explanation that jumps into your head when you hear of a fire. They say lighted cigarettes start them too, and small children.” “Small children? But not boys as big as Freckles and the Smiths?” An expression of pain passed over Mary Louise’s face. “I’m afraid everybody suspects the boys. Especially Mr. Flick.... I’m going to call Freckles now and ask him just exactly what he did yesterday. Then, if you’re interested, Jane, I’ll read you all my list of suspects.” “Sure I’m interested. I love to play the part of Watson to the great Sherlock Holmes Gay!” Mary Louise stuck out her tongue. “Don’t be so fresh!” she said, but she was pleased and flattered to be called Sherlock Holmes. Freckles, eating a bun and followed by Silky, came leisurely through the screen door. Mary Louise asked him to sit down and talk to her. “Can’t long,” was the reply. “Have to go see old man Flick.” “Don’t speak of Mr. Flick in that disrespectful way!” said Mary Louise disapprovingly. “I will, though. I hate him. He thinks us guys set his old inn on fire, and we really saved his trees. Sweatin’ like horses, carryin’ water from the river, and that’s all the thanks we get!” “Freckles,” said his sister seriously, “you must tell me all about what you did yesterday. Everything! No secrets. Because this is important. It may save somebody innocent from imprisonment—and help spot the real criminal.” “O.K., I will, Sis.” He sat down on the hammock, and Silky jumped up beside him. He gave the little dog a piece of his bun, and then he began. “Up in the woods beyond Shady Nook—past the Ditmars’, you know, and all the cottages—we’re building a shack. A clubhouse for the ‘Wild Guys of the Road.’ So yesterday we took our lunch—the two Smiths, the two Reeds, and I—to set to work.” “Did you make a fire?” demanded Mary Louise. “Sure we made a fire. We got to have a fire. But don’t you go thinking that fire spread to Flicks’. If it had, why wouldn’t Ditmars’ and Robinsons’ cottages have been burned? They’re in between.” “Yes, that’s true. Did you stay there in the woods all day?” “Yeah. Cooked some hot dogs for our supper, and Larry Reed had a can of baked beans. Boy, we had a swell feed! And never thought a thing about the picnic on the island till it started to get dark. Then we put out the fire, packed our stuff away, and made tracks for home.” “About what time was that?” asked Mary Louise. “I mean, when you finally left your camp?” “Nine-thirty or ten, maybe. I don’t know.” “And you saw two people on your way back, you said?” “Four people, really, because the Ditmars were taking a walk in the woods. They were quarreling, I’m sure. She was mad at him. Said she thought he was positively cruel!” “What!” exclaimed Jane. “Looks as if Horace Ditmar might have set the place on fire himself—just as Mr. Frazier was expecting!” Mary Louise wrote something in her notebook, and Freckles continued: “Then, a little farther on, we met a tramp. At least, we think he was a tramp, though it was too dark to see his face. He was a big man in shabby old clothes. Overalls, I think. He was coming towards us—away from Shady Nook. We think he’s the man you want!” “Had you ever seen him before?” “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t want to be sure. After we passed him, we saw the funny-looking woman with the big pitcher under her arm. The moon was out then, and we got a good look at her. We all think she was crazy—kind of talking to herself as she went along. “Then, as we came nearer to Shady Nook, we smelled smoke and found out it was Flicks’. The inn was burned down by then—it was all wood, you know—but there was plenty of fire smoldering around. So we got some buckets at our own houses and began carrying water from the river. We must have worked a couple of hours.... Till you came along.... That’s all.” “You’re going to tell this story to Mr. Flick?” “It’s not a story!” cried the boy indignantly. “It’s the truth!” “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Mary Louise hastened to assure him. “I believe you, Freckles. But I do wish you had someone to swear to the truth of it—for the people who may not believe you. Some witness, I mean. Did the Ditmars see you boys in the woods?” “No. When we heard their voices—and I told you she was good and mad—we beat it around another path. Women murder their husbands sometimes, you know!” he added solemnly. “I don’t believe Mrs. Ditmar would commit murder,” replied his sister. “We met her yesterday morning, and she seemed awfully nice.” Freckles stood up. “Guess I better be on my way. Old man Flick’s got an awful temper.” “Well, be sure to keep yours,” Mary Louise warned him as he walked down the steps. She turned to Jane. “What do you think about it?” she asked. “I think it’s a mess. But I don’t believe anybody’s guilty. Probably just some careless servant girl.” “I don’t know. I’m going over to see Mr. Flick this morning. I’ll have a good reason now that Freckles is sort of involved. “Now I’ll read you my list of suspects and their motives, and you tell me what you think and whether you can add any names: “‘Horace Ditmar—motive, to make work for himself. “‘Mr. Flick and Cliff Hunter—owners, to collect insurance. “‘Tramp and queer-looking woman—firebugs. “‘Careless servants—and “‘The boys.’... Now, can you think of anybody else?” “It looks like Mr. Ditmar to me—or else the careless servants,” replied Jane. “I’d never believe it was Cliff Hunter. Or Mr. Flick. Why, Mr. Flick was making money this summer—he’d be a fool to set his place on fire. Besides, he was at the picnic. How could he?” “Things like that can be arranged,” replied Mary Louise, thinking of David McCall’s accusation. “That tramp, for instance, might have been bribed.” “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to. Now, if it were that man Frazier’s place, the Royal Hotel, I mean, it would be possible. You know what Cliff said about the way he’s losing money. The hotel is practically empty, except for the Hunters and their friends.” “Maybe it will give Mr. Frazier an idea,” remarked Mary Louise, “and his hotel be the next to burn!” “You seem to feel sure that something is coming next!” “I’m afraid so. And I only hope it won’t be our bungalow!” Mary Louise sighed and closed her notebook. “It’s much more difficult than that mystery at Dark Cedars,” she said. “Because there you had only one place to watch. If I knew which cottage would be the next to burn, I could hide there and spy. But Shady Nook’s a mile long, and I can’t be everywhere.” “No,” agreed Jane. “And you don’t like to stay home from all the parties just on a chance that there will be a fire. Has it occurred to you, Mary Lou, that both fires started when everybody from Shady Nook was off on a party?” “Yes, it has. That’s why it seems like a planned crime to me—not just an accident. As if the criminal picked his time carefully.” The familiar “chug-chug” of a motorboat interrupted the girls’ discussion. Clifford Hunter shut off his engine and threw the rope around the Gays’ dock. “Hello, girls!” he called, with his usual grin. “I haven’t had time to work up any new card tricks, but I hope I’ll be welcome just the same.” “Oh, we have more serious things to think about than tricks,” responded Mary Louise. “You mean that now you have to turn in and do the cooking since Flicks’ Inn is gone?” “I really hadn’t thought of that,” answered Mary Louise. “Though of course we shall have to do that very thing. We aren’t rich enough to eat at the Royal Hotel.” “It’s not so steep, considering the service you get. Maybe Frazier will lower his prices, for he sure needs the business. But, of course, you have a large family. It would be kind of expensive.” “Where can we buy food?” inquired Jane. So far, the Gays’ breakfasts had consisted of supplies they brought along with them, with the addition of milk, butter, and eggs from a farmer who stopped daily at Flicks’. “There’s a store over at Four Corners,” replied her chum, naming the nearest village—about five miles away. “We usually drive over once a week for supplies. I suppose I better go in now and ask Mother how soon she wants me to go.” “Be my guests tonight at the Royal for dinner,” suggested Cliff. “Then you won’t have to bother about buying stuff.” “Thanks, Cliff, but there are too many of us. Besides, I’d have to go to the store anyway. We’ll need things for lunch. You know how hungry we are when we come out from swimming.” “By the way,” asked Jane, “where is David McCall staying? And the other people who were boarding at Flicks’?” “They’re all over at the hotel,” answered Cliff. “Makes the place seem quite lively. Frazier’s stepping around at a great rate, looking pleased as Punch.” “Oh!” exclaimed Mary Louise significantly, and she wrote another name into her notebook. She ran inside the cottage and five minutes later returned with her mother’s list of groceries and the keys to the car. “I’m going over to Four Corners now, Jane,” she announced. “Will you come with me or play around with Cliff?” Her chum stood up. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, Cliff.” The young man made a face. “Jane only likes me for my card tricks,” he whined. “If I can’t amuse her, I’m no use.” Both girls burst out laughing. “Work up a new one while we’re gone,” advised Jane. “And we’ll see you in swimming.” |
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