AN ANONYMOUS LETTER
While Josie feasted and schemed in the pleasant home of Colonel and
Mrs. Trask in Peewee Valley, there were sad hearts in Dorfield. With no
news of little Philip, and no word from Josie, Ursula had almost wept
her spirit from her eyes.
Uncle Peter and Aunt Hannah Conant had done all they could to make
Ursula and Ben feel that they were a real uncle and aunt instead of
chance acquaintances. Irene had begged them to come and stay with her
and had eagerly insisted upon sharing her room with Ursula while Ben
was to have the tiny hall room next to the old couple, but Ursula felt
she must remain in her own little apartment, in case some word from
Philip might arrive.
Josie had departed on the midnight train and the rest of the night
dragged by, Ben sleeping in spite of himself, because he did not
want to sleep at all, but his heavy eyelids refused to stay open.
Ursula occasionally dropped into a doze but would awaken with a start,
dreaming someone was bringing news of her little brother.
Christmas morning dawned with a bright sun sparkling on the deep snow.
Dorfield was alive with sleighing parties and holiday noises, the
popping of fire crackers and shouts of boys and girls coasting down the
hill on the main street of the town, regardless of traffic regulations.
There was a good hill on that street and coasting was a sport long
before traffic regulations were even heard of--and so it continued.
Mary Louise and her Danny came immediately to Ursula as soon as the
news of Philip was telephoned to them by Irene. They, too, insisted
upon taking the Elletts home with them, but Ursula still was determined
upon staying in her own home. Elizabeth Wright appeared on the wings of
the wind and eager to do anything possible for the girl whom she had
learned to love and respect.
“And dear Philip,” she cried, with tears running down her cheeks, “you
know how much I loved him, Ursula. I didn’t mean to say loved him--I
mean love him. We are going to have him back with us in no time.”
Captain Charlie Lonsdale telephoned from police headquarters that no
stone was being left unturned in the search for the child and Bob
Dulaney came twice within an hour to find out if any news had been
received by Ursula and to assure her that he was getting busy.
The day passed, as days do, whether they be gay or sad. At dusk a boy
brought two telegrams for Ursula, one from Josie and one from Teddy
Trask.
Josie’s was merely a ten-word message of hope and cheer with directions
as to how to reach her in case of news of the missing child. Teddy
did not confine himself to the usual ten words, but spread himself as
though he were writing a night letter. In it he assured Ursula of his
lasting regard and informed her that he was doing what he could to
assist Josie.
Ursula’s heart was a little lighter after reading the telegrams. She
felt that Josie was sure to do the wise and prudent thing, and the fact
that her dear friends, the Trasks, were once more in touch with her,
made her feel that her trouble was at least shared.
Bob Dulaney came in again to tell her he had just had a talk over the
long distance ’phone with Josie, who had called him up asking for
news, and had told him she was hard at work on the case and had got the
police force of Louisville interested also.
“Josie is a regular peach when it comes to finding kids and she will
land little Philip in no time,” declared Bob. “That girl has a born
instinct for going right. She’d sure make a good gum-shoe reporter. Did
you ever hear how she and I nabbed the thief who was going off with
Mary Louise’s wedding presents?”
Ursula had heard it but she pretended she hadn’t and Bob had the
extreme pleasure of recounting the whole adventure in his best
newspaper style.
“Now don’t forget, Miss Ellett, that if you receive any communication
of any sort you will inform me or Chief Lonsdale.”
“Yes, Josie made me promise that I would do that. Why do you think they
have taken my little brother, Mr. Dulaney? Do you think there was any
motive but simply one to annoy and distress me?”
“I do. People don’t engage in such dangerous crime just to be annoying.
Josie is out hunting a motive and I am working with that thought as a
basis of investigation too. I don’t know how the police are proceeding.
They usually work with a kind of sledge hammer method that hits what
gets in its way but doesn’t get into the cracks much, or seek out the
hidden things.”
Bob’s visit cheered Ursula. It was a comforting thing to know that
something was being done. She felt helpless and useless herself. All
she could do was sit by the window in her living room and gaze out on
the snow, wondering where her little brother was and if he thought of
her and missed her as she did him. She was thankful that the kidnaper
had taken his overcoat and warm sweater. At least he would not be cold.
She remembered that his shoes had but recently been half soled. His
feet would be dry. Whoever stole him did not want him to suffer or he
or she would not have taken his clothes. Even his little red mittens
and woolen comforter were gone. Perhaps he was being well treated after
all. Who could want to be unkind to little Philip? So ran Ursula’s
thoughts.
That night Ursula slept. A confidence in the goodness of God enveloped
her like a mantle. A strange feeling of peace came over her. Ben
noticed it as he kissed her good-night after they had knelt together
and prayed.
“Why, Sister, your face looks as if a light was behind it.”
“There is, Ben. It is the light of Hope and Faith. It is wicked of
me to be so despondent. I am going to keep on hoping and praying and
believing and I am sure our baby will be brought back to us.”
“Oh, Sister, how glad I am! I won’t be ashamed if I go to sleep
to-night. Last night I kept pinchin’ myself to keep awake, although I
felt all the time that Phil was comin’ back to us.”
“My dear, indeed you must sleep so you will grow big and strong and can
take care of little Philip and me,” smiled Ursula.
The morning after Christmas found them much calmer and the confidence
of the night before remained with them. Ursula busied herself by
cleaning her apartment and darning all the stockings, although she
could not help shedding a few tears over the big holes in the knees of
Philip’s.
“He got those playin’ bear,” said Ben. “Phil sure does love to play
grizzly.”
Another day passed and no news. The same persons called and the same
telephoned. Mary Louise sent Ursula a dainty tray of food and insisted
upon Ben’s dining with Danny and her. Ursula could not make up her mind
to leave her apartment. The moment she left might be the one chosen for
some news to come from her boy. She was delighted, however, to have
Ben dine with the Dexters, in fact, she endeavored to have Ben enjoy
himself much as he would had Philip been at home.
“One of the shortest days of all the year,” thought Ursula, “and yet
how long it has seemed.” She looked out on the darkening street. In a
moment the electric lights on the corners were shining, but Ursula sat
in the dusk. They lived on a quiet street where few vehicles passed.
She saw an automobile stop at the corner and idly watched a man get
out and start walking along the snowy sidewalk. There was nothing at
all interesting about the man except that the car from which he had
alighted did not move off. If he had business up this street why should
he walk when he might have ridden. It was a battered car of an old
make, swung on high springs, and had evidently seen better days. The
light on the corner was bright and the newly fallen snow made that
part of the street as visible as it would have been in broad daylight.
Ursula had not turned on her burners, but peered from a darkened room.
The man walked rapidly along the street and then disappeared. The girl
put her face close to the pane but could see no sign of him.
“I believe he came into this house,” she said to herself. “Ah, but
there he is again!” She saw him hurry down the street, jump into the
old-fashioned car and then he was gone.
Ursula pulled down her shade and turned on the light. She glanced at
her watch. At least two hours must pass before Ben would be returning
from dinner at the Dexters’. What could she do with those long two
hours? She could not believe she was the same girl who had been busy
every moment of the day and eager always for a few free moments that
she might conscientiously give to reading. There were new books on her
table, gifts from the friends she had made in Dorfield, magazines with
the leaves uncut--but she could not put her mind on reading.
Ursula glanced about the room, her eyes wandering. A piece of white
paper was under her door, put there since Ben had gone out. An
advertisement, no doubt.
She picked it up. It was a letter in a dirty envelope, sealed but not
stamped, addressed in pencil to Miss Ursula Ellett, in a handwriting
that looked as though each letter had been painfully drawn. Ursula
feverishly tore open the envelope and read:
“Yore uncle Ben is ded and you are his air. He maid a lot of
money in africa on dimonds. I knowed him in africa and by rites
I orter have half of his money but he cheted me. I rekon I have
beet the news of Ben’s deth to the states but now I have yore
kid bruther in my keepin and I will keep the same until you
sware to hand over my part of what you will get as air when you
come in to the same.
“Yore bruther is enjoyin good helth and hopes this finds you
the same. I will not say what will hapen if you do not promis
to give me half the douh. If you tell anybody about this I will
beat yore bruther. All you have to do is sware you will do as
I say and when you get yore hands on the money which will be
handed to you by a english lawyer you put aside one half and
I will let you know wat you are to do with it and at the same
time you will get back yor bruther.
“The english lawyer will be in lewisville this weke. If you
will do as I say and want to get yore bruther back safe you
must put a ad in the lewisville currier journal and I will
note the same. Just say Barkis is willin that is enuf. You are
a honnerable girl and will keep yore promise if not beware.
Excuse haste and a bad pen. Most respectful yore well wisher
but one who Ben Benson cheted. Annonermus.”
Ursula sank on a chair. She felt that she might faint but that fainting
would be a very foolish performance when action was necessary.
“Uncle Ben dead!” she cried. “I always hoped he would come back to me.
What shall I do? What shall I do? Of course I’ll give half of whatever
he has left me to get my Philip back. I’ll give all of it--anything.”
Suddenly she remembered that she had promised Josie that no matter what
communication came she would report immediately to Bob Dulaney or
Captain Lonsdale.
“But he says he will beat Philip if I tell anybody about this. How am
I to know Uncle Ben is really dead and if he is that he has left me a
fortune. How will this person know whether I have told anybody or not?
How could this person have found me? Who is he and how could he have
slipped up to my apartment without my hearing him in the hall?”
Suddenly the remembrance of the man who had got out of the rickety old
car at the corner flashed through her mind. Could he be the kidnaper?
“It says I am honorable and I promised Josie to let them know and
I will do it.” She went to the telephone and called up police
headquarters. Captain Charlie was on the wire in a moment and deeply
interested in what she had to tell him.
“Perhaps I am wrong, but I can’t help thinking a man I saw get out of a
car at the corner brought the letter,” she said.
“Well, well, perhaps!” he answered. “I’ll send a plain clothes man
around to see you immediately.”
Ursula then called up Bob Dulaney. He was all excitement and greatly
interested in the man in the high old car.
“I’m going out in my Lizzie and get that man right now. You say it was
headed south? Then it must have come from the north and no doubt will
turn around and go back the way it came. So long!”
“Please take a policeman with you,” begged Ursula.
“Not on your life! They are too heavyweight for me. I am like the
heroes in the movies and go for my man alone. I may even tie a
handkerchief around my face and make him hold up his hands.”