The Mystery of the Fires

Mary Louise Gay a girl detective.

Jane Patterson her chum.

Mr. Gay, Mrs. Gay her parents.

Joseph (Freckles) Gay her brother.

Silky her dog.

David McCall a young insurance agent, visiting Shady Nook.

boy-friends.

Max Miller

Norman Wilder

Reeds two adults and five young people.

Hunters mother and son.

Partridges four adults.

Mr. and Mrs. Flick owners of the inn.

Robinsons two adults and two boys.

Smiths two adults and three children.

Mr. and Mrs. Ditmar a young married couple.

Adams a farmer with three grown-up children.

Mr. and Mrs. Frazier owners of the Royal Hotel.

Eberhardt a village storekeeper.

CHAPTER I

The Burnt Bungalow

“For the whole month?”

Jane Patterson’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as she repeated the invitation her chum had just extended.

“Yes,” replied Mary Louise Gay. “You see, we never could invite you before, because the bungalow is so small, and there’s just room enough for our own family. But Dad will be out West all of August. He doesn’t expect to be back until Labor Day.”

“On a case?” inquired Jane, for Mr. Gay was a detective on the police force.

Mary Louise nodded.

“Yes. An important one. I almost wish I could go with him – it sounds so thrilling.”

“Didn’t you have enough excitement and mystery at Dark Cedars?” demanded Jane.

“I never have enough,” returned the other girl.

“Well, please don’t dig up anything to spoil our vacation at Shady Nook. Still, I don’t really suppose you could if you tried. The very name implies peace.”

“It is a peaceful spot,” agreed Mary Louise. “Not a bit like a big summer resort. Just the mountains and the woods and the lovely Hudson River. Only half a dozen bungalows, so that everybody knows everybody else. It’s all so friendly and nice.”

“Then I shan’t need any fancy clothes – like dance dresses?” Jane’s tone held a faint note of disappointment. She loved outdoor sports, but she was equally fond of parties.

“You better take a couple along,” replied the other girl. “Across the river from Shady Nook there’s a big modern hotel where we often go for dinners and dances. Everybody wears their best clothes there. But most of the time we eat at Flicks’ Inn. It’s just a bigger bungalow, where they have a dining room for the Shady Nook people and a few boarders. Very nice and informal.”

Jane jumped up and started down the steps, across the lawn that separated the Gays’ house from the Pattersons’.

“I must go tell Mother all about it,” she explained, “and begin to get my clothing ready. What time do we start?”

“Seven o’clock tomorrow morning. Rain or shine.”

Left alone, Mary Louise opened the screen door and went into her own house. Her father, with his suitcase on the floor beside him, was saying good-bye to her mother and to his young son Joseph, whom everybody called “Freckles.”

Mr. Gay put his hand upon his daughter’s shoulder and said to his wife:

“I am counting on Mary Louise to take care of you, dear. After the way she mastered that situation at Dark Cedars, I feel that she is capable of almost anything. Far above and beyond most girls of sixteen!”

“She is!” agreed Mrs. Gay proudly. “But I am not expecting any trouble at Shady Nook. I’m more worried about what may happen to you before you catch those criminals!”

“I’ll be all right,” her husband assured her. “Wire for me if you need me – and I’ll come back by airplane.”

Mrs. Gay nodded, little thinking that she would have to follow his advice before the month was over.

As soon as he was gone, the other three members of the family returned to the business of packing. Silky, Mary Louise’s little brown spaniel, trotted around after them, sniffing at everything and looking serious and important, as if he were doing most of the work.

“I’m thankful your father left us the car,” remarked Mrs. Gay, as the suitcases and packages were piled up near the back door. “We’ll need it.”

“Shady Nook is so far from the Junction,” added Mary Louise. “Yes, we’re lucky. And isn’t it nice I have my license, so you won’t have to drive all the way?”

“It certainly is,” agreed her mother. “You’ve always been a big help to me, Mary Louise. And so have you, Freckles,” she added to the boy.

At last everything was finished, in time to allow them all a good sleep before their trip. Shady Nook was almost a day’s journey from Riverside, if they took it in a leisurely manner, driving slowly enough to enjoy the beautiful Hudson River, and stopping at noon at some pleasant inn to eat lunch and rest.

Jane was on hand early, helping the Gays to stack the luggage in the back seat and on the rack provided at the rear of the car.

“Don’t forget to leave a corner for Silky!” Freckles reminded the girls, “He can’t be left behind!”

“As if I could forget him!” returned his sister, picking up the little spaniel and giving him a hug. “Didn’t he save our lives that night we rode in Harry Grant’s car?”

Jane shuddered; she could never forget the horror of that dark night or the terror she had experienced when the tramp commanded, “Hands up!” Good old Silky, biting a piece out of the thug’s leg while the girls made their escape!

“Who’s driving first?” she asked, as the last bundle was stored away.

“I am,” answered Mary Louise. “You and Silky in front with me, and Mother and Freckles in back. We’ll shift places after lunch.”

It was a lovely clear day, not so hot as it often is in August, and the whole party was in the gayest of spirits. Mary Louise loved to drive, and she did it well. She would not have minded if she had been kept at the wheel all day.

Nevertheless, after their pleasant lunch at a quaint little tea room on the roadside, she was perfectly willing to exchange places with her mother and enjoy the better opportunity to look at the scenery.

Jane, however, was more interested in Shady Nook than in the country through which they were passing. She asked innumerable questions.

“How many bungalows did you say there are, Mary Lou?” she inquired.

“There were six last year, counting Flicks’ Inn. But I understand that there were two new ones put up this spring.”

“And are there plenty of young people?”

“Not so many at the cottages, but it doesn’t matter, because we have just as much fun with the middle-aged people. Everybody swims and paddles and dances and plays tennis. Besides, there are always extra young people boarding at Flicks’ for shorter vacations. And sometimes we meet the people at the Royal Hotel.”

“Is that where they hold the dances?” inquired Jane. “When we wear our flossy dresses?”

“Yes. That’s the place. Across the river from Shady Nook.”

“Tell me some of the people’s names,” urged Jane.

“Well, next door to us – only it really isn’t next door, because there’s quite a little woods between – is the loveliest cottage at Shady Nook. It was built by a man named Hunter, who was very rich. He bought all the land around there on our side of the river and sold it to people he knew and liked. But he died last year, so only his wife and son came back this summer.”

“A son?” repeated Jane, rolling her eyes. “Not a babe in arms, I hope!”

“A sophomore at Yale,” replied Mary Louise. “Rather homely, but awfully nice – and piles of fun.”

“What’s the youth’s name?”

“There you go! Putting him down in your notebook already! His name’s Clifford. We all call him Cliff.”

“Naturally. But if he’s your property, Mary Lou, just say the word, and I’ll keep off.”

Mary Louise laughed.

“Nobody’s my special property,” she said. “Not even Max Miller,” she added, mentioning her particular boy-friend in their home town of Riverside. “Though he sometimes acts as if he believed I were his! I like Cliff Hunter a lot – everybody does. But we don’t pair off much at Shady Nook, except sometimes to go canoeing. Most of the time we’re just one big family.”

“Who else are there besides the Hunters?” inquired the other girl. “I mean, what other families with young people?”

“The Reeds are about the jolliest family at Shady Nook,” answered Mary Louise. “There are five children, and the father and mother are just as much fun as the kids. The two oldest girls – Sue and Mabel – are twins about our age. Seventeen, I believe, to be exact. Then there are two younger boys that Freckles chums up with, and a little girl.”

“I’m afraid I’ll never be able to keep all those names straight,” sighed Jane.

“Wait till we get there and you meet them one at a time,” advised the other. “It’s so much easier to remember people after you’ve seen them.”

This advice sounded sensible, and Jane settled back in her corner to enjoy the remainder of the ride. The time passed quickly; at five o’clock they crossed the railroad junction and turned into the private road that led to Shady Nook.

The trees were thick on one side of the road, but on the other they could see the lovely Hudson River, gleaming blue in the August sunlight. Jane went into ecstasies over the beauty of the spot.

“Here we are!” announced Mrs. Gay as she turned off to a dirt driveway and brought the car to a stop at a tin garage. “Our back door!”

“Why, we’re right in the woods!” cried Jane, still unable to see the Gays’ cottage.

“Wait till you see the bungalow!” returned Mary Louise. “It’s like a little dream house. You can borrow it for your honeymoon, if you like – provided you don’t get married in the summer time.”

“Thanks a lot! But I think I’ll wait a few years before I accept your kind offer.”

In another moment they were all out of the car, following Mrs. Gay around to the front of the cottage, up to the screened porch, from which they had a good view of the river.

As Mary Louise had said, the bungalow was charming. Built entirely of logs, it combined the picturesqueness of olden times with the conveniences of the modern day. A huge fireplace covered one entire wall of the living room, and the chairs were big and soft and comfortable. A drop-leaf table at one end of the room was sometimes used for meals, because there was no dining room. But the spotless kitchen contained a breakfast nook where the Gays always ate their first meal of each day. Two bedrooms branched off from the living room, with a white bathroom between them.

“A little bit too civilized for me,” said Freckles, in a most superior manner. “I sleep out back in a tent.”

“In good weather,” amended Mrs. Gay. “Now, girls, suppose we just unpack one suitcase apiece and get ready for dinner. We’re going over to Flicks’, of course.”

“I got to have a swim!” announced Freckles.

“All right, if you’ll be quick about it. And don’t go in all by yourself.”

The group gathered together again at half-past six and started down the private road to Flicks’ Inn, where they would have their supper. Mary Louise and Jane had both put on light summer dresses and looked as rested and refreshed as if they had been at Shady Nook all summer.

“And where is our next-door neighbor’s cottage?” inquired Jane, peering through the trees on the road. “Or do the Hunters live on the other side of you?”

“No, the Reeds live on the other side. Theirs is the last bungalow. The Hunters’ is right in here.” She paused at a path between two big oak trees.

Jane stepped to her side and looked in among the foliage.

“I don’t see it,” she said.

“It’s been burnt down!” cried Freckles, dashing up behind the girls. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you. About a week ago, Larry Reed said. Awful mysterious. In the night.”

“Burned down!” repeated Mary Louise, rushing in through the trees beside the path. “Honestly?”

“See for yourself!” replied her brother.

A few steps more, and they saw for themselves that it was only too true. The blackened trunks, the dry, scarred grass, and the faint smoky odor confirmed his statement. The beautiful cottage was gone forever. Nothing remained but the charred stones of its foundation.

“Boy, don’t I wish I’d been here!” exclaimed Freckles regretfully. “It must have been some fire. But they say nobody saw it. It was practically out when they discovered it.”

“Lucky that it was!” said Mrs. Gay. “Suppose ours had caught too!”

Mary Louise shuddered; such an idea was too dreadful to contemplate.

“Do you know any of the details, Freckles?” asked his mother, as the party turned back to the road again.

“No, I don’t. Nobody does. It just happened, at night, while everybody was over at a dance at the Royal Hotel across the river.”

“Maybe we’ll hear more about it at Flicks’. Come on, let’s hurry.”

They passed one bungalow on the way to the inn, which Mary Louise pointed out to Jane as belonging to the Partridges – all middle-aged people, she explained – so that her chum was not interested. Nobody over twenty-five was any use to Jane Patterson.

The inn, a large square frame building, was completely surrounded by porches on which tables were placed where people were already eating their dinners. Of the eight families at Shady Nook, all except one took their lunches and suppers at Flicks’. Besides them, there were at least half a dozen boarders. Roughly, Mary Louise estimated there were about thirty-five people at the inn.

They all seemed to know the Gays, for everybody was bowing and smiling as the little party opened the screen door of the front porch.

Mrs. Flick, a fat, good-natured woman of about fifty, came forward to welcome them.

“My, it’s good to see you all back again!” she exclaimed, with genuine pleasure. “But where is Mr. Gay?”

“He had to go to California on business,” explained Mrs. Gay. “So we brought Mary Louise’s friend, Jane Patterson, in his place. Mrs. Flick, this is Jane.”

“Happy to meet you, Miss Jane,” returned the landlady as she led the Gays to their accustomed table. When they were seated, she pulled up a chair beside them to talk for a few minutes with Mrs. Gay.

“Tell us about the Hunters’ bungalow!” begged Mary Louise immediately.

“There isn’t much to tell. Nobody knows much… Oh, here’s Hattie to take your order.” And the newcomers had to exchange greetings with the waitress, the daughter of a farmer named Adams who lived a couple of miles from Shady Nook.

When the order had been given, Mary Louise repeated her question.

“It happened a week ago – on a Saturday,” explained Mrs. Flick. “Mr. Clifford had four college boys visiting him, and they all went across the river that evening to a dance at the Royal Hotel. Mrs. Hunter went along with ’em. When they came back, the place was burned to the ground.”

“Didn’t anybody see the flames – or smell the smoke?”

“No. The wind was the other way from the hotel, and there wasn’t anybody at Shady Nook to notice. Everybody, except Pa and me, went to the dance. And we were sound asleep.”

Hattie came back with the soup, and Mrs. Flick rose from her chair. “I’ll see you later,” she said as she hurried into the house.

“It sounds very mysterious,” muttered Mary Louise.

“Oh, there’s probably some simple explanation,” replied Jane lightly. “We’ll have to ask Clifford Hunter. Where is he, Mary Lou? Do you see him?”

The other girl glanced hastily about the big porch and shook her head.

“Not here,” she answered. “But he may be inside. There’s another dining room in the bungalow.”

“This isn’t Clifford?” asked Jane, watching a tall, good-looking, dark-eyed young man coming out of the door.

Mary Louise turned around and smiled.

“No. That’s David McCall. He usually comes up just for two weeks’ vacation and stays here at Flicks’.”

A moment later the young man reached the Gays’ table and was introduced to Jane. But he merely nodded to her briefly: his eyes seemed to devour Mary Louise.

“I thought you’d never come, Mary Lou!” he exclaimed. “A whole week of my vacation is gone!”

“But you have another week, don’t you, David?”

“Yes. A measly seven days! And then another year to wait till I see you again!” His tone was not bantering, like the boys at home. David McCall was serious – too terribly serious, Mary Louise sometimes thought – about everything.

“May I come over to see you after supper?” he pleaded.

“Of course,” agreed Mary Louise lightly. “And then you can tell us about the fire. You were here when it happened?”

“No. I didn’t get here till Sunday. But I can tell you something about it, all right!”

Mary Louise’s eyes opened wide with interest.

“Somebody set it on fire – on purpose, you mean, David?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

The young man leaned over and whispered in her ear:

“Clifford Hunter himself!”

Mary Louise gasped in amazement. “But why?” she demanded.

“To collect the insurance!” was the surprising reply.

And, turning about, David McCall went back into the boarding house.

CHAPTER II

Clifford’s Story

“What did he say?” demanded both Jane and Freckles the moment David McCall was out of hearing distance.

Mary Louise leaned forward and lowered her voice.

“He said Cliff Hunter set the place on fire himself – to get the insurance. Now that his father is dead, the bungalow belongs to him.”

“How awful!” exclaimed Jane. “Do you believe that, Mary Lou?”

“No, I don’t – knowing Cliff as I do. Do you, Mother?”

“Certainly not,” replied Mrs. Gay emphatically. “It’s just David’s jealousy. He’s poor himself, and he has a sort of grudge against all rich people.”

“Maybe,” admitted Mary Louise. “David never did like Cliff, all the summers they’ve both been coming up here to Shady Nook.”

“I wish I could meet this young Hunter,” lamented Jane. “I’m keen to get a look at him.”

“Maybe he isn’t here any more,” remarked Mary Louise. “Since the bungalow is gone, where would he stay?”

“The Hunters are living over at the Royal Hotel, I think,” Freckles informed them. “Seems to me that’s what Larry Reed said.”

“Then Cliff will be over to see you,” observed Mrs. Gay confidently.

Her supposition proved correct: no sooner had the Gays returned to their own bungalow after supper than a motorboat chugged its way across the river and anchored at their dock. A moment later Clifford Hunter stepped out.

As Mary Louise had said, he was not a good-looking young man. His height was only medium, and he was so thin that even expensive tailoring could not make his clothes look well. But his big nose and his sandy complexion were offset by a pleasant smile and attractive gray eyes, which somehow made you feel as if you had known Cliff Hunter all your life.

“Hello, Mary Lou!” he called as he came towards the porch. “Heard you were here!”

He whistled a gay tune as he ascended the steps, and smiled.

“Not so homely after all,” Jane thought as she looked into his pleasant face. And his white flannels and dark blue coat were certainly becoming. They evidently did not wear sweaters at the Royal Hotel.

“Hurry up!” returned Mary Louise. “We’re dying to hear the news!”

“Yes, of course.” He shook hands with Mary Louise and her mother and was introduced to Jane.

“Sit down, Clifford,” urged Mrs. Gay.

The young man fumbled in his pocket and produced a pack of cards.

“In a minute, thank you, Mrs. Gay,” he replied. “But first – take a card, Mary Lou. I know some bully new tricks.”

Mary Louise burst out laughing.

“Haven’t you gotten over that fad yet, Cliff?” she asked.

He regarded her reprovingly.

“Don’t talk so lightly about my profession!” he said. “I’m going to be a magician. Now – I’ll explain the trick. You can look at the pack – ”

“Oh, but we want to hear about the fire,” interrupted Mary Louise.

“Take a card!” was his only reply.

There was nothing to do but humor him. Jane was delighted: she loved card tricks and listened eagerly. But Mary Louise was more interested in the burning of the bungalow.

At last, however, Clifford sat down beside Jane on the couch-hammock and began to talk.

“You saw the ruins?” he inquired.

“Yes. But nobody over at Flicks’ seemed to know how it happened.”

“Most amazing thing you ever heard of! It was last Saturday night. I had four fellows from the fraternity here for the week-end, and about nine o’clock we all piled into the boat and went over to the Royal Hotel to dance. There happened to be a bunch of girls staying there that we knew, so we were sure of a swell time. The whole gang from Shady Nook went across too – the Reed family, the Partridges, the Robinsons – practically everybody except the Flicks. So you see Shady Nook was deserted.

“We danced till around twelve o’clock and had something to eat. Then the fellows suggested we all get into the launch and go for a ride. Mother was game: she went along too, and so did a couple of the girls. By the time we took them back to the hotel and came home, it must have been two o’clock.”

“Hadn’t you seen any flames?” interrupted Jane. “From the river, I mean?”

“Not a flicker! But we had been motoring in the other direction, and you know the hotel isn’t right across from our bungalow, so we shouldn’t have been likely to notice when we were dancing. What wind there was blew the other way.”

“Even when you reached your own dock, didn’t you smell smoke?” demanded Mary Louise.

“Yes, we did then. But the flames were all out. The bungalow was gone – but the trees hadn’t caught fire.”

“That was queer,” remarked Mrs. Gay. “Unless somebody put out the fire.”

“Nobody did, as far as we know,” replied Clifford. “But it was out all right. And the bungalow gone, all but the foundation stones!”

“What in the world did you do?” asked Jane.

“Went over to the Partridges’ – they’re the people who live next to us on the other side,” he explained to Jane. “Fortunately they were still up, but they hadn’t noticed the smoke for the trees; they had been at the dance themselves till about one o’clock. Well, they gave Mother their one extra bedroom, and we fellows slept in the living room. That was O.K., but it was pretty ghastly, losing everything at once. Especially the clothes and things that belonged to our guests. If it was going to happen, I don’t see why it couldn’t have burned down when we didn’t have any company.”

“Yes, that must have been embarrassing,” agreed Mary Louise. She was thinking of David McCall’s accusation – that Clifford set the bungalow on fire himself to get the insurance – and it seemed absurd to her. He certainly would have chosen a more convenient time.

“What did you do the next day?” she inquired.

“Mother and I went to our New York apartment, and the fellows went home. I put in a claim for the insurance, and after we had bought new summer outfits, we came back here and took a suite at the Royal. We expect to stay there all summer.”

“Why not Flicks’?” was Mary Louise’s next question. “Everybody goes there.”

“That’s just why we didn’t. They’re so overcrowded, and Mother likes plenty of room. We sure get that at the Royal. The hotel’s practically empty; I don’t see how poor Frazier can pay his taxes.”

“He charges too much,” said Mary Louise. “If he’d be content to make a small profit, the way Mr. Flick does, he’d probably fill his hotel.”

“Well, it’s an expensive place to keep up. Mother feels sorry for him, so she’s entertaining a lot to bring him some business.”

“I don’t feel sorry for him! I don’t like him. Remember that time we wanted to give an entertainment for the Red Cross and he tried to charge us fifty dollars for using his dining room? So we held it outdoors instead!”

Clifford nodded. “Yes. But he says he’s poor.”

“So poor he can’t pay his waitresses a living wage! Hattie Adams – you remember, Jane, the girl who waited on our table at Flicks’? – said he tried to pay her two dollars a week and excused himself by telling her she’d make a lot on tips! She gets ten at Flicks’!”

“A man like that deserves to fail,” agreed Jane.

“To get back to the subject of the fire,” said Mary Louise, in her usual practical way whenever there was a mystery to be solved, “what is your idea of the way it started, Cliff?”

“I believe it was just an accident,” replied the young man. “Maybe it was some tramp or those kids. You know the Smith boys and a few others. Not the Reeds, for they were at the Royal. But they’re all full of mischief. Maybe they were smoking corn silk in our garage.”