The Mystery of the Secret Band
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2. Pauline’s “aunt,” as she called her, must be the leader, since she went from hotel to hotel.
3. The two transient guests who had undoubtedly stolen the silverware and the vase from Stoddard House were members of the same gang.
4. Pauline’s “aunt” had a country place where she probably hid the stolen articles until they could be disposed of.
Now, with these facts in mind, Mary Louise had several poignant questions to answer:
1. Was this country place at Center Square, and was that woman whom Mary Louise had seen in the dark Pauline’s aunt?
2. Was Margaret Detweiler connected with this gang?
Mary Louise remembered that Mary Green had admitted that she knew Margaret and that Pauline had instantly contradicted her.
It was still rather a muddle, she decided as she finished her breakfast and left the room. She took the elevator to Mrs. Weinberger’s floor and hastily told her the story of the previous night’s excitement; then, scarcely waiting for the older woman’s congratulations, she hurried down to the manager’s office.
“The hotel is exceedingly grateful to you for the service you have rendered us, Miss Gay,” said the man. “The least we can do is to present you with a receipted bill for your room and breakfast.”
Mary Louise gasped out her thanks: she had never dreamed of a reward.
“And what became of the girls?” she inquired.
“They are being held under five hundred dollars bail,” was the reply.
“They won’t have any trouble raising that, I’m afraid,” said Mary Louise. “They’ll skip and go right on with their old tricks.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Miss Gay.”
“Is Mr. Hayden here?” she asked.
“No, he has gone home,” replied the manager. “But he left this memorandum for you in case you want to visit the girls and see whether you can learn anything more about the case you’re working on.”
Mary Louise put the paper with the address on it in her handbag and hurried back to Stoddard House. She found Mrs. Hilliard in her office on the first floor, planning her work for the day.
“I’ve great news for you, Mrs. Hilliard!” she cried, carefully closing the door behind her. “I’ve caught two of the thieves, and you’ll never guess who they are!”
“No, I won’t even try,” returned the other. “I’m not much good as a detective. But hurry up and tell me.”
“Pauline Brooks and Mary Green!”
“Pauline Brooks!” repeated Mrs. Hilliard in amazement. “But tell me how you know!”
“The detective at the Bellevue and I caught them in men’s clothing, trying to rob another guest at the hotel. Remember – I thought it was a man who stole my watch, though he did seem awfully small? Well, it was Pauline, and she was dressed up the same way last night!”
“You’re the cleverest girl I ever met, Mary Louise! How did you ever come to suspect those girls?”
“I’ll tell you the whole story later – when I have more time, Mrs. Hilliard. I’ve got to be off now, after some evidence to prove that they were the thieves who did the stealing here. You see, they’re in jail now for what they did at the Bellevue, but I have nothing to prove they were guilty of the robberies at Stoddard House.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to find the leader of their gang and find the treasure chest. And that reminds me, I want the names of those two transients who were here when you missed the vase and the silverware.”
Mrs. Hilliard searched for them in her book, and Mary Louise copied them, although she had little hope that they would help her. The way these girls changed names with each change of residence made it extremely baffling.
“Where do you expect to look for the leader of this gang?” asked the manager.
“I’m going to drive up to Center Square again, right now. In a hired ‘drive it yourself’ car.”
“Isn’t that where you got that blow on your head?”
“Yes, but you needn’t worry about me this time, Mrs. Hilliard. I’m going to get a policeman to go with me to the empty house.”
“Wise girl… But I believe you’d be wiser still, Mary Louise, if you just dropped the thing now and went home for Christmas. You’ve certainly earned your pay, and we can feel that our troubles are over. I can give the guests some assurance that they will not be robbed again. Won’t you go, dear? Your family will be wanting you.”
“Oh no, Mrs. Hilliard – thank you just the same. But I couldn’t think of it. I want to recover the stolen goods and get more proof against those two girls. I couldn’t give up now!”
“Well, then, be very careful!”
“I’ll be back in time for supper,” she promised.
Mary Louise went directly to the nearest agency and hired a car. Not a new car, but one which ran smoothly and which she found no difficulty in operating. The day was warm for December, and sunny; the snow was gone; it would be jolly to spend the whole day out-of-doors. Of course, it would have been nicer if Jane or Max were with her, but Mary Louise had so much to think about that she did not mind being alone.
Wasn’t it funny, she mused, that the very first guest she had met at Stoddard House had been the guilty person? How thankful she was that she had not given in to that impulse to make Pauline Brooks her confidante! Perhaps, if she had, Pauline would not have stolen her watch. Yet, without that misfortune, Mary Louise might never have solved the mystery.
She drove along at an even speed, following her map and watching for the landmarks she had noticed on her previous trip. About noon she arrived at the hotel where she and Max had eaten dinner on Sunday evening, and she drew the car to a stop at its entrance.
The same clerk was at the desk; he remembered Mary Louise and asked immediately how her head was.
“It’s almost well,” she replied. “But I want to visit that house again and find out who lives there and what hit me.”
“To collect damages?”
“No, not specially. But there is something mysterious about that house, and I’d like to see it in broad daylight. This time I want to take a policeman with me. Have you any in Center Square?”
“We have a constable. He might be willing to go along.”
“Would you be kind enough to ring him up and ask him to come here while I eat my lunch in the dining room? After all, he has a right to help me find out what hit me.”
“Sure, I will, miss. And he’ll be glad to come. He’s mighty obliging. Besides, he ain’t got much to do.”
Mary Louise was hungry, and she enjoyed her lunch immensely. The food wasn’t dainty like the Stoddard House, or fancy, like the Bellevue, but it was wholesome and well cooked, and the keen air had given her a good appetite.
When she had finished eating and returned to the main room of the little country hotel, she found the officer waiting for her. He was a stout, middle-aged man with a pleasant smile, and he wore a baggy gray suit with a stringy tie. He was very much interested in the story of Mary Louise’s previous visit to Center Square, and of her reason for wanting to see the ugly woman again who was occupying the house.
“Of course, what I’m hoping for,” concluded Mary Louise, “is to catch her with the stolen goods and have her arrested. But she may not be the person I’m looking for at all, because I saw her in the dark with only a lighted candle behind her.”
“What is her name?”
“Mrs. Brooks is the only name I know her by. But I’ve learned that criminals have half a dozen names, so you can’t go by that. There isn’t anybody by that name around here, is there?”
The man shook his head.
“No, there ain’t. But let’s drive to the house you mean, and I can tell you who owns it. And maybe tell you something about the people that live there.”
“I don’t believe anybody really lives there,” replied Mary Louise. “It’s all boarded up.”
They got into Mary Louise’s hired car, and she turned off the main highway into the dirt road which she and Max had explored. Here it was difficult for Mary Louise to find her way, because on the former occasion it had been dark, and snow had covered most of the ground. She drove along slowly, past the empty house they had first visited, until she came to the hill and the place with the steep driveway. She remembered the house now; there was the tree under which Max had parked, and the barn beyond. A huge sign bearing the words “No Trespassing – Private Property” had been erected since her former visit.
“This place belongs to a Mrs. Ferguson of Baltimore,” announced the constable. “She’s a widow with two daughters. They never live here, but once in a while she brings a bunch of girls here for a house party. She’s wealthy – always comes in a car and brings a couple of servants.”
“Ferguson,” repeated Mary Louise, wondering where she had heard that name before. But she had heard so many new names in the past few days that she could not place it. “Could you describe her?” she inquired.
“Can’t say as I could. Never saw her close. She dresses stylish, I know that, and has nothin’ to do with the country folks around here.”
Mary Louise brought the car to a stop and parked it some distance from the house, cautiously avoiding the trees this time. Even though she had a constable with her, she wasn’t taking any chances of being hit again.
“That’s the tree we were parked under,” she pointed out, “where I got hit in the head.”
“Did you see anybody?”
“No. But my friend said afterward he heard somebody laugh. But he couldn’t wait to investigate, because he had to get me to a doctor.”
“Maybe it was just a bad boy. We have some young bums around here once in a while.”
Mary Louise got out of the car, and the constable followed her, making a tour of the outside of the house, examining the boarded windows, trying the locked doors. Apparently it was deserted.
“I’d love to get inside,” remarked Mary Louise. “Couldn’t we break in?”
“Not without a warrant,” replied the officer. “We ain’t got any real evidence against this lady. You can’t tell what hit you, and besides, you was trespassin’ on private property.”
Mary Louise sighed. Evidently there was nothing she could do here. She might as well go back to Philadelphia.
It had been rather a useless waste of time, she thought, as she drove along towards the hotel. She had learned only one fact – the name of the owner of that empty house. “Ferguson,” she kept repeating to herself, wondering where she had heard that name before. And then it came to her – in a flash. Ferguson was the name of the woman who had helped Margaret Detweiler at the department store!
Mary Louise laughed out loud.
“So I’m on the track of the wrong mystery,” she thought. “Oh, well, if I could find Margaret Detweiler I’d be happier than if I got back all that money stolen from Stoddard House. So my day really hasn’t been wasted.”
When she arrived at her hotel she literally smelled Christmas in the air. The windows were hung with wreaths; holly and mistletoe and evergreen decorated the rooms on the first floor. Everybody seemed to be hurrying around with a pleasant holiday air of excitement, carrying packages and making last-minute plans for the great day.
A sudden swift feeling of homesickness took possession of Mary Louise, a violent desire to be back in her own home in Riverside, sharing the happy holiday confusion. For a moment she felt that she would have to go back at any sacrifice. But ambition overcame sentiment. She would not be a quitter, and leave at the most important time. She would see the thing through as she had planned.
But there was nothing to prevent her wiring to her father to come and spend part of the holiday with her. Especially now that she had something definite to report to him. So she composed a telegram and sent it at once, over the telephone.
“Have caught thieves,” she said, “but cannot recover stolen goods. Leader of band at large. Please come help me. Love – M.L.”
As soon as the message was sent, she felt better and was as jolly as anyone else at supper. She was helping the Walder girls tie up packages and humming Christmas carols when a call came for her on the telephone.
“Maybe it’s Dad,” she said to Mrs. Hilliard as she came into the manager’s office.
But it wasn’t. It was Mr. Hayden, calling from the Bellevue.
“Pauline Brooks has wired to a Mrs. Ferguson, Hotel Phillips, Baltimore, Maryland,” he announced, “asking for five hundred dollars. All she says in her telegram is: ‘Please send $500 bail,’ and signed it ‘P.B.’ But I thought it might help you to know to whom she wired, Miss Gay.”
“I should say it does!” exclaimed Mary Louise rapturously. “Thank you so much, Mr. Hayden!”
She was so happy that she executed a dance. Oh, how wonderful that piece of news was! Mrs. Ferguson! The woman who had helped – or pretended to help – Margaret Detweiler! The woman who lived at Center Square! Possibly – the same woman whom Pauline had called her aunt, by the name of Mrs. Brooks!
Everything seemed to be coming untangled all at once. If only Mary Louise could catch this Ferguson woman! But of course she could – with her father’s help. Thank heaven he would be coming soon! He could fly straight to Baltimore and accomplish her arrest. And the mystery – perhaps both mysteries – would be solved!
So Mary Louise went happily to sleep that night, little dreaming that the worst part of her experience lay ahead of her.
CHAPTER XII
Detective Gay Arrives
Mary Louise awakened the following morning with a delightful sense of expectancy. It was the day before Christmas! Surely her father would come; he would know how much she wanted him, and her mother would be unselfish enough to urge him to go. He would bring Mary Louise her Christmas presents and take her out to Christmas dinner.
She dressed quickly and hurried down to the lobby to ask the secretary whether there was any message for her. None had arrived as yet, but by the time she had finished her breakfast it came.
“Arrive about noon to stay over Christmas with you. Love – Dad,” were the precious words she read.
Her eyes sparkling with anticipation, Mary Louise ran to Mrs. Hilliard with her good news.
“So you see I don’t need to go home,” she said. “I can hardly wait till he comes!”
“I’m so glad, dear,” replied the manager. “You’ve been an awfully good sport about being away from your family – and now you’re getting your reward.”
“I think I’ll put in my time till he arrives by going over to visit my friend Pauline Brooks,” said Mary Louise. “I’d like to find out whether she obtained her bail yet.”
“You better be careful,” warned Mrs. Hilliard. “That girl probably hates you now, and if she’s free there’s no telling what she might do to you!”
“I know she hates me. But she can’t do a thing. Especially with guards all around… And I’ll be back before Dad comes. I want to be on the spot to greet him.”
She put on her hat and coat and went to the address which Mr. Hayden had written down for her on the paper. She encountered no difficulty in finding her way to the matron who had charge of the women prisoners.
“I am Mary Louise Gay,” she said. “A private detective in the employ of the manager of Stoddard House. I believe that two of your prisoners – Pauline Brooks and Mary Green – are guilty of some robberies there, as well as at the Bellevue, where they were caught. But I haven’t evidence enough to prove my case. I thought if I might talk to these girls – ”
The matron interrupted her. “You can’t do that, Miss Gay,” she said, “because they have already been released on bail, until their case comes up next month.”
“How did they get the money – it was five hundred dollars, wasn’t it? – so soon?”
“They wired yesterday to a Mrs. Ferguson in Baltimore. Miss Brooks received a registered letter this morning, and the girls left half an hour ago.”
Mary Louise sighed; it seemed as if she were always too late. Why hadn’t she come here before breakfast, since she knew from Mr. Hayden last night that the girls had telegraphed a request for the money?
“Where did they go?” was her next question.
“I don’t know. They are to report back here on the morning of January second – or forfeit their bail.”
“They won’t be back,” announced Mary Louise. “Five hundred dollars is nothing to them.”
The matron turned to read a letter; she had no more time to discuss the subject with the young detective. But Mary Louise lingered.
“I just want to ask one more question,” she said; “and then I won’t take any more of your time. Was there a letter from this Mrs. Ferguson, or did she merely send the money?”
“There was a letter. I had it copied, because Mr. Hayden told me to keep copies of any correspondence these girls had while they were here… Wait a minute – yes, here it is. You may read it for yourself.”
Mary Louise took the copy eagerly and read it as quickly as she could. The writing was poor but entirely legible, and the words were spelled right. But the subject matter was so rambling that in certain places she was not sure that she read it correctly. This was the letter which she finally deciphered:
Dear Girls:
You poor girls! Meet your misfortune with this $500. U.S. justice is terrible! In what other country would they detain innocent girls?
Baltimore is where I am now, but I am leaving immediately for a trip to Florida. Margaret can’t go with me on account of school. Will you write to her? Get her address from the phone book.
Treasure Island is playing at the movies, and we liked it a lot. From my observation it is like the book. C.S. enjoyed it thoroughly. And so did I. Bring me back the book if you go home for Christmas. It was mine anyhow.
Tonight I am packing. Baltimore is tiresome, and I’ll be glad to leave.
Love,Aunt Ethel.“May I make another copy of this letter?” Mary Louise asked the matron. Since it was rather peculiar, it would bear studying. Besides, it mentioned Margaret, and that might mean Margaret Detweiler.
The matron agreed.
“Yes, sit down at that desk. Or do you want a typewriter?”
“Well, if you can lend me one,” answered Mary Louise. She had learned typing at school, thinking it would come in handy in her chosen profession.
So she typed the letter carefully and put it into her handbag.
As she stepped out into the open air again she saw by one of the big clocks on the street that it was only a little past ten. Two hours to wait until she saw her father! Two hours, with nothing to do. It seemed rather ridiculous that she should be so idle when everybody else was apparently so busy. The throngs of people on the streets rushed along as if there were not a minute to lose.
“I can go in here and buy some handkerchiefs for Mrs. Hilliard for Christmas,” she thought, as she entered a department store. All the rest of her gifts had been bought and wrapped up long ago; they were piled neatly in a box at home, ready for her mother to distribute to her family and her friends on Christmas morning.
The organ in the store was playing Christmas music; Mary Louise lingered for a while after she made her purchase to listen to it. She felt very happy because her father was coming.
She returned to the hotel about eleven, put Mrs. Hilliard’s gift on her desk and went down to one of the reception rooms to wait for her father. The Walder girls came in – they both had a half holiday so that they might start home early – and they said good-bye to Mary Louise and wished her a merry Christmas.
The slow hands of the clock crept towards twelve. At five minutes of the hour her father came.
Mary Louise saw him the minute he opened the door and rushed to him as if it had been years, and not days, since their parting.
“Oh, Dad, this is grand!” she cried. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to get here. Are you very busy?”
“No, dear,” he replied as he kissed her. “There’s a sort of lull in my work now, and I had expected to be home for several days. But now I am at your service. Your aunt arrived yesterday to be with your mother over the holidays, so they probably won’t miss me much. I want you to tell me everything that has happened so far. Max said your watch was stolen, and you were hit on the head by a stone. How is your head now?”
“It’s all right, Daddy. And I bought a cheap watch, so I can get along without my good one, though of course I was especially fond of it. But come into the dining room and let’s have lunch while we talk. At least, if you don’t mind being the only man with a lot of women. Max objected to that.”
“No, I don’t mind,” he said. “And I am hungry.”
When they were seated at one of the small tables and had given their orders, Mary Louise began to tell her story.
“I was robbed that very first night,” she said. “Of course, it was pretty dark in my room, but not terribly so, for the street lights show up quite well. Anyhow, I could see well enough to distinguish a small man, with a cap and a black mask.
“Well, we had a watchman on guard that night, and the police got here in no time, but nobody saw the burglar get away. I insisted he was hiding in the hotel, but Mrs. Hilliard had it searched thoroughly, and we couldn’t find a man in the place. I didn’t dream then that it was a girl masquerading as a man. But that is the explanation: a girl named Pauline Brooks, who lived right across the hall from me. Of course, it was the easiest thing in the world for her to slip back into her own room and take off her disguise.”
“Did you search for the burglar in her room too?”
“Yes, we went there the very first thing. Pauline made us wait a minute or two – she said she had just gotten in from a dance and was half undressed.”
“And you believed her?”
“Yes, indeed. We had become quite good friends at supper that night.”
Mr. Gay laughed. “But what finally led you to suspect her?”
Mary Louise went on to tell her father in detail about her false suspicions concerning first Miss Stoddard and then Miss Weinberger, and described her visit to the Bellevue and the catching of Pauline Brooks and Mary Green in the very act of stealing.
“But that wasn’t evidence enough to prove them guilty of the robberies at Stoddard House,” objected her father.
“I know,” admitted Mary Louise. “But I figured out that there is a whole band of these secret hotel thieves, for I’m pretty sure two other members stole some silverware and a vase from Stoddard House a while ago. I believe, too, that a woman whom Pauline called her aunt is the leader… And that’s what I want you to do, Dad. Go after her!”
“But where is she?” he demanded.
“I think she’s in Baltimore now, at the Hotel Phillips, because that’s where the girls got their money for bail. Five hundred dollars. She’s planning to go to Florida, so you have to hurry.”
“What could I do with her if I did find her?” inquired Mr. Gay.
“Couldn’t you arrest her?”
“Not unless I had some evidence against her.”
Mary Louise sighed: it was dreadful, she thought, to know that somebody was guilty and not be able to prove it. But she could see that her father was right.
Mr. Gay was enjoying his lunch. He praised the food and the service to Mary Louise and exclaimed in surprise that the hotel was not well filled.
“It’s partly because of these robberies,” explained Mary Louise. “Several people have moved out just since I came. No wonder Mrs. Hilliard is worried.”
“But she feels encouraged since you found two of the thieves, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, she’s tremendously pleased. She told me I had earned my money, and I could go home. But of course I’m not satisfied. The job’s only half done.”
The waitress approached the table, and offered a menu.
“I’ll take plum pudding,” announced Mr. Gay, “in celebration of the season. How about you, Mary Lou?”
“Chocolate sundae,” was her inevitable choice.
“Where,” inquired Mr. Gay, turning to his daughter, “did this aunt of Pauline’s live when she was in Philadelphia?”
“She stayed at the Ritz.”
“Never at Stoddard House?”
“Oh no.”
“Then we’ll make a visit to the Ritz after lunch. And I think I will take the two o’clock train to Baltimore to see what I can find out about the woman. What does she call herself?”
“Mrs. Ferguson – and sometimes Mrs. Brooks. Possibly there are two different women, but I don’t believe so… But what will you do at the Ritz, Daddy?”
“Just make inquiries as to whether anything was stolen while the woman stayed there, and if so, what. That would give me a reason for going after her in Baltimore.”