Trickery
When Linda left Amy with Mrs. Fishberry at the old house, the latter
slowly led the way towards the road. But as soon as the autogiro
vanished from sight she stood still, and gazed straight at the girl.
“You still don’t remember me, Helen?” she asked.
The girl shook her head.
“No, I don’t, Mrs. Fishberry.”
“Call me Aunt Elsie, please— But you claim to remember the house?”
“Yes—sort of. But you said I lived in Montana,” she replied, in
confusion.
“You lived here with your grandfather for a while,” Mrs. Fishberry
explained, “after your father and mother died. They were killed in an
automobile accident when you were a baby—” So far this was the truth.
But what the woman went on to add was a lie which she told at Ed Tower’s
request.—“After your grandfather died, I took you to Montana to live
with me. Your uncle Ed is your only living relative. He and your father
were brothers.”
“And their name was Tower?” asked Helen.
“Yes. I think that’s why your grandfather built that high tower on his
house—because of his name. The idea pleased him.”
“But if my uncle Ed is my only living relative, what are you? I thought
you said you were my aunt!”
“I’m not really your aunt yet—but I will be on Monday, for I’m going to
marry your uncle Ed,” admitted Mrs. Fishberry. “No, I am a widow now—an
old friend of the family. But I offered to bring you up when your
grandfather died, and you have always called me ‘Aunt Elsie.’ Your uncle
was traveling so much on business that he couldn’t take care of you.”
Mrs. Fishberry smiled to herself with satisfaction as she told this
story. Not a bad story, she thought, for one that had to be made up so
quickly. And the girl actually seemed to believe it!
Both were silent for a moment, while another idea leaped into the
woman’s mind. Why not leave the girl here, locked in this empty house,
while she returned to Chicago? They could get her again on Monday, when
Ed came over to set fire to the place. Surely there must be food in the
kitchen. But she mustn’t let Helen suspect that she was going to be left
alone!
“I don’t see the car,” she remarked, casually. “The driver must have
gone away. I told him if I didn’t come back in half an hour that he
needn’t wait— We’ll spend the night here, dear, and your uncle will
drive over for us to-morrow.”
The girl stared at the speaker in horror. She simply couldn’t spend
another night in this awful house! All too vividly she remembered the
ghost in the tower.
“We can’t, Aunt Elsie!” she protested. “It’s too—awful!” Her voice had
sunk to a hoarse whisper.
“What’s too awful?” asked Mrs. Fishberry, lightly.
“That house. The ghost in the tower.”
“What ghost?”
“There is a terrible ghost in that tower at night. I can see it from my
old bed-room window. His—hands—move!”
“Now dear, you’re being silly,” reproved the woman. “How can you
remember anything like that, that happened so long ago! It must have
been some foolish dream you had when you were not much more than a
baby.”
“But I can even picture it now!” she persisted.
“Oh, come on,” urged the other, grasping her by the arm. “You’re too old
for such ridiculous fancies now. Besides, I’m right here. Nothing can
harm you.” She almost dragged her back by force to the house.
“I—I—know I’ll die, Aunt Elsie,” sobbed Helen, her voice shaking with
fear. “Or go crazy.”
Mrs. Fishberry drew down the corners of her mouth.
“I think that you’re crazy now,” she remarked, with biting scorn.
The girl started to cry piteously. She was weak and helpless; now that
Linda Carlton and her dear Aunt Emily had been taken from her, there was
no one in the world to protect her. For she had no faith in this strange
uncle, who apparently cared as little for her as did this harsh woman.
“I want Linda!” she cried. “Oh, Linda, why did you leave me?”
“You little fool!” exclaimed Mrs. Fishberry in exasperation. “You’re
acting like an idiot. That girl was no friend to you.”
“She was the best friend I ever had!” cried Helen, vehemently.
“Oh, yeah?” snarled her companion. She was so irritated that she gave up
her pretense of being the kind aunt. “And you were too dumb to see
through those scheming Carltons!”
“What do you mean?” demanded Helen, up in arms at the slur to her new
friends.
“They were trying to pull the wool over your eyes, of course! So that
you wouldn’t remember anything.”
“What do you mean by ‘pull the wool over my eyes?’”
“It’s just an expression, Miss Dumb-bell. I see that I have to explain
everything to you, as if you were a child six years old. I’ll have to
tell you in words of one syllable:
“Linda Carlton was doing stunts with that plane of hers near to the
ground. Somebody, never mind who, but somebody we know, saw her. And she
crashed and _hit you_! There wasn’t any car driving along the road at
all. So she made up the story and got her friend to swear that it was
true!”
Helen’s dark eyes were blazing with righteous anger.
“Don’t you dare to say Linda Carlton would lie!” she exclaimed. “She’s
the soul of honor, and so is Dot Crowley!”
“You don’t say so,” observed Mrs. Fishberry, sarcastically. “Well, I
happen to know she did lie, and we’ve got proof of it. Why do you
suppose she and her aunt were so nice to you? Because they thought you
were beautiful, or interesting, or rich?”
“No, I guess not,” admitted Helen, choking over the words. “I guess I
was a sight in those dreadful clothes—” She turned to her companion
accusingly. “If you took care of me, why didn’t you dress me better?”
“Because we’re poor. I had to sacrifice everything to provide food for
you.”
“But your clothes are pretty nice,” observed the girl, shrewdly.
“Well, what of it?” snapped the other. “You haven’t answered my question
yet. Why did the Carltons make so much of you, if it wasn’t to stop your
mouth? They thought that if they entertained you for a week in their
house, afterwards, if your memory came back, you wouldn’t sue them.”
“What do you mean by ‘sue them?’” asked Helen, with that amazing
ignorance that she showed every once in a while regarding ordinary
words. “There was a girl in Linda’s crowd named Sue Emery——”
“You get dumber by the minute!” returned Mrs. Fishberry. “We’re going to
make Miss Linda Carlton pay fifty thousand dollars damages because she
smashed into you with her plane. Now, do you get that?”
“You wouldn’t!” cried Helen, in horror. “You just couldn’t!”
“Sure we could. The law is on our side.” The woman’s manner suddenly
changed, and she remembered to play the part of the fond aunt. “Now
don’t you worry, Helen,” she added. “It’s for you we’re doing it. We’ll
spend the money on you. First, for a good doctor—a specialist to restore
your memory—and then for education and pretty clothes. You’ll be a fine
lady some day, if you don’t act silly about Linda Carlton.”
“But I love her, and I don’t believe anything against her.”
“You love her more than you do me, because she took care of you for a
week, while I gave the best years of my life to you!”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Elsie, but you can’t expect me to be grateful for
something I can’t remember.”
While they had been talking they had reached the front door of the house
and stopped at the steps of the porch. The wooden boards had rotted and
the heavy door was sadly in need of paint. Everything about the place
suggested neglect, ruin, and decay.
Helen shuddered.
“Let’s not stay here!” she begged. “I’d rather walk all the way to town
than sleep in this haunted house over night.”
“Nonsense,” replied the other. “I’m tired and hungry. Come on in.”
She pulled the girl up the steps, and, selecting a large key from her
hand bag, inserted it into the lock and turned the knob. The heavy door
creaked and opened.
Inside, the house was gloomy and forbidding. All the old-fashioned
shutters were closed so that the appearance within was almost of night.
Helen stopped at the doorway and shivered with fear.
“Come along back to the kitchen and we’ll see if we can find something
to eat,” said Mrs. Fishberry in a cheerful tone.
“I don’t want to!” objected Helen.
“Don’t be a coward!” returned the other. “I’m ashamed of you!”
Plucking up her courage the girl led the way through the large dim hall,
with its great dark staircase in the center, to the wing where the
kitchen had been built. The door of this room was locked on the outside
with another huge key.
“Here we are!” exclaimed Mrs. Fishberry, as she opened the door. “Now
can’t we get some light into this room?”
She walked over to the windows and tried to raise them. But they were
evidently nailed and barred on the outside.
“I wonder whether there is any food,” she remarked. “And what kind of
stove this is.”
“It’s an oil stove,” answered Helen, in a flash. “And there’s a supply
of oil under that table. And here’s where the food is kept,” she added,
pointing to a large cupboard.
Mrs. Fishberry eyed her narrowly.
“You remember pretty well, Helen,” she said.
“Yes, I do. Look, here’s tea and sugar and oatmeal. Well, we won’t
starve.”
“That’s good. Now can you remember where to get the water?”
“Yes, there’s a pump out back. But this door won’t open. It must be
barred up—yes, I remember it was when Linda and I looked at it.”
“That’s all right. You go out the front door with these two buckets and
bring in some water. I’ll be looking about for a place to sleep.”
While the girl was gone, Mrs. Fishberry made an inspection. A small,
winding staircase led from the kitchen to a room above, a bedroom, and
in this she decided that Helen could sleep. It would be a simple matter
to slip out of the kitchen and lock the girl in, leaving her here until
Monday morning. With food and water at hand, no court could hold Mrs.
Fishberry responsible if anything happened. And what was the use of
taking her to Chicago and paying unnecessary board for her in the
meanwhile?
It was all accomplished without the slightest difficulty. When Helen
returned, Mrs. Fishberry waited only long enough to light the oil stove
and to put some oatmeal on to cook. Then she asked the girl to run up
the staircase and see whether she had dropped her handkerchief when she
was up in the bedroom. By the time Helen had returned the kitchen door
to the hall was locked and Mrs. Fishberry was turning the key in the
outer door of the house.
Five minutes later she stepped into her taxicab and bade the driver
return to the railroad station.