  The day following that on which Gwen had been found, Detective Bobs had gone early in the morning to report at the Fourth Avenue Branch of the Burns Agency. “Mr. Jewett,” she began at once, “as a detective I certainly am a failure.” The young man laughed. “I’ll agree with you that in one way, you certainly are, but nevertheless you accomplished your mission.” Bobs’ expression of blank surprise seemed to delight her employer. “But, Mr. Jewett, what can you mean? It was my sister whom I found. I did not find Miss Winston-Waring.” “Yes you did, and you talked with her, or to her, rather.” “Well, I’ll be flabbergasted!” Then Bobs apologized. “Pardon my lingo, Mr. Jewett. Our gardener’s boy used to say that when he was greatly astonished, and I certainly never was more so. When, in the name of mystery, did I talk to that young lady, and where?” “It was at the first theater that you visited. Miss Winifred said that you came into the dressing room and that after two of the girls, called Pink and Bee, had talked with you awhile, you turned to her, for her mirror was nearest you, and asked her directly if she liked the life of a chorus girl. She did not know how to reply, for the truth was that her three days’ experience on the stage had greatly disillusioned her. She had found the rough ways of the girls repellent to her refined, sensitive nature, and she was afraid of the stage manager, whose criticisms were sarcastic and even unkind. “While she was hesitating, Bee, it seems, had replied for her, and then it was that you had explained your mission. She, of course, had not given her real name, and so no one suspected that she was Miss Winifred Waring-Winston. “Her pride alone kept her from following you and confessing her identity. She had declared to her mother that she would live her own life in her own way, and she could not bear to acknowledge her defeat. Too, there was one bright spot in her new profession, which was that the star, Miss Merryheart, had singled her out and was very kind to her. “That same afternoon, it seems, after the matinee,” Mr. Jewett continued, “Miss Merryheart sent for her to come to her dressing room. The others were jealous and said things that were so unkind and untrue that the sensitive girl was almost in tears when she reached the room of the star. “When the door had been closed and they were alone, Miss Merryheart placed kindly hands on her shoulders and looked deep into the tear-brimmed eyes. ‘Dear little girl,’ she said, ‘why didn’t you tell our visitor that you are Winifred Waring-Winston?’” Of course the girl was amazed and greatly puzzled, for she had told Miss Merryheart nothing at all concerning her past or her identity, and so she asked her how she had known. “The star replied: ‘I have been long on the stage and I know when a girl has been brought up in an environment different from the others. Too, I saw last night that you were greatly disillusioned, and I realized by the frightened, anxious glances that you cast about the audience that you feared someone might be there who would recognize you in spite of your disguise, and when our visitor today told me that in this city there was a home made desolate, a mother heart breaking because a little girl had run away to go on the stage, why shouldn’t I guess that you are the one?’ “Then she added: ‘Tell me your telephone number, dear.’ “And that,” Mr. Jewett concluded, “is how it chanced that an hour later Winifred was restored to the arms of her mother, who at once canceled her passage for Europe, as a year abroad would not be needed to disillusion the little would-be actress.” “That wonderful Miss Merryheart!” Bobs said irrelevantly, “I love her and I want to know her better.” Mr. Jewett smiled, “Miss Vandergrift, as you say, you are not exactly a successful detective, and yet, in both of the cases on which you have been engaged you have accomplished what might be called indirect success. For, even though you did help him to escape, you discovered the thief of the rare old book, and you have been instrumental in restoring a lost girl to her mother. Now, I have another case and one quite different for you. Do you wish to take it?” Bobs laughed. “Mr. Jewett,” she said, “like Winnie, I fear that I, too, am disillusioned. I find that a detective is not allowed to have sympathy. Honestly, if my life had depended upon it, I couldn’t have turned that old man over to justice; but what is the new case?” Roberta could not believe that she was hearing aright when he told her. “Mr. Jewett,” she exclaimed, “will you kindly say that over again?” The young man was finding his new assistant refreshingly different. “I merely stated that I would like you to help us find the heir to the Pensinger Mansion, who—” he paused and snapped his fingers. “I declare,” he ejaculated, “I had quite forgotten for the moment that is your present home. All the better, for there may be some important evidence right on the premises. Come into my office and I will read all the data that we have filed up to the present.” Very much interested, Roberta followed the young man, wondering what she was to hear. When they were seated, Mr. Jewett said: “Perhaps you know something of the story of the Pensinger family?” Roberta replied that she did; that a neighbor, Miss Selenski, had told about the lost daughter, Marilyn, and about her father’s strange will. “There is little more known by anyone,” Mr. Jewett said. “Judge Caldwaller-Cory, whose father was Mr. Pensinger’s legal advisor and close friend, is very eager to find the heir before it is too late. Not many years remain before the property, according to the will, is to be sold, the money to be devoted to charity. Judge Cory declares that it haunts him, sometimes, as the old house is supposed to be haunted. He feels sure that Marilyn is not living, but she might have children, somewhere, who are in need. The judge never accepted the theory which some held, that the beautiful girl leaped into the East River on the night that her shawl was found on the bank. He believes that she was secretly married and that, with her lover-husband, she departed for his home country, Hungary.” Roberta nodded. “O, I do hope so!” she exclaimed so eagerly that Mr. Jewett smiled. But what he said was: “And so now, once again, the case is to be reopened, and, as the judge himself is very busy, he has turned the matter over to his son, who has recently become junior member of his father’s firm. Ralph Caldwaller-Cory is young and filled with fresh enthusiasms, and it is his wish that we put on the case a girl of about the age that Marilyn was at the time, if we have one in our employ. Since you had not notified me that you had ceased to be one of us, I told him that I would procure just the type of person whom I believed best fitted to assist us. Are you willing to undertake this case, Miss Vandergrift?” Bobs smiled when she heard the name. “Gladly,” she said, rising, “and this time I hope I will not do little.” |
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