Serious Trouble
Judy wanted to tell the nurse that this was an extreme emergency. But
was it? A girl had vanished. Still the fact remained that she might have
slipped out of the theater on purpose.
“Peter will help us figure out what really happened,” declared Judy.
“Oh, I hope he’s well enough to be—interested. Right now I’m more
concerned with what happened to him.”
“Will he be allowed to tell you?” Irene asked.
“I don’t know. So much of his work is secret. That’s the hardest part,”
Judy continued, a little break in her voice. “I never know what dangers
he’s facing. Usually he tries to make a joke of it when I ask him. But
this time I can’t help thinking—”
Irene’s hand closed gently over Judy’s. “Don’t think of what might have
been. Just be glad he’s here with good nurses to take care of him.”
“I am glad. I’m glad Clarissa’s here, too—if that patient is Clarissa.
I’d like to think she didn’t trick us, but how could the accident have
happened?” Judy wondered. “And where was she going in a cab?”
“It almost makes a person believe in phantoms, doesn’t it?” Irene asked.
“Clarissa was so—naïve is the word. And now if she’s hurt—Oh, Judy! Why
are we always getting mixed up in other people’s troubles? We have
enough of our own.”
“The way I look at it, other people’s troubles are our troubles. Peter
feels that way, too,” Judy continued thoughtfully. “He says what hurts
one of us hurts all the rest. We can’t isolate ourselves and pretend
trouble doesn’t exist. We have to fight the good fight with fidelity,
bravery, and integrity. That’s the motto of the FBI, and if anybody has
those three qualities, it’s Peter. He’s faithful, brave, and I never
knew anybody as honest and sincere and—and—”
Judy was in tears, suddenly. The strain of waiting had been too much. A
nurse, hurrying in, reassured her that Peter’s condition was not
serious.
“He is asking for you,” she added in the usual composed manner of
hospital nurses. “Will you come?”
Would she come? Judy wondered how she kept her feet from flying down the
corridor. At the door of Peter’s room she paused, a nameless fear coming
over her.
“You go in first,” she begged of the nurse, who had preceded her. “I’m
not sure I look all right.”
“You look fine,” the nurse interrupted with a smile. “He’s seen enough
of me. It’s you he wants. Go in to him just as you are, Mrs. Dobbs. I
think it would be better if you went in alone.”
Irene was quick to understand. “I’ll go out and tell Dale—”
“Tell him not to wait,” Judy said. “I’ll be here all day. I’ll come out
to Long Island this evening—by train.”
The slight hesitation in Judy’s voice did not betray her. She dreaded
that train ride. But she felt she had to take herself in hand. Peter was
depending on her.
A hospital attendant spoke to Judy as she entered the large, cheerful
room where Peter was lying flat in bed with a bottle of transparent
liquid suspended above his bed. “Watch the intravenous. He mustn’t move
his arm.”
“I understand,” Judy replied. “My father is a doctor. I’ll see that
nothing goes wrong.”
Her voice was determinedly cheerful. The young attendant left, closing
the door softly. Judy was alone with Peter. For a moment she was all
choked up with emotion and didn’t know what to say. He smiled a little,
wryly, and glanced toward the bottle that was feeding liquid nourishment
into his veins.
“Careful there,” he warned as she bent over to kiss him. “That’s my
breakfast there in the bottle. A funny way to eat!”
“I’ll be careful,” she promised. “I’ll sit on the other side of the bed.
Which shoulder was it?”
“The left.”
“Then I’ll sit on the right. You want me to stay here, don’t you?”
“Yes, I want you.” Peter’s strong fingers closed over her outstretched
hand. “Judy, it was my big chance, and I muffed it. I let him get away.”
“Don’t try to talk about it—unless you want to,” Judy told him gently.
“You’re still very weak. You must save your strength.”
“You’re right.” He was quiet for a moment just looking at Judy as if he
could never see enough of her.
“You’re always—so brave,” he said at last.
Judy didn’t feel very brave. She felt like bursting into tears again.
Little by little she heard how Peter had been brought to the hospital
unconscious from loss of blood. They had given him a transfusion before
the operation. That was why it had taken so long. Removing the bullet,
he said, was a simple matter. It had been imbedded in the flesh close to
his shoulder blade.
“I’ll be as good as new in a day or so,” he assured Judy, who sat beside
his bed, ready to listen whenever he felt like talking. “My partner
cornered most of the gang. They were better organized than we thought.
We trailed this man—”
“What man?” Judy asked when Peter paused.
“His name’s Clarence Lawson. I can tell you about it now. It’s public
knowledge. The public has to be warned against such characters,” he
continued. “It all started when a woman came into our New York office
and said her church had never received a donation she had given a man
who claimed to be on the Ways and Means Committee. He’d enlisted her
sympathy and talked her into donating quite a substantial sum to what
she thought was the building fund. Lawson had joined the church and
gained the confidence of a number of influential people.”
“That’s what you call the confidence game, isn’t it?” asked Judy. “Did
you catch up with this—this Lawson?”
“Well, almost. We trailed him and overheard some of his plans. Then we
made some quick plans of our own. Did you ever hear the story of the
three little pigs?”
“Of course,” Judy replied, puzzled. “Are you joking? What do the three
little pigs have to do with it?”
“The third pig, if you will remember, got to the orchard ahead of the
wolf. Well,” Peter continued, “that was what we planned to do. We were
there, but the wolf was early, too. So he huffed and he puffed and he
blew the house in, and he shot up the poor little pigs.”
“Where was this house?” asked Judy. “Or aren’t you allowed to tell?”
“I can tell you where it wasn’t—” Peter sighed tiredly.
“No need,” Judy told him gently. “Stay quiet for a while, and I’ll tell
you a story. We met a girl, and Pauline thinks she was playing the
confidence game, too. Anyway, she made us sorry for her, and we each
gave her five dollars so she could take the train home to West
Virginia.”
“Did she take it?”
“The train? I don’t know. She took the money, if that’s what you mean.
She also accepted our invitation to Irene’s show. I wish you could have
seen it, Peter. Irene was marvelous as the good fairy, and her guest
star, Francine Dow, made a beautiful Sleeping Beauty. The witch was a
little frightening, though. She swooped in and seemed to cast an evil
spell over the audience. Then Clarissa—”
“Clarissa?”
“She’s the girl I was telling you about,” Judy said. “She’s here in the
hospital, I think. Peter, would you like to rest while I find out if the
patient they brought here really is Clarissa? If I speak to the nurse
who recognized Irene, I’m sure they’ll let me see her.”
“Is Irene here?” Peter questioned, pain as well as puzzlement in his
blue eyes as they searched Judy’s face.
“She was. Oh, Peter! I hope I’m not tiring you, talking so much!” Judy
exclaimed. “One of the nurses stopped Irene on the way in and said a
patient had been asking for her. We thought of Clarissa right away. You
see, if she met with an accident, it would explain her disappearance. I
did tell you she vanished, didn’t I? We never saw her leave the theater,
but I suppose she could have slipped out during the show and afterwards
changed her mind and tried to come back.”
“She could have slipped out with no intention of coming back. I doubt if
you’ll find her here in the hospital,” Peter said, “but it will do no
harm to try. I can see you’re deep in another mystery. I wish I could
help you solve it.”
“You can, Peter. You’ll be well soon,” Judy told him hopefully. “Then we
can help each other.”
“I wish you wouldn’t try to help me this time, Angel.” Peter’s voice was
grave. “I’m in trouble—serious trouble, and I’d rather you kept out of
it.”