  Mary Louise slept late the following morning. The dining-room doors had been closed for an hour when Mrs. Hilliard finally came into her room. “What time is it, Mrs. Hilliard?” she inquired, opening her eyes and staring at the bright sunlight pouring through the windows. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. I thought you had better sleep this morning, Mary Louise, on account of your head. How do you feel?” “Oh, I’m all right, Mrs. Hilliard, thank you. But this is no time for anybody with a job to get up! I’ll get fired.” The woman laughed. “My dear, you are doing all that anybody could do, I believe. I am afraid the situation is hopeless. Mrs. Weinberger moved out this morning.” “Did she hear from her daughter?” “Yes, she had a telegram. She is married and has gone to New York for a honeymoon over Christmas.” “How did her mother take it?” “Very badly. She seemed all cut up about it. The man has a job as a taxi driver, and though Mrs. Weinberger has never met him, she is sure he is a rough, uneducated fellow.” “Miss Stoddard thinks he is our thief,” announced Mary Louise. “She believes he has been working with Miss Weinberger’s help.” Mrs. Hilliard’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. “That might be possible,” she said. “Yes. You remember it was a man who entered my room Friday night. And with Miss Weinberger to watch out for him, he could have sneaked into ’most any of the rooms. That’s the theory I wanted to work on today. Where did Mrs. Weinberger go?” “To the Bellevue—temporarily. She said that she’d find something cheaper later on and send me her forwarding address. But she will stay at the big hotel for a few days, till her daughter comes back.” “Then I’m going to go see her there. Isn’t there something she left that I could take over to her, to use for an excuse?” “A special-delivery letter arrived a few minutes ago. I was going to send it over this afternoon by one of the maids.” “Let me take it! And I’ll have Max take me there to lunch so I can say I was coming to the hotel anyway. Where is it?” “Broad and Walnut—right across the street from the Ritz Carlton. Your friend will probably know.... Now, you get dressed, Mary Louise, and come over to my apartment for a cup of coffee. You must have something before you leave.” “Thanks very much, Mrs. Hilliard. If it isn’t too much trouble.” She was ready before one o’clock, her bandage entirely covered by her hat, and was waiting downstairs in the lobby for Max when he arrived. “You’re looking fine today, Mary Lou!” he exclaimed admiringly. “How’s the head?” “Oh, it’s all right. Max, could we go to the Bellevue for lunch? And will you please let me pay the bill—out of my salary? Because it’s on account of the job that I want to go there.” “Sure we can go,” he replied. “But nix on the bill. Unless you eat everything on the bill of fare.” “I know, but it’s a big hotel, and it may be dreadfully expensive.” “We’ll see,” he agreed. Max left his car in an open-air garage near the hotel, and the two young people entered together. Mary Louise thought it was a lovely place, and she pressed Max’s arm jubilantly. What fun it was to have a companion! She wouldn’t have enjoyed lunching there alone at all, but having Max made it seem like a party. The hotel was quite crowded, probably with numerous vacation guests and Christmas shoppers, and the young couple made their way slowly to the dining room. In the passageway they suddenly came upon Pauline Brooks with another girl—the same blond girl she had been with on Walnut Street the preceding Saturday noon. “Pauline!” exclaimed Mary Louise. “How are you?” Pauline turned around, and seeing Mary Louise’s handsome companion her smile included him. Mary Louise introduced Max, and Pauline in turn introduced the cute little blond as Miss Jackson. The girl immediately began to roll her eyes at Max. “I was so disappointed that you moved away from Stoddard House,” said Mary Louise. “I didn’t like the atmosphere,” replied Pauline. “Too much stealing. I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything left if I stayed.” “But you didn’t lose anything, did you?” asked Mary Louise. “No, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, it’s a lot more comfortable here.” “Here? I thought you were at the Ritz?” Pauline laughed. “I was. But my aunt went out to the country, so I moved over here. Like it better.” “I see.” Suddenly a thought came to Mary Louise: That woman whom she had seen in the empty house—her face looked like Pauline’s aunt! That was the person she had reminded her of! “Is your aunt’s place at Center Square?” she inquired. Mary Louise thought she saw Pauline start at the question, but she answered it carelessly enough. “It’s not in any town,” she said. “Just in the country.... Well, I’ll be seein’ you.” She started away. “Wait a minute,” begged Mary Louise. “Did you girls ever meet a girl named Margaret Detweiler, from Riverside? I am trying to find her for her grandmother.” “Margaret Detweiler—yes——” began Miss Jackson. But Pauline interrupted her. “You’re thinking of Margaret Lyla, Blondie,” she corrected. “We don’t know any Margaret Detweiler.” “That’s right,” agreed the other girl, in obvious confusion. Mary Louise sighed: she had probably been mistaken. And it was all so mixed up, anyhow. Her memory of the night before, of those two faces at the window, was already growing vague. She and Max went on into the dining room. “Some high-steppers,” remarked Max. “Not your type, Mary Lou.” “I don’t care for the little blonde,” agreed Mary Louise. “But I did sort of like Pauline Brooks. She was my first friend here in Philadelphia, and she seemed awfully sociable.” “I don’t like her,” said Max emphatically. Of course, Mary Louise was flattered, and she smiled contentedly. “Well, you needn’t worry—she’ll never be one of my best friends,” she said. The waiter led them to a table with a pretty bouquet on the shining white linen cover, and Mary Louise felt almost as if she were at a party. An orchestra was playing, and there were many people dancing. Everything here spoke of gayety and life: no wonder Pauline Brooks referred the Bellevue to Stoddard House. But she must be very rich to be able to stay here. “A big city is grand, isn’t it?” she remarked to Max, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it can be an awfully lonely place too, Mary Lou. It all depends on who is with you.” And his eyes told her who the person was whom he preferred. “Yes, I guess you’re right, Max. I was lonely—and it was wonderful of you to come. I wish you could stay the whole time here with me.” “I’m supposed to go back tonight, or tomorrow morning early at the latest. But I could break that on one condition.” “What’s that?” demanded Mary Louise. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Mary Lou, you know how much I care for you. You know I’ve adored you since the first minute I met you. There’s never been anybody else. Let’s get married—?now—?today—and keep it secret till I graduate in June. Then——” The waiter approached diplomatically. Mary Louise picked up the menu in confusion. She had never dreamed Max would suggest such a thing. Why, she had no idea of getting married for years and years! “I’ll take this special luncheon,” she said, noticing that its cost was moderate. “I will too,” added Max, anxious to get rid of the waiter. “What do you say, Mary Lou? Will you?” His voice was so eager that the girl was deeply touched. “Oh no, Max. I couldn’t. I don’t love you—or anybody—that way yet. And I couldn’t deceive my parents or let you deceive yours.” “We might just tell our fathers and mothers,” he suggested. “No, no, I couldn’t. Let’s don’t even talk about it. I’m here in Philadelphia on a detective job, and I mean to give it my very best. I’ll be sorry to have you go home, but maybe it will be better. I’ll work harder if I haven’t anybody to play around with. Now—what would you say to a dance while we wait for our first course?” The couple glided off to the music, and more than one person in that big dining room noticed the graceful, handsome pair and envied them their happiness. When they came back to their seats their soup was ready for them. “Here come your friends,” remarked Max, as Pauline Brooks and her blond companion entered the dining room. “And take a look at the fellows they have with them!” “I don’t like their looks,” announced Mary Louise emphatically. “Neither do I, needless to say. Just goes to show you what kind of girls they are.... Mary Lou, I want you to drop that Brooks woman. She might get you into harm. Promise me!” “No need to promise,” laughed Mary Louise. “I’ll probably never see her again now that she’s moved away from Stoddard House.” Mary Louise ate her luncheon with keen enjoyment. There was nothing like going without breakfast, she said, to give you an appetite for lunch. “Do you think there’s any chance of your getting home for Christmas?” asked Max wistfully. “No, I don’t believe so,” she replied. “I try not to think about it. It will be my first Christmas away from home, the first time I ever didn’t hang up my stocking. But, Max, if I could solve this mystery for Mrs. Hillard, it would be worth ten Christmas stockings to me. I just can’t tell you what it means.” “Yes, I realize that. But it doesn’t seem right. The fun at home—visiting each other’s houses after dinner, and the Christmas dance at the Country Club! Gosh, Mary Lou, I just can’t bear it!” “Why, Max, I’ll be the homesick one—not you,” she reminded him. Her eyes traveled around the room while they were waiting for their dessert, and she caught sight of Mrs. Weinberger, eating a lonely lunch in a corner by a window, looking as if she didn’t care whether she lived or died. Mary Louise felt dreadfully sorry for her; she was glad to have an excuse to go to speak to her after lunch. She took Max over and introduced him. Mrs. Weinberger acknowledged the introduction, but she did not smile. She looked as if she might never smile again. “Yet how much gloomier she would be if she knew we suspected her daughter and her husband of those crimes!” thought Mary Louise. “I have a special-delivery letter for you, Mrs. Weinberger,” she said. “I was coming here for lunch, so Mrs. Hilliard asked me to bring it over to you.” “Thank you,” replied the woman, taking the letter and splitting the envelope immediately. “You heard that my daughter is married, Miss Gay?” “Yes, Mrs. Hilliard told me.” Mary Louise longed to ask when the honeymooners would be back, but she hesitated because Mrs. Weinberger looked so gloomy. The woman drew a snapshot from the envelope. “Why, here is their picture!” she exclaimed. “And—he’s positively handsome!” Eagerly she handed the photograph to Mary Louise, anxious for the girl’s good opinion of the new son-in-law. What an opportunity for the young detective! Mary Louise’s fingers actually trembled as she took hold of the picture. But all her hopes were dashed to pieces at the first glance. The man was as different from Mary Louise’s burglar as anyone could possibly be. Six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he was smiling down tenderly at his new wife, who was at least a foot shorter. “He’s charming, Mrs. Weinberger,” she tried to say steadily. “May I offer my congratulations?” The older woman straightened up—and actually smiled! “He is a civil engineer,” she read proudly. “But he couldn’t get a job, so he’s driving a taxi! Well, that’s an honest living, isn’t it?” “I should say so!” exclaimed Max. “You’re lucky you don’t have to support him—as so many mothers and fathers-in-law have to nowadays.” Mary Louise was pleased for Mrs. Weinberger’s sake but disappointed for her own. Miss Stoddard was all wrong: the solution was incorrect. And she was just as much at sea as ever! “There’s your friend Pauline Brooks,” remarked Mrs. Weinberger. “And—look who’s with her!” “That’s a friend of hers—a Miss Jackson,” explained Mary Louise, as the two girls, with their boy-friends, got up to dance. “Miss Jackson nothing! That’s Mary Green—the chorus girl who was staying at Stoddard House when my watch was stolen. I’d like to have a talk with that young woman. But I suppose it wouldn’t do any good.” Mary Louise’s eyes narrowed until they were only slits; she was thinking deeply. Mary Green—alias Miss Jackson! The next step was to find out whether Pauline Brooks too had a different name at this hotel! Maybe at last she was on the right track. |
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